#* character study: { as clever as she is pretty. } | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aeralux · 3 months ago

Text

"Feel It" - Lucerys Velaryon

Modern!AU Stepbrother!Lucerys x OlderStepsister!Reader

Summary: Since moving in with your new stepdad Harwin, things have been more than chaotic. Your hair products are used up, and all the chores are left on your shoulders to carry. Lately, though, you've noticed a certain article of clothing going missing from your dirty laundry basket- your panties. And you're damn determined to get them back... while simultaneously teaching your stepbrother a lesson.

Warnings: SMUT 18+; cunnilingus; handjob; virgin!Lucerys (I see a pattern here); whiny boy; kind of mean reader, but she also praises Luke; stepcest; panty sniffing; lots of “good boy”; masturbation; submissive leaning!Lucerys

Words: 8.9k

Notes: In this story, all characters are of legal age. Jacaerys is 21-22 years old, while Lucerys is 19, with the reader being slightly older. Feel free to imagine different ages, but these are the ones I used while writing this story. There is no physical description of the reader, except that she is female. If you do not feel comfortable with any of the warnings, please do not read. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Ever since moving in with your mother's new serious boyfriend, Harwin, life had taken on a new, chaotic rhythm. No longer was it just you and your mom in your cosy three-bedroom apartment. Now, you found yourself in a big house that felt overwhelming, complete with a large backyard, a sparkling pool, and a patio perfect for lazy afternoons. It was easy to see why your mom had fallen for Harwin—he was handsome, charming, and undeniably wealthy. Sometimes you thought, with a hint of amusement, that you might have liked him too if he weren't your stepfather.

Harwin was genuinely a nice man. He always made an effort to be kind and considerate, never pushing to replace your biological dad, and he respected your space.

But the real challenge began with his two sons. You had only glimpsed them in passing while visiting the house. Harwin and your mother had agreed to wait until things felt serious before you met, so now you were living with three near strangers.

Jacaerys was closest to your age, and you could sense the instant rivalry between you, even if you didn’t know him well. He was confident and had an attitude that seemed to dare you to challenge him. Lucerys, a few years younger, had a carefree spirit but could be just as devilish as his older brother. And then there was Joffrey, the youngest and, in your opinion, the least troublesome. He was the one who often stayed out of trouble and seemed to want to make things easier for you genuinely.

While Joffrey quietly supported you—snitching on his brothers and sharing snacks during your study sessions—Jace and Luke relentlessly wanted to annoy you. They would blast music that echoed through the halls, turning your moments of peace into a lively party you never asked for. They also had a habit of stealing your hair products, needing them to style their pretty brown curls. And as for chores? They had the ability to vanish just when there was work to be done, leaving you to do everything on your own.

Despite the challenges, you appreciated Joffrey’s companionship. He seemed to prefer a sister figure, bringing a sense of connection that comforted you amidst the chaos of living with his irritating brothers. It was clear his brothers didn’t appreciate it, sometimes being even jealous of yours and the 17-year-old's bond.

Lately, however, a thought had begun to creep into your mind. You were used to the occasional missing sock here and there, but when your favourite pairs of panties and thongs started to vanish, you couldn’t help but suspect Luke and Jace.

You knew better than to just confront them outright. You’d tried that with Jace once, and it hadn’t gone well. It turned into an argument where he insisted he already had plenty of underwear from other girls, which only made you more suspicious.

No, this required a clever plan. You decided to gather the boys' laundry instead. It wouldn’t look suspicious at all. After all, you liked doing the laundry and the lighter chores around the house. So, you made your way to Joffrey's room, where you could hear the familiar sounds of his Nintendo Switch.

“Hey, do you have any laundry for me to do? Lights and darks, I’ll be doing both today!” you called out, trying to sound casual as you knocked on his door.

“Yeah, they’re in the grey box,” he mumbled, barely glancing up from the screen. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his nonchalance. “I better not find a hard sock in there!” you joked back, and you heard a muffled “Ugh! Shut up!” in response, which made you smile as you left with his dirty clothes.

Next, you headed to Jace’s room, where the loud blaring of classic rock music spilt into the hallway. You didn’t even knock; you just pushed the door open and announced, “Laundry.” It was a given that he’d have a pile waiting.

Jace groaned and looked up from his textbook, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Can’t you knock first, seriously?” he shot back, slouching against his desk. His gaze landed on the laundry basket you were carrying, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh great, laundry day.”

He stood up and walked over to his closet, digging around to grab a handful of wrinkled clothes and tossing them into your basket. “Anything else you need, Miss Perfect?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

You rolled your eyes, feeling irritation and something else entirely. There was that infuriating smirk again. It was maddening how attractive he was, even while being the most annoying person in your life. The universe had played a cruel joke on you.

You glanced into the basket; it felt unexpectedly heavy, even for him. “What have you got in here? A fucking rock?” you mocked, lifting it slightly to emphasize your point.

His smirk widened at your jab, clearly enjoying the banter. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Aw, someone’s a bit sensitive today, huh? Don’t worry; I’m sure there’s nothing too interesting in my laundry.” He patted the basket, the sheer weight of it making you wonder just how many clothes he had stuffed in there.

“Maybe I just have a lot of clothes, princess,” he said, his tone playful yet infuriatingly smug.

You huffed in response, bracing yourself as you lifted the basket. It was heavy, and you could feel the embarrassment creeping in from the struggle. The weight and his knowing smirk made you want to scream, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“Just don’t be surprised when your whites come back pink,” you shot back with a scowl as you turned to leave, making your way to the storage room to get started on the first load of laundry.

After starting the first load, you made your way to Lucerys' room, where he had no clue you were on your way.

Lucerys let out a whimper as he felt his cock throb in his hand, the silky fabric of your panties wrapped tightly around his shaft. He couldn't believe he was doing this, masturbating with his stepsister's underwear like some kind of pervert. But the thought of you, of the way your ass would look in these tiny thongs, was too much to resist.

"Fuck…" he moaned softly, his hips bucking up into his fist as he stroked himself. The lace was already damp with his pre-cum, the sticky fluid coating his fingers as he pumped faster.

Lucerys' mind raced with dirty thoughts, imagining pinning you down and fucking your tight little cunt until you screamed. He wanted to fill you up, to pump you full of his hot, thick seed until it was leaking out of you. The idea of breeding his stepsister, of watching your belly swell with his child, made him throb even harder.

"God yes… gonna knock you up…" he panted, his voice rising in desperation. "Take my cum… fucking take it all…" he whined, his strokes becoming erratic. Quickly placing the thongs on his face instead, wanting to smell you.

"F-Fuck…" he whimpered, his green eyes glazing over with lust as he breathed in your scent. His right hand was wrapped around his hard cock, pumping it slowly as he sniffed your underwear.

Lucerys's breath came in short, desperate gasps as he tugged at his aching member, the slick sound of his hand moving over his shaft filling the room. His face was flushed, and he squirmed on the bed, hopelessly turned on by the intoxicating aroma of your pussy that still lingered on the thin lace.

"Mmm, sister please…" he moaned, high-pitched and needy. In his mind, he imagined burying his face between your legs, lapping at your dripping slit as he breathed in your scent directly from the source. He fantasized about plunging his tongue deep inside you, tasting your essence as he fucked his face against your cunt.

"Ahhhn, your pussy tastes so fucking good," Lucerys panted, stroking himself faster as he rubbed your thongs against his blushing face. Drool dripped from the corners of the thong and down his chin as he lost himself in his lustful daze.

As you stood outside his door you considered knocking as you had for Joffrey, but Luke had been getting on your nerves lately, so you decided not to grant him that courtesy. Instead, you swung the door open swiftly. "Laundry, now."

Lucerys froze like a deer in the headlights, his green eyes wide with shock and fear as you barged in. He yanked his hand off, his rigid cock throbbing and leaking pre-cum, the wet spot on his boxers clearly visible. Throwing the thong, he had been sniffing, behind him.

"Wh-what the fuck?!" Lucerys stammered, his face turning beet red. He quickly tried to stuff his dick back into his pants, wincing at the sensitivity. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as humiliation washed over him. He had never been caught doing something so depraved before.

"I-I can explain…" he whimpered pathetically, his voice cracking with emotion. He looked at you pleadingly, silently begging for forgiveness and understanding. At that moment, he resembled a scolded child more than a young man.

His gaze darted to the thong on the bed behind him, hoping you hadn't seen it. Lucerys swallowed hard, his mouth dry with anxiety. "It's not what you think…" he tried to protest weakly, even though it was exactly what you had caught him doing.

You slammed the laundry basket down on the floor with a thud, your heart pounding in shock and anger as you glared at him. Folding your arms across your chest, you looked at him with an expression of utter disbelief, your eyes narrowing.

"You can explain?" you repeated incredulously, your voice dripping with sarcasm and outrage. "So let me guess, you were just… admiring the lace, Luke? Checking if any holes needed fixing?" Your tone turned mocking and bitter.

You took a step closer to him, your full hips swaying with each movement, drawing his gaze to your body. "Or maybe… you were just sniffing how well your dear stepsister smells, huh? Thinking if it would actually cover my ass, hmm?" Your voice rose.

"No, I… I mean, yes…" Lucerys stammered, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. He couldn't meet your gaze, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what came over me. I just… I couldn't help myself." He looked down at the floor, shamefaced and remorseful.

"I didn't mean to…," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was stupid and wrong of me. I crossed a line, and I'm truly sorry." He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists at his sides. "Please, don't tell anyone about this. I'll do anything to make it up to you, I swear."

Despite his shame and embarrassment, Lucerys couldn't help but let his gaze linger on your swaying hips and curves. The way your anger made your breasts heave and your eyes flash was incredibly arousing. He quickly looked away again, hating himself for his inappropriate thoughts and reactions at a time like this.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," he whimpered, his voice wavering with genuine remorse. "I don't know what to say. I just… I swear it won't happen again." He looked up at you pleadingly, his eyes filled with desperation and a hidden, lingering lust that he couldn't quite suppress. "Please, can we just forget this happened?" he asked softly.

You leaned in closer as you stared at Lucerys's flushed, pitiful expression. With a smirk, you shook your head slowly.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Wow… just wow," you said quietly, your tongue flicking against your cheek as you eyed him with utter contempt.

"Let me guess, you've never even had your clumsy, inexperienced hands anywhere near a real woman's pussy. Is that why you need to resort to sniffing my dirty panties like some sad, pathetic virgin? Huh?" you mocked, your brow arching in disbelief.

You sat next to him on the bed. Your voice lowered to a biting whisper as you hissed,

"And thinking about shoving my cunt in your face is supposed to do what, exactly? I mean, do you even know how to eat a pussy right?" you challenged.

He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering down to your lips as you whispered biting words in his ear. He could feel the heat of your breath on his skin, making him shudder. Lucerys's cock strained against his pants, desperate for stimulation, even as his mind reeled from your mocking.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared down at his shaking, nervous form. "Just look at you, trembling and blushing like an overgrown toddler…" you declared, your voice rising with each word. Smirking as you knew you were finally getting payback for all those times he had messed with you.

He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to reach out and touch you.

Your mocking words stung, and he felt his face burn with shame and embarrassment. He knew you were right, that he had acted like a pathetic, inexperienced virgin. And yet, despite the humiliation, he couldn't deny the way his cock throbbed at your words.

"I… I didn't mean to take them," he stammered, his voice shaking with nerves and a confusing mix of embarrassment and lingering lust.

"And I'm sure I could learn," he blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper as he gazed at you with desperation and hidden desire.

Lucerys's hands clenched tighter in his lap. He was terrified of your reaction, but he couldn't deny the overwhelming urge to kiss you, to worship your body, to make you feel good in any way he could.

He looked up at you from beneath long lashes, his green eyes filled with a swirling mix of fear, shame, and barely restrained lust. "Please… Tell me what you need me to do," he begged softly, his voice low and desperate.

You leaned in closer, your hand coming up to gently cup Lucerys's flushed cheek. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him looking so meek and submissive, a far cry from the brat he usually was.

"You know you're rather adorable when you're being this good," you teased softly, your thumb brushing lightly over his burning skin. "Such a pretty thing, so eager to learn…" you murmured, almost admiringly.

But then you sighed, shaking your head slightly as if disappointed by his past misdeeds. "Too bad you couldn't have been this well-behaved from the start. Think of all the fun we could've had sooner." Your tone turned playful at the end, a hint of flirtation slipping through.

You had always thought that he and Jacaerys were handsome, thinking that if they weren't your stepbrothers you would have probably made a move on one of them. Too bad they got on your nerves all the time.

You let your gaze travel slowly over his trembling form, taking in the way his chest heaved with shallow breaths, the way his eyes clung to yours with desperate hope and barely restrained hunger.

"But look at you now," you purred, leaning in until your lips were a mere breath from his ear. "Aren't you lucky, getting a chance to learn from your big sister?" you whispered teasingly, your breath tickling his sensitive skin. "I have soooo many lessons to teach you, baby boy…" you trailed off, letting the promise linger between you, heavy with wicked intent.

Lucerys shuddered as your hand cupped his cheek, his skin burning at your gentle touch. He leaned into your palm instinctively, craving more of your touch despite the humiliation that still raced through him.

His heart skipped a beat at your teasing words, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew he had been a brat, always trying to get under your skin and rile you up. But hearing you call him adorable and well-behaved made a warmth bloom in his chest that had nothing to do with shame.

"Does… does that mean I have a chance to be good for you?" he breathed, hardly daring to hope. His eyes clung to yours, desperate for any scraps of affection or approval.

Lucerys's cock strained against his boxers, leaking pre-cum and creating a growing wet spot. The thought of you teaching him, guiding him and moulding him into your ideal lover made him throb with need.

"Please…" he breathed out, his voice barely audible. "Please, I'll… I’ll be your good boy… I promise." His words were punctuated by another desperate shudder, his body aching.

You leaned in close, letting your fingertips trail teasingly through Lucerys's hair as you tilted his chin to meet your stern gaze. "Oh, you're a good boy now, hmm? That's rich, coming from a brat who's done nothing but make my life a living nightmare these past months," you scolded, your voice laced with mock exasperation.

He shivered under your touch, feeling a confusing mix of shame and arousal at your mocking words.

"Cleaning up after your messes, hunting down my stolen things, finding my expensive hair products used up… do you have any idea what a pain in the ass you and Jace have been?" you huffed, your chest heaving slightly as you voiced your grievances.

Despite your words, a playful smirk tugged at your lips. "But I suppose even a dumb puppy can learn new tricks. And much as it pains me to say it… you do seem genuinely sorry." You reached under your skirt, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your skimpy white panties.

"Since you've got such a hard-on for my panties, here," you purred, handing him the dainty white cotton with its cute pink bow and noticeable damp patch. "Fresh from this morning. Why don't you show me what you usually do with them, hmm?" You cocked an eyebrow, a wicked glint in your eyes as you settled yourself back down beside him.

Lucerys snatched the offered panties from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. The still-warm fabric and the damp patch on them made his cock throb painfully in his pants. He could smell your scent, the lingering aroma of your arousal, and he knew he'd never be able to get enough.

"Th-thank you," he stammered, clutching the panties like a treasure. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as he looked up at you shyly, wondering if he should do this if he dared to do this.

As he brought them to his nose, inhaling your intimate scent, he whimpered softly. "Fuck…" he breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He rubbed the fabric against his cheek, savouring the feeling and smell of your panties.

"I… I usually just sniff them," he confesses, his voice low and shaky with desire. "Over and over, until the scent fades. It's not enough… but it's the only way I can get close to you like this." He gazed at you from beneath thick lashes, his green eyes dark and hungry.

You watched, eyes narrowed and lips curved in a smirk, as Lucerys's nose wrinkled and breathing quickened while inhaling your scent from the damp crotch of your panties. "Mmm, sniffing them is cute and all," you murmured, tone laced with mocking amusement, "but you've got to do better than that if you want to prove you're sorry."

Leaning in closer, you cupped Lucerys's flushed cheek, fingers curling under his chin to tilt his gaze up to meet yours, making him look at you with wide nervous eyes. Your thumb brushed over the quivering curve of his bottom lip and he felt his resolve crumble "Lick them," you commanded firmly, voice low and authoritative. "Show me exactly how you'd use that tongue of yours to worship your big sister's pussy, hmm? Since it's obvious how badly you want to taste me." You patted his cheek a few times.

"Don't hold back, baby boy. Pretend my panties are the real thing…" You arched an eyebrow, a wicked gleam in your eye as you awaited his response.

With shaking hands, he brought the crotch of your panties to his mouth, taking a deep breath of your scent one last time before parting his lips. He extended his tongue, the tip of it brushing against the damp fabric.

Lucerys let out a low moan as the taste of your arousal exploded on his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured it. He could feel the wetness seeping through the thin cotton, coating his tongue with your essence.

He began to lick more insistently, his tongue dragging over the fabric in long, slow strokes. He imagined this was your pussy, your dripping wet folds parting under his ministrations. He licked harder, more urgently, his tongue delving into the damp patch, trying to lap up every last drop of your juices.

Soft whimpers and needy whines spilt from Lucerys's lips as he lost himself in the act, his hips bucking slightly as he pleasured your panties with his mouth. The taste of your pussy was intoxicating, and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs and feast on your cunt until you were screaming in ecstasy.

Lucerys's cheeks burned with shame and humiliation, but he couldn't stop. He needed to prove to you that he would do anything you asked, that he would be your good boy.

You snatched the panties from Lucerys's hand, giving his flush cheek a light smack to snap him out of his lust-filled daze. "Eyes up here, perv," you teased, rolling your eyes. "If you really want to apologize, you're gonna have to do better than just sniffing and drooling on my underwear like a dog in heat."

Sighing dramatically, you crawled over to the other side of the bed and leaned back against the wooden headboard. Spreading your legs, you let them fall open slowly, revealing a glimpse of your glistening, bare pussy. The scent of your arousal perfumed the air between you.

"Isn't this a first for you, little brother?" you purred mockingly, arching an eyebrow. "I bet you've seen plenty of fake tits and ass in those porn videos you jerk off to, but a real, live cunt? That's a whole different story."

You could see the way Lucerys' eyes widened as he took in the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger and desire. A smirk played at the corners of your lips as you watched him drink in every detail of your most intimate place.

"Go ahead, get a good look," you encouraged, spreading your legs wider. The glisten of my wetness was unmistakable, and you could feel a trickle of arousal dripping down the curve of your ass.

Lucerys swallowed hard, his mouth going dry at the sight of your glistening, naked pussy mere inches from him. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so perfect. The way your lips shone with your arousal made his mouth water and his cock throb almost painfully.

"I… I've never seen one off-screen," he breathed, his voice shaking with a mix of nerves and unbridled desire. He couldn't take his eyes off your cunt, watching as another trickle of wetness slid down your folds.

Despite his inexperience, Lucerys knew exactly what his body craved. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought a hand up to your knee, his fingers trembling as they brushed against your soft skin. He looked up at you questioningly, seeking permission as he began to inch his hand upwards.

"Can I… can I touch you?" he asked softly, his eyes flickering from your face to your pussy and back again. The tent in his pants was only growing more pronounced, the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric.

Lucerys's heart raced as you considered his request, hoping desperately, that you would allow him this small mercy. He was terrified of fucking this up, of ruining whatever chance he had with you. But more than anything, he wanted to touch you, to feel the silky heat of your skin, the slickness of your arousal coating his fingers…

At Lucerys's hesitation, you smiled condescendingly. "Oh, how rude of you," you teased, your voice dripping with mock hurt. "Don't I even get a kiss before you go exploring?"

Leaning in closer, you caught his chin gently but firmly between your fingers, tilting his face up towards yours.

"Come on, baby brother," you purred, your breath hot against his lips. "Give me a kiss and maybe I'll let you have a little taste…"

You brushed your lips against his in a feather-light caress, your eyes sparkling with barely concealed desire.

Your thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing it to part. "That's it, sweetheart. Be a good boy for me," you encouraged softly, your voice low and laden with promise. "Kiss me like you mean it."

Lucerys shuddered, his breath catching in his throat as your thumb traced his bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut, and he parted his lips, inviting you to deepen the kiss. He had dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it was finally happening, he was determined to make the most of it.

Pulse racing, Lucerys pressed his lips more firmly against yours, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the kiss. His hands came up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as his tongue shyly brushed against yours.

He moaned softly into the kiss, the taste of your mouth making his head spin with arousal. Your lips moved skillfully against his own, guiding him and coaxing him to be a good, obedient boy.

Lucerys's cock throbbed almost painfully as he lost himself in the kiss, one hand sliding down to grip your hip tightly. His body pressed against your own, the hard length of his erection nestling against your thigh as he tried to get as close to you as possible.

He gasped into the kiss as he felt himself losing control, his hips starting to rock instinctively against your thigh. You abruptly ended the kiss, gripping his hair and yanking his head back.

"Did I say you could hump my leg like a doggy?" you asked, eyes flashing dangerously. Lucerys flushed an even deeper shade of red, looking mortified.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Your voice turned stern. "I thought you wanted to worship me properly, not just rut against me like an untrained puppy?" you asked pointedly. "Clearly, you need a reminder of your place."

"On your knees, Lucerys," you ordered, your tone leaving no room for argument. "The floor, now. Show your big sister the respect she deserves."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you spread your legs wide, revealing your needy cunt.

Lucerys knew better than to disobey a direct order from you. He quickly slid off the bed and lowered himself to his knees on the floor before you, his eyes never leaving your exposed sex. He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry at the sight of your wet, glistening folds.

"Like this?" he asked softly, looking up at you for confirmation. His hands rest lightly on your thighs, just above your knees. He was acutely aware of the bulge in his pants, his hard cock straining against the confines of his pants.

"I… I want to please you," Lucerys declared solemnly, his eyes filled with a mix of reverence and hunger. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do my very best to be a good boy for you."

He gazed at your dripping sex, feeling his head spin. The scent of your arousal was intoxicating, and he couldn't wait to taste your essence directly from the source.

You smiled indulgently at your naive younger brother, your fingers playing with his messy hair as you gazed down at him with a mix of affection and amusement. "Aww, you really are just the most adorable thing when you're being this good," you laughed softly.

"I'm not going to stay mad at you, sweetheart. Not when you look at me like that." Your voice was sweet but with an underlying current of domination.

You gave him his first instruction. "Now, I want you to start by kissing up my thighs. Slowly, sweetheart. Take your time and worship every inch of your big sister's legs until you reach the top."

You leaned back on your hands, making yourself more comfortable as you watched Lucerys through lidded eyes. Your perky breasts rose and fell with each breath, drawing attention to your pretty curves.

Lucerys shuddered in anticipation as your fingers played with his hair, a soft moan escaping his lips at your touch. He gazed up at you with wide, adoring eyes, feeling his heart swell with affection and desire.

"Thank you," he breathed out, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He knew he still had a lot to make up for, but at least he had a chance now.

Lucerys hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the inside of your left thigh. He started at the knee, showering your smooth skin with tender kisses as he slowly worked his way up.

He took his time, just as you had instructed, worshipping every inch of your legs with a mix of innocence and growing hunger. His lips trailed higher and higher, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

Lucerys's hands slid up your thighs as he kissed them, gripping and caressing gently. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way it seemed to burn hotter the closer he got to your aching sex.

Soft whimpers and needy little moans spilt from his lips as he lost himself in the task of pleasing you, his heart racing and cock throbbing with anticipation. He lived for this moment, for the chance to worship his big sister's body as she deserved.

Biting your plump bottom lip, you couldn't help but let out a shuddery moan as Lucerys's soft lips trailed along your inner thighs. Your core clenched around nothing, aching and empty as your arousal drooled freely from your dripping cunt. "Mmmh, that feels good," you breathed out, eyelids fluttering shut as jolts of pleasure raced through you.

You gazed down at your adorable stepbrother through hooded eyes, watching as he worshipped your soft skin with clumsy yet devoted kisses. He was just too goddamn cute, his innocence and eagerness to please you making your heart race.

Lucerys continued his reverent kisses, his lips now inches from your glistening folds. Your arousal coated your pussy lips, making them glisten invitingly. The scent of your desire filled the air between you, making Lucerys dizzy with lust.

He hesitated for a moment, looking up at you questioningly. "B-big sister?" he stammered softly, his voice shaky with nerves and anticipation. "Can… can I taste you now? Please?"

Lucerys's tongue darted out to lick his lips, already tingling with the desire to taste your essence. His green eyes gazed at you pleadingly, silently begging for permission to bury his face between your thighs and feast on your dripping cunt.

Soft, almost inaudible whimpers escaped from between his trembling lips as he waited for your response. The bulge in his boxers was more prominent than ever, the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric. It ached and throbbed, begging to be freed and buried deep inside you.

"Mmm, go on then baby boy…" you purred, hiking your skirt up around your waist and spreading your thighs wider in a clear invitation, the folds of your aching, empty cunt right in front of his face. "Don't be shy now… I want to feel that tongue of yours exploring every inch of my little hole. Bury your face in your sister's cunt and drink down every drop of my juices like a good boy."

Lucerys licked his lips hungrily at your words, feeling a surge of desperate arousal at your filthy words. He looked up at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes before leaning in, his face hovering inches from your dripping sex.

With a shameless moan, Lucerys closed the distance and dragged the flat of his tongue along your glistening slit, tasting your essence for the first time. The flavour of your arousal exploded on his tastebuds, and he couldn't get enough.

He moaned wantonly into your pussy, gripping your thighs tighter as he began to eat you out with clumsy but enthusiastic licks. His tongue pushed between your folds, lapping up your juices and savouring your honeyed taste.

Lucerys's tongue swirled around your clit, flicking the sensitive bud sharply as he felt you shudder against his mouth. He licked and sucked greedily at your dripping hole, determined to drink down every drop of your nectar.

"Mmm… you taste so fucking good," he mumbled against your cunt, his voice muffled. The vibrations of his words sent delicious jolts of pleasure racing through your body.

You felt a thrill of hunger as she watched Lucerys stumble through his first clumsy attempts to please you. His inexperienced tongue made messy swipes against your dripping folds, occasionally grazing a sensitive spot that had you gasping.

"Mmm, baby boy…" you gasped, tangling your fingers in his hair and subtly rolling your hips against his mouth. "Use more pressure, sweetheart. I need you to work harder than that…"

Soft pants escaped your lips as Lucerys finally honed in on your throbbing clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bud. Sparks of pleasure shot up your spine with each touch of his tongue, building the heat low in your belly.

"Ah! Just like that… oh fuck!" you cried out, feeling a surge of pleasure. Growing impatient with his clumsy attempts, you grabbed both sides of his head with a desperate moan. You started grinding your dripping cunt in rough circles against his eager but inexperienced mouth, chasing the pleasure you craved.

"There's a good boy," you praised breathlessly as you used his face for your satisfaction. "Worship your big sister's pussy just like this, sweetheart. Show me how badly you want to make me cum all over this cute face of yours."

Lucerys whimpered desperately against your cunt, gripping your thighs tighter as he struggled to keep up with your frenzied grinding. Your fingers tightened in his hair, yanking roughly as you rutted against his face, using his mouth for your pleasure.

He could feel your juices dripping down his chin and onto his neck, as he worshipped your pussy with clumsy but eager licks and sucks. Lucerys's cock throbbed almost painfully in his pants, leaking pre-cum at the feeling of your wet heat against his lips.

"Mmph, I'm trying… I'm trying so hard to please you," he gasped out between sloppy licks, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh. He could feel your pleasure building, your moans and cries spurring him on to suckle your clit harder and fuck your entrance with his tongue.

Lucerys gazed up at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes, silently begging for your release. He wanted to feel your juices flood his mouth, to drink down every drop as he pushed you over the edge. His hips jerked instinctively, seeking some form of relief from the aching hardness between his legs.

Nails digging into Lucerys's scalp, you writhed against his hungry mouth, painting his lips and chin with your slick arousal. "Yes, fuck, just like that!" you cried out, undulating your hips to grind your aching clit against the boy's nose. "Fuck me with your tongue~…"

A shock of raw pleasure ignited through your core as his tongue plundered your entrance, plunging in and out in a desperate rhythm. "Unngh, shit…" you whimpered, back arching as your thighs clenched around his head.

You could feel your climax building fast, your inner walls beginning to flutter and tighten around the slick, wriggling muscle. "Don't stop, please don't fucking stop…" you panted, gripping fists full of hair as you rode his face hard, chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.

Lucerys doubled his efforts, tongue plunging in and out of your clenching hole with desperate abandon. He felt your walls starting to flutter and tighten around his invading muscle, your juices gushing out to coat his chin and drip down onto his neck. The taste of your arousal was intoxicating, and he couldn't get enough.

"Mmm, yes! Fuck, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" you cried out, your body tensing and shaking as your orgasm rapidly approached. Lucerys just moaned wantonly in response, sucking your clit harder and fucking your cunt with deep strokes of his tongue, determined to push you over the edge.

With a sharp cry of your stepbrother's name, your body went rigid, your back arching as pure ecstasy exploded through every nerve ending. Your pussy clenched and spasmed wildly around Lucerys's tongue, gushing out a flood of your honey as your climax hit you like a tidal wave.

