#Pretenders would've turned up and they would have been far more dangerous with far more internal support than they had been for Henry

[pennyserenade]

i have thought in great detail about coriolanus and sejanus, and whether or not coriolanus ever really liked sejanus. i think that the novel/movie are purposefully constructed to make this ambiguous, but i prefer to veer on the side of "yes, he did."

coriolanus' way of loving people was...lacking, to say the least. even with tigris, he thought awful, mean things about her, but it was evident he cared very much for her. the problem with coriolanus was not that he couldn't love -- it was that he could not love without first being assured that his investment would yield positive results for him. at least, he could not readily admit to himself that he was loving until he knew it was going to work out for him.

his character is very succinctly summed up by sejanus, when he tells him, "I remember that from school, watching you watch other people. Pretending you weren't. And choosing the moments you weighed in so carefully" (397). without fully knowing the totality of it, sejanus got it all too right: coriolanus took people in, measured them out, decided what they meant to him, and weighed in when he thought it'd benefit him. coriolanus was calculated in all things, most of all in love—a thing he knew made you vulnerable.

but that's not to say what coriolanus said to himself was the exact same thing as what he felt. if it was, i do not believe he would've done half the things he had done for sejanus--even given the prospect of reward in the end. this is part of what makes coriolanus descent into evil so heartbreaking: a part of him was good. he did want for connection and comfort, even if he had a real fucked up way of going about getting it. coriolanus was a dog that bit without fully knowing why; it was a protective instinct he used, because so much of his life had been filled with loss already.

in the book, after coriolanus snuck his father's handkerchief with lucy gray's scent into the tank of snakes, he went to sejanus' house. this is an incredible detail that so many people tend to overlook when they talk about coriolanus and sejanus' friendship. the beginning of the chapter reads:

"What had he done? What on earth had he done? His heart raced as he blindly turned down one street and then another, trying to make sense of his actions. He couldn't think clearly but had the dreadful feeling he'd crossed some line that could not be uncrossed" (287).

we start this chapter with a frenzied, rattled coriolanus, one terribly afraid of what he had just done and the consequences this action might have later. he was scared and isolated, and he didn't know what to do. a little further on, collins writes: "His feet had carried him far from home, but he realized the Plinth apartment was just a few minutes away. Why not pop in?" (288).i find this construction of words to be fascinating, especially in relation to coriolanus--a character we have come to known as calculated and precise, even in moments when he has to think on his feet. one could argue that during this part of the book, and in this state, it makes sense that coriolanus might wander that far from his home absent-mindedly. it shows how out of touch with himself he had become, and just how much the act he had just committed disorientated him. but i think it was more than that. i think coriolanus wanted to go to the plinth's house, that he was seeking comfort after he had done something incredibly dangerous (something, arguably, that sejanus might have done), and he could not admit it to himself. and his original intention had been to see sejanus, but sejanus was asleep.

the fact that collins wrote "his feet had carried him" and "he realized" is so brilliant. i’ve got lots of opinions about why she chose to write the book in a third person point of view. one of the reasons i think she did it has to do with the fact that coriolanus was distancing himself from himself--shedding culpability through phrases such as these, especially in moments like this. coriolanus did love sejanus, but he simply could not admit it to himself because sejanus was not a safe or wise investment to make. coriolanus refused to give credence to his need for him, and it ended up killing the boy in the long run.

[yume-yuurei]

Picture-perfect fairytale romance 2/3

Synopsis: Fairytales help tell children of all sides of human life without exposing them to real dangers. But what will happen if a child keeps their favorite story far too close to heart, projecting fantasies onto reality?

Part two, finally! I've been struggling with deciding how to approach the whole thing, but, thanks to how much time autumn holidays are giving me, I managed to finish this! Now, only one part left... I wonder if what I'm planning for it will be predictable, or maybe the hints weren't obvious enough to pick up on? (ﾉ*･ω･)ﾉ

TW for delusional Neige, some mild swearing, a little ooc. MC is gn.

He always thought the circumstances would be slightly... different.

As he watched them disappear in the woods, Neige unconsciously reached out a hand towards his beret. Words written in golden embroidery burned against skin: "Someday my princess will come".

But they are nothing like the fairytale princesses. Helplessness and dependence are not words suit for them. It may be far too soon to make assumptions, but the way that person held themselves, the light their whole body radiated should be a sure sign... "No, I'm thinking about this too much - too soon. That's what I'm always being told... I swear, I'm not desperate, just- how am I supposed to know when I'll meet my destined person? If I act nonchalant all the time, I might accidently drive them away and never even know of that." These thoughts brought a childish pout to his face, creases forming between perfectly sculptured brows - an unusual expression for the normally cheerful boy.

Still, some things don't add up to his expectations.

"Ah, but how could your heart have any place for doubt? Were it myself, I would never let my dear beloved go."

You don't even remember how much time passed after the strange encounter in the woods. Days trickled by leisurely, with no crazy adventures and, thankfully, no overblots. The only inconvenience so far was Ace getting into another quarrel with his housewarden and being collared for a week. You found out about it when the boy in question turned up on the doorstep of Ramshackle late in the evening - right when you and Grim were about to head to bed. Clad in old pajamas (found in one of the old wardrobes during sunday cleaning and thoroughly washed), you opened the door, interrupting Ace's violent knocking. Behind his back stood Deuce - nothing surprising; the two had been inseparable since the chandelier incident, it would've been weirder to see them apart - who made a show of scolding his companion for showing up there at an ungodly hour and dragging him along, but was just as excited about possibly staying over. You didn't even hear out the story behind their appearance, as the bright-red collar on Trappola's neck told enough, leaving the door open for them and walking up the stairs to retrieve three sets of blankets and pillows. Grim, having taken the hint, was already sprinting to the pantry to pick out his favorite snacks (and bring some for you, too). Ace and Deuce had made such sleepovers a habit for your group, so, without any further questions, they headed to Guest Room to move the furniture and make space.

"Can't believe you have the audacity to bother prefect every time you get in trouble..."

If the jab bothered Ace, he didn't let it show, "Shut up, Deucey. You pretend to be all righteous, but when they offer us to stay over, I never see you turning them down."

"That-! That's because I was taught it's rude to not accept invitations, especially from friends! And there should be at least someone watching over you to make sure you don't get into more trouble."

Coming from the kitchen with three empty glasses (and a small cup) in hands, you take the opportunity to interject, "You're just as bad, to be honest. If anyone's being responsible among us, that's got to be me."

The redhead scoffs with crossed arms, "Uh-huh, responsible my ass... You're only right about one thing - Deucey being a walking hazard."

You exchange more sarcastic remarks, with sleepy Grim lying stretched out across your lap, until the topic eventually switches to more menial things: clubs, teachers, fresh gossip. One particular talk makes you recall the encounter you had a few days earlier.

"And then Vil started raging when a commercial came up on some guy's phone. It was that new music video with his kidfaced arch-nemesis; He was trying to keep it cool, but I swear he almost chucked a water bottle at Rook when that creep approached him."

"Really? I did see him annoyed a few times, but for Vil, of all people, to attempt a murder in broad daylight. Who could've bothered him that much?"

"Eh, it's Neige for you, nothing new. These two have had a rivalry going on for a long time. Did you not know? Their fans have the wildest and most ridiculous discourses ever, it's kinda fun to watch."

You tear your eyes away from the ongoing game of cards, looking up at Ace with furrowed brows.

"Neige, you say...? Can you show me a photo?"

His face noticeably scrunched up, "Ew, why would you even want to look at him? He's just another one of those pretentious freaks from RoYaL SwOrDs", clear disdain and disgust in his voice switched to smugness as he leaned closer to you, almost draping himself over your shoulder, "Aren't I more handsome, hm? And, unlike that stuck-up princey, I can give you all~ the attention in the world, without any fans hogging it."

Deuce, annoyed with his friend's touchiness, grabs Ace by the collars and nearly throws him off of you, "I wonder why you don't have any fans, then. Even prefect is more popular than you are, dumbass!"

Upon noticing your unamused (and somewhat pissed off) frown, he hurries to retaliate, "That's not what I meant! You're really cool, so it's obvious you'd have some fans, but you're also new here, and you spend more time with us and not others, and I didn't-"

"I get it, you can calm down..."

"...sorry again."

A bunch of idiots, that's what they are. Still, it's hard to be mad with them, your two first and best friends here, for long. Someone shoves a phone right into your face (thankfully, without breaking your nose) just as you start going deeper into your thoughts.

It's Ace phone with Magicam open on it. Before you is a profile of a model and actor, as seen from the description. You scroll a little and open the last posted picture. True to your suspicions, it turns out to be exactly the Neige that you met after classes some time ago. Eyes lighting up in recognition, you murmur a quiet "Huh, I know him". That brings out a reaction from the other two.

They kept on pestering you, until you gave in and told them the whole story. Neither one seemed convinced. And you didn't need them to be, as long as they'd stop pestering you, they were free to believe whatever their sturdy selfish hearts desired.

"Thank you for accompanying me, prefect. I hope our joined efforts will be fruitful."

