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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 10 months ago

Text

Bloodlove

AN: I'm a JJAM hater but, when I saw these clips of HyunSung...I couldn't help myself. I have a million other fics I'm working on but, HyunSung will always take priority lol. Also, I do want to make more banners for my fics but, I couldn't find many pictures of the two of them with (fake) blood smeared on their faces so, we're going to have to settle for the classic three photos for this one. Can't believe it's taken me this long to post something HyunSung focused.

Synopsis: The two strange men that you've developed a bit of an...odd relationship with decide to pay you another visit. They're especially famished tonight.

General tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Hyunjin and Jisung are vampires, lots of blood and biting involved, they initially enter Reader's home without her consent, acquaintances to potential lovers lol?, they're all in love/infatuated with each other your honour and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: dubcon if you squint since Reader does all of this after HyunSung drink a substantial amount of her blood and there's one joke about compulsion but, it's not brought up after that and there's no actual compelling that happens, lots of blood and kissing with blood, lots of biting, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unintentional temperature play because they're undead, breast and nipple play (f. receiving), HyunSung being able to smell Reader's arousal, pussy sniffing once (f. receiving), dirty talk, Reader getting teary eyed, mxm but it's only kissing in this but, it's implied HyunSung have done more, petnames, manhandling (they have super strength because, y'know, vampires), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, clawing, creampies, lots of cum, cumplay of sorts, Reader realises in real time she might have a creampie kink, unrealistic sex because they're vampires lol, marking, bruising, brief mentions of masturbation and implied aftercare.

Word count: 5.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first thing you register is your heart thundering in your ribcage the moment you jolt out of your sleep. Bringing your shaky hand to your chest, you're not sure what startled you awake: the storm raging outside your bedroom window or whatever nightmare you were experiencing that's already rapidly fading from your memory. Your mind is having difficulty catching up to the anxiety still fresh in your veins. Remnants of sleep making everything hazy and disorientated at the edges.

“Bad dream?”

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally notice the two figures who have seemingly made themselves at home on your windowsill. You nearly scream out of reflex but, your brain boots up in time to inform you that your home isn't being invaded and the two men lounging in your bedroom are not strangers. Well, they are but, not really. Half-strangers? Acquaintances? You're not sure what you'd categorise your relationship as but, it's somewhere between more than acquaintances but, definitely less than friends.

“What are you two doing here?” You hiss, struggling to make them out in your dark room with the moon and city lights being of little help. Shooting them a deeply unamused glare while you attempt to calm your racing heart and lessen the anxiety still circulating in your system.

“What, we can't pay our favourite girl a visit?” asks the shorter man. It may be dark but, you can see Jisung's grin clear as day. You decidedly ignore the implications of his phrasing of ‘favourite girl’ because you're already dealing with far too much right now and you doubt it's even 4 a.m.

“I doubt you're here for just a visit,” you mumble under your breath, reaching for the water bottle you keep on your nightstand. Taking a generous sip that significantly helps you feel better and less like a mess of stress and dehydration.

“Are you complaining? That'd be a first,” the taller man chimes in, amusement colouring his voice and heating your blood in a way you're not sure you'll ever be ready to think too much about. The awful part is, he's not wrong. Whatever this…arrangement the three of you have has gone on without any hitches for months now. You're not sure why you let them slip into your apartment and drink from you. In the few instances that you've really sat with yourself and attempted to find out why, nothing that feels valid has come up. Pity? Who pities vampires of all people? A sense of duty? What duty should you feel to strangers? A gesture of kindness? You'd like to think you're a decent person but, this is far beyond the scope of simple generosity.

So, what is it?

“I'm complaining because you two snuck into my room while I was asleep and scared the shit out of me. Usually you do this while I'm, you know, awake and with some kind of head's up,” you respond, setting your bottle back down and looking at the two men. Well, they're far beyond ordinary men but, the word ‘vampire’ still feels so foreign on your tongue and even in your thoughts. The two of them have always seemed deeply connected to each other from the moment they approached you that fateful Friday night. Moving towards you like a well-oiled machine, their steps in time with one another.

“Sorry,” at least Hyunjin has the decency to sound half-sincere but, the hunger in his eyes betrays him, “We're just starving and it's been a month,” is the explanation he offers as though you three haven't been doing this for months now. What an absurd turn your life has taken. If you ever found the courage to tell Minho and Seungmin about this, you're certain your best friends would think you'd watched the Twilight movies one too many times and have certifiably lost your mind. They wouldn't be entirely wrong either.

Shoving your heavy blanket to the side, you expose your body for them to ogle thoroughly. You don't have to look up at them to know they're burning holes into you right now. The excitement from them is palpable. It rolls off of them in waves. You still haven't quite managed to not feel on edge after all this time but, it's not fear or dread that churns in the pit of your stomach.

“Well, I'm ready. Have it,” is all you say, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You're sure the two of them would never harm you but, you've made it a habit to keep these…sessions as clinical as possible. Holding them at a safe distance. Which, frankly, sounds insane since they regularly invade your personal space to drink your blood. Maybe you have lost it and this is all a months long hallucination.

Jisung startles you out of your thoughts by placing a cool hand on your thigh. Goosebumps erupt on your skin instantaneously and you resist the impulse to shudder when his molten eyes find yours, “I'm just gonna move you a little. Make both of us a little more comfortable,” and just like that you find yourself tugged to the edge of your bed as though you were the same weight as a feather. His display of strength prompts you to claw at your sheets briefly. The first time he did this, you thought it was all a ploy to get you into bed but, true to his word, he really was only interested in your blood. You tried not to let your disappointment show at the time. Now, as his fingers ghost over your thighs and he kneels between them, dragging his nose along your inner thigh, it's still so incredibly hard not to let your thoughts wander.

Thankfully, you've grown accustomed to the pain so, you only flinch minimally when he sinks his fangs into your skin. The groan that drags itself out of the depths of his chest goes decidedly ignored by you. Hyunjin slinks his way behind you, long fingers gently tilting your head to the side for easier access. His approach is what you'd been expecting the first time. The classic vampire. In the glimpses you've gotten of the two, Hyunjin does seem like more of the idea of a vampire you've been fed since you were eleven. His hair tickles the parts of your skin it touches, providing some reprieve from the pinch his bite brings.

You've always wondered why they do this together. Why not have their own individual moment with you? To feed from you? Maybe this just helps them save time. Maybe it's some weird vampire bylaw that you're too human to understand. It's such an odd sensation feeling your blood leave your body this way. Even now, it's dizzying and fogs up your brain. It doesn't help that they seem especially hungry tonight so, they're drinking much faster than you've grown used to. It's not unpleasant, though. Just…different. Still a touch unfamiliar.

Surprisingly, Jisung is the first one to stop. He isn't exactly the best at showing restraint. The handful of times Hyunjin has had to butt in by either forcibly telling him to stop or dragging him by his hair off of you speak for themselves. So, you're left a little confused when he unlatches himself from your thigh of his own freewill and looks up at you. Something horrible, animalistic and wanton simmers in the pit of your stomach when you notice the fresh blood generously smeared across his lips and parts of his cheeks. Your blood is all over his handsome face while he's staring at you from between your thighs. It was easier before. When he'd just drink your blood, heal you with his saliva and disappear with Hyunjin into the night. Having him here, looking like this is far more than you can take.

“I can smell you, you know,” he says, a lazy drawl in his voice and you notice the drop in octave immediately. His eyes that are usually alight with hunger look different. They burn with something else entirely. A different kind of hunger that makes your heart leap into your throat and your pussy pulse.

“Wh-What?” comes your intelligent reply, “Smell me?” you'd like to think you're trying your best with the loop you've been thrown for.

Hyunjin chooses then to stop feeding off of you. This time, you fail spectacularly at shoving down the shudder that runs down your spine when his cool breath hits the shell of the ear. The smell of your blood drifting to your nostrils, invading your senses, “He means he can smell how aroused you are,” he whispers into your ear as if Jisung can't hear him perfectly well from where he's kneeling.

His words shatter your brain for a few seconds. All you can do is blink while your brain attempts to make sense of what they've both said. The lack of blood isn't helping. True to fiction, you know their smelling abilities are far beyond that of any human. Sparse conversation over the time you've been doing this has clued you in enough but, it didn't occur to you that that particular ability could be used beyond smelling blood.

“We don't want to scare you,” Hyunjin mutters gently, large hands ghosting over your waist but, not providing you with the relief of actually touching you. You wonder, briefly, whether compulsion is one of their powers too because the lull in his voice causes your lids to droop and your stomach to twist in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant. “It's just– we– you– you're something else,” he pauses for a second and you're not sure if it's to collect himself or something else entirely, “We haven't felt this way about someone in decades.” The pure yearning in his tone throws you completely. Your eyes widening as you try and process everything he's said while your blood trickles out of you.

“We?” you ask in only what can be described as a combination of awe and confusion, glancing at the man between your thighs whose scorching gaze hasn't left you and Hyunjin for a second. Your blood is still all over his face.

“Yes,” Jisung answers immediately and you've never heard one word carry so much weight, “Why do you think we only come to you? Why we only drink from you?”

You thought the whole them being vampires and drinking from you thing was a lot but, this is a whole different league. Hyunjin allows himself to gently lay his hand on you in what you can only assume is a gesture meant to ease your nerves but, it does the complete opposite. “I didn't know you two only fed off of me,” you whisper, trying your best to gather your bearings. Fiddling with your sheets and avoiding looking at either of them in the hopes that you don't say or do something incredibly stupid. Well, more stupid.

“I'm– I need to know what you two want from you,” you whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder that you'll shatter the delicate bubble the three of you are in.

“We just want you,” Jisung answers without a second thought and you wonder just how many times the two of them have spoken about this. “In whatever way you'll let us have you,” Hyunjin adds just as quickly but, no less passionately. His grip on you tightening but, his loosens it before you can even blink.

You blink harshly. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You really are about to do something very, very dumb, aren't you?

“I don't know what I want from this. From you two but, I–I um think I want to see where this goes. So, o–okay,” you whisper, still not looking at either of them. Your heart races when Hyunjin carefully grasps your face so, you have no choice but, to look at him. The hunger and lust you somewhat expected to be present in his eyes are there but, there's a quiet softness in them too that's making it really difficult for you to breathe, “We'll take it slow, okay?” He assures you, leaning down and giving you ample time to tell him no or push him away but, you don't. Because you want this. You want him. You want Jisung. You want them.

Surprising perhaps everyone in the room, you close the distance between the two of you. You kiss him clumsily and are a little taken aback to taste your blood on his lips but, it's not off-putting. In fact, you might even like it a little. Hyunjin doesn't give you much time to ponder on that thought because he's kissing you back with so much enthusiasm, large hands making themselves at home on your waist, palming every inch of you he can. You gasp into his mouth when you feel Jisung licking at his bite marks, closing them up. Hyunjin's tongue snakes its way into your mouth just as Jisung litters your inner thigh with sticky, bloodied kisses.

“Is it okay if I taste you?” He asks and you're not sure you could answer him properly even without Hyunjin's seeming determination not to let your mouth free. Whether it's the lack of oxygen and blood going to your brain, you feel just the slightest bit delirious and with delirium apparently comes confidence. Your hand finds the hem of your sleeping gown easily and you tug it up your thighs haphazardly, exposing as much of your slick folds to him as you can and hoping he takes the very obvious green light.

Fortunately for both of you, Jisung is not an idiot and he snatches the invitation as readily as you offer it. Hyunjin let's you have a moment to breathe just as Jisung shoves himself impossibly close to you, acting as though there's no other place he'd rather be than with his head between your thighs and his hands burning imprints into them. “You smell so good,” Hyunjin groans behind you, pressing bloody kisses into your neck and lapping up the blood that's trickled out of you and dried on your skin. Large hands softly kneading your tits over your gown, drinking in every reaction you offer to both of them.

“She smells even better here,” Jisung comments before pressing his nose into your pussy and inhaling deeply. Embarrassment and desire heat your face and make your walls clench in equal parts. “Ji–Jisung,” you hiss but, it sounds more like a whimper than anything else. He doesn't respond but, you feel him smirk against you. Watching you like a hawk as he takes his first taste of you, his tongue dragging itself from your entrance to your clit. His firm grasp keeps you from bucking your hips into his face. “I bet you taste wonderful, sweetheart,” Hyunjin drawls against your skin, dragging his fangs along your neck while he tugs your gown down to let your tits bounce free. He laughs breathlessly into your neck when Jisung hums in conformation. “Maybe I'll get to taste you later too,” he whispers and you don't have much time to dwell on the thought because Jisung starts lapping at your clit with unabashed enthusiasm.

Hyunjin keeps you thoroughly in his grasp when your body attempts to jolt from the flurry of sensations its hit with. You couldn't stop the drawn out moans and curses that fall from your lips even if you wanted to. Your eyes flutter and wetness further smears Jisung's face with every kiss and lick. Hyunjin, for his part, has grown thoroughly infatuated with your tits. Kneading them in his massive hands and groaning into your skin every time he toys with your nipples to gauge what you like the best. You think he nearly bites you again when he discovers a drag of his thumbs is all it takes for you to mewl in his hold and seek out his mouth. He readily kisses you. Pouring what you can only imagine is months worth of frustration and desire into this kiss. You can practically taste it. Well, that and your blood.

He steadies you when Jisung presses two fingers against your dripping entrance. You can feel the way he watches you slowly swallow them. They slip in easily given how beyond wet you are and the strained ‘fuck’ that he whispers makes you grip him tighter. They feel…odd. Not uncomfortable or unwelcome but, just different from what you're used to. Their coolness is foreign but, Jisung uses that to his advantage given how scorching your walls are. “Fuck,” he moans against your pussy, giving your clit a second to breathe, “How is everything about you so good? You taste good, you feel even better,” he mutters, a bit fucked out before knocking the wind out of you by sucking on you while dragging his cold fingers along your sensitive walls.

“Hyun-Hyunjin,” you cry into his mouth, grasping his forearm for…what? You don't know but it helps. “I've got you, my angel,” he replies without a second thought, nipping at your bottom lip while his hands and Jisung's mouth and fingers force you closer to an edge you hadn't even realised you were approaching.

When did your other hand find its way into Jisung's hair?

The thought evaporates from your mind the moment Jisung's fingers find the spot inside of that causes your vision to dance and your thighs to clamp around his head. Not that he minds even the slightest bit. He seems more determined with etching the taste of your pussy into his taste buds and bringing you to the brink of insanity with his fingers. Hyunjin greedily swallows all of the noises the two of them pluck from you. Only stopping when you have to separate for air, not that his mouth leaves you. Immediately attaching itself to every part of your shoulder he can reach. Heavy eyes watching the way your tits fill his hands and the way your back bows when he pinches your nipples a touch too harshly.