Lucerys made no move to pull away, greedily drinking down every drop of your release. He held your bucking hips tightly as he licked and suckled your quivering sex, riding out your intense orgasm with you and prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible.

With a sharp gasp, you grabbed Lucerys's head and pulled his face in tight as you rutted yourself against him, muffling his cries of pleasure with your dripping sex. "Oh… ohhh fuck, yes," you panted out, your thighs clamping down around his ears as you rode the intense waves of your climax.

Your gummy walls spasmed and clenched rhythmically around his busy tongue, creaming hard into your younger brother's eager mouth. You didn't care if he could breathe or not, too lost in the throes of your release to think of anything but chasing every last spark of pleasure.

"Mmmfff… ahhh… that's it…" you moaned breathlessly, slowly grinding your hips to draw out the fading aftershocks. Little jolts of electricity still zapped through your nerves.

Finally spent, you released your grip on Lucerys's hair and leaned back slightly, letting him catch a breath. Your chest heaved as you tried to regulate your breathing, a satisfied smirk playing on your swollen, slick lips.

Lucerys gasped desperately for air as you finally released your grip on his hair and allowed him to pull back slightly. He gulped down the mouthfuls of your juices he had collected, the taste of your release on his tongue. His face was glazed with your slick arousal, chin to forehead, and a string of your juices connected his bottom lip to your thigh. He licked his lips with a dazed, lust-drunk expression.

"I… I did well?" he asked softly, hope and a touch of disbelief colouring his tone. He couldn't believe he had made you cum. The feeling of your hot, slick juices coating his face was still overwhelming to the boy.

Despite the hard, aching bulge still straining against his pants, there was a look of pure adoration and devotion on Lucerys's face as he gazed up at you. He knew he would do anything to feel your pleasure again, to worship your body and have you use him for your satisfaction.

"I hope… hope you'll let me do that again," he stammered shyly, his cheeks flushed with a mix of satisfaction and lingering arousal. "Anytime you want, sister. Anytime."

"Oh baby, you were amazing," you cooed softly, gently helping Lucerys up and guiding him to lie down next to you on the bed. You brushed his messy hair back from his flushed face and gazed at him adoringly. As he lay back on the bed next to you, he couldn't take his eyes off your beautiful face, his heart racing at the intimate murmurs and praise.

His heart swelled with pride and affection at your words. He felt himself melting under the adoring gaze and tender touch, knowing he would do anything to make you happy and satisfied.

"Such a good, obedient boy," you praised him warmly, your fingers tenderly wiping the evidence of his hard work from his chin and cheeks. You brought your coated fingers to your mouth and made a show of licking them clean. But his cheeks and chin were still messy with your creamy release, going to lick up his face clean like a kitten.

Lucerys shuddered and bit his lip as he watched you lick your fingers clean, feeling another surge of arousal at the erotic sight. His cock throbbed almost painfully in his pants, the fabric of his underwear damp with pre-cum.

"Th-thank you," he breathed out, his voice rough with desire. He couldn't believe he had the power to make you feel that good, to bring you to such an intense, toe-curling climax.

Lucerys tilted his head up to give you better access as you began to clean the sticky essence from his face with your tongue. He let out a shaky moan when you licked along his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut at the intimate, sensual act.

"I love the taste of your cum," he admitted hoarsely, reaching up to cup your face in his trembling hands.

The damp patch in his underwear had grown, his cock leaking steadily as he imagined fucking you senseless daily, pumping load after load of his hot seed deep inside your greedy cunt.

"Can I… can I kiss you again?" he asked shyly, his green eyes filled with longing as they met yours. "I want to taste your pretty lips…"

"Mmm, of course you can," you giggled, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "You've been so good for your big sister. You deserve a reward~"

You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a messy, passionate kiss. Your lips moved sloppily against each other, mixing the lingering taste of your arousal with his saliva. Occasionally, you would nip at his bottom lip, tugging on it gently before soothing the sting with your tongue.

You could feel his whimpers vibrating against your lips, spurring you on as you deepened the kiss. Your tongue pushed past his lips, swirling around his own and greedily taking in the combined flavours of your lust.

Lucerys let out a choked moan into the messy kiss, his hands coming up to grip your waist tightly. He kissed you back with clumsy passion, his tongue tangling shyly with yours as he tried to learn the rhythm. The taste of your arousal mingling with his saliva made his head spin with lust.

Pulling back, you gazed down at him with lidded eyes, taking in the sight of his flushed face and kiss-swollen lips glistening with your essence. "Made me feel so good," you praised huskily, reaching down to squeeze the rock-hard bulge still straining against his pants. "I think it's time for you to feel the touch of a girl's hand, sweetheart. Are you ready for that?"

The feeling of your fingers squeezing his aching bulge had Lucerys bucking his hips up desperately, seeking more of that sweet friction. When you finally pulled away, he had to take a moment to steady his breathing, his chest heaving as he gazed up at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

"I… yes," he managed to stammer out, his voice pitchy and strained with arousal. "I'm ready for anything you want to give me… please…"

Lucerys's cock throbbed and leaked against the confines of his underwear as if in agreement. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever been this hard, his balls aching with the desperate need for release.

Rolling his hips upwards in a needy motion, he looked at you with guileless, pleading eyes.

Biting your lip, you watched with amusement as your little stepbrother writhed beneath you, utterly consumed by his teenage lust. You couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "Mmm, it looks like someone's excited," you giggled, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his white Calvin's. "I'm gonna take a peek, okay?"

Without waiting for his response, you snapped the elastic band against his sensitive skin. Lucerys let out a choked moan, hips jerking upwards with the sudden stimulation. "Ohhh, sensitive!"

Ignoring his needy sounds, you slowly peeled down his boxers inch by excruciating inch until his painfully hard cock sprang free. You licked your lips at the sight, taking in every detail.

"What do we have here… impressive, Luke." you purred, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft and giving it a slow, teasing stroke. At your touch, a bead of pre-cum drooled out of the swollen, flushed head. "Mmmm, so hard already… looks like baby bro is alllll grown up now."

He watched, eyes wide and hazy with lust, as you slowly stroked his throbbing length. His cock pulsed urgently against your palm, the skin hot and silky soft, rock hard beneath.

"I… I can't help it," he whimpered, cheeks burning with humiliation and arousal at the praise.

His hips jerked as you stroked him, his member twitching and leaking steadily. The swollen head was a deep, angry red, weeping with the intensity of his need.

"Please, I need…" Lucerys began desperately, before trailing off, unable to voice his pleas. He was too shy, too aroused, too overwhelmed by the new sensations coursing through his young body.

His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, knuckles white as he fought the urge to grab your wrist and demand that you stroke him harder, faster. He wanted to feel your touch all over his aching cock, wanted you to make him cum until he sobbed.

You tilted your head with a playful pout, giving Lucerys a look of mock disappointment. "I'll touch you with just my hand today… I don't know if you could handle my mouth yet," you teased, smirking at his inexperienced reactions.

You had to admit, you were a bit surprised the handsome 19-year-old hadn't lost his virginity already. At over 180cm tall and with his boyish charm, you would've thought plenty of girls would be throwing themselves at him. Then again, the poor thing was so shy and quiet, especially when he wasn't with his beloved older brother Jacaerys. He probably had no idea how desirable he was.

You shook your head and chuckled softly as you wrapped your fingers more firmly around his throbbing cock, giving him a few slow pumps. "But don't worry, sweetheart," you purred, voice low and conspiratorial. "I'll make sure to take gooood care of you…" You flashed him a wicked grin, eager to give your adorable stepbrother his very first handjob.

Lucerys's breath hitched, and his spine arched as your fingers tightened around his shaft, giving him the firm stroke he desperately needed. His toes curled and his thighs clenched, muscles flexing as pleasure sparked through his nerves.

"I… I don't… ah!" he gasped out, eyes wide and cheeks burning at your teasing words. He knew he should protest, should tell you that of course he could handle your mouth, but the words died on his tongue as you pumped his throbbing cock.

Your touch felt so good, so much better than his own clumsy fumbles. He could feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, every twitch and throb as you worked him closer to his peak.

"Please…" Lucerys whimpered, hips rolling up to meet your strokes. He didn't even know what he was begging for anymore, too lost in the new sensations to think clearly. All he knew was that he needed more, needed you to keep touching him until he exploded.

Your wicked grin sent a bolt of lust straight to his aching balls, making them draw up tight against his body. He could feel the pressure building inside him, his orgasm approaching swiftly, as you worked his cock with practised efficiency.

"I'm… I'm not…" he gasped, feeling the telltale tightness in his gut as his climax fast approached. "I'm gonna… gonna…"

You snatched your hand away abruptly, brow arched in disbelief. "Already?" you teased, smirking. "And here I thought I'd have more time to play with this cute cock of yours." You let your gaze drift pointedly over his straining erection, noting how it throbbed urgently in the cool air, the swollen head an angry, desperate shade of red. "Guess you're just too pent up, hmmm? Can't blame my horny stepbrother for being eager though."

Lucerys whimpered desperately as you Suddenly pulled your hand away, leaving his aching cock throbbing and leaking in the cool air. He looked up at you with hazy, pleading eyes, face flushed with embarrassment and unfulfilled lust.

"S-sorry," he stammered, biting his lip as he tried to hold back his impending orgasm through sheer force of will. "I just… I've never… aahh…"

Lucerys squirmed on the bed, the sheets twisting beneath his hips as he fought the urge to grab his own cock and finish himself off. He was so close, teetering right on the edge of his very first climax at the hands of another.

"Please…" he begged softly, voice cracking with desperation. "I need… I need you to touch me again. I can't… I can't hold back much longer…" He gazed at you with wide, vulnerable eyes.

You gaze at Lucerys with a mix of amusement and tenderness, your heart fluttering at his helpless, desperate pleas. Unable to resist his boyish charm and the way his body responded so eagerly to your touch, you lean in close.

"Oh, you poor, pent-up boy," you coo softly, your breath warm against his ear. You let out a sympathetic little sigh. "Alright then, you've more than earned this."

Sitting up, you spat lightly onto his throbbing, flushed cock, watching with a smirk as the saliva trickles down his shaft, glistening obscenely. Making Lucerys let out a choked moan, your spit providing a slick new source of friction as your hand began to pump his cock in earnest.

You wrapped your fingers around him, relishing the feeling of his soft skin, hot and pulsing with need.

Your hands started to move, twisting and pumping his thick length in a steady, purposeful rhythm. You worked him with focused intensity, your grip alternating between firm and teasing as you stroked him closer to his release.

"That's it, sweetheart," you encourage him in a low sultry murmur. "Let yourself go. I want to watch you cum for me…"

"Ohhh god…" he gasped, fingers scrabbling at the sheets as his hips rocked upwards to meet your strokes.

He could feel his release fast approaching as you touched him with purposeful intensity. His stomach clenched, and his balls tightened, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.

"Haahh, yes… yes…" he panted out, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure consumed him. Your words urged him on, spurring him towards his inevitable climax.

Lucerys's breathing grew ragged, chest heaving as he teetered on the razor's edge. His cock throbbed almost violently in your grip.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry of your name, Lucerys came undone. His cock jerked and spasmed as it erupted, painting thick ropes of hot cum all over your pumping fist.

"NNAAHH! Aahhh…" he wailed as spurt after spurt of his release shot out, his young body shaking and convulsing with the force of it. It was his very first time experiencing such intense pleasure, and it overwhelmed his senses completely.

Thick globs of pearly white seed dripped onto his stomach and chest, and some landed on your fingers. Lucerys trembled and moaned throughout the aftershocks, eyes rolling back and toes curling as he rode out the waves of his climax.

As Lucerys came hard, his length jerked and spasmed in your grip, painting your hand and his shirt with thick ropes of hot, sticky seed. The obscene sounds of his release filled the room as you continued pumping his throbbing cock, working him through the intense waves of pleasure that wracked his young body.

"Oh wow, so much cum for such a pretty boy," you purred, watching in amusement as Lucerys's face contorted in pleasure, his eyes rolling back and toes curling. "You really needed that, didn't you sweetie?"

You couldn't help but feel a rush of pride knowing you had brought your adorable stepbrother to such a mind-blowing climax. His spent member gave a weak twitch as the last drops of cum dripped out, and you had to chuckle at how utterly depraved he looked - shirt splattered with his own release, hair mussed, and cheeks glowing a deep shade of red.

Lucerys could only whimper and nod weakly, still dazed and trembling in the afterglow. "Y-yes, thank you…" he managed to stammer out, gazing up at you with hazy, adoring eyes. You couldn't wait to corrupt him further and make this a regular occurrence between you…

Just as Lucerys was coming down from his high, the bedroom door suddenly burst open. Jacaerys stood there, his handsome face flushed and eyes dark with poorly concealed lust as he took in the perverse scene before him - his younger brother's spent cock glistening with cum, your hand coated in the same, and the general air of sexual tension permeating the room.

"Well, well, well..." Jacaerys drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against the doorframe casually. "Looks like someone's having all the fun without me. Thought we were going to share, little brother?"

He stalked closer to the bed, eyes roving hungrily over your curves and lingering on where your fingers were still wrapped around Lucerys's sensitive cock. "It's not fair, leaving your big brother out of the action," he complained, petulance clear in his tone. "I've been wanting a taste of her for ages now..."

Reaching the edge of the bed, he leaned down, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his heated gaze. "It's my turn next, little sis," he murmured, voice low and full of dark promise. "So you'd better not tire yourself out too much on dear Lucerys here." He said darkly before releasing you and turning to his flushed younger brother with a grin. "Better rest up, Luke. Because I certainly can't wait much longer to bury my cock in our step-sister's tight little holes..."

565 notes · View notes

unconventional-lawnchair · 7 months ago

Text

Not Quite Poison

Barty Crouch Jr. X Potter!Reader

Summary: after a chance meeting in the library; a whirlwind love affair between Barty Crouch Jr and the youngest Potter blossom, but neither of them were prepared for how life would go after.

AN: MONTHS. I have finally finished this after MONTHS. Sorry if the writing style is a bit whiplash, I have changed a lot since then. I can't get away from Barty he owns my whole heart

CW: not proof read, no use of Y/N, Obsessive!Barty(implied obsessive reader), sexual themes and scenes, graveling and begging, Protective Sirius and James, fighting, lying, self indulgent, cursing, Remus x reader if you squint, angst, angst with slightly happy ending, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo, underage drinking, major character death (unless...?)

WC: ~17k

You never felt as bold or as powerful as you did at Hogwarts, walking the halls with your older brother and his friends.

Shamelessly you always thought they were the coolest. The Marauders, James Potter; Head Boy, Remus Lupin; Prefect, Sirius Black; one of the most clever and strongest duelists in the school, and Peter Pettigrew; the sweetest boy you'd ever meet.

They had a reputation for themselves even before you came to the school a year later. Not that it surprised you, your brother had always been a moth to the limelight. You were just happy he never aimed that at you, being fiercely protective of his little sister. They all were pretty defensive when it came to ‘little Potter.’

But, there was only so much their help could do.

“Dreadful! A Dreadful on my potions exam!” You groaned as you wiggled the parchment in front of you, as if shaking it enough would change the ink that was etched on the page.

“I have never gotten such a low score in my life!” You whined and hugged the paper. Giving a small sigh as Sirius ruffled your hair. “Calm it, Bambi. It’s just a practice test. You're becoming Moony.”

Sirius gestured behind his back to Remus, who was wearing an offended look.

“I'm sorry I couldn't help you more.” Lily called over from under your brother's arm, sending you a sympathetic look. You just mumbled.

“It’s alright, Red. If even you can’t save me, I’m well and truly done for.” You groaned and Remus nudged you with his elbow.

“I could always give you a hand.”

You shook your head and bit your cheek. “Nah, think it’s best I crack on alone. No distractions.” You waved your hands out dramatically, full of resolve. Enough to make Sirius laugh at you and Lily to roll her eyes fondly. The redhead looked up and smirked at James who seemed to be lost in his own little world, staring at her.

“Jamie, dearest?”

He blinked out of his daze and smiled at her. “What's that?”

“Were you paying any mind to your little sister?”

“She was talking?” He muttered and looked over at you, greeted by a bird that wasn't under his arm, instead poking from between your index and ring finger. “Ah, so I’ve finally learned to tune her out. Only took me seventeen years.”

“Sod off.” You stuck your tongue out at him and he blew a raspberry back, before Lily gave him a reprimanding smack on his shoulder.

“You're meant to be head boy.” She huffed and you just smirked.

“How they let him get that badge, I’ll never know!” You shouted up to your brother who made a mocking face at you with his eyes crossed. Remus snickering from your other side.

“Oi, James, keep it to yourself,” Peter mumbled, shuffling out of spitting range.

“It's like watching two first years go at it.” Sirius mumbled and Remus shrugged. “I don't think they ever left that age.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at the jabs as Lily grabbed your brother's face and squished his cheeks, leaving him a smiling fool.

“Okay, I'm heading to the library.” You offered and got a variety of responses as you left. “Got to make sense of this disaster of a grade.”

Their echoes of conversation faded out as your shoes hit the path to the library. Once there, you were shocked to see how many people were studying in the now cramped hall. It was fair to say that everyone here had a poor score on their test.

What was worse is you didn't recognize a single person. Not well enough to sit with.

You walked down the long path between the aisle and tried to spot an open seat somewhere. That was, until you spotted an empty table. An entirely empty table with a few spare books shoved across the old oak. You lit up and hurried over to take the seat closest to the wall. Setting up your things to begin to study, not noticing how people had been avoiding that table like the plague.

As you set up your books and notes you were oblivious to any presence around you, until the seat right next to you was pulled out. “You know…”

You looked up quickly and you were greeted by a pair of piercing green eyes that made your heart stop. What was it with Potters and green eyes? You'd never know.

“If you wanted my seat that bad, you could have just asked.” You were suddenly snapped to your senses when you recognized the voice.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. Fuck.

You didn't talk to many RavenClaws, you hardly talked to any male classmates considering how often your brother would scare them off. Sirius wasn't much help either.

However, Crouch had a special reputation. Hanging around dangerous Slytherins, loud, dangerous, obsessive and as smart as a damned whip. You only knew what Sirius told you about him, which was nothing good, considering how both of them absolutely despised each other. James didn't like him either, but Lily spoke highly of him.

Lily spoke highly of almost anyone, though.

You only realized you had been staring at him when he arched his eyebrow.

“Cat got your tongue, Potter?” He teased as he took his seat and you snapped out of your thoughts. Still just blinking owlishly at him. This made him chuckle softly, leaving him to simply shrug and get back to work.

With how he behaved around most of the students you expected him to chase you off or bare his fangs- maybe bite you. Who knows? People described him more like a rabid animal than a proper student. Yet you had sat in his seat, at his table, pushed aside and even stolen one of his books, and he was as calm as a cat.

“Er- sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.” You whispered and he glanced over at you. Meeting your eyes with a slowly growing smile.

“So she does talk?” He teased and you pursed your lips.

“When she wants to.”

“That's not very Potter of you.”

“It's very me of me.”

His smile only grew as your banter continued. His shoulders seemed to relax and he became a bit more playful. You felt like you might be insane, were there two Crouchs? There is no way this is the same boy who almost beat Sirius to a pulp over a remark about his own brother.

“So… do you mind if I study here?” You asked softly and he shrugged, going back to his paper.

“I don't mind a pretty face.”

This time it was your turn to smile, rolling your eyes a bit fondly. You got back to your notes, writing down each problem you had gotten wrong and looking for the proper potion recipe, starting with Wiggenweld. You began to mutter to yourself as you looked across three different books. Rubbing your temple in irritation as you tried to understand the ingredients and grew more and more infuriated.

“You're doing it wrong.” You heard Barty mumble from beside you. You snapped your head over to glare at him and it only served to make him chuckle.

“I don't think I've ever seen a Dreadful in my life.”

You flushed a bit and moved your wrist to hide your marks. “What happened to you being nice to me?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled and shifted his seat a bit closer to you, looking at the books. “What's got you confused?”

“I just..” You sighed and gestured to the books. “Every one of these say something different! Salamander blood until it turns yellow, then orange, then green. But this one says Unicorn horn and Lionfish spines. And then this one says Sloth-”

“Woah woah woah, pretty girl, breath.” He pushed and you took a sharp breath. No one but Sirius had ever called you that, and certainly not in that tone. He lifted his arm and you got a good view of his bare forearm from where his sleeve was rolled up, showing off a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a magpie, you think. He smiled at how you took it in. “Did it myself.”

Your eyes widened and looked at him in shock. He seemed giddy with excitement at your interests. “That and this,” He mused and stuck out his tongue, using his middle fingers to press it flat against his lip. Showing off his tongue piercing and his black nails. Your eyebrows shot up to your hair line.

Him and Sirius were scarily alike. It was almost comforting.

“Woah…” You mumbled and he laughed. Smiling ear to ear.

“Look here, kid.”

“I'm your age-”

“Shhh, I'm spitting wisdom.”

You couldn't help but laugh and relax fully as his fingers lined the pages of one of your books. “The reason they are so different is the one thing Professor Slug on my Horn doesn't tell you,” You laughed a bit in surprise at the vulgar nickname, “Is the potions you study under him have several different ways to make it. Salamander blood being the one taught in class.”

You looked back at the books and tilted your head a bit. “Why wouldn't they tell you that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I don't even use those recipes, I made my own.”

You looked over at him in shock and he just smiled at you.

You knew Crouch was a genius, he made sure everyone knew. But to have your own concoction for the potion you couldn't figure out how to brew according to instructions? You were baffled.

“Really?”

He nodded and you furrowed your brow. “Why Wiggenweld?”

His lip twitched and you could see as the smile left his eyes but not his lips, slowly biting his cheek. “I'm prone to.. accidents.”

“Your fights.” You whispered and he shrugged.

“Those too.”

“Typical Crouch behavior.” You murmured, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice. Talking to him was feeling more natural by the second. “Always getting into trouble.”

He grinned at that, leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence that was slightly charming. He had a way about it, how his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loose. Robe discarded and undeniably handsome- “What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling more at ease as you continued to chat. The tension from earlier with your potions exam began to fade, replaced by a curiosity of learning who this Barty boy really was. It was a strange feeling, considering the reputation he had, but he seemed different here, away from the majority of the school, he was so gentle and sweet.

“So, what’s your recipe for Wiggenweld?” You asked, hopeful for a bit of help. You leaned in closer, the books between you momentarily forgotten.

“Alright, but you have to promise me something,” He whispered and leaned all that more closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You can’t tell anyone I’m teaching you this. It’s our secret.”

“Deal!” You nodded, your excitement bubbling over. You didn’t care about the implications of keeping secrets; you were just grateful for the distraction and the chance to understand potions from a different perspective. Definitely not to keep talking to him, not at all, he was just so damned sweet.

“Well, I use this version of it.” He gestured to your test, “But no Salamander blood. Just Horklump and Dittany.”

“What?” You whispered in shock and he sent you a playful wink.

“Trust me, yeah?” He gestured to the pages. “You just need to stew them for no longer than ten minutes. Stir it the first two- Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“You should be writing this down.” He teased and you quickly scrambled for your quill, cheeks flushed as he found you just staring.

You quickly scribbled down the details, heart racing as you focused on Barty’s instructions. The way he leaned in, so close that you could catch a whiff of his cologne, made it hard to concentrate. You tried to tune out the little voice in your head that reminded you of his reputation; all you wanted was to absorb the knowledge he was sharing. Nothing more.

“Okay, so after you’ve stewed the Horklump and Dittany, you need to add a pinch of powdered mint. It has to be powdered, if you add any fresh mint the juice will wind both of us in detention.” He continued, his voice low and steady, as if he were sharing a well-guarded secret. “But don't tell anyone that. It's just to get the color Slug likes so much.”

You couldn't help but smile at his goofy antics. “We?”

“Hm?”

“We'd end up in detention?”

He gave a chuckle. “Can't let you get in trouble for my secrets, can I? How could I live with myself?”

“What a gentleman.” You cooed and he gave a playfully solemn nod.

“Truly, I am.”

“I would totally let you take the fall for my antics.” You countered and he put a hand over his chest with a gasp. You giggled and he couldn't help but smile at your look.

“You're much prettier than your brother.” He hummed and you paused, turning to furrow your eyebrows at him with a bright smile. Clearly, he had no shame in what he said.

“Watch what you say, my brother may disagree with that.”

Barty smirked, clearly unfazed by the warning. He seemed so.. shameless. “Let him. I’ve dealt with worse than a jealous Potter before.” He leaned in a little closer, his tone playful, yet there was an undertone of seriousness in his eyes. “Besides, I would hate to disappoint him. But my type is more.. about your height, your hair color, your eyes. Have to say, the only thing wrong with you… your name.”

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at his compliment, the boldness of his words making your heart race. Who was this guy? “Oh really? What’s wrong with my name?” You asked, trying to keep your tone teasing, but the stutter in your tone betrayed you.

“Potter is a lovely name.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “But if you are looking to try out something different, I have some ideas.“

“Is this you flirting, Crouch?”

“Call me Barty. And if you have to question it I might just have to up my game.” He lit up like a child and your heart clenched hopelessly. He didn't even attempt to play coy with his new found attraction, you wondered hopelessly how many people had told this boy no. Certainly not enough.

Thank Merlin for that.

You couldn't help but laugh, trying to mask the fluttering in your chest. “Well, Barty, I don’t know if you’re just charming or if this is some elaborate scheme to distract me from my disastrous Potions exam.”

He leaned in closer, resting his chin in his hand, eyes focused solely on you. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to suppress a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re delightful,” He shot back without missing a beat. The intensity in his gaze made you feel a little dizzy, like you were the center of an exhilarating storm. Like you were worth all his attention.

You had only been speaking for an hour and it seems he made up his mind about you so quickly.

“Okay, Mr. Charming.” You said with a smirk, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Let’s focus on Potions before you completely derail my study session.”

“Fine, fine.” He chuckled, leaning back into his chair but not breaking eye contact. “What's your next question?”

You spent the rest of the day with Barty, drilling on about the exam and your potion questions, falling into an easy and familiar rhythm. Eventually, even when your questions were answered and the library was empty, you two stayed. Even as it grew dark outside and the only lights came from the candles on the table. You two keep droning into easy conversation.

“You know.” Barty hummed. “This isn't the first time we've met.”

“Really?” You asked, your head in your arms as you leaned on the table over your books. He nodded. “Mhm. We met before, when we were younger. Before Hogwarts.”

“Before Hogwarts?” You echoed, trying to piece together the fragments of your memory. “I don’t remember meeting you before then. Are you sure?”

Barty chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sure. It was at Diagon Alley.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to recall any memory of him. “Diagon Alley? I don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah, it was ages ago. You were with your family, and I was there with my mum.” He explained, with such a sweet smile that reached his eyes. “You had just gotten your first wand. You were so excited, waving it around like you were already a pro. I was upset because my magic hadn't come in yet but you and your brothers came around the same time.”

You felt a spark of recognition at his words, completely baffled he would remember something so utterly small and insignificant to him. “I do remember being really excited! I think I accidentally turned my brother’s hair blue for a week after that.”

Barty burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious. “See? You were a little troublemaker even back then.”

“Hey, it was an accident!” You protested, laughing along with him. “I was just a kid.”

“Still, it’s good to know you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.” He muttered and bit his cheek. Suddenly so.. thoughtful and distant.

“... how did you remember that? I hardly remember it and it was the day I got my wand.” You have a small nervous laugh.

“You really don't remember?” He laughed and you just furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Woah, I'm that forgettable?” He teased and laughed as your eyes widened in horror. “I'm only teasing.”

He rolled his jaw a bit and laid his head on the table to look you in the eyes. “I was throwing a fit, you know. I wanted a wand so badly. You walked past me on the street and you pointed your wand at me. You shouted; ‘tears be gone and magic be strong!’ And just toddled away after your mother.”

Your jaw dropped a bit before you slowly covered your face in embarrassment. Giving a low groan as you began to laugh. “I don't remember that. But that's what my mum always told us when we got hurt. Said our magic would heal our owies.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I stopped crying. When I got my magic the next year I was sure it was your doing. I'm not surprised you don't remember me.”

“It's not that you're forgettable-”

“Heavens no, not that. Just… you are always doing small things like that. You don't know how much it means to people.”

You flushed a bit at his statement and looked down, unable to keep his eyes anymore. “You're exaggerating.”

“I'm not. Everyone just adores you.” He mumbled and you shook your head.

“And everyone is scared of you.” You challenged. “Not everyone knows what they are talking about.”

“They are scared of me with good reason.” He corrected and you shook your head defiantly.

“You're not scary.”

“I can be.”

“I'll believe it when I see it.”

“I guess you'll never believe it then.”

You tilted your head a bit and looked up to meet his eyes. He was smiling so softly, so sweet, eyes gentle and almost suffocating. “I would rather die than scare you.”