Jade smiles in his usual polite manner, fixing straps on his backpack. He leads you along the forest trail, keeping his eyes on the ground on the lookout for mushrooms, hidden by wide leaves and long blades of grass. As the only member of Mountains lovers club, Jade was eager to have somebody - especially the infamous magicless prefect of Ramshackle - come along, even if he knew you only agreed because of some favor you needed from him. Both equipped with light camping gear, you venture up a hill in search of mushrooms. On the way to the top Jade tells you why he took you there in the first place: apparently, on one of the Botanical lessons he learned of a rare species of mushrooms, last seen around that hill; to his delight, the said species weren't hard to care for - a perfect addition to Jade's terrarium - and the way from NRC wasn't long or tiresome, which allowed him to bring you along without worrying about you collapsing halfway from exhausting, not quite used to walking big distances.

Whatever fears you might've had for the trip instantly evaporate when you notice how passionate your senior is about his hobby. It's not the fear-inducing hitman everybody sees and describes him as, but only an ordinary highschooler ranting about his interests to the first willing listener. What a heartfelt scene.

"...and it's told to possess strong poison, able to paralyze a mammal as big as an elephant from just a bite. Why, isn't that curious? I'd love to have one of them in my disposition."

...up until the moment his (seemingly inherited) thirst for murder lets itself be known.

The higher the trail goes, the more changes add to scenery. Colorful wild plants and berries, butterflies and beetles of various kinds. And most importantly - air, fresh and free, a fine change compared to stuffed school air you've grown used to.

"According to the data I collected, it should be growing around this area. I propose splitting up for more efficiency. Can I trust you not to get lost, mauled by beasts or poisoned?", looking you over, he thinks for a second, soon reconsidering, "No, it would be best for you to just stay put and wait for me there. Do try not to wander off too far, and call for me if needed - after all, for this short while your safety is my responsibility."

"Then why did you even drag me along?"

"For company. Hiking is most enjoyable with a companion. Take this as a chance to catch a break from all the bustle your poor body has had to endure. Do not worry, I won't be away for more than five minutes."

He frames his words (so unlike the thinly veiled threats and mocking remarks he'd usually make in school) with a nod, leisurely going his own way, often bending down to check under trees and most suspicious patches of grass for mushrooms, before he disappears from sight.

You decide to take a seat on a dry stump, surrounded by vibrant-green moss. Birds' trill fills in the growing silence. Leaves rustle somewhere over your head - something you would've hardly heard a minute or two ago. As if trying to accommodate a picky guest, the nature around you beams in full flourish, bringing a sure sense of comfort. Despite having intruded its domain, you don't feel alien - with no visible threats nearby, you follow Jade's advice and give yourself permission to relax... only to be disturbed by someone's voice reaching from down the hill.

"Hey! Anybody here? Please, help me!"

...No need to think twice to recognize the voice. What a coincidence. There's no way he just appeared there, far away from both his and your schools, all by himself, and didn't even you and Jade's path.

"By the way, five minutes should've already passed by now. Where the hell is he?"

This whole situation is starting to look like one big ridiculous play. It wouldn't be so surprising if Vil suddenly popped out from under a rock, shouting 'Cut!' and reprimanding you for lacking proper emotions. You drag a hand across your face, constructing a simple plan in head: rescue Neige, tell him off, find Jade and pass out on the couch in Ramshackle. With a set of tasks in mind you venture down the trail - good thing it was obvious enough not to get lost among the greenery - and follow the boy's calls, not without tripping a couple of times on the way.

"Heey- ah, hello! Thank the Sevens you were near!", here he is, hanging upside down from a tree branch, legs tangled up in a... hunting net? "For a moment I was afraid I'll have to hang there all day and night. Could you please get me down?"

"What were you doing there in the first place?", moreover in such a casual attire, as if he just walked out of his room...

"Ah, that... is a long story. May I tell you after my feet get to touch ground?", he answered with a sheepish smile.

You sigh, but relent, reaching into one of your pockets for a switchblade, then grasp the rope (it wasn't hanging too high) and cut it. "Should've told him to brace for the fall", you thought, watching him land face-first into dirt. While Neige was preoccupied with brushing off his cardigan, you pocket your knife, preparing to go search for your mushroom-obsessed companion (how ironic for the one who was worried about you getting lost to disappear himself), but not without the black-haired boy scrambling after you.

"Thank you! Once again, I don't know what I would do if it weren't for you." "Mhm." "I'm not sure how, but I suddenly found myself here after following a butterfly, and-" "Yeah, great. You can go back home now." "But how can I leave and not even offer a token of my appreciation for your help? How about-"

Jade better come back as soon as humanly possible, because, Seven be witness, you might just tie this boy to the biggest tree in the forest and leave him to be eaten by wolves. At least Schoenheit will have a reason for a genuine smile this one time.

[k-dokja]

just finish re-reading samuel and yn being chaotic. now im begging for more crumbs of them if you don't mind 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

You occupy the living room, spreading out on the couch like you own the place. You don't, he does. You act like it's your house. He wants to drop his briefcase on you for that alone.

"Ack!"

No reason to not listen to his impulsive thought when it comes to you. "Why didn't you come to the office today?" He glares down at you and it would be far more effective if you aren't wearing that tiny tank top that shows him your cleavage and stomach. Not that you notice where his gaze strays.

"I was sick!" You protest. "I didn't feel good this morning so I stayed home, what's wrong with that?!"

He nearly rolls his eyes backwards into his skull. "What's wrong is that you're meant to send in a notice." He glowers. "Did you know how much I had to do to make up for your absence?"

"Aw, does that mean you need me? Why Samuel, you only need—Ack!"

You clutch your head where he flicks your forehead. If you wince then good, it's meant to hurt. "Stop messing around, I expect overtime once you recover." With that, he leaves your presence after he makes his point known. Knowing you, however, you probably stick your tongue out the moment he shows his back to you.

He turns back sharply, catching you in your act. You quickly whip your head away, pretending to focus on the television. That puts a slight smirk on his face, but you won't know about that.

After his shower and a fresh change of clothes, Samuel returns to the main hall of his penthouse with an easy stride. From where he stands in the kitchen, he can get a good view of you and the show you're watching. Some medical drama, he reckons, you have been into those lately even if you don't understand the head or tail of the medical side of the show.

Briefly, he wonders if half of the appeal of it is because you can't understand anything. Better to turn your brain off and let others do the thinking. After the day he had, maybe that's what he needs at this very moment. With that in mind, he grabs a drink with rocks that'd soothe his temper and coasts over to the couch.

"Scoot over," he commands and you comply with a face that he ignores you were making. Samuel sits down at the other end of the couch where your feet once laid. The moment he hits the cushions, you immediately throw your legs over his lap.

Samuel ignores it and favours savouring his alcohol over you. "Did you even manage to learn anything from watching these?" He asks absentmindedly, not really caring for the answer.

"Yeah, of course," you say, "I learned about symptoms, tumours, and viral infection. Like you, for example."

He arches an eyebrow, "Me?"

"Yeah, you're infected by the bitch-itis," you grin, "not contagious and very dangerous to everyone around you."

Samuel contemplates, but only for a second, before the corner of his lips raises, "No, I think it must've been contagious because you're infected with it, too."

"Hey!" You throw a stray cushion at him. It's only by the gift of his reflexes that he catches it easily. Samuel sets it between your legs and his lap, before making himself comfortable.

"So what are we watching tonight?"

"We?" You ask pointedly but when he doesn't elaborate, you return to your attention to the TV. "House's on. You might like him, he's so... what's the word, sardonic."

He doubts that, but he can't deny your statement piques his interest a little. "How so?"

"Wait, I'd argue he's better than you," you giggle, "at least the man is helping people, while you only ever help yourself."

Samuel clicks his tongue, unfazed by your statement, "That's not true," he says, "you benefit from my actions, too."

You snicker, "Yes, but that's collateral, not intentional. Because otherwise, it would've meant you care about me. There's no way that would be true, right~?"

Samuel only grunts and takes another sip of his drink. There's nothing left of the alcohol except the residual ice water left behind. However, it proves to be a distraction because you don't end up looking at him like you've said something right. He doesn't need that tonight, not after the long day he had.

All he wants to do is turn his brain off and watch the TV.

[dragynkeep]

If only Viserys had taken elevating Rhaenyra to being his heir more seriously, rather than just too spite Daemon, cracked down hard on the people in his own court who had obvious agendas and maybe just never had hired back Otto, things might have turned out differently. Says he didn't do it on a whim only to be completely hands off on getting her ready just so he could play with his lego's and pretend things were going swell. Also WHY keep a guy who murders at a royal wedding as Kingsguard?

because viserys has the forethought of a broken toothpick rip. it makes sense in the fact that he also never wanted to be king & was only elevated through the misogyny of the realm to the role over the far more suited rhaenys. with this in mind, it makes complete sense that he would neglect guiding his daughter & heir to the same goal because he never had to do so himself: viserys would've been more than content to model his city & let others lead if it was an option.

criston being kept on is nonsensical in any scenario, which is very telling as to the fact the show never addresses it again. because if they did, they'd have to come up with a reason for why this nobody, a dornish nobody amongst targaryens, was able to skate by on murdering a noble at the heir's feast, who he put in danger.