“Hyun–Ji–I'm so–I think–” your tongue feels like it weighs a million kilograms all of a sudden and, it's really, really hard to speak or think beyond the two men touching and tasting you. “It's okay, beloved,” Hyunjin hushes against your neck, “You want to let go for us, don't you?” you're not sure what sounds more tempting: his suggestion or his voice. “You want to cum for us, right?” He continues, giving your tits an especially harsh squeeze and rutting his hard cock against your lower back, “Cum all over Sungie’s face while I play with your beautiful tits, huh?”

Something within you snaps. Whether it's your sanity or the proverbial knot in the pit of your stomach, you're not sure but, you become undone within an instant. You don't think you've ever cum this hard in your life. Everything sounds distant and feels hazy but, you do feel Hyunjin and Jisung keeping you from totally crumpling onto your bed. Vaguely, you make out one of them saying ‘pretty’ and what you assume is another one of them saying ‘so hot.’ You're not sure how long it takes for you to come back to yourself but, eventually, you do. Blinking open bleary eyes to find Jisung staring at you with a mess of your wetness and blood all over the lower half of his face. It's easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your life and you hope you never forget it.

“You okay?” Hyunjin asks behind you, large hands having drifted from your tits to soothing run along your waist while you attempt to steady your breathing and stop your thighs from shaking. “Ye-Yeah,” you reply, cringing a little at the hoarseness in your voice, “That was just um a lot and I need a–a second but, I'm good,” you finish, giving them a weak smile that you hope conveys that you are really okay despite the way your thighs quiver.

“Thank fuck. I was worried we might have gone too far,” Jisung pipes up for the first time in what feels like ages. The depth of his voice makes your stomach drop and you bite back a whimper at the way your sensitive pussy reacts to him. Could your body give you a second? You just came, Jesus Christ.

“Come here.”

The words shake you out of your thoughts and you think he's talking to you but, before you can blink he's on his feet and dragging Hyunjin into a mess of spit and tongue by his hair. All you can do is watch the two of them with your mouth parted and your fingers attempting to find leverage in your sheets. You were so wrong. This is easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your fucking life. Your clit throbs and walls clench when Jisung pulls away and pins you down with a look that's far too knowing and smug for your liking. “What? Don't look at me like that,” he has the nerve to sound amused while you're sitting here already wound up. Again. “I just wanted Jinnie to have a taste of your sweet pussy, that's all,” he licks his upper lip for good measure and you're pretty sure you've never wanted to throttle someone more than right now.

“He wasn't wrong,” Hyunjin groans into your ear, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, pressing you against him and making you feel the outline of his cock, “You taste…divine,” the reverence in his voice makes goosebumps arise on your skin and you honestly think you might die if you don't have the two of them right now.

“Please, please I want–I need to feel both of you. It hurts. I feel so empty and I'm so wet–”

Hyunjin and Jisung seemingly have no reservations about taking the next step in whatever the three of you have because you're blinking up at them within a flash, both of their eyes flashing with intent and want so visceral that your heart leaps in your chest. Hyunjin is the first to move. Positioning himself between your thighs and descending on your mouth immediately. “You have no idea how long we've been waiting for this,” he mutters before pulling away from you. You're about to complain but, he discards your gown faster than you can process. Leaving you totally exposed to the two of you.

“You're so beautiful,” Jisung whispers from somewhere above you and, your eyes catch his as he lounges against your headboard. He shoots you a lazy smile and it does terrible things to your heart. Before you can dwell too much about why he's sitting there you hear rustling and focus your attention back on Hyunjin.

You're thoroughly unprepared for the sight of a shirtless Hyunjin impatiently tugging his pants and boxers down his slender hips. Seeing him without a shirt is earth shattering in its own right but, watching the way his hand wraps around his cock makes your bedroom spin a little. He has the audacity to shoot you a little grin like his cock isn't inches away from your weeping entrance and you don't hear Jisung's own staggered breathing behind you. His eyes never leave your face. Even as he shuffles closer to you. Even when his hands gently rest against your thighs. Even when his cock rests on your pussy.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, dragging his cock along your slit and your body jolts totally without your consent when his tip brushes against your clit. “Ah, yes. Yes. Hyunjin please just–” you words are halted by a gasp when he slowly starts to push into you. You shouldn't be shocked at this point but, he's colder than you expect. And longer. And thicker. You can barely make out his face in the haze you're in and all you can do is let your mouth hang open when he finally bottoms out. His grip on your thighs tightens and his hand finds a home in the hollow of your throat while he gives you a bit to adjust to stretch.

Without much thought, your hands find his broad back and he must read that as some sort of sign because he's pulling out before snapping back inside of you after that. The air is punched out of your lungs but, he continues. Gradually finding a pace that has your toes curling and your nails digging into the cool skin of his back. “You can claw at me all you want,” he whispers in your ear. Chuckling at the way your pussy tightens around him and your fingers follow his suggestion without your prompting. “I'm not one of those mortals,” he continues, “I can take it.”

And so you do. Basking in the freedom of letting him know just how much you're enjoying being fucked on his cock and his hands more than likely leaving your thighs bruised. The thought of covered in their marks makes your pussy clench and you can't help but, wish they were both touching you right now.

Hyunjin kisses down your neck until he reaches one of your tits. Covering them in kisses and licks. Grazing them with his fangs and delighting in the way you shudder underneath him. You're a woman on a mission, though. Turning your head until you find Jisung's hooded eyes and his hand around his cock. The sight makes your lips part and even more of your wetness gush onto Hyunjin's cock.

“Ji–Jisung,” you whine trying your best to look at his handsome face but, it's incredibly challenging when his pretty cock is right there. “Want you too ah,” you manage to gasp out just as Hyunjin sinks his fangs into your tit, sipping on your blood while his pace increases and the obscene sounds of him fucking you echo through your bedroom. Jisung doesn't respond at first. Perhaps needing a second. Then, before you can blink, he's leaning down and devouring you whole with his mouth. Swallowing all of your mewls and whimpers and moans as though he needs them to live.

“You're killing me here, baby,” he groans against your lips when he finally remembers you need air, “I want nothing more than to fuck you with Jinnie but, we don't know if you'll be able to take it. Maybe next time, okay?” He soothes, toying with your hair and giving you a smile that's filled with promise. You want to tell him you can. You can more than take both of them right now but, you can barely think coherently let alone speak so, all you do is pout and nod in resignation. “Don't give me that look,” he laughs, kissing you once again, “I'll make love to you as soon as Jinnie is done.”

You may not be experiencing them at the same time but, you can live with them both…making love to you as Jisung put it. He leaves you with one more kiss, letting you focus on the other vampire currently, painstakingly slowly drinking from your tit while he snaps his hips into you. You never thought you'd want them to drink from you so badly but, watching the way Hyunjin revels in your taste, you can't help the fire it fans in the very core of your being.

“Hyunjin,” you moan and that's all it takes for him to lick his way into your mouth and fold you further into your mattress. You're certain you'll feel the ache in your thighs tomorrow but, you couldn't care less. “You're gonna make me cum,” he moans into your mouth, snapping his hips faster and faster into you while hiz grip on you remains steadfast, “Gonna make me fill up this gorgeous, pretty, tight, hot pussy,” he continues, and you feel him throb inside you and you don't think you've ever wanted someone to cum inside you so intensely.

“I fuck want it,” you respond, your fingers finding their way into his hair, “Want you to cum inside me, Hyu–Jinnie.” And just like that he slams his mouth into yours and holds you in place while he fills you with his cum as promised. It's cold but, not awful. Outside of how hot he sounds whimpering into your mouth, you're struck by the fact that he's still hard and his cum seems unending. Already starting to trickle out of you while he's still cumming. The realisation causes you to cling to him tighter and your walls to clench around him, milking him for as much as he'll give you. Fuck.

Eventually, it does stop and he kisses you much gentler now. Even pressing playful kisses along your cheeks and your nose. “You're so pretty,” he sighs dreamily like you hung the moon in the sky just for them. He gives you one last kiss before leaning back and pulling out of you. You knew he was still hard but, seeing it with your own two eyes is a whole different matter. All you can do is blink in astonishment and watch it bob, covered in a mixture of your combined fluids. “It's a vampire perk,” is his explanation and you can tell he and Jisung are trying really hard not to laugh at your shock.

“It's definitely one of the fun parts,” Jisung adds while tugging off his shirt. You're not sure where or when his pants disappeared but, you're not complaining. “So can you guys like just…cum and stay hard all time?” You ask looking between the two for some sort of sense to be found in all of this. “Not all the time,” Hyunjin replies, making himself at home at the foot of your bed. It's a little hard to focus on what he's saying when he's naked and posed like a Greek god but, you persevere, “But vampires have significantly better stamina than humans. It takes a lot to really wear us out,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely to his still very hard cock for emphasis.

Before you can think to ask how they get hard to begin with since you don't think they have blood and what exactly their cum consists of, Jisung invades your personal space. His kisses are needy and desperate. His hands practically shake from how much he wants you and, if you're being honest, your ego is going to be through the roof after tonight. “Waited for this for so long,” he mutters into your mouth, positioning himself between your stained thighs. The mixture of Hyunjin's cum and your own wetness provide Jisung with more than enough to sink into you with ease. He's not as big as Hyunjin but, your eyes flutter and toes curl all the same.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he grits out into the hollow of your throat before starting to move. Jisung seems to read you pretty well because his pace isn't slow or gentle and, for that, you're grateful. He fucks you thoroughly, making sure you feel every part of him while his hands explore every expanse of your body they can. Much like Hyunjin, he's especially into your tits. Savoring every gasp and arch of your back he can coax out of you. A garbled mess of his name and a curse fall from your lips when he sinks his fangs into your other breast. Unlike Hyunjin, Jisung doesn't drink slowly. He's greedy. Bloodthirsty. Blood smearing across his mouth while his pace picks up considerably.

Tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he drags his thumb along your swollen clit. His grasp on your hip keeps you firmly in place. Forcing you to feel every sensation and, it hits you all at once just how close you've been.

“Ji– oh my god– Jisung,” you cry out, gripping your sheets out of the sheer need to just ground yourself with something. Jisung watches you like a hawk the entire time. Lidded eyes only drifting between your thighs from time to time to watch the way he fucks Hyunjin's cum out of you but, he's more focused on your face. He has to see you when you finally shatter. He has to.

It's a particular harsh circle he draws with his thumb that finally pushes you over the edge. Thankfully, he lets you catch your breath. Slowing down his pace considerably and slowly fucking you through your climax while he holds your hips. If you weren't on a totally different planet, you'd notice his attempt at soothing you with the circles he rubs into your skin. Still, despite his best efforts to let you come back to yourself, he's a goner the second you blink those teary eyes open and look straight at him.

A weak whimper is all you can muster when you feel him cum. It honestly doesn't make any sense how hot he is. How hot they both are. You'd gladly give into the unconsciousness you can feel creeping up on you any other time but, right now you're too enamored with watching the way his inky hair sticks to his face and the way his mouth hangs open while he fills you to the point of leakage. Yeah, you've definitely never felt this full before and you're wondering whether the way your pussy flutters at the knowledge is something you even have the energy to unpack tonight.

He gives you one last kiss before pulling out of you. You're sure you look like a total wreck right now and you can only imagine the state your sheets are in. However, sleep is calling your name and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off.

“We know you're probably tired but, we need to clean you up, beloved,” Hyunjin says, startling you awake. The apologetic look he gives you is sweet but, you're so exhausted. You doubt you could move even if you wanted to.

“But ‘m tired,” you mutter, rolling onto your side.

“We know, baby but, we gotta clean you up and change your sheets,” Jisung chimes in, sounding as apologetic as Hyunjin looks. Before you can argue further, you find yourself in what you quickly realise are Hyunjin's arms. Blinking up at the man while he carries you like you weigh nothing in the direction of your bathroom.

How does he still manage to look so pretty?

“I'll help you clean up while Ji changes your sheets,” he says with a smile and you try your hardest to ignore the gymnastics routine your heart is doing. Jisung shoots you an equally as endearing smile over Hyunjin's shoulder before focusing his attention back on trying to clean up the travesty that is your bed at the moment. God, his ass is so cute.

Allowing yourself to relax in Hyunjin's arms, maybe whatever your new normal is won't be so bad after all.

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severus-snaps · 4 months ago

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Snape: Points and Punishments

Snape has something of a bad reputation when it comes to discipline at Hogwarts, and is, I think, often accused of being unfair in his treatment of his students (especially if that student is Harry).

So, I've turned to science.

Using potter-search.com, I searched the terms: "snape points", "snape detention" and "points from gryffindor". What follows is a list of instances I've identified where Snape dispenses discipline in the form of point deductions and detentions, what the detentions entail, and what causes Snape to react to the students in the first place.

I'll tally points taken by Snape in each book, and also compare some of his methods to other Hogwarts professors.

This post will cover books 1-4, since there's quite a lot I've collected for the later books, which I haven't read in a while so I couldn't remember all of the context, 1-4 are the pre-Voldemort years, JKR took a break writing them at this point, and most importantly - it was getting long.

So, to quote Ron:

"Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them — we’ll be able to see if it’s true."

Favouring Slytherin

First, we never see Snape in the books awarding points - to Slytherins, or to anyone else. With that out of the way, let's see how he disciplines the students - not just Harry - including docking points, detentions, revoking privileges, expulsion, and threats of doing the same - categorised by book.

Philosopher's Stone

Points & detentions

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

One single point taken in Harry's first potions class for talking back, and telling Snape to ask Hermione a question instead of him.

“You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.” *

* Worth noting as well that nobody considered this particularly outrageous - Ron tells Harry not to "push it", because he's heard that "Snape can turn very nasty" and later tells Harry that Snape's always taking points from the twins. So Ron, whilst on Harry's side, clearly does not consider this incident to be especially nasty behaviour.

Unfair, sure - Snape had put everyone into pairs, but Harry had been working next to Neville with Ron, not in Neville's pair (Neville was paired with Seamus).

As we'll see as we go through, this is one of the few occasions where Snape is being petty and ignoring the rules, and one of the few occasions where Snape doesn't give a valid reason.

But then again, it's only one point - and if we're thinking in-universe, Harry's been cheeky to him already, and Snape is probably feeling all kinds of weird about having Harry in his class, as the son of his bully and his former best friend, who was supposed to have been something of a potions prodigy herself.

“Library books are not to be taken outside the school,” said Snape. “Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.” “He’s just made that rule up,” Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away.