You stared at him, a bit stunned. Struggling to catch yourself but all you could muster was. “You could never scare me.”

“Good.” He whispered in earnest with a nod of his head. “Good.” He smiled.

Before you both could continue talking, you heard the grand doors creek open, both of you looked up like deer in headlights. You saw Remus poke his head in and he smiled at you, before giving a grimace of a look at your company.

You stood up as you saw Remus leave, giving a low sigh. “Sorry, I kept you here so late.”

“Don't worry about that.” He muttered as he began to help you pack up. “I'll put your books away for you.”

You gave him a surprised look before you furrowed your brow. “Are you not heading out as well?”

“Not now. I have a few assignments to look over.” He mumbled and your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Wha? Oh! Oh, Barty, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you.” You whispered and he shook his head, chuckling.

“It's alright, you can make it up to me.” He muttered and you nodded vigorously. “Distract me again? Tomorrow? Same seat?”

You were stunned for a moment before you slowly smiled to match his. “Time?”

“I'll be here all day.”

“Understood.” You smiled and gave him a small wave. “Goodnight, Barty.”

“Goodnight, Star.”

When you made your way out of the library and noticed James, Lily, Remus, Peter, and Sirius. You tilted your head a bit curiously when you saw James with the map.

“What's this about?” You hummed and James pointed at you like an accusatory child.

“Nuh uh! You and Crouch? Gross! No!”

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion and looked over to Sirius who was glaring at you. Peter looked nervous to meet your eyes.

“You upset your brothers.” Remus muttered to you and you tilted your head.

“It would seem so.” You mumbled back and Lily gave a little giggle. James didn't appreciate your mellow response.

“Bambi that boy is no good for my little sister.” James huffed and you could have sworn if you rolled your eyes any harder they would fall from your head.

“Oh Merlin, here we go.” Lily mumbled.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at James, trying to keep your expression calm. “You mean the boy that helped me understand Potions better than I ever have? The same boy who’s been nothing but nice to me? You guys really need to relax.”

Sirius chimed in, his tone teasing but serious. “Nice? Junior? He's a walking red flag, love”

“And you’d know all about red flags, wouldn’t you, Sirius?” You shot back, a smirk creeping onto your face. You couldn’t help but needle him a bit, knowing full well his own history.

Lily laughed, trying to diffuse the tension. “Come on, you guys, let her have some fun! She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Lily!” James huffed and gestured to you. “She's only 17.”

“18 in two months.” You put your hands on your hips as Remus smirked. “58 days.”

“Right on.” You mused and you and Remus shared a high five.

“Wha- I- no! No, I don't like it!” James whined like a child. “He's a Death Eater.”

That killed the fun chillingly fast. The hall was silent- in truth, no one knew anything about who was truly what. The only people you guys knew to be those monsters were the ones who claimed it. Like Mulciber, Avery, and even some of the other younger Slytherins.

The only evidence they would have to that would be the company Barty chose to keep.

“You watch your mouth.” You snapped quickly at James who looked a bit caught off guard that his usually sweet playful sister was so serious. Your blood was boiling with anxiety and inching for you to back down, you just wouldn't. To be in the middle of a war and to use that word so freely?

“You don't know what rumors like that can do to someone! And, I'll have you know, he is the sweetest boy I've ever talked to!” You snapped at him and his jaw dropped.

“Not you, Remus or Peter.” You reassured and they nodded in agreement.

“Not me.” Peter smiled at his friends and earned a smack from Sirius. Remus had the good sense not to say anything.

“You're such a git, James! And I won't be letting you continue to dictate my social life!” You snapped and the second Sirius opened his mouth you glared at him down. “You either greaser!”

Remus snickered and you shook your head. “I'm going to my dorm!”

Lily scurried up to follow you, giving the boys a playful ‘hmph!’ As she passed.

Remus was about to say something before Lily grabbed his arm and dragged him along. Leaving the three older Gryffindor's alone in the hall, baffled.

~~~

You stomped right up to your bed and slipped across it with a groan. Remus was next, mocking your childish stomps before he laid the proper way across your mattress, arms behind his head. You glared at him before Lily sat beside you and patted the side near her, coaxing you closer.

You sighed and sat up, wiggling closer.

“Baremius, huh?” She prodded and you nodded, leaning on your palms beside your knees. Her tone was always so soft and patient. She was always so… peaceful.

“It's not like that. But James- ugh! He just gets on my nerves.”

“Not like that?” Remus spoke up from behind you two. “He looked like he was about to kiss you.”

“I have that effect on people.” You cheeked, quickly trying to cover up your heating cheeks. “He was helping me with potions. Nothing more.”

“Well, that's good.” Lily muttered and you half glared at her.

“Good?”

“I can't believe I'm about to say this.” She muttered. “I agree with your brother on this one.”

You gawked at her before you looked at at Remus who suddenly looked nervous.

“And you?”

“In my defense, putting aside the rumors and.. his behaviors. He's a guy.” He shrugged and you gave a scandalized laugh.

“And you're not?”

“I'm a man.” He hummed and flexed playfully, showing off his arms and making you laugh, laying back and across his stomach. Lily rolled her eyes playfully and laid her head on his chest, looking at you with a soft smile.

“And in my defense, honey, I know him. He's friends with those horrid Slytherin boys and…” She looked away for a moment. “Snape. I know you can't judge someone on their friends alone but…”

“It says a lot.” You muttered and slowly hid your face in Remus’s stomach. He lifted his hand to ruffle your hair and you gave a loud and annoyed groan, looking back at Lily. “Do you really think-”

“I haven't seen any proof.” Lily quickly hushed you. “But just.. be careful, yeah? May want to keep him at arm's length.”

“...” You sighed and began to pick at the cables of Remus’s sweater, earning a smack from him. “I'll keep my distance.”

“That's our girl.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss your temple, making you laugh.

“You have to marry my brother now.” You insisted and Lily gave a snort.

“Oh, look at this.” Lily mused and reached behind her, the second you lifted your head she flung a pillow at your face, leaving you to fall against Remus’s stomach. He let out a sound that resembled a balloon deflating and it left you and Lily giggling like fools.

You stared up at the ceiling as Remus and Lily began to chat aimlessly. You began to pick at your nails and pause. You wondered if there was any truth to it, the rumors and his actions.

“I would rather die than scare you.”

His words replayed in your head over and over. What did he mean by that? Was it just you? Was his persona an act? What made you the exception?

The way his head tilted and his eyes looked into yours, it was something so genuine. Scarily affectionate. You wondered if it really was just that conversation. That day you met and that comment you made to him about magic.

Was he really not used to such simple compassions?

“Earth to bambi.” Lily called out and you looked over at her with a curious look. She smiled.

“So you won't get tangled up in him, yeah?” She prodded and you bit your cheek. You must have missed a lot.

“Yeah.. I'll be careful.” You muttered and she smiled.

“Good. I'm off to my patrols.” She hummed and sat up, grabbing her books and saying her goodbyes.

Remus looked down at you to see that distant stare again. Giving a weak chuckle and patting, giving a hum. “Wanna braid my hair?”

You sat up wordlessly and flopped on the pillow next to him. “Actually.. Can you read to me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, bambi.” He mused and grabbed one of the books from your coffee table. Shifting up so you could lay your head on his chest, listening as he started the same book he's already ready you a million times.

~~~

You kept your promise and you avoided Barty. Everything went back to the status quo. At least for the first few weeks.

James had let it go a week or so later and Sirius was still weary of leaving you alone for too long. Ever since he started staying at your house in year five, he had become just as hovering and doting as your brother. But with Lily and Remus as reinforcements they never pushed it too far.

Then came the full moon. Remus would never allow you too far from the Gryffindor towers the nights leading up to it. No one, really.

He would sooner see you in detention then letting you out of the dorms and especially not near the dark forest the night of the full moon. However, even if you couldn't help the night of, the very next morning no one could stop you from rushing down to the shrieking shack with breakfast and water for the boys.

It was never anything complicated, just a few biscuits and water before you all were lugged back for classes. This morning was no different. As you walked with the boys out of the shrieking shack and towards the school.

The sun was shining bright, casting warm rays across the forest floor as you made your way back toward the castle. The air was crisp, fresh from the night’s chill, and you felt a sense of accomplishment in being there for your friends.

“Thanks for this, lil Potter.” Remus mumbled, his voice still a bit hoarse but warm with affection as he took a sip of water. He was leaning heavily on his crutch that he still tried to insist he didn't need. The other boys were busy sharing their own sleepy banter, but you just smiled. “Of course, Moony. I wish you'd let me help more. I feel like I've become an animagus for nothing. I can still taste the mandrake leaf, I'll have you know.”

“I told you he wouldn't let you help like, five times!” James shouted ahead as he slipped back on his shirt. Remus strayed behind in his slowed step. Sirius shook his head.

“If we had it our way, and you weren't so spoiled, you wouldn't be one at all.” He snarked in all his grumpy morning glory and you gave a sarcastic laugh.

“What got up your ass this morning? Hopefully not Remus in his state.”

Remus began to choke on the water you had given them and Sirius gawked at you. James let out a laugh so loud it startled a few birds from the trees.

Remus rolled his neck before he nudged you a bit and gave a low groan. “It will keep you safe. Just in case… you know, anything happens.”

“Nothing will happen.” You assured and he shrugged, always ready to believe he could hurt you guys at any second.

“You never know.”

“You'd never hurt me, Remus.” You whispered and locked your arm with his. He shook his head.

“Moony would.” He challenged and you shook your head back at him.

“No, I mean, you wouldn't be able to. I am simply getting that good at self defense magic, didn't you hear our new professor? Could wipe the floor with em.” You cheeked and Remus gave you the most sour look you had ever seen, making you giggle.

“Can I?” Peter whispered from beside you and you handed him your water easily, giving a laugh when he threw it back and chucked the damn thing.

“Thirsty?”

“We shouldn't have drank.” He muttered and your jaw dropped.

“You four drank? That has to be illegal. More- more so illegal than whatever we have been doing so far.” You scolded and Remus just gave you a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, looking off into the forest with a playful huff. Only for you to pause when you saw some bit of blue behind you guys.

You began to slow down more, furrowing your brow at the figure you swear you saw, just following you guys. Your arm untangled from Remus’s and he paused, looking back at you. Then, you saw cigarette smoke. You trailed back a bit more before you turned sharply.

“I think I dropped something! I'll catch up!” You called back before you hurried down the trail. Looking along the tree line. Only then did you spot exactly who you thought you saw.

Barty looked at you with wide eyes, from the thicket of the trees. You two locked in a staring contest for a few moments before you heard Peter’s voice call out to you.

“You okay, Bambi?” He shouted and you quickly ran into the proper tree line. Grabbing Barty by his lapels and pushing his back against the nearest tree. He gave a small ‘oof’ as you took the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it on the ground, stomping it out.

He didn't react much besides rolling his head in annoyance and looking up at the leaves above you as you attempted to hide him. “What are you doing here?” You whisper hissed, assuming the worst.

He sucked his teeth a bit before looking down at you with a quirked eyebrow, “Can't take a morning stroll?”

“Were you following me?” You asked incredulously, stepping back from him as he fixed his uniform. “Not.. initially.”

“Yo! Bambi, you alright?” Sirius called down and you pursed your lips, giving Barry a once over. He looked.. sad. Almost bored. Nothing like the playful boy in the library.

“Uhm… yes. Yes!” You shouted back. “Wardrobe malfunction! I have a spell for it, just run ahead!”

There was a long pause before Remus shouted back. “Alright!”

As you listened to the boy’s voices finally fade out into the background you slipped your hands in your robe pockets.

“Why are you out here?” You finally asked and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. He walked over to a well worn log and sat down. Looking back to the path one more time you finally sat by him, hugging your cold knees.

He took off his robe and threw it over your lap. Before you could protest he took a letter from his pocket and handed it over to you. Taking out a box of smokes and starting another one.

You looked over the letter carefully, the envelope was beige but it had a blue stamp. Carefully, you unfolded it.

Bartemius,

I find it utterly disheartening that I must waste my precious time addressing your incessant foolishness yet again. Your childish antics are a stain on our family name, and quite frankly, I am beyond exhausted by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation. Another fight within a week? Pathetic.

How dare you presume to send a personal letter to my office as if your juvenile escapades warrant my attention? If I sought updates on your disgraceful behavior, I would have asked your mother- though I suspect she has long since learned to ignore your antics. It astounds me that you continue to associate with those beneath you, dragging my name through the mud and jeopardizing the reputation I have painstakingly built in the ministry.

Your conduct is an embarrassment, not just to yourself but to me and our entire lineage. I expect to see a marked improvement in your behavior, though I have little hope that you possess the maturity to effect any real change. If you cannot rise above your base instincts, you will remain nothing but a disappointment. Do not insult me further with your incompetence.

You felt your heart clench tighter with each line you read. It was like someone had cut out the devil's tongue and used his linguistics to verbally lash the pages, and the lack of warmth in the words left you feeling hollow. It was hard to reconcile the boy you’d just been speaking with- the charming, playful Barty- with the boy described in this letter.

Let alone a boy as sweet as Barty could be subject to this. Your thumbs began to crease the page the tighter you held it.

You knew you were lucky to have a father like yours. He would never speak down to you like this, he was the one who begged you to write. About anything and everything.

“I wanted him to know I got all O’s.” He muttered, gesturing to the letter. You looked over to him in surprise as he tightened his jaw but kept his expression unreadable. “Should of known it wouldn't have impressed him.”

“Barty…” You whispered, looking up at him with concern etched across your features. You felt your eyes begin to sting and your vision blur. He was staring off into the distance, tense as he took a deep drag of the cigarette. How could someone be so cruel to him?

You schooled your expression, giving a sniff or two as you used your sleeve to dry your tears. Then, your turned to face him fully, pressing the letter firm against your lap.

“You impressed me.” You declared in a stern tone. He furrowed his brow and looked at you curiously. You kept a straight face. “It's impressive, Barty. It's impressive and.. I'm impressed.”

He gave a weak, almost scandalized laugh before he bit his cheek, trying to hide a smile. “You are?”

“Mhm.” You nodded earnestly and he gave a low chuckle as you began to sniff again to try and keep your tears back.

“So.. is that why you'd been avoiding me?” He mused and your shoulders sank a bit. You have a deep sigh and hugged your knees. Burying your face in his robe still draped over your legs.

There was a moment of pause before you finally gave in. “You're not.. you're not a bad person. I don't think you are.” You whispered. “But my brother does. And his friends.”

“So what?” He asked softly, no malice in his tone just genuine curiosity.

You hesitated, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “So... I don’t want to get caught up in whatever is brewing around you. I know there's something. They care about me, and I care about them. I can’t just ignore it. And Lily she's...”

Barty’s expression shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “You think I’m dangerous?”

“I think you have a reputation.” You countered, trying to keep your tone neutral even as your voice wavered. “And it’s not just who you hang around with. It’s the way people talk about you- like you’re some kind of monster. I've.. heard things. What you've done, I mean.”

He chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I’ve earned that.” He admitted. “But I’m not dangerous. Not to you.”

You felt a pang of something- so heavy and tight in your chest at the way he said it. There was an honesty in his voice that made you hesitate, and for a moment, you saw not just the boy with the reputation, but someone who seemed genuinely weary of the way others perceived him. No.

The way you perceived him. The hypothetical danger he posed to you. He was more concerned with how you felt about him then anyone else.

“Then why do you hang around with them?” You asked, trying to understand. “You could easily distance yourself from them, you know. They are.. they are monsters, you know what they did to Mary and Lily. They are important to me.”

Barty shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that didn’t quite match the tension in his expression. “They’re... my friends. They understand the game. It’s easier to be with those who don’t expect me to be anything other than what I am.”

“But that's not fair.” You huffed boldly. “That's not fair to me. I won't pick between anyone and my friends because my answer will be my friends.”

“Yeah..” Barty took another long drag of his cigarette. “Me too.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you two, a heavy silence stretching out as you both considered the implications. You had to let yourself realize that with a father like his… his friends were truly all he had. You watched as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, the tendrils swirling in the sunlight filtering through the trees. His face was partially shadowed, but you could see the conflict in his eyes- caught between the reputation he had and the reputation his friends built.

“So, you’re saying that you’d rather be with them, even if it puts you in a bad light?” You asked, your brows furrowing in concern. “Is that really worth it?”

Barty leaned back against the tree, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Not all of us can be Sirius Black.” He chuckled dark and your lip twitched. “Not all of us have a Potter waiting to save us and I'm not leaving Regulus alone either.”

You furrowed your brow at him and he just shrugged. “Why didn't Regulus come along?” You whispered softly and he shook his head.

“Wrong question star. It's not my job to question him. I'm the one who's there for him.”

You stared at him for a moment longer and Barty met your eyes. It was like a stalemate for a good few minutes.

At that moment, you wondered if the houses were truly picked properly. Because you had never known anyone braver and more loyal than Bartemius Crouch Junior. You gave a low sigh and then smiled at him. He slowly returned it and your smile only widened.

Giving a small giggle he tossed his finished cigarette and held his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you up, tossing his robe over his arm.

“You should run off now, yeah? Before your brother finds me defacing his sister's reputation.”

You shook your head with a bitter laugh. Taking a moment to appreciate him up close. Eventually, you gave in, getting on your toes and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. One that seemed to stun him.

“You really are remarkable, Barty.” You whispered and he couldn't hide his goofy and bright smile from you.

“And you, Star Potter, are a beautiful experience, everytime.” He said, his voice low and earnest, a spark of genuine warmth in his gaze. You felt your heart flutter at his compliment, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this small pocket of time.

“Now, run along.” He whispered, his tone teasing as he stepped back, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Don’t let them catch you talking to me, or they’ll think I’m corrupting you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to walk back toward the castle. “You wish you were that lucky!” You called over your shoulder, feeling lighter than you had in days.

He watched you go with a small sigh. Shamelessly he put the robe to his face he could smell the faintest linger of your perfume. His eyes closing tight, as the scent reminded him you were real.

“Merlin, I really do.”

~~~

Sneaking around was your brother’s bread and butter, not yours.

But you found it harder and harder to really stay away from Barty. His persistence didn't help.

Small things started happening. Like chocolates began to appear in your books, flowers showing up on your desk, and other small things that were undeniably Barty. You couldn't get away from him. Whether it was the shared glances or the way he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race, it was undeniable how much you were starting to fall for him.

You’d see him in the halls between classes, his eyes catching yours briefly before he flashed that charming smile. Sometimes he’d join you at the library, his presence both comforting and slightly thrilling. Each time felt like a secret shared in the quiet corners of Hogwarts, a world apart from the repetitive life of your friends. Not that you didn't love them- you adored them.

But the attention was nice.

“I got an Outstanding!” Lily sang as she held up her test, smiling ear to ear. James gave a wolf whistle to make Lily laugh, earning a shove for it.

Sirius looked at his parchment and gave a low whistle before carefully setting it back down, making the group laugh.

“That bad?” You cooed and Sirius smirked at you.

“Yeah? And what did you get, bambi?”

You bit your cheek and looked down at your parchment. Slowly turning it over with one eye closed, only to give a delighted gasp. “Ha! Outstanding!”

You flashed the paper to the group and Remus gave a laugh, Sirius playfully glared at you and snatched the paper away from you. “Horseradish! You cheated.” He insisted and you laughed.

“I did not cheat!” You protested, trying to snatch your parchment back. “I just studied really hard!”

“Sure, sure,” Sirius said, grinning as he held it just out of your reach. “What’s your secret? Did you bribe Slughorn?”

“That didn't cross my mind, actually.” You cheeked, and Remus clicked his tongue with a playful shake of his head. “Disappointed.”

Sirius laughed, holding your parchment a little higher. “You could have had him eating out of your hand with some chocolate frogs, you know.”

“Next time, I’ll be sure to bring him a whole box.” You shot back with a grin, finally managing to snatch your parchment back.

“Look at my little sister!” James piped up, pinching your cheeks. “I knew you had brains in there somewhere!”

“Sod off!” You huffed and he just laughed, letting you go.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the actual cause of the O. As your brother and everyone began to get back to their idle chatter, you looked across the hall to the RavenClaw table, but you didn't see him. As your eyes drifted across the hall to the Slytherin table, you found your eyes trapped by a pair of stormy gray ones. Regulus Black simply nodded to you and looked down.

You wondered if he knew.

You pouted a bit before you looked back to the group. “I think I'll spend my free period at the library.”

“Awe, booo.” Peter called across the table.

“Come on, Bambi, don’t be a hermit!” James chimed in, trying to coax you back into the conversation. “You just got an Outstanding! Celebrate a little, you'll turn into my Evans!”

Lily gave a scoff.

“Yeah, you deserve a break.” Sirius added, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “How about we all go to Hogsmeade this weekend? A little fun to reward your hard work?”

You hesitated, torn between the prospect of hanging out with your friends and the nagging feeling that you wanted to see Barty again. “I would like to. But I really should review.”

“Come on, bambi!” Sirius pleaded, leaning forward with that infamous grin of his. “You can study later! Hogsmeade is a perfect way to unwind. Plus, we’re all going together. It’ll be fun!”

You bit your lip, glancing toward the Ravenclaw table again, half-hoping to see Barty’s unmistakable figure. He still wasn’t there. “I really should-”

“Should what?” James interjected, crossing his arms in an exaggerated manner. “Your grades won’t crumble if you take one break. Besides, you’ve been studying like a madwoman. You deserve a little fun. We haven't really hung out since you started this new study obsession.”

“Yeah! What’s the point of getting good marks if you can’t enjoy yourself?” Sirius chimed in.

You sighed, biting your cheek. While you loved your friends and cherished the time spent with them, the thought of Barty lingered in your mind. “I just think I can study more effectively if I focus on Potions right now.”

“Come on’, you can’t keep avoiding social interactions forever!” Sirius exclaimed dramatically. “You’ll turn into a hermit! Just imagine it: ‘Bambi, the hermit of Hogwarts’- it has a nice ring to it, actually.” He mumbled.

You giggled despite yourself, but the thought of Barty won over. “Sorry boys.”

“I think it's a good idea.” Lily hummed and you felt a bit guilty. Giving a firm nod and gathering your things and hurrying out of the hall before they could continue to protest.

The soft breeze from outside pushed back your hair a bit as you walked. The smell of the great hall flickered out and was soon replaced by the not entirely pleasant dampness of the dungeons. You weren't walking down the halls for long before you were suddenly yanked into a broom closet so fast you squealed.

Quickly a hand came over your mouth and you- like a normal person would- freaked out. Slamming your head back into the unseen attacker’s face. You heard a groan as he let go and spun around, only to stare at Barty with wide eyes. His hand covering his bruising nose and smiling at you.

“You scared the daylights out of me!” You scolded quickly, pushing away your embarrassment and annoyance with him- especially since he got such a strong reaction out of you. He just smiled and chuckled at you.

“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered. He had such a pretty smile, even when he was being an absolute moron. Oh, you owe Lily so many apologies. His hands slipped into his pockets as his shaggy hair fell a bit over his face.

“Just had to see you.” He whispered and you nodded.

“There are better what's to get a girl’s attention.” You muttered and he couldn't stop smiling at you. “Does it still hurt?”

You muttered softly and he nodded, leaning down a bit to your height. You smirked and raised your finger as if it was your wand. “‘tears be gone and magic be strong.” You whispered and he gave a low hum.

“You know…”

“Hm?”

“I'm not a kid anymore.” He chuckled and you flushed a bit, rolling your eyes.

“You could've had me fooled. What do you want me to do? Don't pull girls into a closet- no, don't pull anyone into broom closets.” You scolded and he just laughed, again, the most beautiful sound you'd heard all day.

“How about you kiss it better?” He pushed and you gave a snort.

“So you are a kid?”

“Come on.” He whined and gave you his best puppy dog eyes. “You hurt me, star.”

You held back a laugh, though the urge to playfully shove him away was strong. Instead, you gently cupped his face, watching his expression soften as you leaned in, pressing a quick, light kiss to his nose.

He closed his eyes, humming contentedly at the contact. “Again.” He murmured, barely opening his eyes.

“Needy.” You teased, but obliged, giving him another small kiss. He muttered the same request, and you rolled your eyes, leaning in to pepper his nose with a flurry of quick kisses, each one lighter and faster than the last.

But then, just as your last kiss hovered, he lifted his chin, guiding your lips to his. You gasped softly at the unexpected move, but he only pulled you closer, hands shifting from your hips to your waist, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, warmth flooding through you as you melted into him.

“Cheeky.” You murmured against his lips.

You felt the gentle rumble of his laughter as he held you tighter, closing every bit of space between you until it felt like you’d always belonged there, tangled in his arms, with nothing left between you but the sound of his heart beating against yours.

“Congratulations on potions.” He mumbled and he stepped a bit closer to you. Leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

You giggled and slipped your hands up his arms, grabbing his biceps and your laughter getting louder as his kisses became a bit more sloppy and messy. From your temple to your cheek to your neck. Devolving you both into laughter and loving kisses.

“Barty?” You whispered and he kissed from where his lips we pressed to your ear.

“Mhm?”

“You should kiss my lips again.”

He paused and slowly his lips curled up into a smirk against your neck. “Anything you want, star.”

He slowly kissed a trail up your neck, to your chin, to you cheek. You were growing a bit impatient, but you couldn't bring yourself to be mad about it. It was slow and sweet. The opposite of him.

The anticipation built with each gentle kiss, and when Barty finally pressed his lips to yours, nothing else mattered. The kiss was everything you hoped it would be; soft, warm, and filled with all the excitement from the sneaking around you had been doing.

You both pulled back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment, the sound of your mingled laughter still lingering in the air. He was warm, he always was. Just quiet and content. "I've been wanting to do that for a while.” Barty admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his confession. "Me too."

After a moment of pause, Bart slipped his hands out of his pockets and around your waist. You slowly opened your eyes to see he was staring at you so obviously. So much affection and.. pain in his eyes. Carefully your reached up from his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

“Baby.” You cooed, watching as the black pupils of his eyes grew twice their size.

“I love when you call me that.” He whispered and kissed you again. This time, with a bit more hunger for it.

The intensity of the kiss took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, as if this was where you were always meant to be. Barty's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase any lingering distance between you. The world outside the broom closet faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, private moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that mirrored the emotions you'd both been holding back for so long.

When you finally broke apart, both of you slightly breathless, Barty rested his forehead against yours again. "I need to know.” He whispered. “You're my girl, yeah?”

“Yours.” You confirmed without hesitation. “Your girl.”

Barty's eyes softened, and a relieved smile spread across his face, as if the weight of uncertainty had been lifted. You hadn't realized that for these past few weeks, despite all the flirting and stray touches, the meetings and secret rendezvous you'd never confirmed what felt so obvious to you.

"Good.” He murmured, brushing his thumb gently across your cheek. "Good.”

The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the stillness and the shared understanding that had only deepened. It was rare to find moments like these at Hogwarts, where every day was bustling with activity and noise, but here, in the quiet confines of the broom closet, you had carved out your own little haven.

"We should probably get back before they start wondering where we are.” You whispered reluctantly, knowing that duty and friendships couldn't be ignored forever. If Remus or anyone went looking in the library for you it was over, Merlin if they pulled out that map they loved to use on you so much you were done for.

Barty nodded, though he made no move to let you go just yet. "I suppose. But we’ll have more time together soon, right?"

"Definitely.” You assured him, smiling as you reluctantly stepped back, already anticipating the next secret meeting, the next shared glance across the crowded halls.

As you both emerged from the broom closet, the world seemed a little brighter, the halls a little more welcoming. And as you parted ways with a lingering look, you knew this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

~~~

You never thought Barty was capable of restraint- his affections for you were never a secret. He had been bold from the start, confessing his feelings on your first meeting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You assumed he couldn’t hold back if he tried. But the truth was, you had underestimated him completely.

You were a Potter, you were no stranger to a love that burrowed into your heart like a bug. James was a prime example, but he had nothing on your father. You knew love like you knew the sunrise, Potters were love. That still didn't prepare you for the love of Barty Crouch Junior.

The moment you became ‘Barty’s girl,’ subtle gestures turned into grand, unrelenting declarations. Flowers appeared on your bedside in ornate bouquets, chocolates transformed into extravagant assortments, and he began slipping you old notes from his classes, annotated with messages he thought you’d enjoy. Sometimes, you’d find an anonymous love letter tucked between the pages of your books, though you always recognized his handwriting. It was a whirlwind of adoration that grew so excessive even your friends couldn’t ignore it.

The rumor spread quickly: you had a secret admirer. A very devoted one.

What started as stolen glances in the hallways and whispered words in broom closets evolved into something deeper. He became a constant, pulling you into hidden spaces where he’d kiss you like you were the only real thing in his world. His kisses were desperate, his hands always seeking some part of you to hold, as if he feared you might slip through his fingers.

Your world shrank to accommodate him. It was thrilling, yes, but also overwhelming. Each secret meeting was marked by a mix of exhilaration and dread that only lended to thrive in you, every touch, every breathless encounter behind closed doors, reminded you how deeply tangled you were becoming in each other. It was intoxicating and dangerous, like standing too close to a fire.