[cophene]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐓 | vento aureo; part two.

◂ ⁺ ★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐖

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them  a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and a pretty-faced crew. notes : sci fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 1k+

★˚⋆ PERHAPS THE LAST THING RIKIEL WANTED was to be in the same room as Donatello. He didn't much care for the eldest prince, Imperial loyalty be damned. His half-brother never failed to stifle him, whether it was the off-putting designs and prototypes he surrounded himself with or his own abrasive personality. To tell the truth, Rikiel thought he was even worse of a designer than he was a prince, and he was already a rotten prince. It was just that no one had the guts to tell that to him to his face.

Not that he would've listened, with how far up his ass his head was.

Donatello was positively giddy tonight, and that happened to be one of his most dangerous moods. If it were up to him, Rikiel wouldn't have come to Zero's banquet to begin with. Zero was just as shitty as Donatello. It made sense that they were friends.

Rikiel had already been sitting in Donatello's room for ten minutes and his brother hadn't said a word. He just kept fiddling with his tablet and smiling to himself. It was starting to piss Rikiel off. If Donatello was going to force him to the Hub, he could at least let Rikiel go off on his own so he could drink himself senseless.

"What do you want?" Rikiel snapped finally. He said it to the large scarf hanging on the wall by Donatello's head though. His anger tended to dissipate into embarrassment whenever he looked at his brother straight on.

"I can't spend time with my brother?" Donatello said. "The Emperor said that was important. Especially since there aren't many of us left."

Rikiel gritted his teeth. That's rich, coming from you. "What's important is looking for Giorno," he couldn't resist saying and narrowed his eyes at the way Donatello stiffened.

The way Rikiel saw it, Giorno preceding Donatello for the mantle of Crown Prince was the lesser of two evils. Giorno wasn't perfect, but he wasn't Donatello, and that was all Rikiel needed. Although he kept out of Imperial politics whenever he could help it, Giorno would always have his backing. People could say what they wanted, but who in their right mind wanted the galaxy to go to shit with Donatello leading it?

Behind both the Emperor and Donatello's backs, he'd been conducting his own search for Giorno. It was too silent out there. Suspiciously so. Giorno Giovanna was a prince and princes didn't just disappear, even if they had been blown to bits. Rikiel would've bet his arm that Donatello had had something to do with it. If he hadn't murdered Giorno directly, he would have done the closest thing.

"I don't know why you're still hung up about that," Donatello said, his shoulders relaxing. He slipped the tablet he'd been working on under a folder and turned his attention to a sketchbook—filled with more awful fashion designs, probably. "Giorno was a sweet kid, but he's gone now. We need to focus on ourselves."

"You act like he's not the Crown Prince." They were hitting all the beats of this already worn-out argument. Rikiel hated how flippant Donatello had been about the Eos crash and told him whenever he could. Half brother or not, he could have at least pretended to mourn Giorno.

"Was," Donatello corrected. "I'll be the Crown Prince in a few weeks. It was a lapse of judgement on the Emperor's part to give the title to Giorno. He only wanted to please the people."

On the contrary, Rikiel thought making Giorno the heir was the smartest decision the Emperor had ever made.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable," Rikiel said tartly. "We're going to find him. And then people will wonder why you never seemed too worried about this whole situation."

Donatello turned in his seat. His eyes narrowed and in that moment, he looked an awful lot like the Emperor.

"What are you accusing me of?" he said, his voice dangerously low.

"I think you know," Rikiel answered.

"I would give up on this if I were you. Leave the past in the past. Giorno is dead. I am the Crown Prince. I intend to mould this galaxy the way I wish. If you get in my way, your title will not protect you, Rikiel."

Rikiel met Dontello's gaze steadily, even though his insides churned. Donatello had always been the most arrogant of the brothers. The Emperor himself had taught him that.

All at once, Donatello's harsh expression dropped and he went back to his sketchbook. "I met Passione at the banquet," he said offhandedly. "Wonderful group. They managed to get a job from Zero, if you can believe it. I think I'll arrest them and have them killed. I've never liked them."

"Passione got the job?" Rikiel said, straightening.

"They're probably gone by now. I'd check my things. Make sure they didn't steal anything. Their audacity never fails to surprise me."

Rikiel kept his tone carefully neutral. "Do you know where they could have gone?"

"Planning on going after them?"

"I just want to make sure they don't try anything."

"That's very chivalrous of you," Donatello said, chuckling. "Don't want the people to catch you lacking in your duties?"

Rikiel rose to his feet. "Something like that."

"Check the bars. Lowlifes love going there. Just try not to get your neck snapped. I don't need two dead brothers, now."

Donatello's grating laughter followed Rikiel as he left his room. He didn't let himself react until he was well away.

Maybe he was being optimistic, but he had a feeling Passione would help him find Giorno. Sources had told him that Zero had his eye on a Stand arrow—one that, incidentally, Giorno too had been looking for. It seemed like too much of a coincidence not to check in on.

If Passione was going after a Stand arrow, the odds seemed high that they would stumble upon some trace of Giorno in the process.

It might have been a stretch but it was all Rikiel had right now. If that bastard Giorno was out there, he needed to find him.

Stars, did he need to find him.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

[fleetsonourgecentral]

I had the sudden image of the Freedom Fighters dead-staring at the Prime Zone FF and the Suppression Squad and saying ”Scourge is ours now. We’ve adopted him.” Can you imagine how chaotic that would be if all three teams somehow were able to meet? Thinking about Fleetway Tails being a savage like his Sonic makes me snort.

Adgsfhsfh I LOVE the idea of Fleetway Tails slowly becoming more like Sonic... man between him and Scourge Tails' future really is one of snark shcshfhfs Prime looks at this fox child who is slowly becoming a savage lil bitch and weeps inside like "this is the worst possible timeline." The other Freedom Fighters would probably be a good influence tho and stop Tails from becoming as rude as Sonic and Scourge

Man both the Prime Freedom Fighters and the Suppression Squad would just Not Get It. Like for the Prime FF they truly cannot understand why any freedom fighters from any dimension would take this fucker in??? He's a villain who's only ever wanted to fuck shit over for as long as they've known him, and he's SUCH an asshole. Not someone you'd ever expect to see fighting for good. They (except for poor Prime who's realising far too quickly why these fuckers like him, although he still doesn't get why Scourge likes them back) probably try to warn the Fleetway Freedom Fighters about him but they're just like "we're literally friends with Sonic we can deal with Scourge just fine"

The Suppression Squad also don't understand how these fuckers can put up with Scourge, but they also don't understand why Scourge is letting them. They're looking at him like "this is not the bitch that led our squad that would've murdered us and destroyed our planet in a heartbeat. Where has he gone who is this fucker and why is he in love with a Sonic". Like can you imagine what that must be like?? Why hasn't he tried to take over the planet yet? Why is he pretending to be good? Why hasn't he attempted to kill or at least take Sonic's place as leader of the Freedom Fighters and then burned it all down? They're so used to the betrayal and backstabbing of their own universe and, well, like it or not Scourge is one of them, so the concept of him actually being loyal to Freedom Fighters of all things is alien to them. They keep expecting Scourge to turn around and stab his new friends in the back but he never does and they struggle to make sense of why

The Fleetway Freedom Fighters truly have adopted him sjgdgjdfh although sometimes they question why because he's such a bad influence on Sonic. But he's their bad influence on Sonic. And honestly so many people in that universe are dicks so accent aside Scourge fits right in. Like in a zoo it's the perfect place for him to be his little gremlin bastard self while keeping him (and therefore others) safe because he's surrounded by people who are also bastards and are happy to kick his ass if needed but also aren't jumping to stab him in the back at any opportunity. They look at the other two teams like "he has been Removed from the toxic environment (that he caused) we don't see the issue. He's ours now and also Sonic might actually bite you if you try to take him"

(Neither of the teams want him they just can't understand why anyone DOES. It's like hearing that alligator that's been terrorising your family for years has just been moved to another town to a family going "yeah no big deal he's our pet now" like MA'AM THAT'S A DANGEROUS PREDATOR but the Freedom Fighters simply don't care)

Wfhshfshf just the three teams all standing around yelling, two in confusion, one defensively. Scourge is almost definitely throwing a pissy fit in the background over his friends saying they've adopted him. He belongs to no one, damn it! He can fuck off and leave you assholes and never come back at any time! (He won't)

(Don't mind Fiona and the Destructix in the background absolutely raging bc they're watching their leader get forcibly adopted into a new dimension and they're like. The only other team that want him. Or at least Fiona does the others probably have mixed feelings. But the Prime Freedom Fighters won't even let that happen bc even though it makes no sense to them Scourge causes less trouble in the Fleetway universe)

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link to ao3

Chapter 32

Nick noticed that their journey to the treasure chest was in danger of becoming just as quiet as their walk home a day ago, because Morrie kept his eyes on the map as if he had to check it constantly to make sure they wouldn't go astray. The rockstar's euphoria faded the longer they wandered around like this.