We don't know whether Snape made the rule up or whether Harry's being indignant here at having Quidditch Through the Ages taken from him. It doesn't seem like an unreasonable rule not to take library books out of the building, where they have a greater chance, perhaps, of getting lost or damaged - especially if they are rare or expensive.

I personally think it's unlikely that Snape made it up, and it's definitely the sort of thing Madam Pince might insist on - she certainly seems like a real stickler for that sort of thing, spending her time polishing gilded spellbooks (e.g. CoS). However, it could be a rule Madam Pince insists on but nobody else really enforces.

Final conclusion: we can't be sure whether Snape made it up or whether it's a legitimate rule (unless someone can remember another time Harry has a library book outside near a teacher).

Contrast this to Filch in CoS (admittedly, post-petrification of Mrs Norris - though this isn't especially far from Filch's usual behaviour):

When Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like “breathing loudly” and “looking happy.”

We'll see continually that Snape tends to stick to the rules:

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. ... “He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.” “Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”

Snape obviously didn't believe or care for Hagrid's explanation here, which is fair when you consider that even though he's just the groundskeeper, Hagrid's a 50-ish-year-old staffmember who could've stepped in before it reached Ron throwing himself at Draco. Five points also isn't too harsh, given that when Snape arrived, Ron had started the physical fight.

It's also worth noting that McGonagall doesn't listen to excuses either - it is, obviously, down to staff to resolve issues like that, without students resorting to fistfights:

“Provoked you?” shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist onto her desk so that her tartan biscuit tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. “He’d just lost, hadn’t he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two — ” “He insulted my parents,” snarled George. “And Harry’s mother.” “But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?” bellowed Professor McGonagall.

And she follows it with:

"I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behavior was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week’s worth of detention!"

Favouring other houses

Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch. "You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all.

"For no reason at all". Are you sure, Harry? Moments ago, he was having Bludgers hit at him.

Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. ... He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. “Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. ... “Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus.

More of an honourable mention really in terms of Snape favouring Slytherin, but I think there's a few things to note here. We never really see Snape giving out compliments, but here we do. As someone from a well-to-do family, one which in CoS it's revealed has illicit potions to get rid of, Malfoy might really have been more prepared than the others - and Snape was criticising almost everyone, which includes some of his own Slytherins. Slytherin was also not awarded any points for this. Snape also does not punish Neville for his mistake but instead sends him to the Hospital Wing (although he does punish Harry, so I'm not sure how fair it is really. Harry is a 'special case', to quote Sirius).

Moving on.

“Cheer up,” said Ron, “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?”

I think it's safe to assume that Fred and George are breaking rules and not quietly minding their own business, keeping their heads down at all times. Seems fair.

“Will you stop messing around!” [Oliver Wood] yelled. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that’ll lose us the match! Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!” ... “We’ve just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.”

Probably true that Snape would take points where he could - but I (and Oliver Wood) think he'd play it like he apparently does throughout the rest of this summary, and "knock points off" by carefully adhering to the rules. I wonder what that means for the second penalty for Hufflepuff, mentioned above, in terms of Harry's biased narration.

“You want to be more careful,” said Snape. “Hanging around like this, people will think you’re up to something. And Gryffindor really can’t afford to lose any more points, can it?”

This occurs when the trio are hanging around inside on a nice day. It's post-dragon-smuggling, after McGonagall gave Harry, Hermione, Neville (and Draco) detention in the Forbidden Forest (which I'll circle back to shortly), and docked each of them 50 points. But Snape does not make up a rule here, nor does he actually dock any points.

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!" Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor.

Harry hasn't broken any rules by approaching the staffroom. And still, Snape is flustered and probably in pain, but he does not take points - once again, it's someone else (Harry) thinking that he would.

“You can’t!” said Hermione. “After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You’ll be expelled!”

Re: Harry going to get the stone.

Honourable mention:

“But this is servant stuff, it’s not for students to do. I thought we’d be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d — ”

It's entirely possible that other teachers have given Draco lines, but it's also possible that Snape himself gives his students lines as detentions (especially if their father is both influential, on the Board of Directors, and an "old friend") - but I'll circle back to this later. Here, McGonagall deducted 20 points from Draco (and 50 points from Neville) for what she believed was Harry telling Draco a story about a dragon for the explicit purpose of getting Draco in trouble:

“Detention!” she shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you — ” “You don’t understand, Professor. Harry Potter’s coming — he’s got a dragon!” “What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

Followed by:

“I think I’ve got a good idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor McGonagall. “It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and- bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I’ve already caught him. I suppose you think it’s funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?”

Like... if anything, in her mind, Draco and Neville should be at lesser fault here; Harry and Hermione were out of bed, telling stories to get other students out of bed and into trouble for a laugh. She must think that Harry did this deliberately, and the others are caught up in it. It's giving The Prank in that she probably gave the Marauders detentions (that didn't deter them, obviously) for telling Snape stories, but then would've also punished Snape for believing the cock-and-bull story about a werewolf beneath the Willow. Also worth noting, however, that McGonagall takes 20 points from Draco and 50 each from Neville, Hermione, and Harry, and sent them all to the forest to hunt for a dangerous creature. And she thought Neville had nothing to do with this and was a victim of a prank.

But Snape gets the worst reputation.

Anyway.

Points deducted during PS: 12

Punishments given: Snape might have agreed to send the students to the Forest, or he might have been outranked by McGonagall.

Chamber of Secrets

Points & detentions

Absolutely no mention of "Snape" + "points" on potter-search.com; Harry technically does not get a detention, either. The best I could find is:

Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks.

Not sure whether this was for a particular reason pertaining to that lesson, or whether someone had to clean the tubeworms and Harry is Snape's 'favourite' (unlikely; I'm sure Snape could've cleaned it with a lazy flick of his wand), or - because this was immediately after the scene in which it's discovered that Mrs Norris has been Petrified, which is listed below* - whether Snape knew Harry had been lying to him and wanted his own punishment where Minerva had prevented it.

Preferential treatment for Slytherins

“But I booked the field!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I booked it!” “Ah,” said Flint. “But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker. ’ ”

He also allowed Lucius to buy his entire team new brooms - but then, how and why would Snape have stopped him? And what would stop Harry from doing the same for Gryffindor? And who bent the rules and probably got Harry a broom despite first-years not being allowed brooms and never making the House teams?

Suggested punishments

“Silence!” snapped Snape again. “Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power. You will wait here.”

Re: Harry and Ron flying to school in the enchanted car and breaking not only the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry but also the Whomping Willow. He gives them a lecture, but deducts no points, perhaps expecting them to be expelled - or perhaps waiting for McGonagall, whose decisions he tends to respect (which we see again when McGonagall returns from St. Mungo's in OotP).

“Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature — ”

A sad day for Snape when Harry was Sorted into Gryffindor, otherwise he'd have been out on his ear in CoS.

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy, who was Snape’s favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say “Unfair.”

Some people say that Snape ignores his Slytherins taunting the trio, which is a fair accusation - he did so in PS when Ron went to fight Malfoy and again in GoF when Malfoy and Harry duel in the corridors. But one could also assume - based on some quotes I'll go through later - that Snape also punishes his Slytherins in private, because in later books especially, the Slytherins wait until his back is turned in Potions before doing any taunting, and his Slytherins do receive detentions, which Harry wouldn't ordinarily know about (i.e. Crabbe and Goyle in HBP).

I also wonder whether Snape was being intentionally waspish to the Gryffindors or whether Harry interpreted it as Snape making waspish remarks when really he was just critiquing all of the incorrect potions and Harry noticed it more because he felt it was unfair when directed at a Gryffindor. Harry can be rather indignant - but so can Snape.

“I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,” he said. “It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest.” *

Quickly shot down by McGonagall because she saw "no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch", Mrs Norris "wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick", and there was "no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong"... but really probably because she's competitive with Snape over Quidditch (which might also be why he suggested it lol).

BUT I was reading here that Snape is doing something else: Snape knows Harry isn't telling the truth; he wants Harry to tell the truth; he knows that points aren't as important to Harry as Quidditch, and so threatening to withhold Quidditch was Snape's attempt at getting Harry to be truthful. It's Minerva who takes it as a threat to her House's Quidditch score, not Severus. The explanation here also suggests that this is perhaps how Severus punishes his Slytherins - not with points, but by withholding things they want/enjoy.

“Midnight,” said Harry. “We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.”

But...Snape asked for the truth and pointed out, correctly, that Harry was not telling the whole story. That's hardly framing Harry for Petrifying Mrs Norris.

“I think I’d better do the actual stealing,” Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I’ve got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.”

Hermione seems to think that Snape would get his way, and that McGonagall would expell them for messing around again and stealing from a teacher for the sake of making a potion they're not supposed to be making, just to break into another House's common room. For Snape's sake, I hope that's true - stealing from a teacher to spy on other students and not being expelled would have Snape like:

“If I ever find out who threw this [firework into a cauldron],” Snape whispered, “I shall make sure that person is expelled.”

Snape's greatest dream is, as we all know, to expel Harry. I'm certain that given the events of the year Snape knew Harry/the trio had set off the firework in class, stolen from his personal stores(?), tricked Lockhart out of a signature to enter the Restricted Section to get a book, illegally brewed Polyjuice Potion, etc - but they received no punishment. Even in GoF, when Snape reasonably suspects Harry, he still waits for proof:

Hermione had taken the boomslang skin back in their second year — they had needed it for the Polyjuice Potion — and while Snape had suspected Harry at the time, he had never been able to prove it.

Points deducted during CoS: 0

Punishments given: maybe scraping tubeworms off a desk. A quiet year for Snape.

Prisoner of Azkaban

Points & detentions

“This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we’ll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.” “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”

Harry was late, Harry didn't sit down. Typical school rules; nothing out of the ordinary here.

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” said Snape coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Hermione spoke out of turn twice (but no points were taken the first time).

“You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” The class knew instantly he’d gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath. “Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron’s. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.”

Ron's detention turns out to be cleaning out bedpans in the Hospital Wing.

Snape doesn't tolerate speaking out of turn, yet both Hermione and Ron seem keen to do just that, repeatedly, despite Snape's reputation and strict classroom manner - even if your hand is up, you wait to be selected to answer, you don't just shout out. Worth noting, however:

“We told you,” said Parvati suddenly, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on — ” “Silence!” snarled Snape.

Snape doesn't deduct points for the first time speaking out of turn - but he does so immediately in response to insubordination and rudeness (especially if it is Harry).

Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. “Five points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”

Ah, The Trevor Incident, favourite of Snaters the world over. I've talked about this method of teaching not being unusual for the context of Hogwarts/old schools here, but essentially giving Neville something to care about and a reason to pay attention was probably Snape's game here, not just to mess with Neville. As such, the points were taken from Gryffindor because Neville was asked to work independently, and he and Hermione disobeyed him - which Snape helpfully tells them at the time. It's only five points, Trevor was always going to be fine, and nobody in the fandom would care, except for the fact it's Snape. Nobody else cares about the other animals mistreated at Hogwarts - for example, the presumably real hedgehog that Dean was just...stabbing with pins for lessons on end:

“Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!”

Or even when Flitwick used Trevor as an example:

Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s toad zoom around the classroom.

Sure, Snape sounded way more menacing about it and - given that some of the ingredients in potions are, like, pickled frogs, cockroaches, and the like - Snape was probably not that bothered about a dead toad. But Snape can tell at a glance whether or not a potion is in good condition, so he knew Trevor wasn't going to die. We don't know whether Snape looked sour because Trevor got to live (unlikely), whether he was sour because Hermione and Neville had disobeyed him, or whether that's just his face.

Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

I think in my old school if you threw something at someone's face you'd get sent out of class and possibly suspended, so... fair. However, Snape was either ignoring Malfoy's taunting (which he's done before) or Malfoy did it behind Snape's back; we're simply not told which on this occasion. And, once again, Malfoy provoking retaliation is ignored in favour of punishing an actual behaviour. McGonagall taught Snape as a student; he probably got that from her.

Suggested punishments

One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry’s least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month.

Probably true, but he's not actually given Harry a detention in this book.

Malfoy didn’t reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry’s opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. ... “Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly. Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down” if they’d walked in late, he’d have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape’s classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others.

Harry does walk in late to class in this book and again in HBP - and gets 10 points deducted each time, not a detention. Harry is quite an unreliable narrator, as we've said before, and is also prone to being indignant when Snape gives him largely reasonable punishments.

The above passage is shortly after Draco was injured by Buckbeak in Hagrid's first lesson. In this book, Harry was late because of Quidditch practise, not an injury, and in HBP he was pacing in front of the Room of Requirement instead of getting to class, so there's really no excuse here. Harry can be such a drama queen (unreliable narrator) when it comes to Snape.

Further, if one were being charitable, one could say that Madam Pomfrey kept Malfoy in the hospital wing all that time, and therefore Snape would have good reason not to punish Malfoy for reappearing when Malfoy was feeling better. However, there's a very strong chance Snape let Malfoy milk it for all it was worth, and it's probably the same reason that Madam Pomfrey/the school wouldn't tell Draco to get his shit together: Lucius Malfoy, rich and influential helicopter dad, whom Draco tells every little inconvenience, and who's more trouble than it's worth to provoke.

And, some things to note here.

Snape's explains the reasons behind his threatening of punishments; he likes to stick to (and exploit) the rules

Typically, Snape goes from a proportionate punishment to threatening something more severe for continued misbehaviour

“And if I ever hear you criticise the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.” / “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”

“Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school,” Snape spat. “You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue.”

Snape, as already discussed in CoS, also waits for proof of an accusation - even when Draco has informed him that Harry was in Hogsmeade, and he could've easily taken Draco at his word:

Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn’t going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet.

Points deducted during PoA: 75

Punishments given: One detention for Ron, cleaning the bedpans in the Hospital Wing - and threatening a toad

Goblet of Fire

Points & detentions

“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, “I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.” “Ah . . . reading magazines under the table as well?” Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. “A further ten points from Gryffindor … oh but of course …” Snape’s black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter’s article. “Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings. …”

Talking in class and reading things other than the work is standard "not allowed" stuff in school. Fair enough. What follows - reading it out to the class - is no more heinous than a teacher reading the notes we all passed in class when we got caught. Not fun for the students, but hardly one of Snape's greatest crimes. Read it on your own time, guys, and this wouldn't have been an issue.

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them. “Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!” as a boy went rushing after her. “And what are you two doing?” he added, catching sight of Harry and Ron on the path ahead. Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger. “We’re walking,” Ron told Snape shortly. “Not against the law, is it?” “Keep walking, then!” Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him.

Clearly cavorting in the bushes is not allowed at school dances, otherwise there wouldn't be chaperones and staff present at Muggle ones. Fair.