When he looked at you, it was like he was trying to memorize your every detail, like you were his only source of light.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” He murmured one night, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead against yours. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing the curve of your jaw as his eyes searched yours with raw intensity. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’d burn the whole world down if it meant keeping you.”

You shivered, his words igniting a heat in your chest. “Barty…”

His lips crashed against yours, swallowing the rest of your words. The kiss was frantic, a collision of need and longing, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Your knees buckled slightly, but his arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you, grounding you.

“You’re mine,” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and fervent. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.” You breathed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. And it was true- somehow, he’d claimed parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You couldn't even fathom were your breath started and his ended.

He sought you out in the quiet moments, trailing his fingertips down your arm when no one was looking, writing your name in the margins of his notes when he thought you wouldn’t see. You began to realize that to him, you weren’t just a girl he fancied; you were his anchor, his sanctuary in a world that seemed determined to tear him apart. He was becoming yours too.

Your eyes searched for him in every room. The way he flashed you that sickeningly slick smirk when he caught you staring. How he would follow you out of any room you happened to share, just to steal you away from whatever task he deemed not more important then his time with you. Shushing you in empty corridors as his hands found a spot just above your skirt. Ruffling your tie in slight frustration and marking skin no one would see but him. All while looking at you like you were his last salvation.

~~~

The fire crackled in the hearth as you sat cross-legged on your bed, your Transfiguration book open in front of you. Lily sat at your desk, rifling through her notes, while Remus lounged on your bed, one arm thrown casually over the back of a pillow. The three of you had settled in for a relaxed study session, but conversation had drifted away from studies.

"So, are we ever going to find out who it is that's got you all flustered lately?" Remus asked with a teasing grin, nudging your ankle with his foot. Lily looked up from her notes, her eyebrows raising with interest.

"Oh, Remus, give her a break," Lily sighed with a small smile, though you could see the curiosity twinkling in her green eyes. "She’ll tell us when she’s ready."

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you gave Remus a playful kick back. "You’re both ridiculous," you said, trying to keep your tone light. "There’s no one."

Remus rolled his eyes, his smile widening. "Sure, and I'm the Minister of Magic."

You shook your head, flipping open your Transfiguration book to avoid his gaze. "Fascinating. The Minister and all- and you can't even tell me which wand motion is the proper technique to transfigure my desk. Study don't pry into my very uninteresting love life."

"Uninteresting, huh?" Lily asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "I don’t know, those flowers you’ve been getting seem pretty interesting to me."

You opened your mouth to retort when something caught your eye; a folded piece of parchment, carefully tucked between the pages of your book. You furrowed your brow as you pulled it out, unfolding it to see the familiar slanted handwriting of Barty.

Meet me in my dorm. I’ve got something to show you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly folded the note, trying to suppress the smile threatening to spread across your face. You slipped the parchment under your pillow, feeling both Remus’ and Lily’s eyes on you.

"What’s that?" Remus asked, his smirk only growing.

"Nothing," you said quickly, giving them both a bright smile. "Just a reminder for myself."

Lily narrowed her eyes playfully, clearly not buying it, but she didn’t push. "Alright, fine," she said, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. "But I think I should be getting back to my own dorm soon. I promised James I'd meet him."

You nodded, swinging your legs off the bed. "Yeah, I should… um, I’ll be back in a bit."

Remus gave you a knowing look but didn’t say anything as you grabbed your robe and made your way towards the door, feeling the folded note burning against your skin. You slipped out of the room, trying to keep your excitement in check as you made your way through the castle.

Not long after you left, James appeared in the doorway, his hair as untidy as ever and a bright smile lighting up his face. "There you are, Evans," he said, striding into the room without knocking. "Ready to go?"

Lily stood, gathering her notes, but before she could respond, James’ eyes flickered to your bed, where the edge of the note you’d tucked under your pillow peeked out. His eyes narrowed slightly, and with the mischievous curiosity that had always been a part of him, he reached over and pulled it out.

"What’s this, then?" James asked, more to himself than anyone else.

Lily turned, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the note. "James, put that back. It's not yours."

But James had already unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words. His playful smile faltered slightly, his brow furrowing as he read the message. “... she's meeting someone. At night.”

Remus wasn't proud of himself, but he felt his body jolt forward at the idea. His brow furrowing as he looked at the handwriting.

“Surely not.” Lily muttered skeptical, walking closer and pouting. “James, whose handwriting is that?”

“Don't know.” He mumbled before he glanced at Remus who grimaced a bit. “I know how to find out.”

~~~

The sun had long since set, plunging the room into shadow. The lone candle on the nightstand burned low, its golden light flickering uncertainly across the walls, casting fleeting glimpses of the intimacy shared within. You lay beside Barty on his narrow bed, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb tracing gentle lines as if memorizing your face. His other hand gripped your waist, not possessively but securely, as though grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

His green eyes, bright and intent, held yours with a tenderness so consuming it made your chest ache. The world outside seemed to vanish in this space- no war, no sides, no betrayals. Just the boy you loved, smiling softly at you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

"What are you smiling about?" You teased, brushing your nose against his, your fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck. He sighed at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before fixing on you again, filled with the kind of raw vulnerability he showed to no one else.

This was your Barty. The boy who could switch so drastically between needing every bit of your skin against his own, and loving you like you were a fragile truth.

"Just you." He murmured, his voice thick with affection, his smile deepening. "Thinking about how breath taking you look right now.."

Your heart swelled at his words, at the way he looked at you as if you were his last breath. You pressed your lips to his, slow and soft, letting the warmth of his embrace spread through you. His arms tightened around you, his desperation seeping through the way he held you close, as though he feared you might disappear.

But even in this fragile moment, reality intruded. Your lips trailed down his jaw, leaving a line of soft kisses along his neck. As your hand slipped beneath the sleeve of his shirt, your fingers brushed against something rough, foreign. You froze, your heart stuttering as your fingertips traced the unfamiliar texture.

"Barty, what’s this?" You asked, pulling back slightly, your brow furrowing as dread began to creep into your chest. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

His entire body went rigid. His eyes snapped open, the warmth in them replaced by something colder, darker. His hand shot to your wrist, gripping it with startling intensity, though his touch remained gentle. “It’s nothing.” He said- no, demanded quickly, but his voice cracked, and his gaze flickered away. The tension in his jaw, the way he avoided your eyes. It betrayed him.

He couldn't hide from you. Not after he'd given you every way to see him.

"Barty.” You pressed, your voice trembling now. "Show me."

For a long moment, he didn’t move, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the faint twitch of muscle. His eyes darted to yours, filled with a fear so raw it sent a chill through you. Slowly, with trembling hands, he rolled up his sleeve.

The world seemed to stop.

Etched into his pale skin, dark and stark against the flickering candlelight, was the unmistakable mark of the Death Eaters. Your breath hitched, the air in the room turning ice cold as you stared at the symbol that now defined him. The room, once warm and safe, felt suffocating, as though the walls were closing in around you.

"No.” You whispered, shaking your head, your voice breaking as tears stung your eyes. "No, Barty, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me it’s a joke. Please."

He reached for you, his expression desperate, pleading. "It’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt. "Please, just listen- fuck, let me explain."

"Explain?" You choked, the word a bitter laugh as you scrambled to sit up, the sheets tangling around your legs. “You’re one of them, Barty. A Death Eater. The people who are trying to kill my brother, who would destroy Lily, who hate everything I stand for. How could you? How could you do this?”

He flinched as if you’d struck him, his hands trembling as he reached for you again. “I did it for them,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “For Regulus. For Evan. They needed me- I had to protect them.”

Your laughter came out hollow, bitter. “Protect them? What about me, Barty? What about us? Did you think of me when you let that thing be branded onto your skin? Did you think about what it would mean? About the promises we made?”

“I love you.” He pleaded, his voice breaking on the words. His eyes, wide and glistening with unshed tears, bore into yours, his desperation bleeding through every syllable. “I love you more than anything in this world. I did this for us; for you. I thought I could keep you safe.”

You shook your head, your chest tight, every word he spoke only twisting the knife in your heart. “Safe? You think this is keeping me safe? Barty, you’ve tied yourself to the very people who want to destroy me, my family, my friends. Dorcas got out. She didn’t need to join them. She did it for Marlene! You had a choice, Barty. You could have chosen me.”

“Don’t do this.” He begged, his voice trembling as he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I can’t- I won’t survive it. You’re all I have.”

His raw vulnerability shattered something in you, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to humanity. But even that couldn’t change the mark on his arm, the choices he had made. You tore your hands from his grasp, stepping back as tears streamed down your face.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to hold yourself together. “I can’t be with someone who’s made that choice. Picking that side. Not when it means standing against everything I believe in. I love you, Barty, but this…” Your voice broke. “This isn’t love. Not when it costs so much.”

His face crumpled, his body trembling as he clung to the edge of the bed like it was the only thing holding him up. “You are my side,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re everything to me. Without you, I’m nothing. Darling, please. You have to trust me.”

Your heart shattered at his words, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t let your love for him blind you to the truth of what he had become. Turning away, you moved toward the door, each step feeling like a physical wound.

“Please.” He whispered one last time, his voice so broken it nearly stopped you in your tracks. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I'll fix us, darling, my love.”

You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry, Barty,” you whispered, your voice trembling with grief. “But you’ve chosen a side. And it isn’t mine.”

With that, you stepped out of the room, the soft click of the door behind you sealing the final break between you. Each step down the hallway felt like walking through fire, the ache in your chest consuming you. You pressed a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob, the image of him- broken, desperate, lost- burned into your mind.

But you kept walking, because if you turned back, you knew you’d never leave. And that was the one thing you couldn’t allow.

Not when his love came with a price you could no longer bear to pay.

~~~

It was well past curfew when you stumbled back into the dormitory, your body heavy with exhaustion and your heart feeling as though it had been shattered into pieces too small to ever put back together. Every step echoed hollowly in the silent hallways, the sound swallowed by the crushing weight in your chest. You didn’t care about the risk of being caught; the only thing propelling you forward was the desperate need to collapse, to sink into the safety of your bed where the world couldn’t reach you.

But the sight that greeted you when you pushed open the door wasn’t the solitude you craved.

James stood with the Marauder's Map clutched tightly in his hand, his face flushed with a mix of anger and worry that twisted painfully at the sight of you. Sirius paced like a caged animal, his jaw tight, his dark eyes alight with barely restrained frustration. Remus sat perched on the edge of your bed, his brow furrowed with concern, while Lily lingered by the desk, her green eyes soft and filled with sympathy. Peter, as always, quiet. Hovering in the background.

"There you are!" James's voice rang out, sharp and filled with barely contained emotion. The sound made you flinch, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He crossed the space between you in two quick strides, holding up the map like a damning piece of evidence. “You want to tell me what the hell you were doing in the Ravenclaw dorms? Or should I save you the trouble? I know who you were with.”

The accusation in his voice hit like a physical blow. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The fight you would usually summon to deflect his concern- the sarcasm or sharp retorts; was gone. It had crumbled under the weight of the truth you could no longer avoid. Your shoulders slumped, the tears you had tried so desperately to hold back beginning to blur your vision.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, James.” You muttered, though your voice was a faint shadow of its usual strength. It trembled, hollow and lifeless, like it no longer belonged to you.

James scoffed, his frustration boiling over. "Don’t have to explain? You’ve been sneaking around with him! Don’t you see what he is?” His voice cracked, the anger giving way to something far more fragile. "He’s one of them, isn’t he? A bloody Death Eater.”

His words were a knife twisting in your chest. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath, your body trembling under the weight of his accusation. But you didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because James was right. He had been right all along.

"Say something!" Sirius’s voice cut through the silence, raw and desperate. He stepped closer, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his pacing halted by his need for answers. His sharp gaze burned into you, searching for some explanation, some reassurance that you hadn’t fallen so deeply into something so dangerous. He couldn't bare to see you follow, not after losing Regulus to it. “Anything.”

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered, “You were right.” The words came out broken, each one heavier than the last. “You were both right… about everything.”

The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of your admission pressing down on everyone. James’s expression crumbled, his anger dissolving into a mix of heartbreak and understanding. He moved toward you, his voice soft and filled with pain. “Oh, sweetheart…” He murmured, reaching for you.

That was all it took. The dam inside you broke, and a sob tore its way out of your chest. James pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your knees buckled beneath you. You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his robes, your whole body trembling.

“I thought he loved me.” You choked out, the words spilling from your lips in between gasps for breath. “I thought- he said he loved me. But he lied. He lied to me.”

James’s arms tightened around you, his own tears slipping silently down his face. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I know, Bambi. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius stepped forward then, his anger replaced by an aching sadness. His hand rested on your back, tentative at first, before he let out a shaky breath. “We were only trying to protect you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “We didn’t want this for you. We didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Lily knelt beside you, her warm hand brushing against your arm as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with sympathy. “We’re here now,” she said gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ve got you.”

You turned to her, your tear-streaked face trembling as you met her gaze. “I don’t know what to do now,” you admitted, your voice small and broken.

Remus, silent until now, stepped closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was steady, grounding. “You take it one step at a time,” he said softly, his calm voice a lifeline. “Just breathe for me. Ten in, ten out. We’ll figure it out together.”

You nodded, trying to follow his guidance, your breaths still shaky but slowing little by little. The sobs subsided, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest that felt impossibly heavy.

“Come on.” He whispered, his voice filled with a protective warmth. “Let’s get you into bed. You don’t have to think about anything else tonight.”

You nodded with a distant look, letting him coax you into your bed. You felt like a child.

“Jamie, let's head back to the dorms, yeah?” Lily said quietly, her eyes flicking to James, who stood near the foot of your bed, still looking worried.

“But..” James started, staring at your slightly trembling form, reluctant to leave you like this. He wanted to protect you, to make sure you were okay, but the look Remus gave him was enough to hold him back. Remus’s gaze was gentle but resolute, silently reassuring James that he would be here, that he’d stay by your side tonight.

James sighed, his reluctance clear, but he finally nodded. He glanced at Sirius, then back to Remus, letting out a slow breath. “Right. Let’s let her rest then?”

“Yeah,” Lily whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the back of your head. She lingered for a moment, her hand still gently stroking your hair. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

Sirius looked like he was about to protest, his expression torn between wanting to stay and knowing he had to let you rest. But Remus quietly reached for the familiar book on your nightstand. He shuffled slightly, getting comfortable next to you. Remus turned his head to look at Sirius, offering a reassuring nod.

“I’ve got her,” he said softly, his voice calm and steady. It was enough to ease some of the tension in the room. Sirius hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a small, reluctant nod. He exchanged one last glance with James before following Lily towards the door.

James lingered just a heartbeat longer, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Get some sleep, alright?” He whispered, his voice filled with love and concern. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Goodnight, Bambi.” Peter mumbled from the same spot he stood earlier, slowly shying behind James as he left. And with that, they left the room, the door closing softly behind them. The silence settled back over the room, and Remus turned towards you, his presence a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone. He carefully opened the book, his fingers brushing over the worn pages.

His voice, quiet and soothing, filled the room as he began to read, his words wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You turned slightly, facing Remus, his voice becoming a soft rhythm that helped to steady your breaths, one at a time. His free hand rested near yours, close enough that if you wanted, you could reach for it. He didn’t push. He simply stayed, his calm presence anchoring you. Eventually, as his gentle voice lulled you, the weight on your chest seemed to lighten just a fraction, and you let your eyes drift shut. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, to let the exhaustion take over. The sound of Remus’s voice, the warmth of his presence, made it feel just a little bit more bearable.

~~~

You woke the next morning to soft murmurs drifting through your dormitory. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the walls in a gentle glow. For a moment, the warmth tricked you into thinking everything was fine. But then the memories of the night before came flooding back. Barty’s betrayal, the heartbreak, the fight- and the ache in your chest returned with full force.

You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing at your stinging eyes. Across the room, you saw Lily and Remus speaking quietly near the window. Lily noticed you first, her soft smile tinged with sadness. She crossed the room, settling beside you and placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“Morning.” She said gently, her voice careful, as though she were afraid you might shatter under the weight of it all. “How are you feeling?”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t know,” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Your body felt heavy, like every muscle was pulling you back down into the mattress, but the weight wasn’t comforting- it was suffocating.

Remus moved closer, offering you a steaming cup of tea. “Take your time.” He mused, his gaze steady and kind. You accepted the cup with a small nod, letting the warmth seep into your hands even if it couldn’t reach your heart.

You hesitated before asking, “James?” The one person you were dreading facing.

Lily and Remus exchanged a glance. “He’s alright,” Lily said gently. “Probably caught up with Head Boy duties. He’s just worried about you.”

You nodded, guilt twisting in your chest. “I didn’t want to upset him…”

Lily squeezed your arm. “He loves you. He just needs time to process everything. He’ll come around.”

Remus gave you a soft smile. “How about some fresh air? It might help clear your head.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Staying in bed wouldn’t make anything better, and maybe the cold air would numb more than just your fingers. You wrapped a robe around yourself and followed Remus and Lily out of the tower, their steady presence keeping you grounded as you moved through the quiet castle halls. Each step felt like a small victory against the chaos inside your heart.

Just as you began to feel the chill of the air prickling your skin, a familiar voice shouting down the hall made your blood run cold. The words were indistinct, but the rage behind them was unmistakable. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you quickened your pace, your pulse pounding.

When you turned the corner, the scene stopped you in your tracks. James had Barty pinned against the wall, his fist gripping the collar of Barty’s shirt. His face was twisted in fury, his voice shaking as he snarled at him. A small crowd of students had gathered, whispering and watching the spectacle unfold.

“You think you can just hurt her?” James spat, slamming Barty against the stone wall. “You think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Barty didn’t fight back. He stood there, taking every shove, his face pale and hollow, but his eyes- his eyes betrayed him. They weren’t empty; they were frantic, burning with guilt, fear, and something that terrified you when they flicked to your own. He didn’t even seem to register James’s words. His entire focus was on you, standing frozen in the hallway.

Sirius leaned casually against the wall nearby, a cigarette dangling from his lips, though his sharp eyes were anything but relaxed. “Go on, Prongs,” he muttered, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Give him hell.”

Your voice cracked as you shoved through the onlookers. “James, stop!” You shouted, panic lacing your words. But James didn’t hear you, his rage blinding him as he shoved Barty again, his voice trembling with emotion.

“You don’t get to treat her like that, to use her, and walk away like nothing happened!” James’s fist cocked back, and you screamed again, louder this time. “James!”

Sirius turned, startled by the desperation in your voice. He immediately straightened, stepping toward James. “Mate,” Sirius hissed, grabbing James’s shoulder. “She’s here.”

James froze, his chest heaving as he turned to look at you. His face softened the instant he saw the tears streaking your cheeks, but the tension in his body didn’t fade entirely. He let go of Barty’s shirt with a sharp shove, his hands falling to his sides.

Barty stumbled back, his hand reaching up to rub his neck, but his eyes were locked on you. His voice was hoarse and trembling when he finally spoke. “Please…” His gaze was raw, desperate. “Please, just talk to me.”

You froze, the pain in his eyes tugging at something in your chest even as you recoiled from him. “I don’t want to-”

“She doesn’t need to,” Remus’s voice cut in, low but firm as he stepped in front of you. He placed a steady hand on your arm, keeping you rooted beside him. “That's all, Crouch.”

Barty flinched at the tone in Remus’s voice, but he didn’t look away from you. “I just need a moment,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Just one chance to explain- she has to know that I didn’t mean-”

“Bartemius.” Remus said sharply, though his tone never rose. His calmness was like a dam, holding back the chaos in the room. He stepped forward slightly, his hand still on your arm. “That's all.”

Barty’s shoulders sagged, his face crumpling as he looked at you one last time. “I love you.” He whispered, his voice so broken it sent a chill down your spine. “You have to know that.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Remus gently tugged you closer to him, shielding you from Barty’s gaze. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s go.”

As Lily took your other side, guiding you down the hallway, you could feel Barty’s eyes following you, like he was clinging to the sight of you as his last lifeline. Behind you, Sirius muttered something sharp under his breath before stomping out his cigarette and following James, who stood frozen, his jaw tight as he stared after you.

You felt like a pathetic child. Being ushered around and babied, but you didn't fight it. You wanted this nightmare of a year to be over.

So when Regulus and Evan finally came, and the Black brothers shared some hateful words- and Lily dragged James away from the impending fight, you stayed hidden under Remus’s arm. The yelling and the arguments just sounded like buzzing in your ears. Leaving you to stare blankly off at the mess you had created. Watching as Evan took Barty away and Regulus glanced at you with an expression that flashed between sour, sympathetic, and careful. Turning on his heel to hurry after his friends. You wanted this year to end.

~~~

The rest of your sixth year at Hogwarts passed in a haze. After the confrontation between James and Barty, you felt like you were living in fragments- moments of warmth with your friends interrupted by long, suffocating stretches of numbness. James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Peter had rallied around you, protective and supportive, but the pain lingered. Barty’s betrayal, his mark, the weight of his choices. It all clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it.

The school year ended with bittersweet farewells. James and everyone graduated, leaving behind an emptiness that Hogwarts couldn’t fill. On the train ride home, James gave you a fierce hug, his voice low but steady. “You’re going to be okay.” He whispered, as if saying it enough times would make it true. “We’ll all be okay.” His determination was a promise: he would fight, protect, and do whatever it took to keep you and the people he loved safe. It terrified how how devoted to the war he became, he hated to leave you at Hogwarts alone.

But the summer brought its own heartbreak. James and Lily joined the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius, Peter, and Remus close behind- throwing themselves into the war. The house was too quiet without James’s booming laugh or Sirius’s teasing remarks. Letters from James came sporadically, and the tension in his words bled through the parchment.

Then, not long after James and Lily’s wedding, your world shattered. Your parents got sick and you hardly left their bed side. They died days apart and you wondered if that's what it looks like; real love. Not able to be apart for even a week before returning to one another no matter what disaster they left behind. Though, you knew it wasn't true, just your own comfort. James, crushed under the weight of his grief, threw himself further into the Order. You rarely saw him. Remus kept you company as best he could, but even he had missions that pulled him away. Sirius made sure to remind you that James just wanted to protect what little family he had left, it killed you to not be there with them. The isolation was unbearable, every goodbye feeling like it could be the last. The ache of losing your family was only worsened by the fear that the rest of the people you loved would follow.

When you returned for your seventh year, Hogwarts felt hollow, almost unfamiliar without James, Sirius, or the others. But Dorcas Meadowes was there, refusing to leave you to fend for yourself. She became your constant companion, the person you leaned on most. The two of you forged a quiet understanding- she never pushed you to talk about Barty, and you never asked about the darkness she’d left behind. Dorcas was the girl who had escaped the worst parts of her legacy, a beacon of strength and resilience that kept you grounded.

Still, no matter how far you tried to distance yourself from Barty, he remained a presence in your life. Letters appeared on your bed, scribbled with frantic apologies. Flowers were left outside your dormitory door, wilting reminders of his desperation. He cornered you in empty corridors, his green eyes burning with longing as he begged you to listen.

“I love you,” He whispered one evening, his voice breaking as he blocked your path outside the library. “I’ve always loved you- since we were kids. You have to know that. What I did- it wasn’t about hurting you. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought…” He trailed off, his hands trembling at his sides. “I need you, star. I can’t do this without you.”

You clenched your fists, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. His words always left a mark, reopening wounds you were desperately trying to heal. “Barty.” You whispered quietly, your voice shaking. “You need to let me go. This… this isn’t love. Not when it hurts this much.”

He flinched as though you’d slapped him, his eyes filling with tears. “It is love,” He insisted, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never felt this before- it's terrifying. I haven't been in this much pain before. I’d give you anything- everything- if you just came back to me. Star I can't do this.”

You shook your head, your breath hitching. “That’s not what I want. I don't like feeling like this either, Barty. I wanted you, Barty. But you made your choice. Your cause- what they have done to my family alone-”

Despite your protests, the line between you blurred one night near the end of the school year. He found you in the Astronomy Tower, the only place you could escape responsibility. The sight of him made your heart ache. He looked so much like the boy you had fallen for; tousled hair, eyes filled with a longing so fierce it made your knees weak. And for a moment, you forgot yourself.

“I hate what I’ve done to you,” He confessed, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “I hate that I’ve hurt you. But I can’t stop loving you.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, your lips met his. The kiss was frantic, desperate. His hands cradled your face as though you were something sacred, something he couldn’t bear to lose. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself drown in him, in the memory of what you once had.

But as quickly as it began, reality crashed over you. You pulled away, your breathing uneven as tears blurred your vision. “We can’t.” You whispered, stepping back. “This isn’t right.”

Barty reached for you, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t walk away again. I’ll change- I’ll leave everything behind if that’s what it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”

The sincerity in his words nearly broke you, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “If you loved me, you would’ve chosen me before it came to this,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “But it’s too late, Barty. You can’t undo what’s been done. We both.. we both know if it came to me or Regulus- me or Evan.”

“That's not fair.” He croaked.

Your eyes flicked up to his as your tears rushed down your face. “It isn't.”

His shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimming as your words sank in. For the first time, he seemed to realize that no amount of pleading or promises would bring you back to him. “I’ll always love you.” whispered, his voice hollow.

You turned away, your heart shattering as you walked down the spiral staircase, leaving him alone in the tower. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d lose your resolve.

When the train pulled into King’s Cross at the end of the year, you were greeted by the sight of your brother and his friends waiting for you. James’s grin was wide as he swept you into a bear hug, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. Sirius ruffled your hair, Remus gave you a reassuring smile, and Lily’s arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

Even as you smiled, as you let yourself feel the warmth of their love and support, a part of you still ached. A part of you still thought of the boy you had left behind. But as the summer sun warmed your face and James’s laughter rang in your ears, you realized that some chapters had to end, no matter how much they hurt.

~~~

The kitchen was warm, filled with the comforting smell of breakfast and the sound of soft laughter. Lily twirled Harry in her arms, humming along to the radio as James danced beside them, making ridiculous faces to elicit another bright giggle from his son. Harry’s laughter rang out like a bell, pure and joyful, filling the room with a happiness so genuine it felt almost untouchable.

June 24, 1981. The day meant nothing and yet everything, because for a fleeting moment, life felt like it was untouched by war. Even without Peter, the Potter manor felt like home again.

Sirius leaned against the counter, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he watched James spin Harry dramatically before dipping him like a proper ballroom partner. “Fancy a dance, Bambi?” Sirius asked, holding out a hand to you with an exaggerated flourish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Only if you promise not to step on my feet, Black.” You placed your hand in his, letting him pull you into the center of the kitchen. The music was upbeat, and Sirius matched it with absurdly exaggerated movements, twirling you around with flair that made you laugh so hard you had to clutch his shoulder for balance.

Sirius finally let out a mock sigh, fanning himself. “Too much for me, little Potter.” He joked, stepping aside. “Your turn, Moony. Show her how a real gentleman dances.”

Remus chuckled softly, stepping forward with a shake of his head. He took your hand with a gentleness that made your heart ache, pulling you into a slower, steadier rhythm despite the lively tune still playing on the radio. Even with his weight pressed heavy on his crutch, and your movements small and slow, it still felt all the same. His gaze lingered on yours, his hazel eyes soft and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

"You deserve this.” He muttered quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “To smile like this every day.”

The warmth of his words filled your chest, but it was bittersweet, a reminder of all the times you hadn’t felt this light. You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small smile. “You do too, Remus.”

He returned the smile, spinning you one last time before James swept in with dramatic flair, lifting you off the ground. “One more dance before breakfast!” He announced, making you laugh despite yourself. “No sad faces allowed today. We’re celebrating.”

It was perfect- the kind of moment you could tuck away and hold onto when the world outside felt unbearable. Lily danced with Harry in her arms, Sirius joined in with exaggerated moves, and the room filled with the kind of happiness you hadn’t felt in so long. For a brief, fragile moment, it was enough.

But then the music stopped.

The radio cut out abruptly, replaced by the somber voice of a news broadcaster. “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an urgent update on the latest casualties in the ongoing conflict. The names of those lost in the recent skirmish include…”

The warmth of the room vanished, the light dimming as everyone froze. James set you down gently, his expression hardening as he turned toward the radio. Lily instinctively clutched Harry closer, her face pale. Sirius’s grin disappeared entirely, his hand hovering near the dial as though he could will the news away.

The list of names continued, some familiar, most not. Each one was a reminder of the growing cost of the war, of the lives slipping away like grains of sand.

And then you heard it.

“...Evan Rosier, Bartemius Crouch Junior…”

The words echoed in your ears, louder than anything else. The world seemed to stop. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as the name repeated in your mind, over and over. Barty.

The boy who had loved you so fiercely, who had been so lost, so desperate to make you stay. He was gone. Evan too, another name tethered to your past, but it was Barty’s that struck you like a knife to the chest.

At first, you laughed. You could of sworn James looked at you like you had lost it; you wouldn't blame him. It was ridiculous. The boy you knew, the magnetic and ethereal wizard who you gave your all too couldn't possibly be dead. He was your age. He was a kid. You had both just graduated- what in Merlin's name could they possibly be on about?