In fact, Morrie distracted himself with the map, glad to have a target ahead of him and pretending to check the route now and then. He wasn't only pretending since he hadn't walked this way before. It wasn't far from Eel Pie village, by his standards, but still unknown territory for him.

Not that he needed an excuse for not looking at Nick, right?

Of course he glimpsed at him now and then, making sure that the rockstar was okay. His unusual stamina was strange, if not concerning. As much as he liked that Nick didn't have any problems keeping pace with him, he didn't trust these new abilities. It was crazy. Nick's body hadn't changed at all. He was ashamed to know that for sure.

And still, the man darted around like a rocket. No drugs could do that. Had he been so strong all along? And held back by depression? Doubts aside, this was the only solution that didn't involve some form of magical drugs. It could make sense, considering had Nick still performed shows and danced on stage until he had ended up here. That dance. Morrie needed to stop thinking about it.

He turned his gaze at the map again to distract himself, but this time, he didn't realize what he saw. Looking up, he noticed that he was none the wiser and viewed it again. “This must be very complicated if you keep looking at it like that”, Nick commented his odd behaviour. Caught off-guard, Morrie winced and lifted his head. “Uh..wh...it is. It is complicated. Uh...I haven't been here before. It's not the well I know...”, he stammered, his heart hammering in his chest. “Can I have a look?” The other man craned his neck. “I don't think this would help”, Morrie hastily dismissed and pulled the map away, then realized that he sounded harsh. “I mean, you don't know this place, because you're new and...”, he tried to soften his tone. Nick gave him a doubtful look, accompanied by a lopsided grin. Morrie broke out in sweat and wished he would've kept his eyes on the map. He cleared his throat, helplessly waving the paper around. “What?”

“Just admit it”, Nick said playfully, driving him even more into a corner. “Admit what?” Morrie tensed up, drowning in the other man's green eyes. Instead of answering right away, Nick pranced a few steps forward, with his hands folded behind his back, locking gazes with the nervous Wastrel. He made Morrie wonder if he should prepare to run. When Nick stood right next to him, he said quietly: “You're lost.” Morrie snorted, backing away. “No, I'm not lost. I know where we're going.” “U-huh.” Nick circled him, watching him. “I do!” Morrie almost yelled, before he made an effort to tone down. “Nick, could you please...stop distracting me...or we'll really get lost, okay?” The smile he received was unbearable. “I'm distracting you?” Morrie wanted to shake him. Don't act like you don't know!

“Yeah, you do...”, he admitted. “Just...be patient...There's nothing to do other than...checking the map.” As if it was proof, he pulled out the paper again and glued his gaze onto it. Nick's pout was unseen. A second later, slim fingers snatched the map out of Morrie's hands. “Hey!”, the Wastrel shouted, now being exposed. Nick chuckled and skipped a few steps away. Morrie followed him. “Give it back! You can't make anything out of it!” The rockstar didn't answer. He viewed the paper with furrowed brows while Morrie waited for him to give up. Then Nick realized something, turned it around and looked again, surely having no clue what it showed. Morrie snorted and reached out for it. “Come on.” Nick skipped further away. “No, no, I got this.” “No, you don't.”

The other man didn't answer for a while, before he had a question: “Are those all the islands?” “Just the Garden District.” “Wow, it's huge!” “It's...bigger than the town. Crazy, how they let all that land go to waste. Now, would you mind giving it back? You clearly have no idea where to go.” “Where's our house?” Our house. What would Nick say if he knew that his stay wasn't permanent? Morrie reached over the man's shoulder to point at the spot. “There.” “And where are we?” “Probably there”, Morrie pointed once more. “Assuming the scale is even right. Nobody has a detailed map of the Garden, not that I know. We can only guess.”

Nick squinted his eyes. “So, uhm...we're not quite there yet.” “No. We would be faster if you stopped interrupting me”, the Wastrel deadpanned. The rockstar's pout was back. This time, Morrie witnessed it. “This doesn't look so complicated”, he stubbornly countered while the Wastrel snatched the map out of his hands. “What do you know?” Morrie was fighting for his hiding spot, although he knew he already made a fool out of himself. He couldn't help it. Nick grunted disapprovingly. “Let's get going”, the Wastrel tried to get back to the point. “Aren't you curious anymore?” “I am”, Nick answered as they went on. “Just...”

He didn't finish his sentence while Morrie fixated his gaze on the paper. The Wastrel didn't feel as comfortable in his hiding spot as before, now that it had been exposed. And Nick's silence reinforced the tension between them. He felt like he should ask, but his lips were sealed and his throat was dry. They've been strolling like this for a while, until Nick lost his patience. “Is there a reason why you avoid me?” Morrie's answer was quick and defensive. “I don't avoid you.” “Hm...” Nick pouted and dipped his head. It annoyed him how vehemently Morrie kept fighting him back. Annoyed and hurt. Was he that despicable that Morrie couldn't imagine unbending a little? This man had been all alone for ages, even that would be a reason to... Well, nevermind then. So much for the upcoming magical night.

Meanwhile, Nick's pouting caused a pang in Morrie's chest. A complaining Nick was better to handle. A sad one not so much. “Nick...”, he began as softly as he could, “I just need to make sure we'll find this treasure...” “Sure”, the rockstar didn't sound as if he believed him. “Whatever.” “Nick!” This time he was more urging. Morrie hadn't considered that the other man would lock gazes with him again. He wasn't prepared for this. Quickly, his eyes wandered away to a tree that stood behind his companion. “It's not that I...”, he began, then suddenly Nick leaned into his field of vision, head curiously tilted. He made Morrie lose the thread and chuckle nervously. He also blushed.

“Nick, stop that!” “Stop what?” Nick had the most innocent smile. “Stop...distracting me!” Morrie turned his head away once more. “I'm just looking at you.” “Yeah, why do you look at me? You better look at your own feet and watch your step”, Morrie tried to make sense. “It doesn't hurt to look somewhere else once in a while.” “Yes, it does.” “Come on. You have your nose in the map all the time. How come you don't stumble and hurt yourself?” “Because I'm a professional.” That made Nick laugh out loud. “A professional what? Wastrel?” “Sort of.” Morrie couldn't help grinning. “Okay, so...if you don't need to look at the way, you can look at something else from time to time, other than the map, right?”

The Wastrel looked up, as if the sky could help him. Why did Nick have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't he accept a sorry excuse and move on? How was he supposed to hide when this failed?

“I guess...I mean, I do look at something else. Don't act as if...” Nick interrupted him again by jumping up, seemingly trying to get into his field of view again. Morrie chuckled helplessly. “Nick...you can't be serious.” “Oh, I'm very serious”, the rockstar said smugly. “Did you see that?” He jumped again. “I'm close to flying!” Morrie also noticed that Nick was very light-footed, the way he leaped up into the air. This was strange, too. “Careful!”, he shouted out. “Ah, come on, Morrie!”, the rockstar appeased him. “I'm fine! Look at me!” He jumped up again and again, looking both ridiculous and impressive at the same time. “Yeah...I see it...”, the Wastrel stuttered. “This is incredible! I feel like I could jump right back to Maidenholm!”, Nick cheered, waving his arms around. “Unlikely”, Morrie whispered to himself while he stared at the other man's acrobatics.

“You know, you could at least pretend to be impressed”, Nick said after he landed one of his many jumps. With his arms crossed, he pouted at Morrie. His heart was throbbing in his chest and he wanted to grab the grumpy man and swirl him around, make him laugh and dance with him. Why did he have to be so stubborn? “I am impressed. I just...This isn't your power...Whatever they did to you...” “Ah, yeah...this again.” Nick realized and his mood sunk. “You know, I had a choice...there were two other options for gifts...” Morrie stared at him. “You remember how they did it?” Nick shook his head and gave him a meaningful glance. “Not they. It.” Morrie understood and let out a sigh. “Sure.” “I thought when I choose this you would be...You would like it.” Nick now suddenly couldn't look the other man in the eyes either. “I guess I should've refused...” Again, Morrie couldn't stand the sad Nick.

“No, this...”, he began, then he paused, trying to digest what the man just said. “Honestly, I don't understand it at all. I just hope it's not gonna be trouble. For you, I mean. I don't want you to...suffer from this. I shouldn't have brought you there...” Nick came closer, causing Morrie's neck hair to stand up. “Morrie...”, he said in a way too soft tone that he couldn't handle either. “No, please, let me finish. I think...it makes sense as a choice...You were struggling to keep up and...now you outpace me. It's insane...” Still, he had to smile, thinking about the happily skipping Nick. “...how that small skinny man jumps so high...” “Small?”, Nick acted as if he was offended. “I'm just the right size to wear plateaus, otherwise I'd look ridiculous in them. Also, I used to watch my waistline, couldn't disappoint my fans. But don't you dare to underestimate me”, he lectured the other man while waving a finger at him.