Interesting that Snape doesn't dock points for Ron talking back like he has done in the past - he simply tells them to fuck the fuck off. Perhaps it's the one-time rule we've seen with Parvati and Hermione - if Ron had spoken back again, he'd have gotten points docked. I wonder if Snape adheres to this rule with everyone (except Harry).

It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however. “Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of detentions.”

Post Densaugeo-gate, where Snape insulted Hermione's teeth. Their detention: forced to pickle rat brains in Snape’s dungeon (probably for potions, not just out of spite). Once again, his punishment starts reasonable (one detention for shouting/swearing at a teacher) and would escalate with further retaliation (multiple detentions).

Obviously, insulting a student's appearance was not his finest moment. It's also slightly out of character. I've written about this already. Snape doesn't seem to value appearances; every other insult he gives throughout the books are skill/character/competency based, not appearance-based; he is described as unattractive himself in ways that could presumably be magically or normally altered, i.e. with potions (or even with shampoo) but he doesn't care to alter them; and he has even been bullied on account of his appearance. Theories range from him just being spiteful/finding it funny - even though his typical M.O. is to ignore Hermione until she annoys him by speaking out of turn - to him doing it as a 'cover' because Draco is there and his Dark Mark is returning, and has been for some months; to my personal favourite - doing it so that he could punish Ron and Harry within the confines of the rules.

And also my other favourite headcanon: he's autistic as fuck, and pickling rat brains sets off his sensory issues.

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

Another one I've seen some drama about, made worse by the fact that JKR doesn't know what a horned toad is, so she described the aftermath as Neville removing "frog guts" from beneath his nails:

The horned toad, or "horned lizards, horny toads, or horntoads" according to Wikipedia. Definitely horned; definitely not a toad (or a frog). Even assuming that horned toads are some sort of toad/frog-like creature in the Wizarding World, it's just another potion ingredient, and nobody cares when Ron was made to pickle rat brains (although it is funny to me that both Snape and Harry might have been imagining doing the same to Peter Pettigrew).

Suggested punishments

Snape loved taking points from Harry, and had certainly never missed an opportunity to give him punishments, or even to suggest that he should be suspended from the school.

True, but Harry also rarely missed giving him the opportunity to suggest it by doing things that are anywhere from against the rules (e.g. fighting, misbehaving in class) to actually illegal (i.e. flying an enchanted car, theft).

Harry didn’t answer. He knew Snape was trying to provoke him; he had done this before. No doubt he was hoping for an excuse to take a round fifty points from Gryffindor before the end of the class.

True, but even Harry/the narration now accepts that there's mostly an "excuse" (read: reason) that Snape docks the points. Harry's hardly a saint.

“You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!” Snape hissed. “I know it, Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!”

Again, Snape's waiting for proof, even though he knows (strongly suspects) that Harry was out of bed. But, even now, he's still giving a warning - only this time accompanied by the (probably very real) threat of Veritaserum:

[Harry] didn’t like the sound of that Truth Potion at all, nor would he put it past Snape to slip him some.

Points deducted during GoF: 70 from Gryffindor, 10 apiece from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff (90 total)

Punishments given: One detention for Ron and Harry pickling rat brains, disembowelling horned toads for Neville (which are not toads)

Summary (so far)

Snape never awards points - not even to his own house

Snape does sometimes reward the other houses in other ways (who aren't Gryffindor), e.g. awarding Hufflepuff two penalties when he refereed Quidditch, praise for Slytherins

He also punishes other houses, not just Gryffindor e.g. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff at the Yule Ball

He tends to follow the school rules, and will typically use/exploit them to punish students within the confines of these rules, rather than making things up/punishing for non-issues (with exceptions; the exception being Harry)

He also waits for proof of accusations against Harry - e.g. when he suspects Harry's stolen his ingredients from his personal stores in CoS, again in GoF, and even in PoA when Harry has left Hogwarts to visit Hogsmeade

Often, he will give a warning before taking points. Then, the initial point deduction/punishment is proportionate to the misdeed

He threatens further punishments if the student(s) do not listen the first time and behave after the first punishment; he threatens punishments he would give if Harry were in his house (e.g. expulsion in CoS)

Harry often thinks that Snape will punish him, and then Snape ultimately doesn't

Harry also takes things personally. If he's late to class, for example, and he gets points docked as a result, Harry believes that that is unreasonable, in the same way he assumes that the book rule in PS is made up

Snape's neutral or fair actions are overlooked, like his proportionate punishments early on in the series, not punishing Ron for being disrespectful at the Yule Ball, etc

Harry exaggerates Snape's cruelty and personal vendettas, and dismisses when Snape behaves like other strict teachers. He merely notices when Filch is threatening detentions for students breathing; Filch's threats of physical punishments on the students are normally overlooked; Harry finds it amusing when Hagrid or 'Moody' are cruel to Draco; Harry finds McGonagall's much more severe punishments acceptable because he admires her

With the Slytherins waiting until Snape's back is turned to misbehave, it's hinted that Snape deals with Slytherin discipline privately. This is also confirmed in the later books, because Crabbe and Goyle have received detentions - and, ovbiously, Harry wouldn't know about it most of the time

Snape takes far fewer points than other teachers - namely, McGonagall - and also does not use or threaten excessively harsh or unfair punishments like 'Moody' or McGonagall (e.g. turning Draco into a ferret and physically harming him, docking 50 points each in the first book and sending them to the Forest, threatening the students with chains, etc)

Snape's crimes

Snape does exhibit bias and favouritism by overlooking Slytherin cheek and misbehaviour (especially Draco's), whilst simultaneously cracking down on similar behavior from Gryffindors - especially Harry

He's more likely to praise Slytherins and criticise Gryffindors. He's even more likely to praise Draco and criticise specifically Harry and his friends

This is particularly obvious during Densaugeo-gate, where he punishes only Gryffindors, despite Slytherins being involved - and even may have provoked the students so that he could punish the Gryffindors, by upsetting Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Which leads me to...

Snape can be cruel. Sometimes I think he's just being blunt - Snape's "waspish" comments are probably just blunt feedback on their potions. Sometimes it's how Harry perceives what would otherwise be normal dialogue if delivered by another teacher (e.g. McGonagall) - but at other times, Snape resorts to cruelty to try and get a message across, or specifically to needle Harry

Snape has a tendency to assume Harry is up to something (but can this be considered a crime? Harry is usually up to something, and he also usually gets away with it). but...

Snape has a tendency to 'confuse' Harry for James, especially from PoA onwards - and this makes him also assume the worst of Harry. It also makes him more volatile, and prone to meltdowns and extreme measures like the use of Veritaserum, especially as the stakes increase for both Snape and Harry with the impending return of Voldemort

Final conclusion: Snape is a strict and blunt teacher, and although he does particularly dislike Harry and is more prone to singling him out for punishment, it is not (in his first four years at school) always the case. Harry has a tendency not only to misbehave, but to imagine punishments Snape might give him, and also to overreact and feel indignant if Snape punishes him reasonably for something he's actually done wrong. It's never really acknowledged when Snape lets things slide, either because he can't find proof or presumably when Dumbledore silences him (a notable exception being his shrieking accusation that Potter had something to do with Sirius Black's escape, but... Snape was a little bit beyond reason at that point)

At some stage, I'll finish re-reading the series so I can comment on OotP and beyond, hopefully add some more context to GoF, and pick out any further threats or punishments I've missed. In the meantime if there's anything essential that I've missed, I'd love to know.

#pro snape #severus snape #snape #snape fandom #professor snape #pro severus snape #snapedom #half baked meta #philosopher's stone #sorcerer's stone #chamber of secrets #prisoner of azkaban #goblet of fire #snape meta #snaps-meta

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syscest · 6 months ago

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hi im assuming the us vs them post is about a specific term, which one would that be?

so the sysmed out-group term being referenced in the joke post was (as the reblogs guessed) "endogenic", and I'll lay our thoughts out straight just once to avoid being potentially taken the wrong way

I've got two angles here, existential theological linguistic bullshit, and harm-reduction. stay with me here because even if you're not on board with the first thing you'll want to see the second.

so "traumagenic vs endogenic" is a false dichotomy, and I don't just mean "there's a secret third thing", I mean both classifications are fundamentally not real.

personally? we haven't the foggiest idea why we're a system. but the thing is, I don't think anybody else does either - I think it's genuinely impossible to know why your own consciousness is behind your own eyes and controlling your own body, why you *experience* existing in first-person at all. Like shit, lots of singlets believe it's because a soul has been created or introduced to their flesh, and a bunch of others think that's a load of crap and the chemicals just *do this* on their own. Singlets get this unalienable right to believe whatever the hell they want about why they're experiencing being themselves all the damn time, and I refuse to believe that systems are uniquely special in a way that singlets are not such that anyone can fucking flawlessly divine the cause of our consciousness all of a sudden. These are existential-tier questions and to deny their impossible complexity and the right to self-belief over them is, in my eyes, to deny systems something many singlets feel is part of what makes them human.

You can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own systemhood just like how you can believe all sorts of stuff about the nature of your own existence - that doesn't make you definitively right, it's just a meaningful mechanism through which you understand your own experiences that other people should respect - it's like any faith, go figure.

Frustratingly, these words - traumagenic, endogenic - they're not talking about belief, they're objective buckets actively being used for exclusion. So every time we use the term "traumagenic systems", in saying "systems that objectively exist because of trauma" we are saying, loudly, "it is possible to know why a system exists". and frankly? no the fuck it isn't.

Anyway that's airy bullshit and reflects very idealised interactions so - practical, realist opinions, and harm reduction:

Saying "I'm pro-endo" is a net good, though I think "I support all systems" is probably marginally better because it doesn't perpetuate categories pushed by sysmeds for exclusionary reasons as being essential to defining systemhood - as we joked about.

Contrastingly, self-declaring "traumagenic" or "endogenic" in a bio is a net bad. Saying "I'm a traumagenic system" also says "Hello sysmeds, I believe in your dichotomy and I'm one of the good ones" (great way to get sysmed followers), and that factor doesn't go away if you go on to say that you support all systems - you've already thrown away your opportunity to shield more vulnerable systems from harassment through making who sysmeds need to target more obscure.

In fact, regardless of whether your bio says to sysmeds "I am a target" or "I'm not a target", by saying it explicitly, you're pressuring other, more vulnerable systems to similarly self-declare. It's like cis people putting pronouns in their bio to shield trans people from harassment through obscurity and embarrassment, but in reverse - if you shut up about it, and *just* call yourself a plural system, even if you do believe in their categorisations, you stop the propogation of the self-labelling and exclusionists are forced to make themselves look like idiots because most of their harassment would have to be done at random. It's basically herd immunity - nobody talks, everybody walks.

anyway yeah there's context for future, though honestly the section in plural respect is a lot more succinct lmao

#plural #asks #mod aaa #also it probably doesn't need to be said but obviously there's a place for reusing the words to describe belief #but I think there's a lot of places (like social media bios) where doing that does actively do harm in some way #its not a clean reclamation and it probably won't be for a while #I'm still going to make stupid jokes with both terms and you should too not sorry #i don't think they should be taken seriously as objective categories so why not

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vigilskeep · 3 months ago

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going off your arcane bolt post and how it becomes spirit bolt in 2, what do you think is the distinction between the arcane and spirit schools? it's interesting that spells which were spirit in dao were moved to arcane to fill it out for da2 (mind blast, crushing prison) and the sort of overlap where both include various shielding methods 🤔

OUGH good question

so for reference for those less familiar, the arcane tree in dao is the very basic single tree with arcane bolt and arcane shield, and spirit is an entire school with two anti-magic trees, the walking bomb/necromancy tree, and the excellent and delightful telekinetic tree. in da2, arcane is a full tree featuring arcane shield, but also elemental weapons which it stole from the elemental/primal schools, and the telekinesis tree (mind blast, barrier, and crushing prison) which it’s stealing from spirit. the spirit tree has spirit bolt (the stolen version of arcane bolt), and then the spells it’s always had like dispel magic, death syphon, and walking bomb.

when you read the codex entries about the schools of magic in origins there are very distinctly four schools: primal, creation, spirit, entropy. the first thing i’d like to establish about my understanding is that these are artificially created distinctions and are not “real”, in the sense that mages trying to understand magic have created classifications to argue about as people love to do. by the way, i absolutely believe these arguments take place in-world, and i as the person who sticks their hand up in the back of the lecture and says “well school distinctions aren’t even REAL so—” am the annoying student that all senior enchanters hate to see coming

the second point i’d like to make is that even by the people who treat these classifications as fact, the school of spirit has the least clear boundaries of the four. it is described as an “esoteric” field of study and “the school of mystery, the ephemeral school”. translation: we don’t know what the fuck we’re talking about here. the school of spirit is said to draw its power from the fade itself, but of course that’s how all typical magic works, so theoretically all spells belong to the school of spirit. (now i sound like a spirit magic student who has beef with evokers who think they’re better than me.) but broadly spells that get categorised into the school of spirit tend to be ones where you’re not interfering with or creating anything “real”, you’re working directly with “magic itself”. so in origins it’s the spells that work directly with combating or destroying or stealing another mage’s magic reserves, it’s the necromancy tree which as we’ve seen with a lot of detail in later games uses spirits, and it’s the telekinesis tree which throws, crushes or protects with invisible force.