Your laughter slowly died down into a choked gasp and a sniffle, your body stiff. You closed your eyes tight and tried to stifle your sobs. “No…” Your knees buckled, and James caught you instantly, his arm tightening around your shoulders. Sirius reached out, shutting off the radio with a harsh click, the silence that followed deafening.

“He…” Your voice cracked, trembling as you forced the words out. “He’s really gone?”

Remus stepped closer, his expression pained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, steady and comforting. “Yes,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lily’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she rocked Harry gently, trying to keep him calm. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The sound of her grief only deepened the ache in your chest.

James pressed his nose to your temple, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m sorry, Bambi,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

The tears came before you could stop them, spilling freely as your body trembled. You clung to James like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your sobs muffled against his shoulder. The memories of Barty overwhelmed you; the way he’d looked at you, like you were his everything; the way he’d held you, as though letting go would destroy him. The thought that you would never see him again, never hear his voice or feel his touch, crushed you.

“I thought I was over him.” You whispered through your tears, your voice trembling. “I swore I was. But now…”

Sirius moved closer, his arm wrapping around you and James. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your throat felt too tight, the lump of grief choking you. You lifted your head to look around the room, at the faces of the people who had been your family for so long. They were blurry through your tears, but their love was palpable, a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

Still, the ache remained, deep and unrelenting. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you had moved on, a part of you would always carry Barty. His loss wasn’t just his death; it was the loss of what could have been, the love that might have saved him if only things had been different. If only he chose it. Because you and Barty were a Hogwarts fling, everyone knows they don't last forever. But even if it crashed in a blazing glory, even if you both turned bitter, if the break up destroyed you. You'd rather feel that.