Morrie couldn't help but chuckle. “I see. You're just perfect in every way.” Nick lit up. “I'm glad you understand me.” “Modest as always.” “Modesty would be hypocrisy in my case.” Morrie laughed out loud. “Oh, God...” “Ah, no need for that. Just call me 'Nick'”, the rockstar purred at him with his silkiest voice, still managing to be smug as well. “Help!” “Yes, luv?”, Nick purred. “What do you need from your Golden God? I answer all prayers.” “I need air!”, Morrie gasped. His laughing fit shook him and tears blurred his view. He didn't remember the last time he had laughed like this. It must've been ages ago, in another life.

“Hmm, I could do mouth-to-mouth-respiration”, Nick dared to say. Morrie shrieked and backed away. Then he laughed again, becoming more and more nervous. “No?”, Nick dug deeper. “No!”, Morrie pressed out between gasps. “It's fine...Just let me breathe...” Nick wished to kiss the stubborn Wastrel here and now. He was so close, but sadly, Morrie wasn't ready. Safe from more assaults, Morrie calmed down, wiping his eyes dry. He didn't see how Nick admired him from afar.

Coming back to his senses, he noticed how ridiculous they had been. What the hell were they doing? Why were they wasting time like that? And why did he encourage Nick to do this? Was he that desperate for entertainment? For a laughter? It felt good, though, he had to admit it. His heart had been lighter for a moment. But only to drop deeper a second later.

Damn, what was Nick thinking? Did he really say that? Morrie's mind raced, searching for an explanation. Nick presumably didn't think at all. He just wanted some fun and that was his favourite kind of fun. Yeah, that must be it. The poor thing needed to grow up or he'd be very disappointed by the Garden District.

“Are you okay again, lu...Morrie?” Nick bit his tongue at 'luv', but his voice was still soft as silk. Morrie was eager to nod and move on. “Yeah...” He cleared his throat. “I'm afraid I have to look at the map again because now I really lost track of the way...” “Tsk, tsk! You should pay attention”, Nick tutted at him while he unfolded the map. “Don't you know it's dangerous out there?” Morrie gulped down the next laughing fit. “Another word and I'll throw you into the next toxic pond!”, he protested. “So aggressive!” Nick didn't give up. “I'm just trying to help you.” “How is that supposed to help me?” “You...you seem happier...” Nick was honest now. “You smile. I like your smile.” The change of tone caught Morrie off-guard. “A smile isn't everything, Nick”, he said more bitterly than intended. Memories of his old lifestyle, of his stupid, childish Joy-life came back to him. The Garden taught him that a smile didn't fill his stomach and didn't warm his house. It did nothing for him. It was useless. Nick should learn this.

“It's a luxury.” The rockstar made puppy eyes at him. “But if I can make you smile, shouldn't I do it?” “Uh...” Morrie was overwhelmed by the whole topic. “You should try not to suffocate me next time.” “I'm sorry. You looked like you had fun.” Morrie was out of words. “Just...quit the jokes for a while, will you? Until we get to that treasure, or else we'll never get there.” Nick let out a sad sigh. “Okay.” Morrie felt guilty hiding his face behind the map again and decided to give this a chance. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad, he hoped. Nick had already used up a lot of his energy, maybe it would be a calm trip anyway. So he put the paper away and glanced over the land.

Nick noticed that he didn't seem to need the map anymore. If he ever needed it. Happily, he admired Morrie's face. Then the man even turned around to give him one of his shy smiles that Nick adored so much. The rockstar beamed at him and Morrie wondered if there was even pride in his expression. Bloody hell, who was learning a lesson here? The differences became quite blurry. Nick remained in a great mood even though they didn't talk a lot. Morrie showed him some flowers and herbs they came upon and they found a few ruins they decided to search later. They marked the spots with the dirty tip of a branch.

“I can't believe I didn't find a pencil yet”, Morrie though out loud after putting the map away for the fourth time. “Hey, if I went back to that session, you think I could beg the universe for a pencil?” Nick happily took up the thread: “It would make you able to write with your bare hands.” Morrie furrowed his brows. “I'm not sure if I would want that.” “It would be so practical!” “And creepy.” “Aw, you have no practical sense, Morrie-dear.” “I have no...Wait, you're the one...”, the Wastrel stuttered, then he had to chuckle. “You're such a snotty brat today! What happened to you? Was that another gift you chose?” Nick's chuckle had a deep, flirty tone. “Haven't I always been naughty?” “Well...yes, but...” Nothing that Morrie could think of made sense, so he gave up. “Alright, forget that I asked.” The flirty tone didn't escape his attention. He rather didn't encourage it again.

Unfortunately, Nick leaned closer and whispered into his ear: “You know, you don't have to give up so easily.” “Nick!”, Morrie shouted in frustration. “Focus on the way. Please! If you don't stop I'll make you chop wood as your next lesson. With your bare hands, for all I care. Anything to keep you distracted.” “You forgot about my karate skills.” Nick just had an answer for anything. “Oh sure, you'll have all day to practise them.” “And what will you do?” “I'll have a day off! I sure as hell need one.” “Holidays in the Garden, ey? Where do you go?” “Anywhere that's lacking a snotty so-called God who's a pain in the arse.” “Sounds like an awful place.” “It'll be a paradise for me.” “You won't miss me at all?” “No!” Morrie shouted without really thinking about it. He didn't want to think about it. “Not a bit!” “You'd miss to see me chopping wood with my hands”, Nick resisted.

Morrie wondered if he'd ever stop, or if this will be their existence from now on. “I'd miss you breaking your fingers and moaning at me”, he said. “How dare you! The Golden God never moans!” Nick went back to being fake-offended. “That's not how I know him.” Morrie now hid behind sarcasm. “He had an off-day!” “Not for the first time, I think.” Nick threw his arms up. “The life of a God is hard, okay?” “Sure, Nick”, Morrie said. The other man made a grumpy noise and Morrie didn't know if it was a joke or if he was really offended. In the old days, his vanity had been boundless. Now it wasn't so clear anymore.

“You'll be fine, Nick”, Morrie went on to comfort him. “We should be there, soon.” The other man's eyes widened with excitement. “Really?” “Yeah. I...I just noticed we didn't make a single stop yet. Are you okay?” Nick silenced for a while, then answered: “Yeah, I feel fantastic.” “Incredible. No sore muscles? No blisters?” “No.” Morrie shook his head. “I would stop for a snack at the treasure site though.” “I won't say 'no' to that. You think this well still has water?” “I doubt it. Haven't heard of an intact one yet. But there's a water pump not far away if you're thirsty.” “Sounds great. What a convenient place for a treasure.” “He probably chose it for a reason.”

When the well appeared on the horizon, Nick cheered. “I see it, I see it!” He jumped around again. “Hey, let's race up to there!” “I said no more races!” Morrie half-heartedly pretended to be angry. “Aw, please, Morrie! I have enough energy left, especially when we make a pause anyway!” He ran on the spot, giving his companion an eager look. For a moment, Morrie tried to resist, but then he felt like he could have some more fun today. This seemed harmless. No enemies on the way, nobody by the well and just this ridiculously vivid rockstar around who adorably shuffled his feet. “You're insufferable”, he said without meaning it and counted to three. Nick emitted a cry of joy when they started running.

As expected, the rockstar had the lead. Morrie could only marvel at him. After a while, he chuckled about their stupid behaviour. They played like children, happily dashing through grass as if they had nothing to worry about. Nick jumped over every rock he came across. He even seemed to look out for them so he could brag about his new skills. And Morrie couldn't turn his gaze away. The Wastrel avoided all rocks and took the shortest route, careful not to power himself out. This allowed him to make up ground. “Hey, Nick, you're falling back!”, he shouted at him. Nick looked over his shoulder and grinned. “I don't think so!”, he shouted back and speeded up. He arrived at the well, stopping himself by clutching it's rim and then turned back to wait for Morrie.

The Wastrel panted and massaged his side when he came to a halt. Chuckling while running hadn't done him good. “Are you okay?” Nick quickly stood next to him. “My side hurts...”, Morrie gasped. “...but It's fine.” Nick's smile made him feel much better. “You're tough, Morrie. And you almost got me.” “Because...you were wasting time...with your jumps.” “It's so much fun!” “I see...It's fun to watch...” Nick answered with an elegant bow. “I'm happy to please.” “You sure are...”, Morrie whispered to himself. “What was that?” Morrie smiled, turned around and went to the spot that was marked on the map. He knew it by heart. What he hadn't known was that there was a little hill, an entrance to an underground cave. “Oh, look at this.”

Nick hurried to follow. “Does someone still live here? Should we knock?” “I...hope this is abandoned.” Morrie viewed the door with furrowed brows. This wasn't a welcome change. He wasn't ready to meet more cultists. Nick eyed him. “Is this bad news?” “Perhaps. If it's empty, we're good. But if our dear preacher had friends...or if this was a trap...” “It looks so harmless, though. And the preacher was really nice when he gave us the key.” “Right. The key. There shouldn't be anyone in there if the door is locked.” Morrie looked at the rusty key in his hands. He could turn around. But the promise of another storage of canned food and drinks made the risk worth it.