(with regard to the telekinesis tree and also the force magic specialisation: i have a pet theory that many centuries later when thedas discovers modern physics, we’d see a split between the school of spirit and some kind of school of forces now that we acknowledge the force crushing prison applies as something “real” rather than “just magic”. i don’t know enough about physics to develop that line of thought and i also wonder if the study of magic would have thrown away the entire system of schools by then but it’s just funny to me to imagine.)

another point to be made is that there’s also a lot of crossover between the school of spirit and the school of creation, the latter for example inexplicably containing the spell to have a wisp buddy in dao. and those two schools actually get fully put in the blender together for the diabolical dai approach to it all. but that’s a whole other can of worms.

to return to the arcane vs spirit question, you’ll have noticed that arcane is not any of the four basic schools, it doesn’t count as a school. you’ll also have noticed that arcane bolt and arcane shield, working purely with fadestuff and protective force, are absolutely spirit magic on the same grounds as the telekinesis tree. a tree which is so similar to arcane it gets recategorised as arcane in da2! i actually do not think there is any academic difference between arcane & spirit and i think arcane spells all get folded into spirit by anyone who is writing essays in-world (and it constantly pleases me that people are definitely writing essays in-world). so what is the difference, you ask? why are they separated in my skill trees? for practical application and training!

the real difference between arcane and spirit to Me is that arcane contains the fundamentals every single mage should know, and spirit is for eccentric researchers who crawl out of their libraries with a finished book once a decade, and who definitely aren’t even slightly possessed, they promise. arcane has the basic attack, the basic defense, and in da2 also contains the basic support. these are technical fundamentals. they’re going to be the first lessons you sat through as a kid even if you specialise in something else and never touch them again. and they are spirit spells because drawing on the power of the fade is the most basic definition of magic, even if the spells that requiring deeper understanding of the fade are also the most complicated field of study. when i’m assigning spells with character in mind (and i always have character in mind) i tend to put points in arcane for quite rigid/technical casters who would rely on those fundamentals and then points in spirit for those who truly study the fade. most mages would never have points in spirit but the type of mages who are in a protagonist’s party are not representational

so that’s what i think. in the normal number of paragraphs. and to get slightly meta my favourite hc about the da2 skill trees less exactly matching the academic rigour of dao skill trees is that you and your mage companions are all apostates and the way you think about magic is different and more fluid even if it draws on the same principles. ok thats my stance cutting myself off byeee

#thank you for indulging me and also being niceys on my post i rlly appreciated ur tags!! 🩷

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p0orbaby · 7 months ago

Text

It’s Called Free Fall

summary: therapy makes you realise a lot of things

warnings: none

a/n: there’s not actually any alexia in this, but she is mentioned

word count: 2.7k

part 1

The therapist’s office feels like it’s been curated for someone far more refined than you—someone who actually takes their therapy seriously, rather than as an ironic lifestyle choice. The walls are a pale, flat grey that veers perilously close to lifeless, and there’s this overwhelming sense of emptiness, like everything here exists for display rather than use. The chairs, two narrow-backed leather things angled just slightly towards each other, appear less like furniture and more like sculptures. You imagine some recent graduate from a New York art school positioned them just so, meticulously arranging each one to make sure it induced the precise mix of discomfort and luxury.

The table between you and Dr. Vargas is another matter entirely—a sleek slab of polished mahogany, thick enough that you could lean your entire weight on it without even a squeak of protest. Its surface is bare except for a single leather-bound notebook, a fountain pen and a ceramic dish, all aligned to a degree that feels almost militaristic. There’s not a single loose thread in the rug, not a fingerprint on the glass of the one window facing out onto a garden view that’s suspiciously verdant for the middle of winter.

Even the fern, perched in the corner like it’s waiting for its close-up, seems too green, too lush. It’s ridiculous, but it’s all part of the aesthetic, this carefully curated minimalism, the kind of cultivated restraint that says, “We don’t need embellishments. We’re here for the truth.” You’re here, supposedly, for honesty and revelation. But to you, it all feels a bit too staged, like a hotel that boasts a “homely charm” but is actually cold and sterile beneath the surface. You suspect Dr. Vargas might even mist the plant herself in some sacred ritual of maintenance, a sort of last-minute grounding exercise to fill the silence between clients.

You settle back in the chair, draping one leg over the other, and make a mental note to mention it next time you’re in some magazine interview. “Austere,” you’d say, “but in a chic way. I once caught my therapist hand-polishing the leaves of a houseplant.” You let yourself savour the image for a moment, glancing at the fern, which seems to return your gaze with silent judgement.

Dr. Vargas has her pen poised in that infuriatingly neutral way, a half-smile that somehow manages to be both welcoming and utterly unreadable. She’s mastered this look; the expression that says, I’m here for you while also suggesting she’s already a step ahead, already written your entire profile out in her head, neatly categorised into sub-headings like “Avoidant Tendencies” and “Control Issues.”

You begin with a sigh, throwing a glance at the ceiling in mock contemplation. “I’ve been thinking about another place. A chalet, maybe. Something in the mountains this time.” You pause, letting the idea sit, feigning like it’s just occurred to you. “Somewhere remote, where people can’t just… get to me”

You’re fully aware that she sees right through it. This isn’t her first rodeo; you’re sure she’s dealt with hundreds like you before, masters of diversion who fill sessions with banalities rather than facing anything real. But Dr. Vargas, in all her maddening professionalism, gives nothing away. She just tilts her head, the soft scratch of her pen against her notebook barely there as she writes something down.

“A place to escape,” she offers back to you in that maddeningly placid tone.

“Yes. Escape,” you echo, knowing full well the word holds no weight here. Escape from what, exactly? You let your leg bounce a little, as if the rhythm might lend some gravity to your words. “And there’s this new project I’m in talks with—A24, actually. They want me to do something… serious. A proper rebrand. Gritty. Artistic.” You drawl out “artistic” with the faintest of smirks, like you’re amused at the thought of it all. A lifetime of playing these games, and you’re practically a pro by now.

Dr. Vargas’s face betrays not a flicker of interest or amusement. She simply nods, that little encouraging tilt of her head again, like she’s waiting for you to get to the real point, the heart of the matter. But you’re not giving in so easily.

“It could be big, you know,” you continue, lifting your chin a fraction. “And I’ve got Alexia, of course.” The name slips out, deliberately nonchalant, though you feel its weight instantly, like it’s left a mark on the air between you.

Dr. Vargas raises her eyebrows, ever so slightly. “Alexia,” she repeats, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Just… acknowledgment, and yet it still feels as if she’s plucked something out of you without you realising. You don’t like it, the way she turns your own words against you.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “She’s… brilliant. On the field, off it. You know, she’s—” You trail off, allowing a smirk to play on your lips. “Not bad to look at, either”

She gives no reaction, doesn’t even break eye contact. You imagine her poker face would rival that of any seasoned card shark. But it’s her silence that presses at you, coaxing out more than you intend to reveal. It’s a trick she’s used before, and yet here you are, willingly falling into it.

“Honestly,” you continue, almost laughing as if sharing some private joke, “you should see her after a match. There’s this… intensity, this rawness. Shirt off, sweat-drenched, eyes still blazing from the game. It’s… invigorating.” You roll the word around like a fine wine, savouring it as you go. “It’s like the universe threw me a bone, just when I was getting bored”

Dr. Vargas finally moves, a slight shift of her head, her mouth curving up in a near-smile. “And yet, you’re here”

Her words drop between you like a carefully placed stone. You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s something in her expression—an almost imperceptible softness that somehow feels like an accusation. “Therapy’s a hobby,” you shrug, leaning back, as if the very idea of anything deeper is laughable. “I’m always in therapy, Doc. News flash”

“Yes,” she agrees smoothly, not missing a beat, “but you don’t usually bring her up”

“Come on,” you counter, with a smirk that’s designed to look careless, “I bring her up all the time”

“Not like this”

Her voice is calm, almost gentle, but her gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. You feel a spike of irritation, or maybe it’s something else. You cast a look towards the fern, now faintly silhouetted by the afternoon sun, its shadow long and narrow across the wall, an unasked-for third party in this strange little dance. The absurdity of the whole scene hits you, but before you can fully detach, she’s speaking again.

“You’re talking about her differently. More… openly.” There’s no edge to her tone, no overt judgment, yet it feels like she’s peeled back a layer, glimpsed a part of you you hadn’t meant to reveal.

In the moments that follow, you stub out your cigarette on the pristine ceramic dish Vargas keeps on the table, the one she’s claimed is “not for smoking” but never actually moved after that one session. You’ve taken it as tacit permission, though you know damn well it irritates her—just another way to test the boundaries in a room that prides itself on having none. That’s half the point of these sessions: see how far you can stretch them. How much she’ll let you say, or not say. And you’ve mastered the art of saying absolutely nothing, all while filling the space with empty words.

Dr. Vargas doesn’t speak, doesn’t press, which is almost worse than if she did. There’s just the persistent softness in her eyes, the quiet implication that she understands more than you’d prefer. You remember Alexia’s eyes looking at you like that once, right after you’d tried to make some grand point about the nature of relationships—one of those pseudo-philosophical tangents you like to go on. She’d just looked at you, with a kind of bemused patience that felt a little too genuine, a little too close to knowing you.

You roll your shoulders, shake off the memory. But it clings.

“Alright,” you say, letting the smoke spill out as you form the words. “Maybe I don’t do ‘love’ like everyone else. I’m not here for a candlelit dinner and a mortgage. I’m not,” you add with a quick laugh, “one of those people who turn into some sap over a nice couple’s holiday in Santorini”

Dr. Vargas gives a small nod, an acknowledgement rather than agreement, her expression neutral but open, giving you room to continue.

“But, yes. Fine.” You take another drag, a deliberate pause. “Maybe I… care about her. I care about her. She’s different, alright?”

“Different how?” she asks gently, with an infuriatingly patient tone.

You groan, shifting in your seat. “Come on, don’t make me quantify it. That’s your thing, not mine.” You know you’re stalling, using your usual deflections, but there’s an itch underneath it, a part of you that feels raw just acknowledging that Alexia is, in fact, ‘different.’

You can feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to take the bait you’ve laid out for yourself.

“Fine, you want specifics?” you sigh, feigning annoyance, though you know you’re the one who’s led the conversation here. “She… laughs at my worst jokes. Like, really laughs. Not in a polite way, but genuinely, like she thinks I’m the funniest person alive, even when I’m barely trying. It’s stupid, really, but it gets me”

“And how does that make you feel?” Vargas leans forward, like she’s zeroing in on something significant.

You chuckle, low and dismissive, waving the question off with your cigarette. “How do you think it makes me feel? It’s… fine. Nice. A bit strange, maybe. I’m not used to being seen like that.” You pause, the weight of that admission lingering in the air between you.

She doesn’t react, doesn’t push; she just lets the moment settle, knowing there’s more.

You sigh, smoke curling up around you, as your mind goes back to other little things—the way she has this weird ritual of picking all the green M&Ms out of the bag and tossing them to you, claiming they’re “bad luck.” How she insists on reading the morning news out loud, in that silly, exaggerated announcer voice, just to make you laugh while you pretend to read emails. Or how she makes you tea at exactly the right temperature, handing you the mug with a grin like she’s just given you a priceless gift. These are things that, on the surface, should be forgettable, the kind of mundane moments that fade. But they don’t, do they? Not with her.

Dr. Vargas’s voice interrupts your reverie, soft but insistent. “You’re smiling”

You realise she’s right; you’re smiling without even meaning to, and it’s a small, stupid smile, the kind that feels too open. You try to erase it, but it’s too late. The vulnerability’s already there, a quiet confession written across your face.

You roll your eyes, more at yourself than at her. “Alright, so what? So she’s… alright, she’s fun. She’s got that energy, you know, that lightness. It’s kind of… refreshing”

The words slip out unbidden, and you feel a pang of something resembling regret. Refreshing. A word that implies something else by omission—that most of your life, most people you’ve known, have been exhausting. The irony isn’t lost on you: someone so completely different from your own brand of detached sarcasm, from your carefully cultivated ennui, has managed to slip under the radar and wedge herself into your carefully controlled life.

Dr. Vargas watches, her silence pressing you forward.

“Look, I don’t think about it too much,” you say, trying to inject a casual note into your tone. “I don’t need to psychoanalyse every smile, every inside joke. I’m not here to have my relationship broken down into neat little psych terms”

“Maybe you should think about it,” Vargas says gently. “Maybe that’s why you’re here”

You scoff, but there’s a softness in the sound, a hint of resignation. Because she’s right, isn’t she? You came here because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, this thing with Alexia has started to matter, in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely compelling. You’ve always prided yourself on staying a step removed, on being a spectator in your own life, observing rather than fully engaging. But with her, you’re finding it harder to keep that distance.

“Fine,” you mutter, leaning back, letting your head rest against the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though the answers might be written there. “Maybe she’s… special”

The words feel strange in your mouth, too vulnerable, too open. You don’t say “special” often, especially not in this context. But there it is, a reluctant admission.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with her,” you continue, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She’s great—don’t get me wrong. She’s amazing in bed. I can’t remember the last time someone made me cum so much. And she’s got this thing about her, you know? Like this fire, this intensity. It’s like when she looks at me, she’s looking right through me. And yeah, I guess that’s… intoxicating. But that’s all it is. Right?”

Dr. Vargas nods, a small, subtle gesture. “Why does that scare you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the smoke dancing away from your cigarette, dissipating into the air, leaving nothing behind but a faint, lingering scent. You think about what it is you’re so afraid of—because there’s something there, something you can’t quite name, a sense that if you let this thing with Alexia continue, it might change you in ways you’re not ready for.

“Because I don’t do… attachment,” you say finally, the words coming out sharper than intended. “I’ve built a life that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And she’s… she’s a complication”

You can feel Vargas watching you, sensing the weight of what you’re not saying, the unspoken truth that this isn’t just about Alexia, that it’s about something deeper, a fear of vulnerability, of losing control. She doesn’t push, though; she just waits, letting the silence do the work for her.

After a long pause, you take a breath, letting your gaze drift to the fern by the window, its leaves glossy and perfect, so meticulously maintained it almost looks fake. You wonder if it’s ever felt the strain of trying to keep everything together, to present a flawless exterior while something more fragile lurks beneath the surface.

“You know,” you say, almost to yourself, “it’s funny. For the longest time, I thought love was just a distraction, a temporary fix for people who couldn’t handle being alone.” You take another drag from your cigarette, exhaling slowly. “But with her, it’s… it’s different. It’s like she makes everything brighter, sharper, like she’s tuned into some frequency I didn’t know existed”

Dr. Vargas doesn’t respond, just nods, letting you continue.

“And the worst part?” You chuckle, a self-deprecating sound. “The worst part is that she’s getting to me. She’s in my head, even when she’s not there. I find myself thinking about her in the middle of the day, wondering what she’s up to, if she’s thinking about me too”

There’s a fragility in the admission, a crack in the armour you’ve built around yourself. And it terrifies you, this sense of letting someone in, of letting them get close enough to matter.

You stub out your cigarette, watching the last curl of smoke dissipate into the air. It feels like a metaphor for something, though you’re not sure what.

Dr. Vargas gives you a small, knowing smile. “Maybe falling in love isn’t as bad as you think it will be,” she says gently.

You shrug, trying to play it off, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s right. Because for all your detachment, all your carefully cultivated distance, there’s something about Alexia that feels like home, like she’s a part of you you didn’t realise was missing.

“Maybe,” you say, the words soft, barely audible.

Love. The word lingers like an uninvited guest. You try to dismiss it, try to laugh it off, but it keeps creeping back in.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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emeritusemeritus · 27 days ago

Note

I swear I feel like I’m bugging you with all these Fred ask 😂

But I’ve got another one. I love the idea of Hogwarts having a Halloween party but all the costumes are picked out by random draw of a hat.

Fred ends up matching costumes (couple costume type thing) with Slytherin reader.