The kitchen felt colder now, the warmth of the morning replaced by the sobering weight of reality. And yet, as James held you tightly, as Sirius and Remus stayed close, as Lily hummed softly to soothe Harry, you knew you weren’t alone. Even in the face of heartbreak, you were still surrounded by love. And somehow, you would find a way to carry on.

~~~ Bonus Scene~~~

The house was suffocating in its silence.

Your childhood home, once filled with laughter and the chaotic warmth of your family, now seemed cold and lifeless. James and Lily were busy with their own lives, preparing for the future that everyone whispered about in cautious tones, and Sirius had left for good reason you couldn’t fault him for. You were alone, and the empty hallways of the Potter Manor only amplified the echo of your own thoughts.

It had been days since you’d learned the news of what befell Barty.

After the shock ran over you it took days of Remus coaxing to get you out of bed. Then days to be able to face a mirror. Everyone was supportive, helpful, but you felt just as pathetic as you did in school.

The ache in your chest felt heavier tonight as you climbed the stairs to your old room. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long, pale shadows across the walls. You reached your room and pushed the door open, slipping inside and locking it with a flick of your wand. It was habit more than anything; no one else was here.

You set your wand on the bedside table and turned toward the window, intent on shutting the heavy curtains, when a hand clamped over your mouth.

Panic erupted within you, and instinct took hold. Without thinking, you threw your head back as hard as you could, the satisfying crack of impact reverberating through your skull. A sharp, pained grunt followed, and the grip on you loosened.

Spinning around, your heart hammering in your chest, you braced for a fight- only to come face to face with the last person you’d expected to see.

“Bloody hell, star,” Barty groaned, one hand pressed to his nose as he leaned against the wall for support. Blood trickled between his fingers, but his lips still curled into that maddeningly familiar smirk. “That’s twice you’ve done that. Are you always this violent, or am I special?”

The air left your lungs, your body frozen in place. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head as if the motion could erase what you were seeing. “No. You’re- You’re supposed to be dead.”

Barty let out a low chuckle, straightening up and swiping at the blood on his face. “I think.. we should talk.”

Part two -->

899 notes · View notes

flowersforthemachines · 6 months ago

Text

Some facts about Bellara (and also the Veil Jumpers, and other random Elven things) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Bellara

Family and past:

Bellara’s mother is a woodworker who sells furniture in Orlais, and her father is an herbalist. He taught her about deadly plants (for her own safety)

Bellara didn’t tell her parents about Cyrian’s (second) death

Bellara once broke both of her arms while racing an Aravel

Bellara learnt magic from her Keeper and later the Veil Jumpers, but she also studied a lot on her own by reading books and just trying things out

When she was little, Bellara wondered what it’s like to settle down instead of moving all the time (just like Davrin did)

General:

Bellara can better focus on writing when she has background noise (like Rook talking)

Bellara likes tea (but can also drink coffee after she pulls an all-nighter, which seems to happen pretty often)

Bellara liked Lucanis’s grilled fish

Bellara didn’t know any Qunari recipes before joining the Veilguard

Bellara wouldn’t want to be an assassin, but she would be interested in taking lessons from Crows about assassination techniques

Bellara thinks that most people in Tevinter are condescending, even the nice ones

Magic and life with the Veil Jumpers:

Bellara once found an artifact that was basically an ancient elven mechanical toothbrush

Bellara is a Veil Jumper because Arlathan is her home, and she can’t stand by and do nothing. Also, because of the artefacts

Part of the reason why Irelin and Bellara broke up is that Bellara became too consumed by studying/fixing artefacts

Bellara and Davrin agree that the Veil Jumpers’ odds are even worse than the Wardens’

Bellara thinks that the ancient Elven magic feels cold

Bellara didn’t find anything on the Devouring Storm in the libraries or Circles. Vorgoth and Myrna never heard of it either

Life at the Lighthouse:

Bellara owns a bronze candleholder shaped like a fennec

Bellara thinks that the Fade in the Lighthouse is almost too calm compared to Arlathan

Bellara likes her space in the Lighthouse and feels like “it's been waiting for her”

The Archive sometimes stares at people who come by

Bellara eventually suggests that she and Lucanis completely take over the cooking. Everybody except for Harding dreaded any meal not cooked by them anyway and gleefully agreed

Antoine let Bellara borrow his compound for flaming arrows to see how it reacts in the Fade (she doesn’t speak about the results, but she used at least one compound for testing without incidents and later wants to borrow more)

Relationships with companions:

Bellara offers Davrin to listen about his findings regarding the Gloom Howler as he searches for the missing griffons, saying she's a good listener

Bellara asks Neve if she can become a Shadow Dragon and is very excited when she hears “Yes”

However, when Emmrich offers her to join the Mourn Watch, she turns him down saying that the Veil Jumpers need her.

A writing inconsistency. Probably.

Neve once saw Bellara poking around Assan, trying to figure out if he was real or some clever mechanical contraption

Bellara wants to make pillows out of Assan’s molted feathers (but Davrin refuses because he finds it weird)

Bellara made dog biscuits for Assan (that Davrin accidentally ate the first time). The next time she brought a batch, she left them in a box labelled “Assan biscuits inside, do not eat.” Assan liked them!

Bellara once covered Assan in olive oil thinking it could improve his wind resistance and let him fly faster. Didn’t work.

Bellara offers Emmrich to co-author a paper about ancient elves after they find out elves came from spirits

Bellara asks Emmrich about vampires multiple times. According to him, when a Hunger Demon possesses a corpse, the resulting abomination can seek out blood, sort of resembling a vampire. They can't turn into bats though

According to Neve, some magisters in Minrathous have tried bonding with Hunger Demons which resulted in them having immense power but also a craving for blood

Bellara and Harding swap books for reading

Bellara gets into lifting using Harding's rocks

Bellara doesn’t think she needs to threaten Lucanis when she finds out he and Neve are dating because Neve could wipe the floor with him herself if she wanted (Lucanis agrees)

Bellara is fine with Lucanis taking on Ghilan’nain’s contract (“Whatever we were worshipping, it wasn’t her") and cheered him on at Weisshaupt

Bellara asks Neve to beta-read her story

(If Neve and Rook are in romance) Bellara thinks that solving cases together is romantic

(If Neve leaves after Rook chooses to save Treviso) Bellara kept notes of everything that happened while Neve was away to help her adjust after she’s back

About the Veil Jumpers:

Bellara mentioned that a certain elf camped in some ruins, and one day woke up stuck in the clouds. The Veil Jumpers haven’t figured out a way to get them down, so they just send them food and water

Veil Jumpers use some of the artefacts they have recovered as weapons. However, they don’t use them often, since most of them need to be charged after one use, and nobody really knows how to do that

Veil Jumpers eat whatever Arlathan Forest provides

Though Bellara also mentions she doesn’t forage in the forest anymore. Strife does, however, he always finds something edible

It’s hard to say how many Veil Jumpers are out there because people die/go missing/leave too often to keep a proper count

The Veil Jumpers once found an artefact that caused whoever activated it to get sucked into the Fade. One guy got trapped inside because he used it even if the others told him not to. Bellara is weirdly nonchalant about that whole thing

The Veil Jumpers once found something like an entrance to the Deep Roads on the Southern Edge of Arlathan Forest. The group that found it sealed themselves inside and destroyed the entrance, leaving a note telling the others not to enter. Davrin hypothesises it could be one of the pools similar to the one we saw in the Horrors of Hormak

Ritsivas from the Veil Jupmers is non-binary (mentioned by Harding in a conversation with Taash)

Misc:

The power crystals are called “June'suledin'bellanaris'ena'ghilan'lasa'shiral”. You may infer the reasons everybody just calls them 'power crystals'

Not all traps in Elven ruins were originally meant to be traps, but their magic is old, so it doesn’t recognise modern people and can backfire. And sometimes magic just degrades over time and accidentally rips the Veil, summoning demons

Andruil’s Gauntlet is an ancient site meant to test hunters who want to wield the mightiest weapons. It’s filled with traps, and no one has made through it in ages. It was made by Andruil’s priests to test the warriors of Elvhenan

Clans Nuvenis and Sabrae live in Ferelden. Harding’s village traded with the Sabrae in the past

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #veilguard spoilers #bellara lutare #davrin #neve gallus #lucanis dellamorte #lace harding #emmrich volkarin #davg #dragon age veilguard #flowers.txt #datv banters #reference #meta #references #veil jumpers #flowers blogs

524 notes · View notes

bunni-v1 · 3 months ago

Text

Genshin College Au (Intro)

Bunni College AU take. These are just a dump of thoughts. I wanted to include more characters but there's only so much my little brain can handle. You can also def tell who my favorites are so, uh, shut up. Idk if I'll continue this, idk if I even like what I wrote, don't be mean to me, please. Anyway, enjoy!

TW: Mention of Alchohol and Drug use; Suggestive in Navia's part

Info: Navia x Reader; Wriothesely x Reader; Alhaitham & Kaveh x Reader; Eula x Reader; Venti x Reader; Kazuha x Reader; Childe x Reader; Ifa x Reader

Sumeru Academia (Graduate Branch), the pride of Teyvat. A collection of the greatest minds spanning from the windy peaks of Mondstat to the fiery pits of Natlan. Students come from across the world just to study in its grand halls, all yearning for the honor of being added to the list of greats who came from the prestigious academy.

You were no different, of course, having left your home as soon as you could after receiving your acceptance letter. Bright and starry-eyed, you couldn't wait to finally finally start your time there. Moved into your dorm, books bought, and closet fresh just for your new life here. You really had thought of everything! Everything except... well... your social life.

None of your friends had managed to get in, so you were completely alone. You didn't want to let it stop you, though! So what if you were socially awkward and a bit in over your head, you got into Sumeru Academia, you could do anything you wanted to if you set your mind to it. Even making friends.

What you didn't expect, though, was to collect a harem instead. You were confident you were pretty cute, but... certainly not cute enough to have so many people vying for your attention. Yet, you did. You had managed to put yourself on a lot of people's radars, and while it was nice to have so much attention... it was starting to get in the way of your studies.

The first delightful face you meet is Navia. Your roommate and fellow first year. Her bright and bubbly personality made her easy to get along with, and you found it very easy to talk to her despite your awkwardness. She was far more outgoing than you were, which was great, forcing you to get out of your shell and explore the campus and Sumeru City. You already found yourself having sleepless nights gossiping with her, playing with each other's hair, doing each other's nails, all the cute girly things you'd expect from someone like her. She always made you feel so pretty, complimenting you no matter if you were dressed for the clubs or in your nightshirt with messy hair. The way she protects you from creeps is so sweet, always checking in with you and walking you to and from classes when she can. It was obvious she wanted nothing but the best for you, and you thought it was all friendly bantering... until one night. You were up chatting, it was three in the morning and both of you had an 8AM, and neither of you was completely sober. You don't know how it happened, but one second you were giggling about your annoying professors and the next you were making out with her. It probably wasn't a good idea, but she tasted like buttercream frosting and the sweet wine you'd been sipping on, you couldn't stop yourself from letting her tongue slip into your mouth. It's all a blur, really, but you wake up in her bed curled up in her arms and you think that it's not so bad. It was Navia after all.

The next person you'd met was enigmatic, and constantly tired Wriothesley. He was something of a local legend around campus, the tall buff law student with a permanent RBF and eyebags so heavy they could make you yawn at just the sight. You'd only found yourself in his intimidating presence thanks to Navia, who'd known him through one of her friends back home in Fontaine. It took you a long time to warm up to him, his reputation wasn't there for no reason, but once you gave him a chance you were positively charmed. Wriothesley was funny, clever in the way only someone in his field could be. He had a way of making you laugh without really having to try, and you'd always felt safe when he offered to walk you and Navia back to your dorm after spending too long out together. Truly you'd never hung out on one with him before, too nervous the conversation wouldn't flow too well, but when Navia gets sick right before a scheduled study session you feel too bad to cancel on him. So you haul your mousy ass all the way to the cafe on campus and explain the situation to him. You really expect him to reschedule, but he doesn't. In fact, he sits his ass right down next to you where Navia usually would be and talks to you like it's nothing. He even manages to sneakily pay for your drink without you realizing. It's, possibly, the least productive study session you'd ever had, but you can't complain when he's smiling at you like some kind of rugged prince. He even gives you his coat when you start shivering on the walk home, ever the gentleman. You only realize he'd forgotten it when Navia asks about it, too lost in your daydreams about how romantic he was all night.

Your next love interest came in a pair - well, not initially. Kaveh was your academic mentor, there to help you along with your classes and make sure your first year as an Academia student went smoothly. He was your reliable upperclassman, someone who'd helped you out plenty, but not someone you'd considered an option for a friend. He was technically in charge of you, right? That was until you met his shadow, Alhaitham, and more aptly, you watched said shadow completely destroy the calm and collected facade you'd always seen Kaveh hold. It was funny, really, watching how fast Kaveh got pissed at Alhaitham for simply scolding him for forgetting his keys. Calling him forgetful and insulting his scatterbrained tendencies. No amount of damage control would get you to forget what you saw, so Kaveh regrettably gave up the fight and just let you know just how much of a mess he was. Swamped with work, in debt from scholarship money, and completely exhausted. You'd gone out of your way since then to bring him an energy drink every time you saw him, delighted when his face lit up at the offering. It was odd how easily the two of them became a frequent part of your daily routine, usually ending your nights heading over to their (Alhaitham's, he always insisted it was his apartment that he allowed Kaveh to live in) apartment to hang out - usually watching shitty B-list movies and picking them apart for fun. (It was Alhaitham's favorite pasttime, and the only time you'd ever see Kaveh relax). Alhaitham, despite his abrasive first impression, was easy to get along once you understood how he worked. He liked quiet while he worked on things, he didn't like being bothered, and he liked to relax. Quite the opposite of the ever-stressed Kaveh. You'd fallen asleep during your movie marathons far too many times, somehow always waking up in one of their beds, tucked in while the other slept on the couch.

You had met Eula by complete accident and made quite the fool out of yourself in the process. Everyone knew not to bother using study room five in the hub during midterms, that was Eula's room. She always went to it, she studied for three hours, and then she left to get dinner before bed. Everyone knew that. Everyone but you, of course. You had a huge project coming up that you had, of course, neglected until the last minute. So with a six-pack of Red Bull, your computer, and a dream you'd reserved study room five for the night intent on getting it done in one go. That was, apparently, not a good idea as about twenty minutes into your session someone knocked on your door. Eula Lawrence was nothing short of annoyed as she peered down at you, the freshman stupid enough to take her study room. Why, it was inexcusable, unheard of even for her to be so blatantly disrespected. Yet, when you offered to just share the room with her, all the sharp words died on her tongue. She simply strutted in with a flip of her hair and a huff. It was hard to pay attention to your task with such a pretty person across from you, her concentrated features burning into your mind, and you were sure you'd be dreaming of her that night. Still, with four Red Bulls down and fifteen minutes left on the submission time, you'd managed to complete your project just as she closed up her book. It's a shock when she offers to buy you dinner when she finally looks up at you, it's even more shocking when she huffily gives you her phone number and requests that you join her again sometime soon.

There is one class that you never seem to enjoy, and that's poetry. You didn't have any issue with poetry itself, nor were you bad at it, just... the professor was the worst. The workload was ungodly, and the free elective you'd selected had become more stressful than your main class load. The only thing that seemed to make it bearable was your seatmate, Venti. He was a real hotshot with the poem stuff, and musically talented too, not to mention the funniest guy you'd ever met. He always had something to say about your professor that got the two of you in trouble for giggling too loud more than a few times. You only ever saw him in the class, but that 12:00-1:10 period went from your least favorite time to one of your most anticipated. An in-class tryst that you expected to stay that way. Until, of course, Venti asked you out of your first official unofficial date. He'd gotten you tickets to see his band play downtown, and while it might not be super romantic, it was the first time anyone had ever asked you out before. He'd catch your eyes in the crowd and you swear you saw his grin widening when you'd wave excitedly at him from the crowd. He even let you meet his band!

That's how you met Kazuha the lead guitarist and quite a heartthrob. He had a way with words that left your head spinning in confusion. Was he flirting, was he high, you had no idea. All you knew is he was cute and really sweet. He didn't technically attend the Academia, but he sat in on classes all the time. He was infamous for sneaking around campus and seeing what he could get away with before someone realized he wasn't supposed to be there. After meeting him, he started to show up around your classes a lot more, sometimes even walking with you between them and sitting in the back with you. He always had something poetic to say when you complained to him about classes or the campus, and while you didn't always understand the underlying meaning, you appreciated his flowery words regardless. He always went out of his way to compliment you on something new every day, making your heart race and face heat up in a way you hoped wasn't obvious. He was so constant in your life that you nearly forgot he wasn't supposed to be there until you had to pretend he was your boyfriend to get public safety off his case. He'd stuck with that story ever since, always introducing himself as your boyfriend to strangers with a cheeky smile... which only went over well with so many people...

Being as much of a recluse as you were, it was surprising to find that you'd caught the eye of the basketball team captain. Childe had completely ruined your favorite shirt barreling through the cafeteria one day, spilling greasy taco meat down the front of it in his rush to get to his table. He'd felt so bad that he not only cleaned you up but ditched his team to sit with you and keep you company since you usually ate alone. The gesture you'd expected to be a one-time thing happened now every Wednesday and Friday during your free period for lunch. He was flirty, but that didn't get in the way of his genuineness. He was a very heart-on-the-sleeve kind of guy, able to charm you with his straightforwardness and lighthearted teasing. Everyone you knew told you to keep your distance from him, but you couldn't help but like him! He was sweet, funny, caring, and not to mention pretty handsome. You just didn't know what was so bad about him. Not until you saw it firsthand. Being harassed by some creep as you walked to lunch as usual, you figured it would be over as soon as you got in and got to your regular table. You're quite surprised to hear Childe shouting after the guy accosting you, and more shocked when a loud crack sounds from his fist hitting the guy straight in the jaw. You spend your free period that day patching Childe up and scolding him for being reckless, even if it was helpful. With a fighting spirit like that, you'd have to be careful on what you let happen around him - sevens forbid he see you and Kazuha and mistake it for harassment from some random civilian.

Your one saving grace from all of this was the quiet of the cafe deep in the heart of Sumeru City. Its warm and inviting atmosphere was the perfect getaway from classes and people. Just you, the music, and a nice hot cup of coffee... and the super cute guy you had a secret crush on. You felt a bit like a stalker, watching him from a distance as he slaved over medical textbooks and endless notes, but he was just in your line of sight. It's not like you hadn't caught him staring a couple times before either, so at least you weren't the only one doing it. You don't know his name or anything about him, but you know that he goes to the same cafe as you every weekend and studies there way past when you leave. It's only by chance, and by that you mean bird, that you manage to finally talk to the handsome stranger. His cheeky little pet bird lands right on your shoulder as you walk around campus one day. Cacucu, as you learn, was Ifa's pet bird who had a knack for getting out of his dorm thanks to his forgetful roommate Ororon. He was a vet student in his fourth year at the academia, and it showed on his face, handsome features worn down from years of studying endlessly. It didn't take away from how attractive he really was, though, and was he attractive up close. As an apology for his bird bothering you, he bought you your next cup of coffee from the cafe. It was the first night you'd seen him there that he wasn't studying, instead, focused on talking to you. From then on. everytime he'd see you come in, he'd invite you to his table and chat until you got up and left. He'd complain about his roommate and Cacucu keeping him up until six in the morning, and you'd vent your woes about classes and personal drama. A symbiotic relationship of sorts formed between the two of you, becoming one another's sense of freedom from life stressors. It was so nice, in fact, that Ifa had asked you out. Not like Venti did, where it was implied, no. Ifa asked you out on a real date at a real restaurant with real flowers! It was all so perfect! Until, of course, news of it got out to the others.

#bunni's treats 🧁#x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #childe x reader #eula x reader #navia x reader #ifa x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader

163 notes · View notes

tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

Text

Here we go. It's time to talk about my personal fave. As I said before, this is my Main. In Dragon Ball fighting games, this is the character I seek out to play whenever the roster allows. Also arguably the character who's been done the most dirty by just about every form of Dragon Ball, manga included.

The vanguard of a brand new status quo and a brand new direction for what Dragon Ball would even be, washed away by the tides of a status quo resetting to zero.

We're here to talk about the champion of Satan City who carries the spirit of Dragon Ball in her heart: Videl.

(And that is one cookie to @jcogginsa who guessed it.)

Videl was a kid with a chip on her shoulder. I mean. How could you not be? Her father was the legendary world martial arts champion who famously defeated Cell seven years ago.

Don't pay attention to that. He just tripped for a moment. Once he got his second wind, he came right back and showed Cell what for! It was due entirely to Mr. Satan and nobody else that the Earth was spared from the apocalyptic horror that is Cell.

Look, he even said so himself.

Are you gonna call that man a liar? The man who defeated Cell!? I think we can trust Satan's word over yours.

This is the shadow that Videl grew up under. Raised in what had previously been called Orange City, but was renamed Satan City in honor of the world's greatest hero.

Or "Hercule City/Herculopolis" in the versions that edit out Satan's name.

As his daughter, Videl has a perspective on Satan that neither the world nor the audience gets to see: He's a womanizing playboy who cashes in on his world-savior fame for booty.

He also forbids his teenage daughter from dating by putting up the stipulation that any boy interested in her has to be stronger than him, the world champion - A stipulation naturally designed to weed out any possible suitors through intimidation. Wanna date Videl? FISTFIGHT THE MAN WHO DEFEATED CELL.

Oh, but he doesn't teach her a goddamn thing; At least, not anymore, as she does suggest there was once a time when he was her mentor. She's forced to study martial arts entirely on her own because her dad is utterly disinterested in her development in the art.

This is an angle on Satan we never get to see onscreen. Apparently he's pretty shitty about women. You know, I can believe that.

Videl, when we meet her, is trapped in an unenviable position as a martial artist. She hates what the fame of being a legend has done to her dad and wants to knock him down a peg, but she has no foundation to develop her abilities from. The one man who's supposed to be teaching her isn't doing it, and she's been passively discouraged from pursuing more esoteric martial arts because the world champion said that stuff's all fake.

Videl makes for a fascinating foil to Gohan, because they're both children living in the shadows of legendary fathers.

Gohan is expected to be Goku's successor, but wants to live a peaceful life of academia. Meanwhile, Videl is being denied the ability to become Mr. Satan's successor, but craves the opportunity to prove herself.

Nonetheless, both of these kids are prodigies. Videl has a wealth of potential. She doesn't even realize that, despite these limitations, she surpassed her father long ago. Despite being a self-taught teenager with zero comprehension of ki cultivation, Videl hones her skills and developers her art the only way that's available to her: By punching it out with armed robbers in the region.

Backpack Town isn't even her city! She's a one-woman SWAT team for the tri-state area.

As ambitious and driven as she is, Videl is also clever. The anime extrapolates the adventures of the Great Saiyaman into a several-episode arc as Gohan deftly avoids detection by Videl over and over again, but this has the knock-on effect of depriving Videl of one of her best moments.

Because she pegs him instantly. She was already suspicious of Gohan being the mysterious "Golden Warrior", when he tried to use his Super Saiyan form to disguise himself as a superhero.

Which also showed that she was open-minded about the other people who fought Cell. Satan says they were doing a bunch of tricks, but Videl's willing to consider the possibility that there exist people who can turn blond on command.

And then Gohan did this shit.

Because he was raised in the woods by the devil and Goku. Despite trying to keep a low profile, he has absolutely no idea what the baseline for ordinary human ability is.

So. Y'know.

That's pretty fucking suspicious.

Which brings us to Gohan's second outing as Great Saiyaman, and his first meeting with Videl under his new identity. Whereupon she, uh....

Plays him like a fucking sap. It's a great moment that doesn't get its due if it takes several episodes and misadventures for her to reach this point. Videl is exceptionally skilled in the field of paying attention to that time Gohan jumped thirty feet in the air and naturally drawing conclusions from it.

And also his voice and posture and other dead giveaways. Gohan sucks at secret identities.

He's just. So obviously Gohan. There's no way anyone would be fooled by this.

But she's not only adequate at seeing things with her eyes; She's also a legitimately brilliant martial artist in her own right. Due to her upbringing, she's had zero experience with ki cultivation for obvious reasons.

And yet she's talented enough and smart enough to pick up the basics of Bukujutsu in one day.

Oh, don't mind her; That's just Videl making a mockery of Tsuru-senryu by effortlessly devouring their signature technique. This is Goku's first Kamehameha all over again.

She may have started small but Videl learns fucking fast. She has all of the drive and the ambition that Gohan lacks. She wants to be part of this world, she has a ravenous hunger for self-improvement, she's clever and observant, and she picks up concepts insanely quickly.

Videl is fucking primed to be a key player in Dragon Ball's next generation.

...

So now we need to talk about what happened to Videl.

Videl has one major fight in the entire series: Her 25th Tenkaichi Budokai bout against Spopovich.

Which she absolutely dominates. She's stronger, better, and faster than Spopovich. Even the experienced martial artists agree that she's infinity times better than him in every way.

But there's something wrong with Spopovich. He's a decent martial artist, far from the top; He'd competed in the 24th Tenkaichi Budokai and made it through the qualifiers, but was eliminated in the first round. So, y'know, he had no chance in hell against Videl; She's already surpassed Mr. Satan, who won the 24th legitimately.

Uh, by virtue of none of the Kame-senryu or their rivals attending. Mr. Satan is top dog of the same weight class as Pamput from the 22nd.

But, despite being outclassed in every category, Spopovich is also a dead man walking.

He's similar to the Androids in a sense. Spopovich has no ki signature at all, nor does he get worn down by the damage he's taking. This is Vegeta vs. 18 and Piccolo vs. 17 all over again; He isn't feeling the pain from the hits she's landing on him, and so he's able to outlast.

But Spopovich isn't an Android. He's more like a zombie?

At one point, Videl cuts loose and breaks his goddamn neck. Because he's pushing her hard enough that she realizes she needs to go harder, but his body can't take harder. He isn't a match for her. He just. Isn't going down despite not being a match for her.

He can't take this level of force. But he and his ominously vacant absence of ki can put his head right back where it was and continue the fight, no problem. That's honestly scarier than if he'd regenerated.

Also despite not even having the barebones ki signature of a normal person, Spopovich can perform Bukujutsu and fire ki attacks.

Which a fighter of his meager ability shouldn't even be capable of.

All of this adds up to an unwinnable fight for Videl and the setup to... Something. This match has been criticized pretty heavily in the fandom because it gets pretty gruesome and doesn't have a payoff.

We've seen fights go fucking bad for our heroes before. Piccolo once broke all of Goku's arms and legs as well as shooting a hole in his chest, right here in this same arena.

But it's typically building to something. When our heroes get trashed, it's the lead-up to a reversal down the road. Maybe in the same fight. Maybe in a later one. And we seem to be heading in that direction?

After Spopovich and Yamu leave the tournament, we get VIdel a Senzu and she's right as rain.

Spopovich and Yamu steal energy from Gohan and fly off to Babidi's Ship so they can awaken Majin Buu. Kaioshin recruits the various protags to make that not be a thing that happens. And then. Something switches in the narrative flow of this arc.

You can feel it happen.

As our heroes prepare to pursue Spopovich and Yamu, Videl volunteers to join in as well. She's had her eyes opened to a whole new world or possibilities and is hungry to develop her abilities.

And. Then. One chapter later. It's suddenly decided that Videl will not be a part of this storyline after all, and she basically leaves the plot forever.

WHOOPS! Never mind! Didn't want this character here after all. Go home, Videl.

While her adversary Spopovich is unceremoniously unwritten from being a thing that exists.

Babidi just. Kills him. For no reason. Even though his job isn't done yet. Babidi's like, "Oh good, you collected a fraction of the energy we need; That's fine, you can be fired. I don't need anyone to finish the job."

We're just. We're not telling that story anymore. We already threw Videl in the trash; we don't need her nemesis. We're doing a different thing.

Also, because we still have too many characters in this scene, Dabra erases Krillin and PIccolo with magic spit that never comes up again or is meaningful in any way.

You'd think this would be, like, setting up something? Like. Having witnessed it ahead of time, Gohan's able to figure out something about the way Dabra's spit works. So when he fights Dabra in a climactic battle, he can turn this around.

Like when Goku was able to counter Tenshinhan's Taiyoken/Solar Flare in the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai, because he'd seen it before and understood how it works. That's usually what Dragon Ball does with this sort of advance notice of opponent abilities.

But. No. The most this ever comes up again is that it momentarily costs Gohan one of his gloves. It's just here to winnow down the cast because Toriyama brought too many characters to this scene.

You can feel the burnout taking hold. As janky as the Android arc was, the Buu arc's level of jank is through the roof.

And that became it for Videl. Denied any sort of payoff for her one fight and instead relegated to background character, Videl never got a chance to live up to the intriguing potential she was introduced with. She was the face of a new direction for Dragon Ball, a direction that ended up strangled in its crib as the series reverted to old ideas and old formulae - strangling her along with it.

Videl is a character I look at and can't help but wonder what could have been. What could have been if Gohan got to keep his focus, and Videl got to remain a key player in a story about him? What could have been if we got to see Videl developing her skills at the same fever-pace that she learned Bukujutsu with? What could have been if she got that rematch with Spopovich she seemed to have been promised by the narrative, and then got to stay involved throughout the Buu arc?

But I guess we'll never know.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #videl

596 notes · View notes

spnfanficpond · 2 months ago

Text

January-March 2025 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @autisticandroids

Just Us, As We Are by @spnregular

Great handling of an age gap relationship + it really situates Missouri among the late season's characters.

~*~*~

Nominated by @averyoddfishindeed

Light Me Up (Series) by tricia_16 (AO3)

My community has been experiencing a record-breaking snowstorm, and I haven't been off my own block in a week. I've been reading through this story to pass the time, and it's just so sweet. It's nice to see a version of Dean and Cas where they communicate well. The author writes them as such doting dads and thoughtful partners. It's really everything we fans could want for them.

~*~*~

Nominated by @aylacavebear

Chasing Shadows by @ambiguous-avery

So, I came up with a monster type that could "survive" the horrible luck that the brothers have with losing everyone they care about. This amazing writer read my little write-up and after we chatted, she began her story, then began sharing it on Tumblr. It's detailed, well thought-out, and has me on the edge of my seat with each chapter. It's an emotional rollercoaster with twists and turns that just leave you wanting so much more. I love this one so much.

~*~*~

Nominated by @glygriffe

A Postcard Story by @seraphcas111

A Dean’s birthday fic told through postcards sent on a road trip. It's a clever way to approach a story. And the visuals of the postcards are a nice bonus!!

The Vessels of the Peregrine by kayliemalinza on AO3

This is the second part of a story created in a Bang with trueform Castiel (but angels in that world are balls of wispy light). It won't make much sense without reading The Angel of Emetgis V first, but view it as a 2 for 1. The world-building is amazing, the love/friendship story warms my heart even if (or because) Dean has moral issues with Castiel taking vessels.

Wait for the Ricochet by @bobwess

This is a WIP time travel goes wrong story, where younger and older versions of the brothers meet. The dynamic between the 4 brothers is precious. So is the fact that Young Dean realizes pretty quickly that his older self has feelings for Castiel. Can't wait to see Rowena thrown in the mix!

~*~*~

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Breakfast Bidding by @caplanbuckybarnes

Short and sweet and cute and nice and and and. I'm going insane, sorry. It's so cute. and I love the little hints of character study for Ketch, especially like Yess, that's my food.

Whiskey Kisses by @caplanbuckybarnes

I love how short and sweet it is, and the fact that they're so soft with each other, and that Arthur is worried about Dean. It's just so soft and nice and what I needed, and it also gives ground to some character study and some deeper fic about it that I hope the writer will actually write

~*~*~

Nominated by @leatafandom

Sweetest Day Imaginable by @rusearusco

This was a great fake relationship cover story! So sweet and cute, with a wonderfully bumbling Sam and improvising Gabriel. Wonderful read the fluff is wonderful.

I will mar myself again by theknife (AO3)

This was magnificent, wonderful read, the emotion is just so on point and impactful.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

We Build Ourselves by @sharkfish

It’s so cute and I just love it! In a world where android are non-sentient slaves and not sentient beings, one hides his sentience until he started having feelings for one particular human. It’s great how the plot progressed and how the author uses “an android walking in…” as if it’s a joke. It’s a great concept. I love how understanding and accepting Dean is in this. How curious but mature Castiel is compared to the show when it’s later seasons in the show that Cas learns of social cues and typical social expectations. I know many love to write that which I love but it wouldn’t suit in this case. I’m glad the author thought so too. I love how it’s still the character Castiel with only minor changes that works amazing for the story, truly. I highly recommend this story as a great introduction to this author, but I have read so much of this author’s works. They are a lover of Supernarural and writing about everything from real lived people could have to alternate universes with Ceacalia(msp?) and space. They’re very diverse in their tropes and genres. They have something for pretty much everyone.

~*~*~

Nominated by @supernotnatural2005

If I Stay by @zepskies

I think this story is just incredible from start to finish. I love that it’s not your typical love story, that there are hurdles (real life realism) before we get to that sweet ending. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions that had me literally on the end of my seat, scared, excited, hoping. It was just amazing.

~*~*~

Nominated by @walkingaline

Lenny & Bob's Hexcellent Adventure by panthera_dei (AO3)

It's a happy, crack adventure in Hell, but the characters are so well written that it's impossible to not feel better after reading! And Areli will win everyone's heart.

~*~*~

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Text by @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

This is sexy, the pacing is ON POINT, and it's funny. Funny and sexy will get me every time. I'm so into the characterization H illustrates for Dean, too. Characterization is why we're all here, right? We love these characters, so we want to celebrate them, and H does an excellent job of fleshing out Dean's mannerisms and darker leanings, and plays with his mischievous nature. If you're looking for fun, sexy fics that honor the characters you love, check out H's work!

Another Notch On His Belt by @bettystonewell

Here's to another writer who gives good Dean. As I said in my reblog, even later in life, when Dean's a little more jaded, a little harder, he still yearns for connection and comfort. He's still Dean — still loves to touch and be touched, still beautiful, as we all know. This is sexy and sweet and it gave me a little ache in the heart area, but Beth's love for Dean shines through.

Not A Dry Pair by @deanwinchesterswitch

Who likes a cheeky surprise ending? I do. This fic is kinda dirty (tee-hee), it features Rock Star Dean and his favorite groupie, and the sass is delightful. If you're reading this, you probably know Kym. (I like to call her Kymothée.) This fic is a few years old, so I shouldn't have taken this long to read it. This means you shouldn't wait any longer to read it, either!

When We Are Together by @copperboom82

It's sweet. It's believable. It tugs on your heartstrings, but it isn't sappy. I like this OC (Katrina). I want to give her a hug and thank her for taking care of Dean. The Mark was never easy for him, and he wasn't easy to be around for the people who loved him. Yet, Katrina meets the challenge with grace and empathy, and passion. This is an established relationship, but you don't need to know the story from whence Katrina came (although I'd recommend reading anything Annie writes.) It's angsty but not unrealistically so or without merit. It's just a really nice little slice of time.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

The Aquarian Star by @rusearusco

Destiel, but the pairing is not the focus of the story. This is a complicated world that is close to canon, but some folks have made some different decisions along the way. John hunts with Samuel Campbell, raising his sons while seeking revenge for the death of his wife. Young Dean fears for his little brother's life, and calls his other grandfather, Henry Winchester (#notdead), to take him away and save him. What ensues is fascinating and I can't wait for the next chapter!

Smells Like Ambition by @followyourenergy

A/B/O Destiel, Medieval royalty AU. Omega Prince Dean and Alpha Prince Michael are destined by a prophecy to bring peace and prosperity to both of their kingdoms when they meet, mate, and marry with the blessing of the bird of paradise that will come to mark the fulfillment of the prophecy. But Michael's an ass, John's an ass, Sam doesn't know that he's an ass but he is, and Dean is suffering. Until he meets the thief, Castiel. I'M DYING TO KNOW HOW THIS ENDS. GIMME!!!! ♥

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes, and @manawhaat!

50 notes · View notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 2 months ago

Note

hi, i hope you're having a good day/night. i came across a post centered around that one scene in dumbledore's office in ootp with marietta. marietta is jinxed to have 'sneak' spelled across her face because of hermione's spell. now, we never actually find out what hermione's spell is. it's probably something she invented, since nothing similar (except the boils spell?) is mentioned throughout the series. but my main thought here was that it also did something to her mind. because her eyes are mentioned to be 'blank'. but that could have been kingsley's imperius that he casts. maybe i'm just misinterpreting what i read, but what's your input on this?

Hello, hope you have a good day too!

Now, I don't think Hermione invented it. Hermione loves to research but I don't think she is the type to invent new spells and try them out. We see it in HBP:

“So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?” “Why does it matter if it’s handwritten?” said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question. “Because it’s probably not Ministry of Magic–approved,” said Hermione.