Nick stood right next to Morrie, eyeing the entrance. “Are we doing this?” “Yes. But stay back.” Morrie planted himself in front of him. “So you can have my back if someone attacks me.” “Sure thing! I'll run them over with light-speed!” Morrie realized that he just put his trust into the hands of Nick Lightbearer. “Alright, there goes nothing.” After taking a deep breath, he turned the key. The lock gave in with a quiet clank. Just as quietly, Morrie opened the door and then suddenly turned around. “Quick! Hide!” A surprised Nick hurried along with him to hide behind the well. From there, Morrie's gaze was fixed at the door. Nick was switching back and forth between the door and his companion.

“Looks like nothing's happening”, he whispered after a while. “Yeah. If they were planning to maul the intruders they would come running now. It's still possible that they're smarter and waiting for us inside.” “And what are we going to do about it?” “Nothing, I fear. We have to sneak inside, be very quiet and find them before they find us.” Therefore, they left their hiding spot and tiptoed into the cave. There was a slope that went deeper into the underground. The only light they had came from the door. It illuminated a row of wooden shelves. Morrie's heart beat faster at the sight. That was what he hoped for. He gestured Nick to wait and listened closely. Not a single sound escaped the darkness. They moved on until they stood in the small room full of shelves. “Oh, this is smashing! He had his own wine cellar!”, Nick blurted out. Morrie's curiosity grew. “Let's see what he left us.”

They rummaged the shelves and stacked what they found. Sadly, almost all the food was rotten. Surprisingly, there was a couple of yams that were still edible. “Where did he find these?”, Morrie asked himself out loud. Nick picked one up and turned it around in his hand. “Are they rare?” Morre shook his head, not because they weren't rare, but because of how odd this was. “I haven't seen yam here except...well, I haven't seen it before at all.” He recalled that even the session hadn't included any real yam. Nick sniffed it, then shrugged. “I guess there we have our snack”, Morrie said and carried a handful of them outside. Nick happily followed. They made themselves comfortable in the grass and Nick was the first to take a bite. “Hmm, sweet”, he mumbled with his mouth full. When Morrie tried the yam, his tongue rejoiced at the new taste. It felt so good eating something other than rowan berries and beans.

“I can see why people worship it. It's delicious.” Nick gave him a playful grin. “What a treasure.” That reminded Morrie of something. “Why would the preacher leave all his food to us?”, he muttered to himself. He began to feel a tiny bit of guilt. “Ah, perhaps he forgot about it, wasn't quite sane.” Nick had heard his words. “Perhaps it wasn't there before.” “What to do mean?” “Uh...it's yam...appearing out of nowhere...” Morrie gave him a look. “Come on.” Nick returned his most innocent smile. “You said that yam doesn't exist here.” “It does, it's just the first time I found it!” Morrie became louder. The mere thought made him shiver. Nick took another bite and chewed at it, pondering.

“I'm just kidding, Morrie”, he said in a softer tone. The Wastrel's tension faded at the sound. He shook his head. “You're something...” “You're smiling again”, Nick noticed. Morrie began to chuckle. “Yeah, so what?” “I'm glad I can make you a little bit happy.” Nick's soft voice touched Morrie's heart. The spoiled rockstar couldn't be serious, Morrie thought. He couldn't really care. Right?

“You like to have an audience, hm?”, he whispered, hiding behind his yam. “I...like to be good company.” Morrie had to clear his throat. “You...you're doing well.” Nick smiled widely. Morrie caught a glimpse at him and then didn't dare to look again.

Nick's head was spinning because of all the things he wanted to do with Morrie right now. Even these small moments of kindness warmed his heart in a way he had long forgotten. He could only helplessly smile to himself and make sure he wouldn't break out into tears again.

The upcoming night had to be the one. He couldn't wait any longer.

[little-x-wolf]

I have an idea.

A Sam sweet smut prompt:

Reader and Sam are pining over each other.

And they have to do an undercover mission and the reader is hurt.

Sam fixes her up but is kind of mad that she put herself in such danger.

He and her bicker a bit and go to bed upset. They wake up in the middle of the night cuddling and they kiss and make LOOOOOVE

This turned out long af and I made some changes, but I hope it was what you were asking for :)

Pairings: Sam x reader

Warnings: angst, flufff, Mentions of blood and violence, and some sweet, unprotected sex (the reader is on birth control).

"You sure you wanna sit this one out?" You asked Dean for what seemed like the hundreth time.

"Sure as hell, sweetheart," he grinned cockily, catching the attention of his brother as soon as he stepped into the room. "Shouldn't you two be on your way by now?"

Dean raised his knowing brow, earning a glare from both Sam and you. Mrs Anderson, one of your prime suspects was throwing a little party which you three had previously decided to crash using false identities. But since tonight was just about extracting information, Dean so kindly offered to stay behind and let you two kids be in charge completely.

Now, if it had been any other day, you two 'kids' would've loved it. But tonight? Heavens no!

You and the younger Winchester were supposed to sneak into the party as a married couple, a facade suggested (more like forced) by Dean who knew about your 'problems'.

Maintaining your pretences meant talking to each other normally, eye to eye contact, and touching. Something neither of you was capable of doing when it came to the other.

You met the boys a few years ago and instantly bonded with them over hunting. One thing led to another and now you were living with them in the bunker. You loved the boys to death, albeit two different kinds of love. They were your family and you would do anything to protect them.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had fallen for you all the same. The two of you, unaware of each other's feelings did the best to hide your own. Days turned into months and months into years. Your love for him didn't falter, and all that pent up frustration seemed to burst out each time you met his eyes.

By now, Sam was almost fully convinced you disliked him.

Dean thought that by giving you two some alone time, he could fix that. Well, he also believed you two should just have angry sex and get it over with, but he figured talking first would be the more preferable step.

So now here you were, arm in arm with Sam Winchester, pretending to be a young couple in love. Now and then, you two would split up to greet the other guests (more like snoop around and investigate). So far, nothing unusual had come up.

"Dance with me," Sam offered you his hand, much to your surprise. You slightly raised your brows at him "Oh, come on. Nothing seems out of place here. We're allowed to have a little fun, aren't we?"

You thought about his offer for a brief second, placing your hand in his. Sam grinned, escorting you to the dance floor. Your fingers locked together, you placed your other hand on his shoulder and he slipped his hand around your waist, sending chills down your spine just by a simple touch.

You moved with him, not noticing some of the men eyeing you curiously and the glares Sam was throwing their way. He clutched onto you a little tighter, his whole arm encircling your waist as if to mark his territory.

He leaned down to your ear, almost resting his head on your shoulder. You stiffened a little, the close proximity doing things to your body.

"You look beautiful tonight, Y/n," Sam whispered in your ear and you blushed madly, thanking the gods he couldn't see you right now.

"You clean up well yourself, Winchester," you replied softly, letting yourself go and clutching onto him all the same.

And for a little while, nothing else mattered. Not the hunt, not the people watching you. It was just him and you, lost in each other. And it was perfect.

"It's not Mrs Anderson. It was the freaking butler!" You whisper yelled into the phone, clutching onto your gun with your other hand.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked from the other end, groaning in realisation. "Tell me you didn't follow him, Y/n!"

"He's a shapeshifter, Sam! We need to catch him before he sheds his skin again,"

A loud thud caused you to nearly drop your phone, cursing when you realised you had accidentally knocked over a metal vase.

"What was that?!" Sam frantically asked you. Before you could answer, the sound of the floorboard creaking alarmed you.

You maintained your position, the silver bullets in your gun ready to be fired as soon as the creature showed himself. The creaking got louder and louder, and just when you were about to pull the trigger, a sharp pain exploded from the back of your head, rendering you unconscious.

"Sam," you started, only to be cut off by a glare from him. You sighed. "Sammy-"

"Don't," he spat out, his jaw clenched as his hands worked to clean the wounds on your arm.

After your little mishap, Sam had come to rescue you from two shapeshifters ready to tear you apart limb by limb. He brought you home, carried you to your room and stayed to patch you up, but hadn't spoken to you ever since. Hell, he hadn't even looked at you properly.

"Sammy, please. I didn't know," you hated how disappointed he looked in you, how pissed.

"Don't 'Sammy' me, Y/n!" He barked out, throwing the blood-soaked tissues into the bin. "How could you be this stupid?!"

"I said I'm sorry-"

"And is that supposed to make it okay?!"

By now he was practically yelling and you were pretty sure Dean could hear his every word from three rooms away.

When you got to know what had happened, you expected him to be angry, but this... You'd never seen Sam this furious and it kinda scared you. If only you knew the reasons...

"If only you weren't too blind to see..." Sam ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Don't ever do that again," his voice dropped to a tired whisper, tears welling up in his pleading eyes. "Never again,"

He leaned forward, pressing a long kiss to your forehead before rushing out of the room. Your body ached, but nothing compared to how terribly broken your heart was right now. You wanted to go after him, tell him how sorry you were, but fear gripped you.

What if he didn't wanna talk to you? What if he didn't want to see your face ever again? Sam Winchester might be the best thing that ever happened to you and what if you lost him even before you had him?

It was way past midnight when you finally gave up on your attempts to sleep off your heartbreak. You didn't know what came over you when you decided to get out of your bed and tiptoed into Sam's room.