Hi Anon! You could never ever bug me and I can only apologise how long this has taken me due to my hiatus. I hope you enjoy, it was such a good request and I absolutely loved writing this! 🖤 🎃

Warnings: swearing, so many puns it may be painful. All the Halloween puns. Reader has a crush on someone else. Enemies to friends to lovers? The name Tobias was naturally inspired by my love of toblerone fudge. Some sexual jokes and themes but no smut. Some additional OG characters for the plot. Actual plot today. Completely off season but I’m always feeling spooky. George Weasley banter. Slytherin!Reader. So many tropes. Not spell checked, there will be mistakes.

Word count: 5.3k

Song for writing: Ice Dance by Danny Elfman (from the Edward Scissorhands soundtrack) I imagined them dancing to this and everything seemed to fall into place.

Summary: Slytherin!Reader gets paired with Fred Weasley for the Hogwarts’ Halloween ‘Boo’ Ball costume contest, the last person on earth she wanted as a partner. Can these Enemies become lovers?

Major bonus points for anyone that knows where the title came from 🪦

Happy Haunts Materialise [Fred Weasley]

Fred Weasley.

Fred bloody Weasley.

Of all the people to match costumes with it had to be the most annoying boy in all of the school. You shudder at the very memory of discovering it was him that you had matched with.

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice erupted from the teacher's table, echoing around the hall, abruptly ending the symphony of excited chatter. He held out his hand extended to Professor McGonagall who was approaching the front as Dumbledore takes his seat back at the table.

"This year's Halloween celebrations will be a slightly different affair to those some of you will have previously experienced. In honour of this being our centennial or 100th year celebration, we are throwing a costumed dance of which we are affectionately naming the Halloween Boo Ball."

Chatter and cheers erupt all around as the entire hall listens intently to the professor's speech. We pauses only for a moment before continuing.

"In an attempt to unify our school and encourage student collaboration, we have implemented a mandatory collaboration between students of all houses, categorised by year, where you will all have the opportunity to partner up depending on your chosen theme. The sorting hat has graciously agreed to allow each student to come up and blindly select a paper at random, on which will be noted their specific theme. Once your theme has been designated, you are to tap the paper once with your wands and the name of your chosen partner will appear. There will be no opportunity to trade your partner once the selection has been made."

A grumble fills the room that immediately falls to silence as Dumbledore begins to stand with a fierce look on his face conveying his annoyance at the chatter.

"The categories of which you are to adhere to are as follows," she says, reading from her notes from under her glasses. "Magical creatures, Figures from wizarding history, Classic Halloween themes, Magical Artifacts, and lastly, Quidditch through time."

A rather narrow selection you thought.

"Each pair will receive instructions in the following days, containing the rules and expectations that will be clearly outlined. It is important to remember that you are all representatives of this school and anyone acting not in accordance with the rules will be escorted back to their common rooms.

You sneak a gaze at Tobias up the table, hoping that you'd be partnered with him. It was a long shot based on what McGonagall said, but you could dream.

You'd been crushing on Tobias Fiennes for months now, ever since he'd helped you with your potions homework back in May. He'd been surprisingly sweet and patient with you, easy to talk to and non-judgemental, all the characteristics that were hard to find in most Slytherins. The conversation had been flirty, intimate at times but though he'd remained pleasant ever since, there had been little interaction as you'd hoped for and your attempts of being noticed by him had gone largely overlooked. This could be your chance for him to finally notice you and reciprocate the feelings you'd inadvertently developed.

"Now," McGonagoll continues, pulling your attention back to her. "If you would all like to approach the sorting hat in your year groups, in a dignified manner, you may begin your selections. First years, you may go first."

Fred bloody Weasley.

Your heart sunk upon reading the name that appeared on your parchment after tapping it once with your wand as instructed, the small segment of paper slowly revealing his name in beautiful calligraphy.

You'd locked eyes either him upon looking up after your discovery, seeing that he was already gazing at you from across the hall, a stupidly wide grin on his face which was ominous in itself. You averted your gaze and sighed loudly, unfazed whether he was watching or not and turned to search through the crowd for Tobias.

Your heart sunk even further when you spotted him smiling down at Loretta Cornhill, a pretty ravenclaw girl who he'd clearly been partnered with. Lucky bitch.

How was it fair that she got Tobias whilst you were stuck with the school's resident trouble maker, or at least one half of that title? Halloween would most certainly not be your favourite holiday that year, or any following if it reminded you of this debacle.

Though the Weasley twins were infamous at Hogwarts and often loud enough to be heard the other side of the castle, pinning them down was harder than domesticating a wild chupacabra. It was nearly impossible to schedule in a time that worked for both of you to discuss what you were going to do, as much as you didn't want to sit down with him at all. Between Quidditch, practices, homework, extracurriculars and his detentions, it was hard to find the time to get together.

"All costumes should avoid offensive, violent or objectionable content. Any attempt of mockery regarding imitation of teachers or students alike will not be tolerated.

All costumes should not promote discrimination nor hatred relating to race, religion or any other identity markers.

All costumes should be of an appropriate length and coverage with no sexually suggestive content.

Your creativity is encouraged and prize will be awarded to the couple showing the most creativity, cohesive planning and initiative.

Anyone acting not in accordance to these rules will be escorted out of the celebrations and disciplinary actions will be taken."

You'd read the page aloud, reacquainting yourself with the parameters of the brief. You'd managed to secure the divination classroom for an hour after classes had finished and you wouldn't waste a minute, hoping to be done and out of here as soon as possible. It was your second meeting with Fred, the first one being an unmitigated disaster. Fred, as before, seemed to have other plans and determined to drag out your sessions. He was fidgeting with everything in sight, seemingly not paying attention and doing everything in his power other than focusing on the task at hand. It should have been a simple task: go over the instructions, refer to the brief and choose something relating to your category. You'd take charge if you had to, you knew his family wasn't the most well off and you didn't care about fairness in that sense. But just as the time before, the only thing he'd bought to the table were silly jokes and unhelpful comments.

"I'm not going as a ghost this year, but you can still get under my sheets," he grinned, taking a seat beside you, a little close for comfort. You ignored his words, trying to think of options, though you were running a blank. Nothing seemed good enough for what you wanted, and the ones you did think about didn't exactly translate to a matching costume with Fred.

"If we can't decide on a costume tonight, I can just go as your boyfriend?"

"Can you please just work with me for once? No jokes, no fucking around. I need to look nice this time and I don't want any more stupid suggestions of owls and magical creatures when our assignment is Magical Artifacts!" The frustration was clear upon your face and in your voice. You were sick of Fred's silly jokes and him deflecting actual work.

"Why is this so important to you?" He says, suddenly much more level headed than before. You're suddenly acutely aware of how close he's sat to you, your shoulders practically touching.

"I'm trying to get Tobias' attention. It's my last shot, but he'll never look at me," you say honestly, no longer caring about keeping your little secret. The very thought bothered you more than you'd care to admit and you couldn't even look at Fred for how pathetic you seemed.

"Then he's an idiot."

You look at Fred after hearing his quietly spoken words and he's looking directly back at you, a sincerity in his eyes that you'd hardly even seen before. You give him a thankful half-smile, your frown disappearing before your eyes drift away from his, butterflies suddenly fluttering in your stomach.

Much to your surprise, your meetings with Fred after that were actually enjoyable, so much so that you looked forward to them more than anything. After your little heart to heart, Fred had actually sat and worked out a plan with you on what you were going to do. What was supposed to be a quick task actually turned into a night of sneaking back to your common rooms after hours because you'd stayed there talking all night.

It was strange to admit but you'd seen Fred in a different light, his softness and sweetness coming through. A natural flit and a wit as sharp as a whip, he made you laugh constantly. Your blooming friendship didn't end the minute you walked out of the divination classroom, much to your surprise, but instead seemed to traverse all the usual inter-house issues. A glance and a smile across the great hall, notes thrown (usually at your head), jokes told in passing and the occasional arm thrown across your shoulder when he'd walk you to your next class. You found yourself seeking him out every time you stepped into the great hall or between classes, hoping to catch a glimpse of his vibrant hair amongst the crowds, or usually above them thanks to his height.

During your fourth meeting, a few weeks before the ball to finalise a few things, did you make the earth shattering realisation that you may have taken too much of a liking to Fred. It came after an off handed comment from him about dressing you in green, Slytherin colours to impress Tobias. You'd frowned, wandering who the hell he was talking about. It was then that you'd realised that it wasn't Tobias you were hoping to impress but instead the fire haired boy that had been grinning at you. You played it off well, pretending not to hear him the first time and then chuckled along with him when he's repeated his words. You barely slept that night, your brain overthinking everything.

Did Fred like you back? It was hard to tell. He was a natural jokester and flirt, his wicked grin and sparkling eyes hardly reserved just for you but he was affectionate and touchy, much more so than you'd noticed him be with others. Though your eyes sought him in the great hall multiple times a day, there was always a high chance that he was already looking your way. Did that mean he was trying to catch glimpses of you too?

"You know, I think we're actually going to win that prize," Fred says during your last meeting, the dress fitting if you will. You'd worked tirelessly on your costume, thoughts of it even intercepting your dreams now, much like something else in the room.

"Well of course we will, clearly the best pair," you say from behind a makeshift curtain as you hoist the rather large dress up over your body.

"How's George getting on with Averill Perregrine?"

"Bloody awful apparently, they've barely decided on anything yet," Fred says with a laugh, recounting his twin's struggles with a Hufflepuff girl in your year.

"But there's only a week to go!" You say with wide eyes, poking your head through the curtain, which Fred laughs at.

"I know, told him he'll be going as an enchanted black bin bag if they don't get a move on. Anyway, you ready?" He asks, gesturing with his head towards your dress.

"Uhh yeah, I may need a little help."

"Too many cauldron cakes?"

He swerved when you threw the nearest book at his head, laughing and commenting on your surprisingly good aim as you stepped out of the curtain.

You waited anxiously for him to say anything but he didn't, his eyes fixed upon your dress. You turned around, offering your bare back to him in the hopes that he would fix up your corset for you. After a few moments of blankness, he seemed to bounce back and with warm and shaky fingers that crept along the curve of your back, he eventually fastened your dress.

"What do you think?" You'd asked him nervously, suddenly acutely aware of the fact you were both alone in the empty classroom.

"I don't think I'm thinking right now," he'd said in a dazed fashion and when you called him out to stop joking, he'd fallen surprisingly silent with no regular comeback.

"So how's things going with the Weasley boy?" Zoe asked as you walked to your first class.

"Good, everything is pretty much sorted now," you say with a smile, thankful that there was very little left to do to finish your costumes.

"Oh tell the truth! It's been hell hasn't it? I don't know how you can work with him, he'd drive me insane! She laughed with a shake of her head but you didn't reciprocate. Only weeks ago you'd have agreed and laughed along but now you felt purely defensive of her words. Much to your constant surprise, Fred had been an amazing partner. He didn't always focus and jokes sprouted from him more often than a clock ticked but he was kind and surprisingly efficient in his work.

"Ladies," you heard a male voice say from beside you as you walked through the courtyard. You turned to see Tobias jogging to catch up with you.

"Ready for the Halloween bash tomorrow night?"

Zoe melts a little at his proximity, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giggling girlishly. You however, felt no flutters or nervousness for the first time around him, noticing how little he affected you in general. Instead you noticed how spotty his face was, had it always been like this? He had little straggles of hair erupting from his chin and a single black hair protruding from the top of his nose. Fred didn't have that, his face was perfectly smooth except for the freckles dotted around his cheeks and over his nose, though not perfectly symmetrical as you'd found he had more freckles in his left side. You cringed as Zoe tried to get her words out around him, talking excitedly about the ball as her words jumbled and overlapped. You zoned out for just a moment, long enough for your eyes to wander across the courtyard until you spotted what you'd hoped to see. Fred. He was already looking in your direction but his piercing eyes weren't fixed on you but rather looking directly past you. He was frowning, brows pulled together and his eyes were squinting at whoever he was looking at, clearly displeased. You turned away, focusing your attention back onto Tobias and Zoe, only to tell them to excuse you.

You walked over to Fred and George who were sat at one of the benches, their briefcase open like a market stall for passers by to peruse.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, buskers usually sing or something for their money," you say cheekily, gesturing to the open briefcase in front of them. George mockingly glared at you before smiling whilst Fred beamed up at you, apparently having dropped his mood. You squealed as two strong arms suddenly pulled you down, landing on Fred's lap.

"No spaces left sorry," he shrugs, clearly not sorry.

"Could have just moved the briefcase," you mumble, fighting off the blush that was threatening to spill over your cheeks at being sat in Fred's lap.

"Sacrilege!"

"Blasphemy!" George added.

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you peered into the briefcase to see what they had left, seeing an array of coins in the little pouch and very few products left except for a few skiving snack box bits.

"You've hardly got anything left! Everything's sold already? That's amazing!" You beam, so happy that their inventions were selling so well.

"Well you see, if a pretty little Slytherin didn't occupy most of my evenings, not to mention my dreams, I'd have time to restock."

"Shove off Weasley," you bit back, nudging him in the gut with your elbow, even though your smile showed your lack of actual annoyance.

"Won't your boyfriend be jealous you're sat on another bloke's lap?" George asks you, raising his eyebrow, a nod of his head in the direction you came. Tobias.

"Shove off other Weasley," you snark, trying to hide your true (recently discovered) feelings on the matter. "Not like I had a choice, this big brute came and swiped me out of thin air."

"Knocked you off your feet more like," Fred corrects with a smug look.

"I'm gonna be late for class," you say with a roll of your eyes whilst trying to stand, only to be firmly locked into place by Fred's arms.

"Ah, you'll have to pay a token to pass I'm afraid."

"Oh yeah and what would that be?"

He comically puckers his lips for a kiss and you scoff whilst George laughs. You nudge him again, harder this time and he sputters whilst you climb off him, reaching into your pocket to pull out a galleon before chucking it into their briefcase.

"Next time I expect a song."

The Great Hall looked absolutely mesmerising for the Halloween Boo Ball. The whole room had an eerie atmosphere illuminated only by candlelight and hundreds of glowing Jack O'Lanterns that levitated just below the ceiling. The magical ceiling had been enchanted to look like a dark forest, an endless abyss with ominous blue hues and eerie branches that swayed and furled and bats flying intermittently throughout the scene. The long tables had been moved aside now placed against the walls and replaced by a dance floor, the house tables covered in black tablecloths and decorated with more candles and large cauldrons overflowing with treats. From toffee apples to cauldron cakes and giant lollipops there were sweet treats everywhere. In the centre of the raised platform usually reserved for the teachers table sat a giant glass pumpkin filled to the brim with orange coloured punch that bubbled with effervescence, a giant ladle enchanted to stir and pour as students approached with empty goblets.