(HBP, Ch12)

I mentioned it here, but Hermione’s magic is very based in studying and books. She is incredibly talented at learning new spells and using them creatively, but she isn't going to try out new, untested spells on her own. That's something she sees as wrong, dangerous, and foolish. Luna is right, Hermione is pretty rigid, by-the-book, and closed-minded when it comes to magic. The characters we see inventing new spells are ones who are more open-minded and creative (like Pandora, Luna's mom whom I'd like to think Luna takes after. Plus, she married Xenophilius which says something about her) or tend to generally see magic as something living, ever-changing that needs to be explored anew (like Snape and Voldemort):

“The Dark Arts,” said Snape, “are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.”

(HBP, Ch9)

And Hermione isn't either of these. She sees magic as something that is fixed and logical, not fluid like Snape describes it. So, I was always under the impression she just used multiple existing spells together to create the jinx, like she did with the DA coins:

“On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you’re carrying them in a pocket you’ll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he’ll change the numbers on his coin, and because I’ve put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.”

(OotP, Ch19)

The spell on the DA partchment is refered to as a jinx:

“Haven’t we got a counterjinx for this?” Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta’s face. “So she can speak freely?” “I have not yet managed to find one,” Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Harry felt a surge of pride in Hermione’s jinxing ability. [....] “Just nod or shake your head, dear,” Umbridge said coaxingly to Marietta. “Come on, now, that won’t activate the jinx further. . . .”

(OotP, Ch27)

The 'blank' eyes are described when Kinglsey obliviates her, her inability to speak is because the more she speaks about the DA, the worse the boils will become, hence Umbridge saying it won't activate it further. She is familiar with the jinx and knows it is activated by speech & intent — another mark against Hermione inventing it. The lack of ability to remove it suggests Hermione mixed more than one jinx together.

The description of Marriatta's face:

but not before the whole room had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word “SNEAK.”

(OotP, Ch27)

The Pimple Jinx/Furnunculus is described very similarly:

“Furnunculus!” Harry yelled. “Densaugeo!” screamed Malfoy. Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy’s hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth. [...] Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

(GoF, Ch18)

If I had to guess what other spells Hermione mixed in there, I'll add the spell Umbridge used to write words on the blackboard:

Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once

(OotP, Ch12)

And a transfiguration spell to make the boils really stick (in a way a counterjinx won't make them disappear) like Epoximise from extra canonical material or the Permanent Sticking Charm mentioned in the books:

“I thought it might be that,” said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. “She’ll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don’t doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will.

(OotP, Ch6)

(In my headcanon, "Epoximise" is the incantation for a Sticking charm and "Epoximise Sempra" for Permanent Sticking Charm. Sempra = always/forever).

So, by mixing the pimple jinx with two other spells, you can get the results we see on Mariatta, and I think Hermione coming up with a combo like this is more likely than her inventing a potentially dangerous spell and using it.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #asks #xxcherryblush #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #hermione granger #hp magical theory

29 notes · View notes

shouldibeawakeprobablynot · 24 days ago

Text

Marauders Era Characters In School

The Marauders:

James and Sirius were the kind of people who either got an O or failed, they were both absolute geniuses and had insane magical ability but they just had more important stuff they wanted to focus on than school. When it was a class based on magical ability like DADA, Transfiguration or Charms they were the kind of people who could pay minimal attention in class, rush their essays and wander into the exam having done about an hour of revision and still get an O. Classes like History of Magic or Divination they could easily have passed with flying colours if they wanted to they just really couldn't be arsed and since they required more knowledge as opposed to raw magical ability they tended to fail.

Remus was also incredibly clever he just has to put work in for it and consistently revise throughout the year (a concept that baffled James and Sirius "But Moony you always get an O anyway you don't need to revise!" "I get all Os because I revise!"). He was very bookish, got all Os and had a weird amount of knowledge for a teenager but that was through a mix of hard work and a natural affinity for learning.

This is potentially an unpopular opinion but I think Peter was also clever, he was just in a group of very exceptional people so what he achieved didn't look as impressive. I think he got mostly EEs with a couple Os and a couple As and with a little extra work he could have done better than that. He was a crammer and did most of his work the day before the exam (which worked for him), he knew that with a tad more work throughout the year he could've done better than he typically did but he was honestly happy with how he did anyway so decided he'd rather have fun instead.

I feel like Peter would just be yapping and come out with some kind of idea that James and Sirius would immediately latch onto and start building into insane prank, Remus would then have to work out how this could actually be achieved and James and Sirius would do whatever insane magic was required.

The Gryffindor Girls:

Lily was very similar to Remus, she was bright and paid attention so teachers loved her but she did have to work for the grades she got. Her and Remus had regular study sessions with Regulus and occasionally Peter when he had a test coming up. She genuinely enjoyed learning and she'd get all Os (anything below that felt like a failure to her and she was also driven in part by an intense need for academic validation).

Mary was pretty average in school, she had subjects she did well in and subjects she didn't and she put a fair amount of effort into studying but only really around exam time. She was very good with people and had good enough exam results that she could go into a number of different careers but she wasn't notable for academics.

Marlene tended to get things or not get things and was sort of just it, like Mary she had things she did well in and things she didn't but if she didn't just get something naturally it was very difficult for her to improve. Quidditch was a big priority for her and doing it professionally was her dream so she tended to neglect her school subjects (especially ones she didn't like) in favour of practicing. Teachers often accused her of not trying which was sometimes true and sometimes wasn't and she envied James and Sirius who could get away with slacking off when she couldn't.

The Slytherin Skittles

Regulus was similar to Remus and Lily, though he absolutely excelled in potions which came to him completely naturally, he continuously worked hard for all his other subjects throughout the year (partly due to parental pressure and an intense desire for academic validation) and like Lily and Remus got all Os though he always seemed more stressed about doing well than they did.

Barty was like James and Sirius if they actually tried, he did incredibly well with practically no effort whatsoever. He paid just enough attention in class and did just enough revision to do well and with how naturally clever he was that was practically nothing, which drove Regulus, who always worked hard and paid attention, up the wall.

Evan was that friend who failed practically everything, academics did not come at all naturally to him and he also really couldn't be bothered. He knew that his results were mostly his fault but he was still upset by them, especially since he came from a group of such clever people, though he tried very hard to seem nonchalant and unbothered.

Dorcas got mostly EEs and a couple Os, she paid attention in class and worked moderately hard throughout the year. Like Peter she knew that with extra work she could do a little better but most of the time she was happy to just let her natural intelligence carry her through.

Pandora's results were absolutely inexplicable, sometimes she passed, sometimes she failed, sometimes she got an O and sometimes she got a T. No one quite understood how she got what marks she got, even her, and it continuously stressed her out, she never knew how a test had gone until she was getting the results which was really hard for her. Due to this she had a lot of academic anxiety and regularly had panic attacks about tests, her friends all learned pretty quickly how to calm her down and support her through it.

20 notes · View notes

adhdo5 · 3 months ago

Note

please give me any mdzs fic recs you have on hand....I'm starving here

FUCK OKAY. SO this isn't necessarily comprehensive but it's pretty sizeable, especially since some of these are quite long. Obligatory disclaimers: WATCH THE TAGS on these, some of them are explicit and many have canon-typical violence or worse; there is Something I don't agree with to varying degrees in most if not literally all of these but all of them do Something extremely right which is why they're on the reclist.

In pretty much just the order I remembered they exist in:

How to Decay Gracefully - Qin Su-centric. Only a canon divergence in that she doesn't die all the way post suicide attempt. Absolutely beautiful

Favor - 3zun + NHS Hunger Games AU! Like the one time I'll believe in this kind of self-presentation from JGY explicitly because of the setting change. FANTASTICALLY plotted. The author EXPERTLY does surgery on the plot beats and setting of MDZS to fit them to the arc of the AU to the point that I almost consider it another adaptation. Endlessly clever. It's so fucking good. Obsessed with it. Some of the most lines ever. Beautiful reveal work

Mutual Friends - Xuexiao, mid domesticity arc, have the misfortune to run into Xiyao, and it would be terribly impolite not to catch up. Absolutely impeccably tense and hilarious conversation sparring. Hidden role game of a dinner conversation.

Principles of Your Past - LAN XICHEN CHARACTER STUDY OF ALL TIMEEEE. I keep thinking about this forever. My favorite version of Xiyao first kiss during Sunshot I think

Sandhi - Lanlan postcanon thesis. Absolute masterwork of LXC POV. Another one where there's just lines in here that repeat in my head. It's wonderfully sedate and low octane and also makes me cry every time

I Don't Have the Heart to Match - Postcanon transfem JC chara study. I cry every time I reread this one also.

Here's to Upright Men - Postcanon showcanon but still delightful. ON FUCKING LOCK Huaisang POV.

Welcome to My Table, Bring Your Hunger - Showcanon timeline Xueli. It's a hear me out of a ship but by god you won't regret hearing it out. Scathing JYL POV. Absolutely vicious rumination on violence and normalization thereof that arises when putting these characters together. Fantastic shit

Obligation - 3zun. JGY-centric. There's lines in this one that I will just remember and break my head open on the wall every time about. YOU ARE NOTTTTTTTTTT NORMALLLLLLLLLLL NOBODY THINKS LIKE THIS YOU';RE A BROKEN PERSONNNNNNNN. In my head/the way this was recced to me this is kind of like part of The Canon of insane 3zun works.

Lies You Told, Lies You Didn't - Everyone had something wrong with them; you had Zewu-jun.

The Final Cut - NHS character study. Cry cry about funny Huaisang

The Golden Fox - Meng Yao, who is half fox spirit and really wants to be a cultivator, is constantly getting in some fucking situation in pursuit of the latter, which is aggravated even more by the fact that he is the former much more than he would like to be. Lan Xichen shouldn't worry about it, but also Lan Xichen shouldn't be showing interest in him either, so we're really at an impasse here.

Something to Believe - 3zun fixit casefic that makes and defends the claim "we just need to hold Lan Xichen at gunpoint until Nieyao fix their shit" with brutal, impeccable efficiency. WORK TOGETHER OR DIE!

Still Waters Run Deep - By the same author as above, HEARTRENDING LXC study, many such cases

Red String Wrapped Around Your Throat - Speaking of same author, this is by the same guy as Safety Concern, e.g. the only guy on Archive of Our Own dot gov that doesn't log on exclusively to tell lies about Nie Mingjue. Nieyao timeloop fixit. The desperation is palpable. They are both insane. Do you remember how we used to kill ourselves. WORK TOGETHER OR DIE!

Last of Our Kind - Postcanon Xiyao amnesia in Dongying. I don't believe in this Xiyao sex but I do believe in this neuroticism. I read the whole thing while nervous about my imminent choir concert in December and commented as I went, got interrupted, promised in the last comment I left that I'd comment on the end, and never got around to it. Author of that fic if you're reading this sorry I thought the ending was sweet but how much I can write comments depends on planetary alignment on any given day. The Wangxian B-plot in this one is beautiful also I adore how WWX is written

My Erstwhile Dear - ABSOLUTELY FUCKING IMPECCABLE epistolary postcanon Xiyao. I fucking love it when they yell at each other. They are both SO ANNOYING. It's PERFECT. I CRIED!

You Cut Through All The Noise - Xiyao slop. It's sweet enough to be a reprieve after some of these but it's also deeply repressed as is appropriate. Very very good.

#Fuck or die is OUT. Emotional conversation or die is IN #I don't like some of these fic description blurbs but they're good enough and if I agonize over making them all (equally) good then I will #never post this. SORRY #Fewer of these than I thought are straight JGY neuroticism!#I'm a hater but make no mistake. Part of the hater's path is being a lover.#anti Shark forcefield #Alsoooo. Decay Gracefully and Sandhi and Heart To Match and Golden Fox (and Red String+Safety Concern) are all by: My Friends. Who are so #awesome and coolful. Jsyk.

27 notes · View notes

cam-helene · 4 months ago

Text

From Eden

prologue

summary: In her defense, (Y/N) DeRose never intended to decieve anyone. When a rumor spreads that she's from a lost pureblood family, (Y/N) jumps at the chance to rewrite her narrative. After all, it did no good to be the only muggleborn in Slytherin. When (Y/N) is forced into an arranged marriage with Mattheo Riddle, her best friend, she must accept to conceal her identity. With a war on the horizon, will (Y/N) be able to keep her secret? Or will she become the next target in Voldemort's crusade?

♥ all characters are aged up to be above 18!

♥ pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!reader, platonic!slytherins x fem!reader, platonic!harry potter x fem!reader...

♥ warning(s): none

♥ series masterlist; next part

In your defense, you never intended to deceive anyone. In fact, the whole ordeal had begun as an ill informed rumor.

You arrived at Hogwarts as a small, naive, muggleborn girl, your understanding of the magic world lacking. Still, it didn’t take you long to understand your place in this world.

On the train, you had overheard an older student mocking a first year, calling him some foul name for muggle borns - mudblood. You had heard the word floating around Diagon Alley, and now you fully understood what it meant. Your existence was something bad, something to be ashamed of. Your saving grace came in the form of Mattheo Riddle.

He had wandered into your compartment, stumbling inside and locking the door.

“Um, hello?” You said.

He turned around quickly, clearly startled by your presence. Your eyes met the prettiest boy you had ever seen. His face was scattered with small scars and bruises. His curls framed his face like a portrait one might find in a museum. His eyes were glinting with mischief, surveying you silently.

“Sorry, love.” He laughed shamefully. “I had to get a compartment before my new friends could find me.”

“Why don’t you want them to find you?”

“They’re designation friends.” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “Older students that have been told by their parents to make friends with me. They’re all the usual idiots, running around hexing muggleborns for the fun of it.”

“Huh.” You nodded. “Who are you, anyway? You must be rather important to be shackled with designation friends.”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

“Mattheo Riddle.” He smiled, holding out his hand.

“(Y/N) DeRose.” You shook his hand.

“DeRose.” Mattheo hummed, taking a seat across from you. “That’s an interesting name. Are you a pureblood?”

“Um.” You picked at the hem of your top. You thought of the bullied boy you had seen when boarding the train. “No? Is that bad?”

“Might be. You’re a muggleborn then?”

“Yes.” You nodded awkwardly.

“You can stop fidgeting, love, I’m not here to shame you for your bloodline.” Mattheo chuckled. “It’s just curious, that’s all. The DeRoses were a very rich pureblood family, but they all went missing during the war. Everybody’s been waiting for a descendant to pop up somewhere.”

“Interesting. Why haven’t they just been presumed dead?” “There were rumors that they had betrayed You-Know-Who.” Mattheo shrugged, eyeing you curiously. “For a family of their status that’s a pretty big deal. People want to know if they were truly traitors, or if they were captured by the Ministry, or if they’re in hiding until You-Know-Who comes back.”

You studied the boy in front of you. If it was true, and families from that background were followers of the Dark Lord, then wouldn’t Mattheo fall under that category? Though, if he subscribed to that belief, then he wouldn’t have continued talking to you, would he?

“I can see you thinking, DeRose.” Mattheo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s going on up there?”

“Do you…hate muggle borns then?” You asked, holding your breath. “If your family is important enough to have designated friends, can we then assume that you’re from a family of similar stature to the DeRoses?”

“You’re a clever one. I’ll be surprised if you aren’t Ravenclaw.”

“Will you answer the question?”

“...I don’t subscribe to those beliefs, no.” Mattheo ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t tell anyone - although, I’d doubt anybody would believe you.”

“Okay. Good. One more question.”

“Merlin, another question?”

“What the hell is a Ravenclaw?”

“Oh, little bird.” Mattheo smirked. “You really don’t know much of anything, do you?” “Don’t talk down to me, Riddle.” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t I get any points for knowing all that shit about You-Know-Who?”

“Not if you don’t know the fundamentals of the houses.” Mattheo cleared his throat. “There are four houses at Hogwarts, and everyone is sorted into one upon arrival.”

“How?”

“There’s a talking hat.”

“Oh, sure.”

“There’s Gryffindor, the brave house. Hufflepuff, the kind house - also known as the reject house. Ravenclaw is for the nerds, the smart and curious ones. Slytherin is for the ambitious and cunning. Most mark Slytherins as evil, mostly because You-Know-Who was a Slytherin.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“In part, it is. Pureblood families will do anything to insure their children get into Slytherin. Most of the students in that house have been raised with intensely traditional views on muggles.”

“I see.” Your lips formed a tight smile. “I’m guessing your family wishes for you to be in Slytherin.”

“That’s right. If you’re lucky, you won’t cross paths with my lot too much. Once everyone figures out you’re not one of those DeRoses, you’ll be everyone’s favorite chew toy.”

“That’s optimistic.” You crossed your legs, leaning back in your seat.

“No way to really avoid it.” Mattheo gave her a sad smile, though his face relaxed quickly, wiping away any evidence of the emotion.

“What if there was?” You wondered. “I mean…we could always pretend I was one of those DeRoses. The only people who know the truth are you and me.”

“And the headmaster.” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“He has better things to do than out me.”

Mattheo shrugged in agreement. You could see him mulling over the plan in his head.

“It could work.” Mattheo looked down at the floor, then shot his head back up, meeting your eyes.

And that was that.

The sorting ceremony was the deciding factor.

Your name was called, resulting in a wildfire of whispers to spread. It seemed Mattheo hadn’t been lying about the infamy of the DeRoses.

Mcgonagall lowered the hat onto your head.

“Slytherin!” The hat called out, almost instantaneously.

The Slytherin table cheered proudly, whilst the other houses remained silent, the only exception being a pair of redhead boys, who booed as you hopped off the stool, rushing to take your seat.

Remembering your earlier conversation with Mattheo, You did your best to avoid eye contact with any of your housemates. It didn’t take a genius to guess that being a muggleborn wasn’t something to be proud of in Slytherin.

“I knew you’d be in our house.” A blonde boy boasted. “Anyone with real pureblood values ends up in Slytherin.”

You could guess what he meant by “real pureblood values”. That was the moment you decided it might not be so bad to let the rumors spread.

The story seemed to develop by itself. You spent the first week of school dodging questions about your family, shrugging them off with relative ease. The questions were all the same;

“How did your family survive?”

“Did your father really escape the Dark Lord?”

“Is it true that your father was the top of his class in Potions? Can you tutor me?”

You were quickly developing your story. It was almost laughable how easy it was to trick everybody. When Professor Snape put you on the spot, asking you a million questions that you had no idea how to answer, he hadn’t outed you as an imposter, rather a disgrace to your bloodline. The thought of deceiving the Potions master made you giddy. If you had him fooled, then you had everybody fooled.

It wasn’t until the second week of school that you heard from Mattheo again. You were beginning to wonder if he was even going to keep your secret, seeing as he hadn’t spoken to you once.

You had met your roommate, Pansy Parkinson, in the library, hoping to get ahead of the Potions curriculum. Opening your bag, you found one crucial item missing.

“Oh, shoot!” You grumbled. “I left my book in the dorm.”

“Do you want me to go get it with you?” Pansy offered.

“No, it’s okay.” You shook your head. “Just wait for me here. I’ll only be a minute.”

Pansy nodded, making herself comfortable at the table.

You had almost made it to the Slytherin common room when somebody yanked your arm, pulling you into an empty classroom.

“Ow! Merlin, what’s your issue?” You complained.

Looking up, your eyes met Mattheo’s. His green tie shone against his ironed white shirt. He was looking at you like you were some object of amusement.

“I’ve been watching you.” He said.

“What a nice, non-creepy way to start a conversation.” You scoffed. “I haven’t seen you since the sorting.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Mattheo admitted. “I almost backed out.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For one, you already have half the school fooled.”

“Only half?” You quirked up your eyebrow cockily.

“A little more than half.” Mattheo agreed, rolling his eyes. “My point being that you forced my hand. Very Slytherin of you.”

“You could’ve told everyone the truth.”

“Who’d’ve believed me?” Mattheo chuckled bitterly. “Besides, I’m intrigued to see just how far this will go. I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“So many questions. Let’s just say I’m curious. After all, you’re the first muggle born to be in Slytherin for over three decades.” Mattheo took your bag off her shoulder, carrying it himself instead. “Let me walk you to wherever you’re going. I can fill you in on some of your family history.”

From that day forward, you and Mattheo were inseparable. Mattheo walked with you to every class, sat next to you, and ate all his meals with you. His presence alone seemed to solidify your status. You found herself eternally grateful to the boy, although you weren't quite sure what he was earning in this unspoken arrangement.

“Why?” You asked one day, your feet resting in Mattheo’s lap.

After a grueling day of classes, Mattheo had claimed the couch in the Slytherin common room, inviting you to come sit with him.

“Why what?” Mattheo asked, staring into the fireplace.

“Why do you do all this stuff for me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why are you helping me? You never gave me an answer.”

“It’s called being your friend, (Y/N).” Mattheo said. “Besides, you’re the only one here who isn’t scared of me.”

“Why would I be scared of you?” “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Mattheo smirked.

Soon enough, Mattheo introduced you to his only other friend - Lorenzo Berkshire, Mattheo’s halfbrother. Lorenzo - or Enzo, as his friends called him - was very different to Mattheo. He was sensitive, soft - the kind of boy who buys you flowers and a stuffed animal when you’re sick. Enzo quickly attached himself to you and the two were family ever since. Mattheo also introduced you to his cousin, Draco Malfoy - apparently, Mattheo had been living with his family since the end of the war, although neither of the boys offered up a real explanation for this. You introduced Pansy into the little group next. Pansy and Enzo hit it off, although it took her awhile to warm up to Mattheo. Through Pansy, Theodore Nott became a part of the group. Finally, Theo dragged Blaise into the circle, completing the group. Soon enough, each one of them became like siblings to you, even Draco, much to your surprise. The group was considered, by the rest of Hogwarts, to be a dangerous clique - one to be avoided at all costs. You found you didn’t mind the reputation too much.

First year was uneventful, up until the end of the school year. Harry Potter - supposedly - had a face off with Professor Quirell, who - supposedly - had the Dark Lord latched onto the back of his head.

The whole situation was laughable. You almost didn’t believe it. Almost. It was Mattheo’s odd reaction that turned the gears in your head.

Mattheo had been oddly quiet since the news broke. Whispers followed him down the hall, and he was uncharacteristically aware of it all. The final nail in the coffin came when you found Mattheo crying in the astronomy tower.

“What’s happening, Téo?” You kneeled down next to him, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Mattheo shook his head. “I don’t have to talk about it.”

“You don’t.” You agreed. “But if you want to, just know you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, or make fun of you. We’re friends, remember?”

Mattheo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he allowed you to wrap him tight in your arms. You stayed that way, you didn’t know for how long. Eventually, Mattheo leaned away, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“The reason everybody is scared of me…” He took a deep breath, avoiding your eyes. “I’m his son.”

“Who’s son?”

“Voldemort’s son.”

Your eyes widened. You knew the stories. You knew what Voldemort did, what he stood for. You look at the boy before you. Mattheo, who had protected you, who hadn’t cared about your bloodstatus, who had spent every free moment at your side, who had helped you build a new life, and who had yet to cash in a favor in return.

You reached up, wiping away a stray tear from Mattheo’s face.

“We are not our fathers.” You said simply.

30 notes · View notes

lillandyrshadowglade · 2 months ago

Text

Lillandyr Shadowglade

The Basics –––

Full Name: Anya Silverbough/Alias: Lady Lillandyr Shadowglade

Nickname: Lil. Evil snake woman.

Age: Mid to late twenties equiv.

Birthday: She won’t tell

Race: Sin'dorei

Gender: female

Marital Status: Fake widowed. Not single. There’s no more room on the dance card.

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: Her long hair is naturally wavy and a dark blonde.

Eyes: Intense, acidic fel green

Height: 5’9

Build: Classic hourglass/curvy.

Distinguishing Marks: N/A

Scars: She has faint burn scars on both palms

Tattoos: None

Piercings: Her ears are pierced several times. No body piercings.

Common Accessories: Ring bearing the sigil of House Shadowglade. It’s too big for her fingers so she wears it on her left thumb. She usually has a fresh red rose tucked behind one ear. Dark circles under her eyes.

Likeness: Veronica Lake

Personal Information –––

Profession: Socialite, thief, relic forger, conwoman.

Hobbies: Writing atrocious, yet emotionally limp poetry, study, daydreaming, playing cards, gossiping, scheming

Languages: Thalassian (she refuses to learn to speak the other Horde languages, though she can read them), various magical/forbidden languages

Currently Living: Formerly In the dank, leaky basement of the burned up ruins of Manor Shadowglade. Currently at Castle Dracone

Birthplace: Quel'thalas

Religion: She refuses to worship anything except herself.

Fears: hunger, intimacy of any kind, fire, the dark, being out of control, surprises, spending money (and soon…carriages)

Personality:

Her personality depends on the circumstances in which you know her. If, for some wild reason, she’s not running a con on you, she is an eccentric woman. She is not introverted, but she is soft spoken. She listens intently and seems to enjoy letting other people talk and talk. Paranoia rolls off her in waves. She has a quick and violent temper. Under the thin veneer of civility, Lillandyr is an unhinged, feral woman. If she IS running a con on you she is vapid, easily amused, catty, outgoing, touchy, and perpetually flirtatious. She doesn’t seem to have a thought inside her pretty head.

Relationships –––

Mother: Emaleth Silverbough (Deceased)

Father: Unknown

Siblings: None but these are the ones she fakes having: Eramyn - Older Sister (Deceased), Nycasia - Older Sister (Deceased), Varistan Veyne Sonmourn - Older Half Brother (Alive)

Spouse: The fictional Arothir Brackwater- First Marriage (Deceased, but also made up…so…)

Children: None

Other Family: None but her stolen identity has several cousins and one uncle.

Pets: Tache, her mind controlled Shal’dorei assistant

Sex & Romance –––

Sexual Orientation: She literally never thinks about it like that. She only becomes aroused at the idea of having power over someone through complicated schemes. Or graphic violence. So whatever that is!

Preferred Role: Dominant| Submissive | Switch

Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers

Turn ons: Strawberry petit fours, her own cleverness, pulling off a con, giving into her rage, I don’t know…being choked probably.

Turn offs: Everything bothers her. But stupidity especially. Submissive men IRONICALLY turn her all the way off.

Love Language: Fuck you, darling.

Relationship Tendencies: She has never had a relationship that wasn’t adversarial or forced on the other person through magic. She needs someone who can handle her. Like…literally she needs a handler.

Traits –––

Bold your character’s answer

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between/ Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader/ In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic /In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between /Modern

Hard-working/ In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional Information –––

Smoking Habit: Severe

Drugs: Whenever possible

Alcohol: It’s a problem

RP Hooks –––

She Owes You Something:

Did you make a generous deal with Lillandyr and now it’s biting you in the ass? Maybe you got sweet talked into something that is now shaping up to be a giant scam. That relic you bought from her was a forgery. You can be a creditor too, but it’s not a 70’s skin flick so be more creative than that!

You Sell/Buy Relics and Esoteric Tomes:

She is a book and relic dealer. Most are smuggled and are probably forgeries but maybe you’re just as desperate as she is to acquire more.

Looking For ––

Anything EXCEPT family/slice of life stuff. Lillandyr doesn’t need to breed. One of her is enough. No child deserves that. Be gone, single dads. Don’t put this walking red flag around your children.

Contact –––

Message me or write at me on here. I don’t play the game often and I super don’t want to RP IN the game even if I have cool outfits. You can add me on discord: lilbriar.

#roleplay #wra #wra roleplay #writing

25 notes · View notes

pumpkinstrawbrew · 1 year ago

Text

💀_is this deviant enough for you, my dear? _💀

or jon makes some deliberate changes to his outfit, after catwoman said that he's not 'a real pervert'.

...

(i was re-reading all those 'crow vs 'cat issues recently, an' i gotta say i don't ever get tired of how much those two genuinely loathe one another. there is smth beautiful about one part of my otp pretty much having it out for a character, who is canonically supposed to be the 'main' love interest for the other part of my ship. internalized jealousy is delicious.

that's bit aside, i do find crane n' selina's antagonistic relationships pretty entertaining in the void as well. they are both petty n' tend to take a lot of things personally, while dehumanizing others with ease. looking at selina n' jon side by side, their hatred toward one another makes a lot of sense. they are similar in certain *smaller* ways. selina might have not crossed the line n' becoming a murder, but in few versions, it came very close to it. or even come to it. not to mention, that while her own motivations are different from crane's, she also driven by her bitter life experience, when it comes to how she sees others n' how she acts. at times, she'd be doing shitty things just bc she felt like it. her sociopathy is latent in most cases, but it is there.

but regardless of complexity of all those themes, this whole thing was born only bc i found it funny how out of all things, selina n' jon had an argument about who get offs on fear harder lol. n' then, bc of how the very moment catwoman hallucinated batman, jonathan was literally almost in her face lol. listening to all those things with rapt attention.

as result, i ended up thinking about what if crane took selina's comment a bit too seriously. i imagine, he was sitting there trying to study what makes 'pervented' n' 'sexy'. but in like very nerdy way. drawing diagrams an' all.

the scarecrow historically has no impressive man bossom or ass, so he has to be clever about it. expose some skin, but like 'naugthy' bits. it helps that the way his costume is structured, fabric will always poof up a bit. so even his semi-muscular man pecs n' narrow hips can work too. an' then it should be short too. v-cut. n' stockings? yeah, sure. the greatest detective would take it upon himself to figure out what they're cliping to. an' what else is hidden underneath.

i still stan by my belief that jonathan can only be seductive or sexy by pure accident. but it is fun to think about how far he can go, if he's challenged n' his pettyness is what drives him to go out of comfort zone.

in general, i love how different this version of jonathan's costume is compared to his other looks. it's still classic, but so colorful an' whimsical. i wish he wore it at least one time in front of batman in canon. like come on, let my dude live out his goth fantasy. n' let bruce have some fun on his usually hard n' grim job.)

#batman comics #bruce wayne #batman #scarecrow #scarebat #jonathan crane #brew draws

99 notes · View notes

wendichester · 2 months ago

Text

𓂃˖ ࣪ 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤

˚₊‧꒰ა sam winchester ☆ @purplepickle69 ☆ dean winchester ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆˙⟡ where leo, aquarius, aries meets taurus, virgo*, capricorn and aquarius, leo*, saggitarius. ⟡˙⋆

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑✧˖⋆𖤐

ꔛ. meeting each other,

✧ what’s the most likely way for you two to meet?

dean: you’re not a hunter by trade—at least not yet. you’re the smart civilian the boys bump into while tracking a djinn that's been nesting in an abandoned hospital just outside topeka. you're poking around because something felt off to you. your aquarius rising intuition makes you sensitive to shifts in energy, even if you don’t have a word for it yet. sam: this one’s a slower burn. you’re a civilian researcher who reaches out to sam via some obscure paranormal forum he’s active on under a fake name. he’s cautious but curious—you use your mercury in cancer to disarm him with warmth, intelligence, and strangely specific data on a possession case in nebraska.

✧ are you a hunter or a civilian?

dean: dean catches you snooping around a locked door with a crowbar that’s clearly too small for the job. you’re irritated, independent, and completely unimpressed by his "i’m the guy with the gun" bravado. he assumes you're reckless, probably someone's stubborn little sister who doesn’t know what she’s doing—until you start rattling off facts about the djinn's feeding patterns that you googled last night, and his smirk falters. you actually know your shit. sam: you finally meet in person at a university library. sam’s doing quiet recon, and you're there under the pretense of checking sources. you bring him coffee without asking his order (he finds it adorable how wrong you get it). he notices immediately that you’re clever, emotionally attuned, and far more interested in helping than harming.

✧ what’s their first impression of you?

dean: "hot, weird, and probably gonna get me killed." dean's sagittarius moon loves that you’re bold. his aquarius mars? turned on by how unpredictable you are. your mix of fire and fixed energy makes you a walking paradox—chaotic but grounded. he’s instantly intrigued but wary. sam: "too pretty to be this smart." sam’s taurus sun is lowkey stunned by your grounded confidence. your leo sun + aries moon vibe like you’re both the main character and the loose cannon in a spy thriller, and he is so into it.

ꔛ. friendship compatibility,

✧ how would the friendship be like?

dean: chaotic besties energy. your fire moon + leo sun gets his sag moon laughing until his stomach hurts. you're the only one who can match his impulsive streak and call him out when he’s being a self-sabotaging idiot. sam: emotional depth olympics. your pisces north node + aquarius rising makes him feel safe, like you get it. you talk about ethics, fate, and free will while cleaning blood off your boots. you're both fixers—of people, situations, sometimes yourselves.

✧ how would it begin?

dean: you save each other’s lives. multiple times. bicker constantly. trauma bond over music and the inability to sleep. suddenly you’re his emergency contact and he keeps buying you pie “just because.” sam: study sessions. you recommend books. he fact-checks your sources. you're texting at 1am about dream symbolism. it escalates to long car rides, shared playlists, and quiet companionship.

✧ quirks and fun things about it:

dean: you have secret signals for when a case is getting too weird. he lets you DJ in the impala, which is unheard of. you once taught him how to make a pinterest board. he pretends he didn’t like it but you caught him adding stuff at 3am. sam: he gets you weird little bookmarks and you doodle cryptid art in his journal margins. you both have an entire list of "dumb things dean said today." you roast each other like siblings but god help anyone else who tries it.

ꔛ. romantic compatibility,

✧ are you compatible? is there a chance for friendship to develop into more?

dean: honestly? yes, but it’s volatile. your leo sun + aries moon fuel his sag moon + aqua mars, creating magnetic passion, but your taurus mars + virgo venus needs stability and detail, and he’s not always capable of giving that. sam: yes—but slower. your earth and fire mix helps him open up. your venus in virgo aligns with his taurus sun + cap moon, offering groundedness. he’s someone who loves with intention, and you challenge him to be present and passionate.

✧ what type of relationship would it be?

dean: intense, impulsive, and incredibly physical. you're his mirror and his undoing. it could either evolve into the kind of love that softens both of you—or burn out in a blaze of unsent texts and misread glances. sam: emotionally mature, built on respect and mutual growth. you're both secretly romantic nerds who fall in love via long talks, gentle teasing, and unwavering loyalty.

✧ what are your love languages according to the charts?

✶ you: acts of service, physical touch (but only if it's real and intentional). ✶ dean: quality time and words of affirmation. ✶ sam: physical touch (slow, lingering), acts of service.

ꔛ. scenario, ₊˚⊹౨ scenario ৎ ₊˚⊹

you wake up in the bunker’s library, head resting on an open lore book. a sweater you don’t remember wearing is draped over your shoulders. it smells like old leather and cinnamon, and when you stir, there’s already coffee waiting—your mug, the one with the faint chip on the handle. sam’s in the next chair, long legs crossed, laptop open. he doesn’t look up, but says softly, “you fell asleep mid-sentence again.” you groan, stretch, and blink blearily at the fluorescent lighting. “did i at least make a good point?” he closes the laptop with a smirk. “you always do.” he’s not touchy, usually. not unless it means something. so when he brushes your hair behind your ear and leans in close, it makes your breath hitch. his lips are chapped, warm, careful as he kisses you. like he’s afraid to break the moment. "i read your notes," he murmurs. "they were better than mine." you kiss him again just to shut him up. your hand slips into his, like it’s always belonged there.

ꔛ. overall,

dean: 7.3/10 raw chemistry, adrenaline-soaked obsession, and ride-or-die banter. it’s hot and dangerous, but hard to sustain unless both of you grow. you could be the one who helps dean choose softness—but the question is whether he’s ready to receive it sam: 9.1/10 soulful, steady, and weirdly domestic. he makes you feel seen, safe, and loved in a way you didn’t know you needed. he understands your chaos and doesn’t try to fix it—just holds space for it. you could survive with dean. but with sam, you’d thrive.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

* since the birth time of dean hasn't ever been mentioned, I've placed him as a leo rising, since it's the sign that makes more sense to me.

* since the birth time of sam hasn't ever been mentioned, I've placed him as a virgo rising, since it's the sign that makes more sense to me.

#compatibility reading #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester astrology #sam winchester astrology #supernatural #spn #astrology

11 notes · View notes

jazlynriddle-starwars · 11 days ago

Text

Master Will Protect You Ch 3:

Summary:

Two months after Mustafar, Darth Vader meets his demise at the feet of a Kyber Crystal. Faced with the truth—that Obi-Wan never left him. That his Master still hasn’t. Seeking to be Anakin Skywalker again, he turns on Sidious, who curses him with his dying breath. Now Anakin is crippled, broken, haunted, and utterly dependent on Obi-Wan’s care. And Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan is struggling to balance being a good Jedi, doing his duty and taking care of Anakin. Because Anakin's trust is just so addictive, the word Master has too many meanings, and Obi-Wan no longer feels like a hero. He feels like he's becoming the one monster Anakin can’t see coming.

Warnings/Tags: Mild gore, erotic horror, psychological, trauma/character study, slow burn, angst with a happy ending!

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Mild sort-of references to potential-of sexual abuse in like a 3rd-hand in-danger-of kind of way. Also, remember the gore from chapter 1? Well, I highly recommend that you not eat while reading this chapter xD

I am so tired... I have literally been fighting my goddamn computer for days, trying to get Microsoft Word to stop changing the Read Aloud to US voices rather than UK because of some weird ass bug. Like, the US voice is just way too perky for my fics lol

I use Read Aloud to edit my own writing for grammatical or punctuation errors, it's so handy =D

My partner has dyslexia so they were using it to read my fics and I discovered that it works great for catching mistakes and lousy wording or repeated words, and I started using it too, now I can't write without it. So having my Read Aloud crap out on me is agonising x')

Speaking of reading though, er, I'm gonna warn ya'll, this chapter ends in a cliffhanger. And it's a pretty fucked cliffhanger. So, if you're like me and can't handle cliffhangers, please wait for the next chapter to be uploaded in (maybe one but more likely) two week's time. (It depends on whether I finish Chapter 5 of Barely Functional this week or not.)

I apologise for that extended gap, I'm kind of a perfectionist so my polishing and editing process is laboriously slow and involves listening to my own chapters like a million times for hours, but I do do my best x'D

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