You opened the door to find him awake, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. He glanced at you with a smile, shifting in his position to clear up some space. "Couldn't sleep?"

You stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. "You too?" He shook his head as you got into the bed with him, placing your head on his chest. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he mumbled sadly. "I'm sorry too. I didn't want to scare you."

"I know," you looked up to find his eyes already on you, fingers brushing through your hair. Your eyes felt heavy, but neither of you could get yourself to look away.

"I can't lose you too, Y/n. I can't... You mean everything to me,"

The light from the nightlamp illuminated him in a golden glow. You wondered how someone as pure and angelic as him could ever be Satan's vessel. Granted he had his flaws, but he was far too beautiful, both inside and out.

Before you knew what you were doing, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his gently. Sam immediately responded, pulling you on top of him. One of his hands tangled in your hair while the other held you close to him.

When you felt his heart beating against yours, how synchronised it was with your frantic heartbeat, you broke away and studied his face. There was unadulterated love and adoration in his eyes. Love... For you.

You let out a short squeal when he flipped you over, pecking your lips again. He searched your eyes for the truth, his own widening as he came to the same epiphany.

"Sammy?" You called out in a whisper, cupping his cheeks in your hands. Sam Winchester was in love with you. And suddenly, everything else was starting to make sense.

Sam melted into your touch, his soft brown hair falling around his face. "I love you, Y/n. I don't know how I kept it all inside me for so long. How I didn't realize... God, I was such an idiot,"

"Not just you," You shook your head, but he stopped you with his finger to your lips.

"Let me say it. Please. Let me say it or else I'll explode. 'Cause, that's how much I love you, Y/n," he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes. "I've loved you for so damn long that all I can remember is ever wanting you. And today when you didn't- When I found you like that..." Tears pricked his eyes again and he gulped them down. "I realized how much. I can't live without you, Y/n. Promise me you'd never pull off something like that again. Promise me."

"I promise," you sniffled, feeling your heart flutter at his words. It was a weird feeling, but it felt oh so good. You wanted to cry and laugh at the irony of the moment. And more than anything else, you wanted him. All of him. "Make love to me, Sammy."

It was everything he needed to kiss you again, this time with a passion unlike anything else. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this content or loved. His hands on your skin were too good to be true and you feared it was all just a dream.

The brush of Sam's lips against your calf assured you he was here, loving you and not just some hallucination. Realization dawned on you. He had stripped to his boxers while you were completely bare before him. Every flaw, every insecurity and every scar unexposed. Yet he looked at you so lovingly, like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

To him, you were perfect. A real, strong woman with scars that showed how brave you really were. He wanted to kiss away every insecurity, every little thought that made you think otherwise.

As he kissed his way up to the apex of your legs, every other thought vanished away– except the feel of his lips against your skin. His hands glided from under your thighs to play with your breasts, easily fitting them in his enormous hands.

Sam flicked his tongue against your clit, earning a low, sinful moan. He smirked against your throbbing sex, latching onto you like a man starved. Your fingers tangled in his long hair, the other clutching onto the headboard as he slowly thrusted one of his fingers inside you.

A second finger followed, knocking the air out of your lungs. They were thicker and longer than yours, making you feel full already. Yet you were desperate for more, whining at how slowly he was scissoring you.

Sam glanced at you, smirking. "Trust me, babygirl. It's for your own good,"

You rolled your eyes at him, whimpering as you felt him quicken his face, bringing you closer to your release. "Sammy, fuck! Right there," Much to your disappointment, he pulled out his fingers, licking them clean. "Sammyyy!" You whined, kicking your legs like a child.

Sam let out a chuckle, leaning in for a sweet kiss. You moaned, tasting yourself on his tongue. "The first time I ever make you cum, I want to watch you come undone around my cock." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, sitting on his knees.

You couldn't keep your eyes off him as he slowly took off his boxers, teasing you as more and more of him become unclothed. Sam smirked again, watching your eyes widen with shock and lust. He didn't gloat often, but when he did, he knew exactly what he was talking about.

And man, was beautiful (and enormous!)

You reached out and touched him, brushing your thumb over the pink tip of his hard cock. Sam threw his head back, the curses falling from his lips adding to your pleasure. You stroked him slowly, marvelling at the sight of the precum leaking from his tip.

Feeling brave, you got up, taking him in your mouth. He tasted so much better than you ever could've imagined. "Holy shit!" Sam held your hair in a makeshift ponytail, watching you lovingly as your head bobbed on his cock, taking him as deep as you could. Your hands pumped what you couldn't fit, ghosting over his balls.

"Stop, baby," he panted, gently pushing you back on the mattress and reaching out for the drawers. "I won't last,"

"I'm on the pill," you stopped him, smiling at how blown away and adorable he looked at thought of being inside you raw. Your heart swelled with love and pride as you opened your legs wide, holding out your hand for him.

He took it, interlocking his fingers with yours and pressed his forehead to yours. This time neither of you closed your eyes, not wanting to miss what you did to the other. Sam's free hand stroked his cock, lining himself in front of your entrance. You both moaned at the slight friction, kissing each other until you were both out of breath.

"Ready, babygirl?" He asked you softly.

"Always for you,"

Slowly and gently, he entered you, stretching you deliciously. Your back arched off the bed, nails digging into his back as you accommodated to his size. Sam groaned, visibly holding himself back from pounding into you with all of his strength.

"Sammy, please," you wrapped your legs around him, begging for more.

He complied, pulling out a little and thrusting into you again. The air was knocked out from your lungs again, mouth falling open in a silent cry as he established a steady rhythm, easily touching every pleasurable spot inside you.

His lips peppered kisses all along your collarbone, nibbling and sucking at all the spots he'd recently found out you liked. You knew there were going to be purple bruises on your skin everywhere tomorrow, yet you couldn't care less.

Sam knew what he was doing to you, how good he was making you feel. He ruined you for anyone else the moment he entered you and all he ever wanted to do now was worship you like this every fucking minute of the day for rest of his life.

The pleasure inside you built and you tightened around him, holding Sam in a vice grip. His every potent thrust shattered your control on your body, trusting him to drive you both over the edge.

You screamed as you came hard around him, clutching onto Sam for dear life. Your legs shook around him as his hips kept snapping into yours wildly, his moans joining your own when he spilled himself inside you, your name on his lips.

You didn't know for how long you two stayed like that, chests heaving and limbs joined blissfully. After catching your breath, Sam carried you to the bathroom, cleaning you both up. He put on a pair of sweats, clothing you in his shirt.

By the time he tucked you in his bed, you were already half asleep. You felt the bed dip beside you and moved closer to him, placing your head on his naked chest.

"I love you, Sam Winchester," you mumbled with a satisfied smile.

He rolled onto his side, wrapping you in his arms and kissed the top of your head. "And I love you, Y/n L/n. More than you could ever imagine,"

[ilici]

kitty, kitty, kitty.

Gogywasfound's 1K event here: click here !

Summary: You and Karl rarely argue, and the one time you do, he is streaming. So he punishes you, after he finishes his stream.

GN reader !

NSFW MINORS DNI !!

Warnings: Degrading, cat maid outfit, biting, gagging, choking.

Word Count: 2138

Karl was already in a bad mood from Quackity and Sapnap teasing him about his relationship with Y/N. They kept repeating, "Karl is a simp", "Karl's the bottom in the relationship for sure.", "I bet Karl literally whines when he doesn't have Y/N's attention." Finally after a while, he snapped at them telling them to quit. They did, noticing he wasn't joking, although twitch chat thought it would be funny to come up with the nickname, 'Whiney boy Karl'. Y/N on the other hand was watching his stream from their shared bedroom, and they found it hilarious as it was all true. Karl was the bottom in the relationship, he would always beg for attention and would turn bratty if Y/N ignored him, and Karl was indeed a simp.

Taking it upon themself to go and bother Karl personally, Y/N got up out of bed and made their way to Karl's streaming room. Karl's fans have seen Y/N on multiple occasions, whether it was them giving food to Karl, keeping Karl company while he streamed, or even joining him on the stream, it wasn't abnormal for Y/N to just randomly pop up. When Karl's door open, he cautiously looked over as Y/N entered the room with a mischievous glint in their eyes. When the two would argue, it would be once in a blue moon, as they knew each others limits and boundaries. But it was never a pretty sight when they argued, as Karl is one to never truly show his feelings, he would finally let them all out when he was arguing.

He would scream, cry, and even go as far as to ignoring them for days on end. Y/N was a different story, they never really showed much emotion when arguing, nor did they show it when they were not arguing. Y/N was not the best at showing emotions due to childhood trauma, which Karl soon helped on, to the point where Y/N would only show genuine happiness around Karl. Now was one of those moments, where Y/N showed their emotions, which was mischievous. Karl already didn't want to deal with their antics as he was still a bit upset from Quackity and Sapnap's bit. "Hi bubba." Y/N greeted, walking over to Karl, and sitting down on the floor. Karl nodded his head in acknowledgment, as he pretended to focus on Minecraft.