The large room smelled of fragrant pumpkin spice mixed with a sweet marshmallow-like scent. It was addictive, the perfect scent of Halloween memories that evoked warmth and coziness with a spooky undertone.

There was music pouring out but it was indecipherable where it was coming from exactly. Instrumental and somewhat eerily beautiful with a choral line behind it, as magical and ethereal as the room looked.

"Hey boo-tiful."

You twirled around towards the voice that had interrupted your wonder-filled gaze. Fred.

"It's scary how good you look tonight," he smirks, eyes sparkling both naturally and from the twinkling of the candle light around you. His red hair was glowing like a fire; bathed in the warm light, looking even more vibrant than usual.

"How long have you been working on that one?" You snark, smiling up at him. He simply winks, his eyes roaming your figure shamelessly just as you do the same to him.

"You look incredible," he says somewhat breathlessly, his cheeks heating up just a little.

"You too weasley," you smile, "you look practically eerie-sistable."

His laugh seems to echo through the hall, your own smile beaming at him as he laughs at your awful joke. You smile at each other, simply enjoying the moment. He really does look incredible, the intricate robes fitting like a glove and complimenting his hair so wonderfully. You're amazed that you actually pulled it off, your hard work clearly paying off.

You spot George in the distance with Averill, looking as miserable as sin in his black robes with a giant bat affixed to his hair. You nudge Fred, gesturing for him to look as well and he laughs both at his brother's obvious misery and awful costume.

"We've smoked the lot of them, first place for us baby."

Baby. That was new.

"Don't look now, your boyfriend's just arrived," he teases. You can't help but follow his line of sight, watching Tobias and Loretta arriving together arm in arm. They look great together, clearly very happy and in matching costumes that you can tell are crafted to look like two Phoenixes entwined. It's like the final nail in the coffin for wavering your feelings, seeing how happy they looked together. The surprising thing was that you felt nothing, no sadness and no jealously, you were genuinely happy for them.

"Eh, let her have him," you said with a shrug, turning back to Fred. His eyebrows shoot up, disappearing past his hairline in surprise, his eyes suddenly sparkling with an emotion you could hardly place.

"Thought you were mad on him?" He asks, his eyes fixed on yours. You shrug again, adjusting your dress slightly at the sudden intensity of his gaze.

"Guess I moved on," you say absently, the weight of your words not going unnoticed. "Plus, kind of a hard to fancy a boy dressed as a giant bird."

Fred snorts and throws his arm around your shoulder, more brazen than ever.

"Well luckily for you, I'll be your date for the night. Which reminds me... Trick or treat."

"What?" You ask with a frown.

"Save the candy, the sweetest treat would be a kiss," he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. You groan at another terrible line, shoving your face into his tone covered chest but find yourself chuckling regardless.

You can feel the movement of his chest as he laughs, briefly holding you tighter to him.

"Well I don't know what the trick is but you look a treat," he grins goofily again once you re-emerge from his robes.

"Are you done Weasley?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Never," he grins. "Come on gourd-geous." He takes you by the hand towards the giant pumpkin punch bowl and reaches for two empty goblets from the table, waiting for the ladle to fill the glasses before handing one to you. It's sweet pumpkin juice, tasty and perfect.

You look around at the scene before you, seeing the array of costumes and bodies you had begun to dance as the music picked up. You could see Zoe in the middle of the dance floor with her date and a few of your other friends who seemed to display the full spectrum of enjoyment with some looking utterly miserable whilst others looked like they were having a night they would never forget. You had to admit that the inter-house bonding had been an interesting test, to see so many people mixing that would never have thought to talk to each other beyond sharing class notes. You spotted Tobias and Loretta huddled together in the far corner, both sipping from the same goblet and clearly flirting, though it didn't bother you in the slightest. You caught sight of George once again, stumbling around on the dance floor looking like he'd been forced to be there, trying desperately to hold on to the flapping bat on his head that kept obstructing his view and causing him to stumble.

"Well you know," Fred says from beside you, making you jump slightly at the sudden noise. "That skeleton over there wanted to ask for your hand to dance, but he didn't have the guts, so I'm asking instead," he beams as he holds out his hand for you to take. You laugh at the awful joke, throwing your head back at how funny you'd found it and placed your hand in his expectantly.

You didn't know how long you were both on the dance floor, twirling and spinning through the songs and bouncing around like idiots when something really upbeat came on. You'd danced with your friends and giggled throughout it all. You'd even stolen George for a dance, laughing so hard that you'd had to bend at the waist thanks to the god awful bat on his head that seemed intent on suffocating or at least blinding him by the end of the night. Fred had stolen you back in style, wanting to keep you close at all times, swooping in and lighting you high up in the air as he spun around, making you squeal in delight.

A slow song followed and your eyes closed when Fred's hand wrapped around your waist, the sheer size of his large hands covering most of your waist to your hip. It was incredibly intimate, a sudden shift in atmosphere as most of the pairs decided against slow dancing together.

"You really do look incredible, no jokes this time," he says as you move in perfect synchronisation, your arms around his neck as his circle your waist, swaying gently to the music. You look up at him and give him a little shy smile, suddenly feeling the weight of your feelings and unspoken words. You'd been cowardly with Tobias, never having told him your feelings and you were thankful for that now. But you wouldn't repeat that with Fred.

"Fred," you begin to say, trying to gather up the courage to tell him how you feel but he cuts you off.

"I know, I'm just a Weasley and you're well- you, but I'd never be able to live with myself if I let you slip away at the end of the night without telling you how I feel. And since bird boy is out of the picture, perhaps there's hope for me."

It's strange seeing Fred shy, his full bottom lip being pulled in by his teeth, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Bird boy is most definitely out of the picture," you say, laughing again at the way you'd seen him dancing earlier, as if the giant feathers weren't enough of a turn off. "And I may have a confession."

"Go on," he says sounding somewhat nervous. You can hardly keep the smile off your face as you look at him, knowing what you were about to say.

"I finished the costumes two weeks ago, the last two fittings were just so I could spent more time with you."

His face is a picture and you wish more than anything that you could capture his expression in that moment.

"You little trickster!" He says whilst laughing, grabbing hold of your waist and pulling you even tighter to him, pausing the dancing completely. You giggle, attempting surrender but it's pointless.

"I knew your dress didn't look any different! And believe me, I'd memorised every inch of it."

"Idiot," you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow where you could reach. You bite your lip, unsure of how to go on, knowing that it was now or never.

"It's you Fred, I realised ages ago that my feeling for Tobias had gone and I knew it was because I'd fallen for you."

There's a brief silence that falls between you both as you simply stare at each other, your words repeating over and over in your mind. Though it lasts only a few seconds, it seems to drag on for ages, your anxiety increasing as you hope your words land as intended. Fred seems to snap out of his daze and his eyes begin wandering over your face before landing on your lips. It's like time stands still as he begins to lean down, your heart pounding as you raise your head, trying to meet in the middle.

His lips press gently against yours and you're certain that fireworks are erupting somewhere but everything else is drowned out. His lips are softer than you'd even imagined and you're weak to resist as you kiss him back with a growing intensity. He tastes like pumpkin juice and Fred, a delicious mix you hoped you'd be able to savour. His touch on your waist seems to tingle through the fabric of your dress and you're suddenly hyper aware of your hands on his shoulders. It's short but perfect as you both pull away slightly breathless, knowing that the teachers would be on to you if you lingered any longer.

The smile he flashes you as his eyes open will be forged into your memory forever, the adoration and the sweetness so plain to see. You'd bared your soul to him and he'd given you a soft place to land.

"Want to grab a drink?"

"Need to cool off Weasley?" You raise your eyebrow, goading him with a smirk. Now it was your turn to tease him. He clears his throat and sends you a warning glare before taking your hand in his and leading you over to the unoccupied corner, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he goes to fetch some drinks. You take a moment to compose yourself, feeling on top of the world in that moment. Had you really just been kissed by Fred Weasley? Your body hummed with the thought, your lips still tingling from his kiss. He returned with the drinks after only a few moments but instead of handing yours directly to you, he held it above your head out of reach.

"Ah, going to need a token again I'm afraid," he teases, calling back to your moment yesterday.

"Sorry I'm all out of galleons, gave my last one to two tramps yesterday." You can hardly get your words out from laughing so much, seeing that he was struggling not to laugh along with you, feigning outrage at your words.

"How about this?" You say, shifting closer to him and placing your hands on his chest as your body slides against his. Feeling emboldened, you lean in and capture his lips, kissing him feverishly as he scrambles to kiss back whilst still holding the two glasses above his head. You can tell he's annoyed at not being able to reach out and touch you but he's gotten himself in this predicament.

"Is that some candy in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" You turn your head to the side and smile seductively up at him, watching the way his eyes widen and his lips part at your words.

"Now who's playing games," he smirks, handing you your drink as he recovers, raising the goblet to his lips.

"I forgot my broom, can I ride you instead?"

He spits out his punch, thankfully spraying it in another direction from where you stand. He's coughing and spluttering but all you can do is laugh harder. You can hardly breathe for laughing so hard, enjoying out-joking the unsuspecting prankster.

"Oh you're trouble," he says, placing down his wasted goblet behind you as he leans over and whispers in your ear so only you could hear.

"I don't know... Will you let me Slyther-in?"

"Now I know you've been working on that one!" You say with an accusatory finger pointing at his chest. He laughs and nods, reaching out for you again.

As the night draws on, you realise that this might be the best night of your life. Who would have thought that the secret to all of this would have been Fred bloody Weasley.

Dumbledore takes to the podium to announce the Hogwarts ghosts yearly show in honour of St Nicholas' deathday celebration and you share a look with Fred which he mirrors.

"Do you want to slip away?" He asks, reaching to okay with the sash on your dress.

"Anything to avoid nearly headless nick's monologues."

"Or the bloody baron's rendition of 'ode to Helena."

"Lead the way weasley," you say without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to be alone with Fred.

"Wait! We'll miss the contest!" you say suddenly as he leads you out the main doors.

"Don't care, already got my prize."

74 notes · View notes

entities-of-posts · 1 year ago

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Hi, I have a question not directly tied to the roleplay (though I don't mind if you answer it in that direction): A while ago, you talked about your theory of a potential 16th Fear emerging to balance the emerging Extinction: the Dull. I find that concept compelling, but in that post you also said that each of the powers has an "opposite" due to how people like to categorise things and I'd be curious what you would consider the opposite of each power. (Mostly because I like lists and sorting things xD)

Some do have a pretty clear opposite (Vast/Buried, Lonely/Corruption), but with a lot of the others it's less immediately obvious or simply up to a bit more interpretation. iirc Elias says the Stranger is the antithesis to the Eye, but the Dark and the Spiral similarly foil its central concepts, and I'm not sure what else their opposites would be, really.

Let me just preface this list by saying that this is my own opinion and interpretation, and thus 100% right and correct and indisputable.

I will also say that there are Fears which I would call near opposites, but imperfect mirrors - such as the Stranger and the Eye - and some that just seem to hate each other without being antithesis - such as the Desolation and the Corruption. It’s also worth mentioning that overlap always exist between mirrors, of course; this is why there is a classic duality between the moon and the sun, but no one talks about the duality between the moon and a giraffe, even though they have much less in common.

That said, here is my list:

The Vast - The Buried: the most widely agreed upon. Spaces too large versus too small. The terrible freedom of being adrift in an endless ocean, of freefall, versus being crushed in place with not the space to crawl an inch. You get it. The comparison is so clear and easy that it kickstarts the speculation about all the others.

The Eye - the Dark: extremely straightforward; just as much as the Vast and the Buried, to me. Knowledge versus the lack of it. Stark light versus impenetrable darkness. What sees you versus what you cannot see. Literally symbolized respectively by an open eye and a closed one.

The Corruption - the Lonely: Toxic love versus miserable isolation. An overabundance of company, much too close, under your very skin, a swarm of uninvited guests within your deepest sanctuary who will not leave, versus a life so barren of any company at all that that you might almost start to crave the former. The heat of fever versus the cold of fog.

The Web - the Desolation: careful planning versus reckless destruction. A trap so intricately laid, hundreds of delicate moving pieces and redundancy measures waiting for just the right time… so easily laid to waste by an unthinking, spontaneous act of cruel hunger for rubbles. Man’s quest, since the dawn of time, has been to tame and leash fire. And we still haven’t mastered it.

The Hunt - the End: a wild fight for life versus its cold ending. The journey versus the destination. The two oldest fears. The Chase wants more than anything to never End. The End doesn’t Chase; it just waits. And you’re the one that walks towards it every instant.

The Stranger - the Slaughter: here is the part of the list where people start to look at me oddly, because they’ve often never considered those pairings; but hear me out, and remember that I am inarguably correct. The fear of something Else pretending to be human versus the fear of what truly lies at the core of every human person. The fear of being tricked by an elaborate disguise versus the intimate knowledge of the truth: that those who hurt others aren’t monsters disguised as people. They’re just people. And the urge is in you too. Masks, versus what is revealed when all masks are cast off. And they both have musical motifs which makes for some fun parallels.

The Spiral - the Flesh: the horror of the mind versus the horror of the body. Unreality versus a reality only too physical, only too inescapable. Your brain is lying to you, but your body keeps the score. Follow the patterns, the Spiral says, there is more, they are lying to you, just follow me down - this is all there is, the Flesh whispers, this is the raw and dripping truth, this is all you are and you will never escape it. The Distortion even admits it can’t digest an avatar of the Flesh.

#you can argue with me about these but be warned I will not change my mind. I have given this so much thought and I am convinced about it.#Johnny himself couldn’t convince me otherwise

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phoenixcatch7 · 1 year ago

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Honestly I'd really like to see a mxtx3 story where wwx and xl work with Sqq to reveal sqq's true backstory and the system to lbh.

I mean, think about it!! One of the biggest problems with scum villain is how even though they get together, unlike the other couples bingqiu is still left with all these huge secrets that massively affect them both. Lbh is left believing he married his mercurial abuser, that his suffering passed some sort of indefinable test that proved him worthy of basic rights. That Sqq threw him in the abyss of his own volition. That Sqq was really sacrificing his life and not faking his death with intent to survive.

Sqq is left knowing all these things but unable to act on them, unable to tell his husband about his own past, unable to explain his actions, never able to fully let his guard down because he's supposed to be shen qingqiu. He can't even tell his own husband his original name!! If he could have, he would have, even if only in the extras!

But can you imagine???