Anakin's mouth feels dry and his saliva thick, it's a familiar feeling, like he'd been crying. Though his eyes and head are hurting a lot more than usual. Enough that he wonders if he'd gotten a concussion during battle or something.

It's only when he tries to open his eyes that he remembers. Right. He's blind now.

Any panic he might have felt dissipates when his flesh hand feels the warm cloth under his palm, feels the large hand draped over his shoulder, smells the familiar scent of his Master. It's covered in more odours than usual. Sweat, blood, the dryness of desert sand, but he's familiar with that mix too. It's not what most would call comforting, but it is.

It's his Master.

Anakin takes a deep breath and listens to the calming heartbeats under his ear. The joy he'd felt as he fell asleep returns to him too. I loved you. He feels like his heart might stop just remembering it. Obi-Wan had only ever said he cared about Anakin. He'd never dared to ask if his Master loved him. It would hurt if the answer wasn't yes.

Even with Padme, he never dared to ask aloud if she loved him, not directly. He hadn't had to, she'd understood what he was saying without having to ask. Rejected him immediately. But then, in that Geonosian carriage, their wrists in chains, Padme had turned to him, and given him what he was too afraid to ask for. To beg for.

The idea that Obi-Wan just... never knew he had to say it is... insane. He wants to laugh hysterically, what a cosmic joke. The funniest comedy skit in the whole karked galaxy was his kriffing life. His wise, brilliant, clever, and ridiculously stupid Master.

He'd thought Padme would forgive him for anything, stay by his side through anything. Then she hadn't. She took it back. Because of what you've done, what you plan to do. You're going down a path I can't follow. He'd been certain that, if even Padme couldn't do it. Of course Obi-Wan wouldn't.

Then there was his blasted Master assuming he didn't need to say it. Didn't need to tell Anakin that he loved him or would forgive him for anything. How could this man read the strategic movements of enemies halfway across the galaxy and yet fail to understand the boy he'd raised?

‘How could he indeed.’

Ugh, great.

‘Seems a bit strange to me.’

What, that Anakin was raised by a complete moron?

‘Well, he can say anything he wants now. Who knows if he was really willing to forgive you then.’

Shut up and go away. Anakin snaps at the Sith, of course he has to try and ruin this happy moment for him. He sees now that Palpatine had always been doing so.

‘It's easy to say he'd be willing to forgive, when you're lying on his chest like a helpless damsel.’

Anakin stiffens at the insult.

‘You're weak and need him now. And whose fault is that?’

Yours. Anakin hisses at the man, fist clenching in Obi-Wan's shirt. He blinded me because of you. Shut up and go away.

‘You'll see. He wants you, yes. Wants you weak, helpless under him. He wants to humiliate and punish you, violate you. He's already raped your skull with his fingers.’

He flinches at that phrasing and his empty eye sockets throb with pain, as though in agreement.

‘Why else is he only speaking of love now? When he has every reason to hate you.’

Anakin can't help but grimace at the reminder of his sins. Killing his fellow Jedi, the younglings, trying to kill Obi-Wan himself. It does feel impossible that his Master could forgive him, he'd seemed so angry, so disappointed, that day on Mustafar. Yet... he couldn't kill Anakin.

‘He said it himself, he left you there to die. No different.’

No, it was different. His Master had wanted to release him. Wanted him to feel no pain. That wasn't the same as killing him out of anger and hate. That was mercy.

‘Perhaps, but that could have changed. It's been two months. Enough time for it all to sink in. To hate you for making him live in this dirty desert instead of the temple he grew up in. A place with life and water.’

Anakin's jaw clenches, that one was harder to argue with. He knows, better than anyone, how terrible Tatooine is, if you aren't a Hutt or a master. Even those who didn't have an explicit owner were slaves anyway.

In fact, his friend Kitster had argued that it was almost worse to be free, without a master's protection and direction. Because the two of them were fortunate enough to have masters who didn't beat or rape them, or rent them out for such services, as Watto so often liked to remind Anakin and his mother.

Though, Anakin now understands that he and Kitster had only thought themselves fortunate indeed, because they hadn't tasted freedom.

It’s easier. To tell oneself that life isn't so bad, to believe that there was something to be grateful for. Find joy in their cage. Something Anakin struggled to continue doing when he saw just how little they'd had compared to others. How meaningless their suffering had been, barely to anyone's benefit at all. Not even their masters.

For someone like Obi-Wan, who had been born safe and cared for, raised in modest comfort in the temples, being forced to live like this must be unbearable. Anakin had hated Watto for forcing his mother to work, even when she was sick and tired. For locking him up whenever he cried as a child, not allowing his mother to comfort him. Denying both of them food or water when business was doing badly or if they made a mistake.

Threatening to sell one of them if they weren't useful enough. Anakin swallows. Why wouldn't Obi-Wan hate him? Anakin hadn't merely threatened, he'd actually done it. He'd essentially separated Obi-Wan from his family, forever. Forced his Master into slavery on Tatooine, who knows what Obi-Wan has had to do to survive since Anakin forced him into exile here.

It had been difficult to resist killing Watto when he'd gone looking for his mother. It was only his vows and Padme's steadying presence by his side that had kept Anakin from exacting vengeance on the Toydarian for his treatment of him and his mother. Why wouldn't Obi-Wan want revenge after Anakin had done so much worse?

He should be to Obi-Wan, what the Sand People had been to Anakin when he killed them for his mother's torture and murder.

He keeps trying to come up with a counter. A way to argue that his Master wouldn't want to punish and humiliate him, but the more Anakin tries, the more he only finds reasons for Obi-Wan to want to.

Could he really forgive Anakin so easily?

Then he hears his Master groan in his sleep and turn slightly, which causes Anakin's knee—that had been draped over Obi-Wan's thigh—to slide between his Master's legs. He freezes when the flesh of his thigh, just above his metal prosthetic, brushes against something hot and hard.

Blood rushes to Anakin's face and makes his head ache. Well, nothing too strange in a man's sleep, near what is probably morning, if the temperature and charred haze in the air is any indication.

However, the thought is quickly ejected from his brain when Obi-Wan murmurs softly, breath rustling his hair. “Anakin...”

His heart pounds in his ears, perhaps his Master was simply dreaming of Duchess Satine and in the dream, they were talking about him? Bit odd for a conversation about him to be arousing, but hey, wet dreams were weird. Anakin has had his fair share of strange dreams.

Then the hand resting on his shoulder tightens, his Master's breath becomes heated, and before he can move—Obi-Wan grinds against his thigh with a thicker groan. “Anakin...”

He yanks his leg away as quickly as he can while trying not to jostle the man in his sleep. Excitement, embarrassment, and confusion tumble about inside Anakin.

A coincidence surely. He– his Master might love him, but not that way. He'd spent years with Obi-Wan in so many situations, he'd slept with his Master many times as a child, and even during the Clone Wars when they were forced to share a bedroll. There had never been any sign of sexual interest.

An unsettling thought comes to him. If this was new... the only thing that had changed was what Anakin had done. Reasons to hate, not desire. He feels his stomach turn. Was Sidious right? Was this really evidence of a sick urge to debase and humiliate him as revenge?

Sidious is silent. And somehow that feels even worse than if he'd been gloating and goading.

Anakin tries to control his breathing, to keep it deep and even, calm. But the serenity and joy he'd felt before is gone. Suddenly, he's hyper aware of the fact that, even if he wanted to move away, wanted privacy, wanted to flee. There is nowhere he can go. He can't even roll away and sit at the end of the bed, can't even go for a walk without disturbing Obi-Wan.

Without needing Obi-Wan to guide him.

Loved.

He'd said ‘loved’ not ‘love’. Obi-Wan had said he loved Anakin. Past tense. Anakin swallows. He hadn't noticed, he'd been too happy. His heart hurts, his head hurts. Just the idea that he was wrong was unbearable. He doesn't want to be wrong. He wants Obi-Wan to love him. Now and forever.

It hurts.

And he's afraid to look.

Afraid of what he'll find.

The training room glows with soft afternoon light, gold streaming through the high Temple windows. Their lightsabers hum in time, dancing to a song only they know, its melody light and carefree.

He watches as Anakin laughs, breathless and radiant as the boy twists out of range, his long Padawan braid trailing after him. Obi-Wan has to force himself to focus, to not get distracted by the playful crooked smile spread across those soft boyish cheeks.

“You're holding back.” Anakin grins, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Is that why you're losing?”

“Doesn't look like I'm losing from my point of view.” Obi-Wan chuckles, diving back in, closing the gap and Anakin catches his blade with his own.

“Come on, Master. You won't break me.” Anakin's smirk is delighted, teasing and taunting all at once. They're close enough that he can feel the boy's breath on his face, and Obi-Wan can't help the way his heart beats faster. Eyes flickering down to that sinful curved mouth.

Then the boy is twisting around him, back arching like he's made of liquid, his foot catches Obi-Wan's ankle, trying to swipe his legs out from under him. Seeing this, Obi-Wan grabs him by the arm to flip their weight, and they go down in a tumble. Their sabers deactivating and rolling off somewhere in the distance.

Anakin's laughing, cheeks flushed with exertion, pinned to the ground with Obi-Wan straddling his thighs, long slender neck on full display under him. His robe has fallen open and Obi-Wan's mouth goes dry. Sweat glistens on golden skin, and his grip on Anakin's wrist—held above his head—tightens unconsciously. His Padawan flinches and he is about to loosen his grip, only for Anakin to moan softly.

He goes still.

“You won't break me, Master.” Anakin whispers, his voice low and breathy. “I trust you. You don't have to hold back.”

He needs to get up.

Then Anakin's free hand grabs him by the robes on his chest and pulls. Their lips meet. He should struggle, attempt to break free, but Anakin's hold is firm and tight. His lips part to speak, to protest, but then Anakin's tongue touches his own and all he can think about is how he tastes, how he feels. It's terrible, like a drunken kiss, alcohol on his breath. His boy's tongue is just wagging about without finesse. It shouldn't be endearing but it is.

It takes everything in Obi-Wan's power to pull away, gasping and panting as though he had just been kissing a seasoned prostitute from the lower levels.

“Aw, don't want me like this, Master?” Anakin's grin becomes wicked.

Wrong.

His eyes flash yellow, and when Obi-Wan blinks, the training mat beneath them is gone, replaced by his sad excuse of a bed. The air hangs heavy with the stench of copper and rust. His cave walls have never felt so claustrophobic.

“Do you want me now?”

Obi-Wan chokes on his next breath. Anakin's braid is gone, and staring up at him are two gaping cavities, flesh twitching along the walls, pulsing like they're alive.

“Obi-Wan– Master... yours, still– I'm still– always...” His voice is broken with sobs, red oozes from his sockets like tears, filling his skull and spilling out down his cheeks.

He takes Obi-Wan by the hand, brings his fingers to his sockets, closes his lids and slides them inside, moaning and panting like he's getting kriffed. “Does it feel good, Master?”

“ m Y . . . i N s i D e S ? ”

Obi-Wan is frozen, he can't move, jaw slack from horror. Shuddering from the heat and wet squelch around his digits as he wheezes. “Anakin...”

“Or do you prefer these?” The boy grins, wide and feral, his teeth bared.

Anakin lets his hand go and presses something soft and round to his parted lips. The orb slips inside, and he recognises the slippery warm gelatinous sensation on his tongue. Remembers it. His teeth close around it, squeezing the tight surface till it pops. The taste flooding his mouth is rusty, salty and rich, like a bloodied grape left too long in the sun.

The singed stub of his boy's thigh rubs against his arousal, and Obi-Wan can't help but moan, clutching tightly at Anakin's wrist.

The boy giggles at him, like he's adorable, not deplorable. “See? Isn't it better when you're not fighting yourself?”

His voice and smile are almost tender, Anakin caresses his cheek with bloody hands. “I love you, Master. If you told me sooner, I would have given you everything. Eyes, heart, body. I still would.”

“Anakin...” Obi-Wan groans desperately at those words, his hips bucking and his grip tightening further despite himself. None of this should feel good or be arousing. But it does and he is. Painfully so. He's so aroused, he thinks he's going to go mad. He can't take much more of this.

“Alright, alright, I'll have mercy.” Anakin coos gently and abruptly flips their positions with impossible strength.

The boy presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes when blood spills out, splattering onto his cheek from those now open lids, the yawning mouth of his sockets burning into him. “Till next time, Master...”

Wai–

Obi-Wan's eyes snap open. He's gasping, sweat on his brow.

He still feels a body on him, and he almost throws it off. It's only his years of attunement to actual danger that stops him at the last second. There is no danger here. When his heart rate returns to something more reasonable and he lifts his head to look around, he's glad he'd stopped.

The twin suns’ light burns into the cave from the entrance, the air around them warming with the heat of the desert. Anakin, it's just Anakin. The boy is still breathing deeply, half lying on him, like he had been when they fell asleep.

Thank the Force, that would have been a terrible awakening for the poor boy. After everything he'd been through. Obi-Wan sighs, drops his head back onto the sack posturing as a pillow with a thump, and releases a long breath. He's glad they hadn't moved much, he'd had some concerns about accidentally injuring Anakin further in their sleep.

While the two of them didn't move much when unconscious—years of having to sleep quietly when in dangerous territory would do that to you—he'd worried nonetheless. It would probably be better not to sleep with Anakin again. That wasn't a risk they needed to take, especially after the dream he'd had.

He's not sure if he should call that a dream, a wet dream, or a nightmare. Probably both the latter two, though he wishes it was just the last. Partially because he's still achingly hard. He's really glad Anakin's still asleep.

Obi-Wan tilts his head to the side to regard his boy fondly. Anakin had always been a light sleeper, he must be exhausted, to have slept through his movements.

"Are you asleep, Anakin?" Obi-Wan murmurs, brushing the boy's long fringe aside, huffing a small laugh. "Silly question... I can never tell if you're really asleep or not."

He sighs when he sees the dry pink trails going down Anakin's face, guilt gnaws at him, he did that. Even though his boy should be resting everything around his eyes, he'd made Anakin cry. He'd made so many mistakes, so many wrong assumptions.

He'd thought it wishful thinking at the time, that he might have hallucinated it in his grief and his reluctance to kill Anakin on Mustafar.

...irony... his former Master... always meant to be by his side...

The faint threads of Anakin's thoughts that had drifted across their bond, as his blade rent both his own heart and his boy's limbs. Time felt like it slowed, as though reality itself bent, pleading for him to stop. Obi-Wan had reacted instinctively, flung Anakin away—the Force jumping to his fingers more eagerly than he'd ever felt it before—pushing his boy out of reach of his blade, away from the lava even.

He'd regretted it almost immediately, sought to fix his mistake, his moment of weakness, but he couldn't do it. Obi-Wan's hands had betrayed him and refused to deal the final blow. That disruption, that split second that he'd felt longing and grief—peeking out from the darkness that his boy's signature was steeped in. It made it impossible to see anything but the child he'd raised.

Not Vader, not the monster his boy had become. Just Anakin.

Now he regrets again, but not that he'd spared Anakin. Obi-Wan now regrets that he had been ready to kill him at all. To write his boy off, to call Anakin dead, even after that brief glimpse of humanity still within him. He should have trusted his feelings, his instincts, like Master Qui-Gon always told him to.

Perhaps then, he might have spared his boy this suffering, might have spared Anakin the loss of his sight.

"My poor boy..." Obi-Wan whispers softly, thumbing at one of the pink stains. "I won't make the same mistakes, I'll do it right this time."

Anakin twitches at that and Obi-Wan sighs, well, if the boy was waking up, he probably should get up too. He needs to check on the vaporator and go to work. He's not looking forward to that, but they'll need all the credits they can get. He's feeding two now.

“Sorry Anakin, but I need to get up.” Obi-Wan murmurs, trying to slide out from under the boy as carefully as he can. He cradles Anakin's head gently and lowers it to the bed, where the boy promptly curls up, wincing from what must be immense pain.

Anakin mumbles softly, tucking his hands around his mouth like he had as a child. “Obi-Wan?”

The boy's voice is rough, probably from all the screaming and crying last night. If that guilt keeps gnawing at his insides, there'll be nothing left in his body by nightfall.

“It's alright, I'm just going to get you some water.” Obi-Wan rubs a gentle hand over his soft brown curls. “I'll be right back.”

“...mkay.” Anakin mutters into his wrists, looking and sounding so innocent compared to his dream, and Obi-Wan flinches when he feels his neglected erection twitch at the sight. He wrenches his eyes away. What the blazes is wrong with him–

Obi-Wan struggles to shake the inappropriate thoughts and feelings from his body as he stumbles from the cave, taking a deep breath of dry, dusty, and not fresh in the slightest air. Well, better to be coughing on dust than to be panting over an injured boy like some disgusting lech.

He rubs a hand over his face and beard, takes another breath and goes to the vaporator. He pats Akkani on the snout as he passes and the mount farts happily at him in reply.

They're lucky, the vaporator seems to have had an excellent harvest during the night. This should be enough to last them both through today at least. Though he definitely needs to get the spare vaporator up and running if either of them want to clean themselves.

In truth, he's more worried about the bacta running out. It's day one and they're almost halfway through his stock. Hopefully he can do less dressing changes in the next two days, make it last. Anakin probably shouldn't leave the cave till at least two weeks have passed, but Obi-Wan is cautiously optimistic. Anakin has always had an incredible recovery rate, even for a Jedi, something perhaps attributed to his absurd midichlorian count.

The Force was kind to its child, in body, if not in mind.

He carries the cans of water inside and brushes off as much sand from his clothes as he can, before approaching Anakin. “Here, I'll help you drink.”

He removes the cover and helps Anakin upright, letting the boy lean against him as he drinks eagerly.

“Slowly, dear one.” The old term of endearment slips out before Obi-Wan can catch it. He shouldn't call him that anymore. Anakin, however, only releases a relaxed breath, throat bobbing slower, less frantically.

He must be thirsty after crying last night. Obi-Wan smiles when Anakin sighs in relief, brushing the boy's hair gently again. He's missed touching Anakin's soft curls. It had become awkward after Anakin was knighted, like they shouldn't do this anymore.

Now, they are neither Padawan and Master, nor Brothers in arms anymore.

He doesn't know what they are. But he wants to touch Anakin's hair, and his boy isn't leaning away. Isn't giving him awkward and uncertain looks. It doesn't feel so bad without the other Masters watching. He probably shouldn't, but Obi-Wan is tired, and it's difficult to stop.

He forces himself to anyway, Anakin needs food to recover.

“I'll make us something to eat.” He sighs and peels himself reluctantly from Anakin's side.

It's hard to keep his eyes on the stove as he boils the rations. He's almost afraid that he'll turn around and Anakin will be gone, like a mirage in the desert. Obi-Wan would die. He just knows. He would finally lose his mind.

Then again, he feels like he's losing his mind anyway.

He stirs the unappetising lumps in the pot carefully, making sure to crush as much as he can, so it'll be easier on Anakin's throat. Obi-Wan transfers the slurry into a bowl and turns off the heat. He can eat later. Anakin comes first.

He carries the bowl over to Anakin, blowing gently as he does to cool it. Knowing his boy, he'd dive in and burn his tongue. Again. Obi-Wan smiles, already quite aware of the next problem he's about to run up against. One he's been through enough times to anticipate.

“I can feed myself.” Anakin states the moment Obi-Wan sits down on the bed beside him. There's little point in fighting him on this. The boy must try at least once, or more of the food will end up on the floor than necessary.

“At least let me hold the bowl. We don't have a lot of rations.” Obi-Wan requests reasonably.

He's mastered the art of asking gently enough to avoid aggravating him, with enough teasing challenge to discourage Anakin from taking offence. Though, Obi-Wan supposes he's seen Padme do it with decent success too, when she thought he wasn't looking. It certainly wasn't an approach he could emulate however. He doubts Anakin would react well if he gave him a kiss on the cheek and asked him, please, for me?

Though... he does wish it would work if he did that. He remembers Anakin's cheeks going pink and the most gentle softness in his eyes. A look he never received. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan was the one who bled beside Anakin, the one who carried him, never left him behind, the one who was always waiting for him. For ten years longer than she had been.

It used to just make him sad. Now, he's bitter. Even if he somehow earned it, even if Anakin one day wanted to, he can't look at Obi-Wan that way. Ever.

And that's his own fault.

Maybe that's why.

Maybe that's why when Anakin dribbles half his spoonful onto his undertunic, Obi-Wan kisses his teeth, kneels before him and takes Anakin by the chin, saying. “Look at you, always such a mess. You're wasting food. Open your mouth.”

Anakin freezes, his spoon dropping back into the bowl with a splash. Obi-Wan feels a surge of emotion ripple out from him in the Force and for a moment, he thinks Anakin won't. Wonders what the blazes he's doing, saying that in such a mocking tone, this will only make Anakin angr–

Then his Force signature goes strangely muted, and the boy opens his mouth slowly, stiffly, like a marionette on string. His jaw trembling ever so slightly.

Obi-Wan is confused, is Anakin... following orders? He's so stunned that he just kneels there, jaw agape for several seconds. It's only when Anakin takes a shaky breath, that he remembers why the boy is holding his mouth open, that his chin is still in his grip.

He swallows, and releases Anakin's chin. He almost wants to apologise, say he was joking, but as Obi-Wan gazes into that vulnerable open mouth, something coils in his insides. Slithers around like a snake. Heat throbs through his veins and his throat goes dry.

Even when Anakin held his mouth open for Padme, it had never looked like this. His boy had looked playful, teasing, even taunting, like a greedy, lazy baby bird demanding food.

This... this is so...

Helpless.

Like a pleasure slave waiting for a cock.

The thought crawls through his mind, foreign and disgusting and dripping with heat. He moves like he's in a trance, it's all he can do not to touch, to put something in that he really shouldn't. Has he not violated this boy enough?

But he looks so willing.

Yours.

Obi-Wan forces himself to take the spoon and put it in instead. It's fine, isn't it? It's just feeding. The boy is hurt, it's his responsibility to take care of Anakin, while he's in this state. Right now, Anakin is his to care for.

He struggles to control his breathing, focuses on keeping it steady, trying not to pass out from the heat in his head. It's the desert. It's because it's day. It's hot in the day. He feels like his hands should tremble, should be trembling, but they aren't.

They're steady. They move like they belong to someone else. Like they're detached from his own body. Making the journey from the bowl to Anakin's lips over and over, and each time the heat only becomes more and more unbearable.

He feels a bead of sweat roll down the side of his neck and his eyes trace the way Anakin's throat flexes. The spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, and Obi-Wan watches his boy swallow the last bite with some discomfort.

Watches those soft lips part again for a shuddering breath.

“Thank you, master.” Anakin murmurs, his voice raspy, soft and obedient.

Wrong.

That's not...

That's not how that word should sound. It's supposed to be said with care, with respect and affection, fondness and levity. Not formal, like one would say to someone above them.

Like a slave master.

What am I doing? Obi-Wan's fingers feel numb, he distantly hears the bowl clatter to the floor and the most awful thing happens.

Anakin flinches.

Obi-Wan chokes on horror, reaches instinctively towards the boy.

“Anakin– no no no, I'm sorry, I didn't– I didn't mean–” Obi-Wan feels like he's in a waking nightmare. “Anakin, that's not– I'm sorry, you– you were scared? I didn't–”

Anakin is trembling. His presence in the Force radiates fear. Of him.

Obi-Wan has never felt like this before, suddenly all his words have left him. The Negotiator. Bereft of words to explain... anything.

Then he's on his feet, stumbling from the cave, fleeing. He needs to go. He can't be here right now. His mind is unravelling. He can't trust himself around Anakin.

It's not safe.

For him.

He knows when the trembling spoon reaches his mouth, that half of it didn't make it in. Anakin wants to kick something. It's just his eyes. Nothing wrong with his hands, yet he hadn't even been able to lift his arms to attempt drinking water on his own. What the kriff. That's so stupid and frustrating. It's just pain and loss of sight. Admittedly more pain than he's ever felt before—even breathing hurt—but still.

Sidious was right, he needs Obi-Wan now. That's all he's right about though, right? Obi-Wan hadn't done anything weird when he woke up, in fact, he seemed like he hadn't liked whatever he was dreaming of. Which... also sucks, because he’d clearly been dreaming of Anakin.

Still, he was more relieved than anything else. He likes the idea of his Master wanting him, but not... not as punishment. Not like that.

Though, he is slightly concerned by Obi-Wan's words, what he’d said after he woke. He's not sure what mistake Obi-Wan was vowing not to make again. Was he referring to his mistake of thinking he didn't need to say he loved Anakin and would always forgive him? Or his mistake of sparing Anakin?

He'll do ‘it’ right. What's the it? Anakin doesn't know. But he's less worried about it now. Obi-Wan had been very normal, in fact, his Master had behaved like he used to. When Anakin was still a Padawan, still a child. Warm fingers in his hair, the sensation he'd longed for but didn't know how to ask for. Never felt like he could ask for.

He'd felt so lonely after he was knighted, he was supposed to feel free, independent. He was married, had been recognised as a leader and skilled warrior. Why did he instead feel more alone and lost than ever? Like he didn't know how to be a Jedi without Obi-Wan beside him.

Dear one.

Obi-Wan had called him dear one again. It wasn't something new and scary, his Master was going back to treating Anakin the way he'd been too proud to ask for. The way he'd been too afraid would undermine his efforts to get Obi-Wan to see him as an equal. To be proud of him. To see him as a person, not a thing.

Now, he doesn't even have to ask for it. It's coming with the eye-free package.

All the soft gentleness he'd taken for granted as a nine-year-old child, he now wants. Craves. Desperately. He wants Obi-Wan to hold him, wash his hair, kiss him on the forehead. He wants Obi-Wan to treat him like a child again. He's already disgraced himself to the farthest extent. Already done everything he could possibly do to disappoint Obi-Wan.

He wants the reassurance that Obi-Wan still sees Anakin as his. If Obi-Wan is kind and loving to him now, then surely he has nothing to fear.

Loved.

“Tch. Look at you, always such a mess. You're wasting food.”

He freezes, his grip on the spoon loosens and there's a plop as it falls into the bowl. What was that? Who was that? He's heard that tone before. Many times. But not in this voice. Never in this voice. Not to him.

“Open your mouth.” A firm, harsh grip on his chin.

Who is this? Who said that? Who's fingers are digging so cruelly into his skin? Obi-Wan? His Master?

Master?

Anakin's first thought is to fight, to struggle free and shake off his chains. But it's futile. His body knows that there's nothing he could possibly do to resist. Not in this situation. Not in this much pain, barely able to move right.

Something familiar settles over him. Orders. He's just received orders. From his master. His owner. The one who dictates his fate and future, whose control and chokehold he can’t escape. That familiar numbness that he's been feeling every time Sidious gives him an order, the numbness he'd grown up with under Watto.

Obey.

Shut up and obey, boy.

Just obey, Ani. Please. I don't want you to be taken from me.

He opens his mouth. It's strange, doing this, feeling this, for Obi-Wan.

Is this really Obi-Wan?

Is he just having a nightmare? Like the ones he'd had when he first became a Padawan. Alternating between Obi-Wan selling him back into slavery, saying he's not the Chosen One, not worthy. To Obi-Wan's palm stinging against his cheek, those warm hands holding him down, forcing him, eyes burning into him like Anakin is just a thing.

Property.

Seconds pass and Anakin feels sweat trickle down the side of his neck. Is he not following well enough? Should his mouth be wider? He can't see Obi-Wan's face. Can't tell if he's doing well. What happens if he doesn't? Obi-Wan has never hurt him for not obeying. He's been angry and disappointed, but never cruel. Anakin doesn't know what to expect. He's scared.

Then he feels metal touch his tongue. His mouth fills with liquid, his heart with relief. The numbness returns. He's probably doing alright, if he's not getting punished. He can't taste the food. It's all just white noise. He chews and swallows. Then the spoon is in his mouth again.

Obi-Wan is silent, he can hear nothing but breathing as he eats. It's terrifying.

Yet, despite his fear, there's something unsettlingly calming about this. Just going blank and letting his master control him. He just wishes he could be sure that Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt him. Didn't hate him. Was pleased with him. He thinks he might have enjoyed this then. But he's scared and this feels wrong. Obi-Wan isn't supposed to be like this.

Like Watto.

Like Sidious turned out to be.

Had he done it again? Fell for it again. Trusted someone with everything. With his soul. Only for them to treat him like a thing. A thing to be owned.

Used.

He remembers when he first became a Padawan. He'd struggled to keep in mind that the word ‘master’ didn't have the same meaning amongst the Jedi. A Jedi Master meant a master of skill, of expertise, of the Jedi way. He'd been compelled by the idea that he could earn his position as a Master himself. It was such a novel thought.

The idea that he, a slave, could become a master if he proved himself worthy.

Even though the Jedi Masters were cold and distant, forcing him to study and train, it was at least for a good cause. It wasn't just selfish profit that Anakin laboured for, they weren't greedy masters like Watto. He'd seen the good they did, the people the Jedi helped. It didn't matter that he was once more serving people who demanded excellence and conformation from him, it was meaningful work.

Right?

Then the war started, and the line between meaningful work and weapon started to blur. Were the Jedi still a benevolent organisation that he could wholeheartedly entrust with his will? Or had they become no different from the masters he'd escaped? Was he training to be a Master? Or a master?

He still doesn't know the answer. Even now. He'd cast the question aside when he knelt for Sidious, knelt for the man he'd come to hate, when Anakin realised that the Chancellor—his friend, he'd once thought—only saw him as something to be used. Even though he now knows Palpatine was a Sith the whole time, he doesn't know what was a lie, and what wasn't.

A lot of what the Chancellor taught him hadn't been mere words. It encompassed a great deal of Anakin's life and a lot of what Palpatine said had both made sense, and been backed up by reality, by Anakin's experiences in the war and with the Jedi.

In that moment, Anakin simply didn't have all the pieces, the time, or the energy, to figure out whether the Jedi were truly evil or not. Such a judgement was beyond him. What he could be certain of—he'd believed—was that Padme loved him. That he could trust her, that she was worth his life, his humanity.

In the face of that, the answer to the question of the Jedi's motives was unimportant. He would dedicate himself to Padme. To her and her alone. Swallow whatever lie he had to, kill whomever he needed to. Anakin was—after all—both the most faithful slave and the most lethal weapon.

Then she'd asked him to throw it all away. He'd killed children for her, for their child. He'd killed children that he'd taught, that he'd carried on his shoulders. He'd wiped out the people who raised him and fought alongside him, and she wanted that to all be for nothing? Threatening to leave him, abandon him. If he didn't comply, didn't obey.

The way Watto would threaten to take his mother from him if he didn't obey. The way the Jedi threatened to expel him if he didn't obey. The way Sidious threatened to withhold the ability to save Padme's life if he didn't obey.

She was the one person who was supposed to never place that sort of ultimatum on him. The person who was supposed to never threaten him with loss if he didn't obey.

Is it now Obi-Wan's turn? Perhaps he should have seen it coming, that even Obi-Wan, whom he'd thought was impervious to such temptation, would eventually do this to him too. But it's alright, he's tired of fighting it, fighting the inevitable. Tired of struggling to be his own person, perhaps it's time to give up.

To accept that he was—and still is—nothing but a slave.

If it's Obi-Wan, Anakin thinks he can accept that. If anyone had the right to be his master, it was Obi-Wan. The only reason he still lives, the man who'd saved his life countless times, cared for him, raised him, and perhaps, even loved him. Once.

Obi-Wan is kind and caring, a good man. He'd believed this for years. He's not sure it's still true. Not sure it had ever been true, but he wants it to be.

After Palpatine's love turned out to be false, after two months of the Sith Lord's loving training and rehabilitation. After Padme proved capable of turning her back on him, after Obi-Wan's proved the opposite, he can't be sure of anything anymore. He'd been wrong about all of them in different ways.

He doesn't know what he can trust anymore.

But... he also doesn't want to be alone anymore. He doesn't want to be left by himself, with nothing but Sidious’ slimy presence inside him.

As long as he can stay with Obi-Wan, taste even the faintest scrap of affection, he will accept his place. Sit obediently and let his master do with him as he wishes. He's tired, he just wants to stop thinking, to rest.

Who knows...

Perhaps he will yet find some joy in this cage.

He hears the spoon grind against the bottom of the bowl and after one more mouthful—that feels smaller than the rest—it ends.

There is still no sound from Obi-Wan and Anakin realises that he doesn't know what comes next. Anxiety ripples through him, jostling him from the foggy haze his mind had sunk into.

He's always been able to endure anything, as long as he has an objective. But right now, he doesn't know what the objective is. Keep his master satisfied and happy with him? How does he do that? He doesn't know what they are anymore. Doesn't know what Obi-Wan wants from him. As a Padawan it had been obvious. As a Jedi Knight and a General too. Now, he has no clue.

What should he do? Wait for further instructions? He supposes his master is done feeding him. And although his mind is busy panicking about what is expected of him, it seems like his body already knows what to do.

“Thank you, master.” He distantly hears the words slip out of his mouth.

Oh, of course, yes. His scattered mind settles back into its prior hazy state. That was probably the right response. Obi-Wan had been feeding him, it's a service, regardless of how Anakin felt during it. If it were Sidious, he'd have expected gratitude after electrocuting him.

Then Anakin hears metal ring against stone in a loud clatter, and it hits him like a bolt of lightning. Shatters that hazy serenity like glass.

He jolts in place, the sound reverberates painfully within his skull. Memories of fear, of humiliation, of being locked in a small, dark, and confined space for hours. The pain of torture—from the times he'd been captured during the war or the searing agony that came when Sidious was displeased with him or training him—all flash through his mind.

What?

Had he messed up? Done something wrong? Anakin's heart is beating so loudly in his ears that he can barely think, his own shaky breaths echo in his head. He feels like he'd just gotten hit with a flash or sonic charge grenade.

He has a feeling that Obi-Wan is saying something. But he can't make it out. He's already struggling just to breathe. Don't hurt me. I'm sorry. Don't hate me. Don't leave me. He wants to say, but the words stick to his throat. Then something worse happens.

He hears footsteps, and his master's presence by his side grows more distant with each thud.

He wants to scream, wants to cry out. Come back.

“M– master?” Anakin whimpers. “Don't go–”

He hears no response. Just his whisper skittling across the stone. He hears a high-pitched sound echoing through the cave, and it's only when his throat protests that he realises it's coming from himself. There's no response. Either his master is silent or he's alone.

Alone again.

What had he done wrong? Come back, he'll do anything, he just needs the chance. He’ll be good. Just come back.

He shrinks into himself, tucks his cold metal knees to his chest, like he had many times when he was young, waiting for Obi-Wan to come save him. He'd felt ashamed then, weak and useless. He almost hadn't wanted Obi-Wan to rescue him, just so his Master wouldn't see him like that.

He still feels weak and useless, but now he just wants Obi-Wan to hug him. He couldn’t care less if he looked weak, he is weak. He needs Obi-Wan. His sobs echo off the cave's walls, mocking him with its emptiness. He pulls at his hair, bites down on the flesh of his knuckles, seeking something, anything, any sensation to ground him. He's fraying at the seams.

‘There... I told you. Even if he once did, he doesn't love you anymore.’

‘He just wants you.’

Notes:

Nooo Ani, don't listen to Paperplane! Wait, I'm writing this. Shit.

Here's a funny, it’s only when my partner and beta read this and went, “nooo he did a Vi!” that I saw the similarities. I was like, damn, it did end like Arcane Ep 3 lol

Honestly, Jinx and Anakin have a lot in common, clearly I have a type x')

Anyway, I think Anakin probably would've felt extremely betrayed, like he can't trust anybody after he realises that Palpatine had been manipulating him the whole time and never truly cared for him.

The man was essentially his only source of validation and comfort, Anakin even chose to confide in him about the Sand People (Tusken Raiders). He couldn't even trust Obi-Wan with it, but he'd trusted Palpatine.

I've seen a particularly frustrating inability to empathise with people who've grown up under abuse, grooming and gaslighting. There's a concerning amount of people who think that telling/showing someone they've been gaslit or brainwashed would “free” that victim to finally “see the truth properly” and they think the victim would (and should) be grateful to the person who enlightened them.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. Trying to help someone who has been gaslit and conditioned to see the world through a warped lens is a grueling uphill battle with little to no gratitude from the victim and you will only receive mistrust, fear and boundary testing for a very very long time. Years, if not forever.

This is because what you literally did wasn't swap out the victim's warped lens for a clear one, you took away their lens.

Now they're blind.

It's terrifying. The victim has relied on their warped lens, on the gaslighter/groomer for so long that this has only shaken their foundations. The victim was 100% certain, all their senses said the gaslighter was trustworthy, only to find that their senses were wrong. If they can't trust their own senses, what can they trust?

What's real? What's not? If you find that you can't trust your eyes, can you bear to take a step forward? What if there's yet another lego on the floor? What if the person who just “saved” you also has nefarious reasons for doing so?

Especially since, in Anakin's case, Paperplane was one of the people who “saved” him from slavery, saved Naboo, “saved” him from loneliness and isolation amongst the Jedi. He's already experienced a savior turning on him, and too often, this is exactly the same thing that groomers and gaslighters do in reality.

They prey on and target those who are already from impoverished or abusive backgrounds or those struggling with mental health issues.

That's why, if you want to help someone struggling to find themselves after betrayal, don't expect it to be easy. Don't expect to get gratitude. Expect to need a lot of patience, provide a lot of love, forgive a lot of hurt. Just be there, be stable, don't push, don't rush. You're not here to fix them, you're just the ground they stand on. You are the floor they trod on, the floor they stomp on when they're angry and the floor that catches them when they fall.

Be someone they can come back to, no matter what they do.

You also need to be strong, have clearly defined boundaries. You'll need to empathise without allowing them to actually damage you. If you crumble under them the way Padme did. Or expect more from them than they can give—allow your own personal disappointment to control your actions towards them like Obi-Wan, it will do far more damage to them. They can easily become exactly what you saved them from.

If you can't do all of these, it's better to find a medical professional, someone who can carry this person's needs with patience and understanding. Because once you start, if you stop halfway, you will do more harm than good.

Much like Obi-Wan's terribly-communicated commitment and Padme's unawareness of the reality that she was married to a permanently panicking unstable man-child in need of serious mental healthcare, not a man she could rely on.

Now, I'm not saying all this to discourage you from helping people, it's just so important that caregivers be well-studied and prepared for everything they do to be twisted in the mind of Anakins, even kindness can hurt for these unfortunate people. It WILL test your patience and resilience and you will suffer in the role, until if/when the Anakin is stable enough to be independent.

But as someone who has been both an Anakin and then in the position of Obi-Wan, I can tell you that the love of an Obi-Wan means everything to an Anakin. And being in Obi-Wan's position is painful, stressful and frustrating, but also immensely rewarding. You'll acquire—ironically enough—the loyalty, love and trust that the gaslighter/groomer was trying to force from the victim, all while keeping your conscience clean.

Which mine certainly isn't, after that awful cliffhanger, I AM SO SORRY!!! ToT

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

#obikin #anakin skywalker x obi wan kenobi #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #fanfic #anakin x obi wan #obiani #aniobi #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #jazlr #Jazlr Master Will Protect You

10 notes · View notes