A meeting of bingqiu, wangxian, Hualian, for whatever reason, and as the three (actual) protagonists chat and gossip and get to know each other, as they talk, Sqq is at ease enough to slip up and finds out he can talk about the system to anyone from outside pidw! Not just sqh!! Maybe not completely, but he can mention some, and the other two, concerned for their new friend, are clever enough to tease the rest out. They're horrified. Sqq is resigned but freshly hopeful.

And so begins Mission: Save Sqq's Marriage!

(Sqq would very much like to contend the title but he is out voted.)

I'd just love to see the three of them (with unquestioning aid from their husbands) get up to hijinks and face existential horrors on a quest to help bingqiu get the closure they need. And moshang too, I guess XD.

It'd also be very, very funny to have them all in the middle of the latest traumatic and/or mortifying scene look around at the other two like 'hey, aren't you supposed to be freaking out now? This is normally the part people start screaming' and the other two are like 'I mean I guess?? We've got things to do though' like kings of unflappable repression right there.

(and lbh and lwj having vinegar-offs while hc is sighing dreamily watching his husband make semi decent friends for once)

Like there's a bunch of crossovers but none really scratch that itch, you know? The main characters of all 3 mxtx?? There's so much potential for Truly Unhinged Shenanigans!! Wangxian visiting pidws wife plot filled world and disappearing into the wilderness for a full week, coming back with every single piece of clothing they brought ruined. Hualian go visit mdzs and and no one believes xl is a diety and hc chomping at the bit to kill them for the injustice. Bingqiu going to tgcf and lbh getting mistaken for a calamity, or Sqq falling into the one wife plot kidnapping or something intended for a diety.

But seriously imagine Sqq complaining about something and wwx and xl immediately going 'that's not right! You deserve better!!' and Sqq is like 'no it's fine I'm used to it' and the other two slam their fists on the table like 'no!!! If [husband] was forced to keep that kind of secret I'd hate it!! You two deserve to be properly happy!! Let us help! We can fix this!' and start working with zeal and vigor while Sqq trails along embarrassed half heartedly muttering 'it's not that bad >:/'.

And when it works (presumably some clever loophole they stumbled on) and bingqiu are tearfully kissing they share a low five without looking. Or that one meme where the person getting kissed holds their hand back and their wingman enthusiastically high fives it but there's two wingmen XD!

I don't knowww but it'd be such a good premise! Ripe for character interactions!! Fluff! Crack! Angst! Daytrips and pouring their hearts out to people who'd really understand! Xl wwx and Sqq bestie team up! Meeting moshang! Wwx info dumping about his monster index categorisation to an enthralled Sqq! Xl and Sqq bemoaning etiquette while wwx laughs at them! Xl and wwx having intense discussions about morality and righteousness! All three of them laughing at how oblivious they were about their husbands, each trying to one the other two for Dumb Moments They Should Have Realised (Sqq wins by horrifying the other two)!

Forget cross country kidnappings and being locked in a room! Where is my protagonist trio getting into trouble on a self imposed mission to help their friend! Let their magnetism for insanity shine!!

#All three idiots when faced with a 'sacrifice a party member to escape' situation: *how do I ensure they pick me?*#Their husbands sprinting after them blades drawn: *how do we stop them from sacrificing themselves again?!*#svsss #mdzs #tgcf #Mxtx #mxtx tgcf #mxtx svsss #mxtx mdzs #mxtx fandom #mxtx novels #mo xiang tong xiu #crossover #What do you even call the triple mxtx crossover??#shen qingqiu #wei wuxian #Impressed by the amount of misspelled wwx #xie lian #bingqiu #wangxian #hualian #I feel the introvert husbands would be a bit salty their beloved isn't spending as much time with them but they'd also be vibing in the #Middle distance for the majority of the time lmao. They're all in the same room mostly ignoring each other having a great time #Husband watching while the protags have brunch and gossip #They'd try a triple date once and it'd go disastrously lmao. The husbands would get all competitive and pda and decadent #So they've been banned #In all fairness I think lbh and hc would get along pretty well.

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pukanavis · 1 year ago

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Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 1

ーThe Yumenosaki Academy library, two years since the establishment of ES.

Fuyume: Excuse me?

Are there any fairy tales here…?

Oh, the shelf over there is the section for picture books and stuff?

Thank you for your help.

~...♪

(Ah, she was right. Yume recognises a bunch of the books over here.)

(They’ve got a good selection to choose from but the categorising is a mess. They’re just randomly thrown onto the shelf without any care for alphabetical order or release date.)

(Oh well…apparently no one has any love for fairy tales…)

(‘The Little Mermaid, ‘Momotaro’, ‘Tale of The Bamboo-Cutter’, ‘Snow White’, ‘Urashima Taro’, ‘Cinderella’—)

(Oh! It might not be the one Yume was looking for but he’s in the mood to read Cinderella today.)

(This story is another one that Yume adores.)

(It’s a tale about love being rewarded.)

…♪

Fuyume: …? Hm? Oh, uhm, you’re that nice person from earlier—did you need something?

You were so kind to Yume earlier, so he’d be happy to give you some company.

Huh? The Yumenosaki Academy library is off-limits to anyone that doesn’t work for or attend the school?

How could you tell that Yume isn’t a student here?

Ooh, cause Yume isn’t wearing the uniform…?

That makes sense…no biggie, Yume will be sure to wear the school uniform next time.

Yume is really good at sewing, so it won’t be a problem…fufu ♪

Huh? That’s not the issue?

Yume doesn't like anything you’re saying right now.

Here he was thinking you were a nice person.

Fuyume: Huh? Yume’s name is Fuyume Hanamura.

And you are? …Anzu-san? You’re a graduate of Yumenosaki?

You’re here at your old school to do some producer work, huh? It made you feel nostalgic so you’ve been walking around the grounds…?

Oh, is that the case? Hmm…♪

Then, aren’t you and Yume in the same boat? Yume goes to a middle school separate from Yumenosaki and you’ve already graduated…right?

It sounds like neither of us are allowed to be here.

Let's work together then, okay? If you pretend you never saw Yume, he won’t go around yelling, ‘There’s a trespasser in here!’ …♪

What do they call it? A contract, business, bargaining? Let’s do something like that…♪

If you’re willing to comply, Yume will leave you be. He isn't particularly interested in you anyway.

Yume is just here to read some fairy tales.

…♪

Fuyume: Huh? Did you need something else? You want to know what Yume is reading?

Ehehe, you’re interested in fairy tales? Sounds like we can get along.

Ehehehehehe. Yume is just reading a picture book about the massively popular princess, Cinderella. Though, he actually wanted to read something else.

Maybe you’ve heard of it? For some reason, no one in Japan knows about it—it’s a fairy tale about an amethyst.

Even if you don’t know the story, maybe you’ve heard this quote before?

—”The amethyst broke into pieces.”

Fufu. I guess you haven’t heard of it. Oh well.

Basically, it’s a story about an ordinary girl that comes across an amethyst that can grant any wish that she desires.

In fact, she actually fuses with the amethyst and becomes a crystalised-human of sorts.

It’s a curse put on her by an evil witch…ehehehehe ♪

The plot is kinda similar to ‘The Happy Prince’. Actually, something like ‘Arabian Nights’ or ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ might be a better match.

After transforming into the wish-granting amethyst, the girl wishes for her crush to pay attention to her, or to become better friends with people—

With each little wish she makes, the amethyst uses its power and gradually begins to crack—

Aah…♪ Eventually, her body becomes so fractured that it crumbles away and she loses all of the love and friends that she had been granted.

Her loved ones view her like a monster and chase her away in fear.

After everything, the final wish she makes is—

Fuyume: —Ah, wait, Yume thinks you should read it for yourself to find out what happens next. Spoilers are a crime!

Ehehe. If there’s one thing Yume can say, it’s that he empathises with the amethyst girl and even admires her.

At the end of it all, the final remaining piece of her—

Becomes a ring that showers the wedding between her best friend and the one she loved in joy.

After everything, her final wish is—wait, oops, Yume just realised how much he’s spoiling. He’s really really sorry.

You don’t mind? Really? You’re super kind, you know?

Ehehe. You see, Yume shares the same wish as the girl who became a ring.

—-“I wish for your life to be full of joy.”

During her final moments, the girl whose selfish asks led her to break apart used her last wish to bring someone else happiness.

Ehehe. Yume doesn’t have the power to grant wishes but he’ll do everything he can to achieve that too.

For example, Esu goes to Yumenosaki so Yume snuck in to watch over him in secret.

Huh? Does Yume love Esu?

It depends how you define ‘love’ but yep, Yume loves Esu.

But it's sad, isn't it? The reality we live in isn’t a fairytale.

—The amethyst already shattered long ago.

#Fuyume Hanamura #enstars translation #Ensemble Stars #4piece

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hotchnerwrites · 3 months ago

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hi i have a really weird request i was hoping you’d fulfill :) i read your request guidelines and it says you write for spencer reid but it looks like you write majority hotch fics, which i also enjoy:) i have hoping for a spencer reid x reader fic, i don’t have much of a plot in mind so you may need to get creative, or maybe it could just be headcanons, but anything with a weird reader. like maybe she’s an elementary art teacher type vibe (maybe she’s actually an art teacher, or maybe she works at the BAU, your choice) and she has pet bugs and wears cool clothes, that sort of thing. everyone always writes the reader to be really type a, really similar to spencer, yk? and as much as i love those fics i personally think he’d work well with a little more carefree, creative type person too. thank you so much and you absolutely do not have to write this if you don’t want too!!

Ladybird 🐞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: SFW, headcanons kinda, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of (y/n), fluff

A/N: Hi anon! so glad you enjoyed my other fics! I'm so happy you requested Spencer, i've been itching to write my pookie but it's not a common request (yet?), i only have one other published fic of him. i looooooooooove writing his big brain self and ur idea of reader being an opposite personality type was so delicious to write ugh i'm quite happy with this fic. i also have some drafts of him (academic rivals, fluff fics etc.) but i don't post them bc im not at a 100% with them, they're much longer fics too lol. if you want those, i'm happy to post (slowly) so lmk. anyways, enough yapping, ENJOY THE READ!!! mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open! Please read my rules before req'ing. Send me stuff! :)

Spencer wasn’t accustomed to the sensation of being in the dark. If something new crossed his path, he’d devour every piece of information he could find, understanding it, processing it, then neatly filing it away in his mind for later use. The idea of being uncertain—it made him uneasy, like a puzzle with a missing piece, gnawing at him until he could fill it in. He hated the discomfort of not knowing.

But you… what were you?

You moved through life with a kind of fluidity he couldn’t quite grasp. Were you like water? No, no, you were too solid, too grounded for that. Fire, then? But you weren’t wild or destructive—your warmth didn’t burn Spencer, it invited him in. The wind, then. You were untethered and free. But even that didn’t feel quite right. The wind didn’t create, and you were full of creation. You existed in a plane ruled by feeling rather than logic, instinct over calculation.

Spencer couldn’t fathom you.

He prided himself on his ability to categorise things, to turn life into binary or categorical data. But you slipped like butter through his mental filing system, like something he could never quantify. You smelled like rain and cedar, like something both fresh and familiar, like petrichor clinging to the edges of an old wooden frame. He couldn’t place it, couldn’t place you, and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

When you talked about your job— you were an elementary school art teacher— you talked about it with a kind of excitement that made Spencer envious. It was silly, really, but he wanted the one to be taught by you, to spend more time trying to figure you out. He loved his work, too, but it was so full of danger and death, and the way you loved yours made him want to be a part of the world you had.

The first time he met you, Spencer spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to decipher the colours in your outfit. He knew different textures weren’t supposed to be mixed (the Vogue magazine he had swiped at the doctor’s office had declared the mixing of dots and stripes a cardinal sin), but you had layered patterns like a painting. It shouldn’t have made sense. So why did it? He had opened his mouth to ask if there had been a method behind it, but you had flashed a smile at him that made his unfaltering mind stop dead in its tracks, and you had said, “Don’t overthink it, Spence. Just feel.”

As if it was something he knew how to do.

You weren’t chaotic, not exactly—but you were unpredictable. Spencer, with his equations and calculations, with his logic and probabilities, had always sought comfort in knowing the outcome before things even began. But you—you weren’t an equation. You were the space between the numbers, the part of the formula he couldn’t solve. You were a walking, talking example of Ramsey’s theorem— he knew where you started and where you ended, but he couldn’t untangle what was in between.

Every morning, you took a picture of your coffee. It was the same drink every day, but you persevered, swearing the foam made a new image every time. You’d tried to rope him into theorising with you, to get him to see the shape of the world in the swirls and patterns of the cream, but Spencer could never really see it like you.

“You know it’s just milk and coffee, right?” He’d say, leaning over your shoulder to examine the mug. “There’s no scientific basis for anything more.”

But you never held it against him. Sometimes, you’d nudge him with your elbow, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you said, “I think you’re missing out on a whole new dimension of the universe, Reid.”

He’d hum, a little smile on his lips, and then he’d drop the subject—mostly. He wasn’t one to argue for long, especially when it came to the things that made you happy, like the ritual of your morning coffee or the way you’d rearrange your art supplies by colour, even though it made absolutely no sense.

When Spencer found out you kept bugs as pets, he’d nearly leapt out of his chair.

“You— you have a mantis,” he stammered, eyes wide as he watched you let it crawl delicately over your fingers.

“That’s not just a mantis, Spence,” you scolded him gently, a smile tugging at your lips, “Meet Matilda. She’s my friend.”

Spencer blinked, processing. “Statistically, most people keep a cat or a dog—“

“I’m not a statistic, Spence,” you’d reminded him, voice gentle as if you were talking to one of your school kids.

He tried to understand, tried to decipher why anyone would choose to keep an insect as a pet, but logic evaded him, a feeling he only experienced around you. But when he’d watch you play with Matilda like she was the best thing in the world, he let it go.

He started bringing you little things—odds and ends that made him think of you. A book of surrealist paintings he thought you’d like. A smooth, speckled rock he found outside the precinct. A jar of local honey from a case in a small town, because you once mentioned you liked the taste of dandelions.

And every time, you’d accept them like he had just handed you a moonbeam, eyes lighting up in unadulterated joy.

“See?” you had murmured one day, holding the honey jar up to the light. “You do feel things, Spencer. You just don’t realise it.”

No, it wasn’t about logic. Maybe, it was just about you.

One day, Spencer caught himself carefully placing a ladybug outside on a leaf, rather than brushing it away. As he counted its spots for you— something about them bringing luck— he realised something.

Oh.

I love her.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#hotchnerwritescm #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x f!reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #reid x you #reid x f!reader #spencer reid fluff

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