Not liking his reaction, Y/N rolled their eyes and spoke up, "What's this 'Whiney boy Karl' ordeal about?" They asked, already knowing the answer. They just wanted to get a reaction from him, and Karl shifted trying to contain his emotions. "I don't know, something chat made up." He said dryly, hoping Y/N would drop the subject. "Obviously, but how do they know you're whiney?" Y/N asked once more, and Karl closed his eyes inhaling sharply. "Shut up." He muttered under his breath, Y/N hearing, but the mic didn't pick it up. Taking this as an invitation, Y/N shrugged and looked around aimlessly, "But it's true, why are you getting so worked up?" They said, which caused Karl to slam his hand down on his desk.

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" He said, deathly calm, which shocked Y/N as he was always one to yell during their arguments. "What's wrong with telling the truth? You shouldn't lie to your fans." Y/N argued back, and Karl threw his headset off, which startled the two people that were in a call with him. "What the hell is going on over there?" Sapnap asked, as the two clicked on his stream to see what was happening. Karl had muted on discord, but forgot to mute his actual mic, so the stream could hear and see everything. "Oh? Tell the truth? Okay, sure." He scoffed, moving his gaming chair away from him roughly.

Y/N rolled their eyes, and flipped him off, "You are an asshole, I was joking around and you snapped on me. What the fuck is your problem?" They said, now angry, and Karl laughed shaking his head. "You know what you were doing. You came in here to purposely anger me." Karl said, stepping dangerously close to Y/N, "Holy shit, this is getting good." Quackity said, and Sapnap laughed a bit as he has witnessed a fight between the two before. "So what if I did?" Y/N said, grabbing Karl's shirt collar pulling him closer with a harsh glare. "I bet you did it because you're wanting me to fuck the absolute shit out of you." He whispered, so that his mic wouldn't pick it up, and Y/N visibly gulped.

"What the fuck did he say to them?" Quackity asked, and Sapnap hummed, "You may be short, but that isn't the only thing short on you. So is your temper." Sapnap said, making up random sentences as the two whispered between each other. "What if I want you to?" Y/N asked, looking at Karl's lips as he licked them hungrily. "Go get fucking dressed you attention whore." He whispered in their ear, and Y/N walked out of the room red faced. Everyone assumed it was from anger, but Karl knew what it was from. "Sorry guys, I gotta go. Y/N is having a tantrum because I've been streaming for 3 hours now." He said, before smirking, "Whose the whiney one now chat?" He asked, before he abruptly ended the stream leaving the call without a word.

Quickly making his way to the bedroom, Karl swung the door open to see Y/N in the maid outfit, adjusting the cat ears on their head. He smirked, and bit his bottom lip scanning their body. "What an adorable kitty you are." He said, and Y/N scoffed flipping him off, "Bite me, bitch." Y/N muttered under their breath, and Karl raised an eyebrow walking to them. Grabbing Y/N by their throat, he glared at them, as he reached behind pulling on their hair to make them look up at him as their height difference was by a whole foot. "Speak up kitty." He said, and Y/N winced looking Karl in the eyes, "I said, bite me, bitch." They said, daringly and Karl just chuckled.

"As you wish." He said, removing his hand from their neck, keeping the other tangled in their hair so their head was angled. Leaning down, he harshly bit their neck as Y/N let out a strangled mewl. "Fuck, that hurt." They said, trying to get out of his death grip. Karl being a lot stronger, they were stuck in his grip, as he kept biting around on their neck leaving prominent hickeys. "So pretty." He said, looking at his work on their neck. "On the bed, now." He demanded, and Y/N quickly listened not wanting to be punished more than they already were. Smirking at this Karl, slowly walked over as he adjusted them so they were on their hands and knees. "Ass up higher." He said, and Y/N arched their back.

Karl, was indeed the bottom in the relationship, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to be dominant. "Good kitty." He whispered, pulling down their underwear, and walked to the front of the bed, and forced their mouth open shoving their underwear inside their mouth gagging them. "Not a sound kitty." He said darkly, and Y/N nodded in understanding. Moving back, he moved the skirt up, showing their bare ass. He rubbed it lovingly, and slammed his hand down on it harshly to make sure, the underwear muffled the sounds. Smiling as he heard a muffled yelp, he slowly pulled his shirt off, and unzipped and unbuttoned his pants. Pulling them off, along with his boxers, he stepped out of them watching as Y/N squirmed around impatiently.

Getting on top of the bed, he gripped their hips roughly, knowing he'd leave bruises on them. Making sure they were prepared, he slowly entered in them, and he let out a satisfied moan when he bottomed out. Not moving, he waited for a signal, and once Y/N moved back against him for friction, he took that as the signal. Pulling out completely then slamming back in, he heard Y/N let out a surprised muffled moan. Repeating this action, he made sure to keep his pace even until he himself grew tired of it. Picking up his pace, he watched as Y/N was slowly reaching their high. Reaching forward he helped them reach it, "Cum for me, be the little whore you are and cum for me." He growled out, now ramming into them.

Letting out loud muffled moans, Y/N felt themself cum at his words, and they would've fell onto the bed if it wasn't for Karl's death grip on their hips keeping them up. Keeping his fast pace, he finally came inside of them, and pulled out watching as Y/N helplessly fell onto the bed tiredly. Smirking as he saw the white liquid slowly fall out, he smacked their ass again, this time softer. "You think we are done? Fuck no, get your ass up." He said, and grabbed their hips again, making sure to dig his nails into their skin. "Cat's have 9 lives, so you have 8 more rounds to go." He told them, and Y/N whined out, digging their face into the bed as he slammed back into them without a warning.

By the time it reached 4 A.M. Y/N was worn out, and sore, while Karl was just tired. Falling down beside Y/N he was breathing heavily, "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He said, looking over at Y/N who was just staring at him in a haze. Chuckling he reached over, taking the cat ears off, "Now you know that I will bite back if it comes to it, literally." He said, and Y/N just let out a tired laugh, as they took off the maid outfit, limping to the bathroom to cleanse themself. Karl watched amused at their limping, "Seems like the cat couldn't land on all fours." He joked, and Y/N flipped him off from the bathroom.

"Will you shut up?" Y/N whined, and Karl got up walking into the bathroom, "Seems like someone didn't learn their lesson." He said, picking Y/N up, and walking into the bedroom throwing them down onto the bed harshly. "No- wait- I'm sorry." Y/N said quickly, and Karl looked at them, before he nodded. "Just rest up." He said, handing Y/N his shirt to put on. Putting it on happily, they laid down, Karl wrapping his arm around their waist. "Do you think they heard our argument?" Y/N asked, mainly thinking about if they heard the sexual parts or not. Karl chuckled, "I made sure they didn't hear those parts, don't worry. They probably heard everything else." He admitted, and Y/N nodded their head.

Y/N yawned tiredly, and soon fell asleep. Karl shortly fell asleep after, the two were soon awoken by a loud bang from their living room. Groaning, Y/N rubbed their eyes as they looked around confused, "Karl, someones in the house." They said, and Karl quickly got up walking out of their room to go into the living room. "Holy shit!" Karl yelled, and Y/N bolted out of the room, and found Karl on the floor, and a relieved Chris standing above him. "Oh my god Y/N I thought Karl murdered you!" He said, running over to you, and hugged you. Looking down at Karl confused, Karl shrugged in an answer, "I saw your guys argument, and when Karl or you didn't answer your phones for 12 hours straight, I thought one of you died." He said, and Karl laughed a bit.

Y/N scoffed and mumbled, "One of us did." Which Karl heard, and Chris looked at Y/N confused, "What?" He said, and Karl got up, "They probably got scared from you." He said, and Y/N nodded, "I thought me and Karl were going to be murdered, as it is 6 in the fucking morning Chris!" They yelled the last part, and Chris laughed sheepishly, "I was just worried about my baby cousin, alright?" He said, now embarrassed. "How the hell did you even get in?" Karl asked, and Chris pointed to the now shattered window, "Sorry about that.. I'll ask Jimmy to buy you a new one." He said, and Karl slapped Chris upside the head. "God you're so dumb, and you have a fucking son." Y/N said, rolling their eyes pinching the bridge of their nose.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.5

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4

Summary: someone please give Nicole a break for the love of Miranda. And there be smut y'all

---

Seeing Cassandra's softer side made something flutter within Nicole's chest. The brunette was a sadist through and through. Witness to that fact was the array of torture devices that littered the dungeons. Not to mention the prisoners she frequently killed, only to haul them on the autopsy tables in her study to be examined, chopped and sectioned by the both of them.

But there was an uncharacteristic sort of gentleness in the way their lips slid against each other, sharp teeth occasionally biting down on Nicole's lower lip but never enough to draw blood. In the way Cassandra would drag sharp nails against flushed skin, but not go beyond the pleasurable amount of pain. Even the glint in golden eyes when Nicole went over some old notes of hers on more tricky anatomy concepts. Having an exclusive look at this side of Cassandra felt beyond intimate and the thought almost made her miss when the brunette spoke from where she was leaning over a notebook.

"Okay let's just wrap this up, I have plans."

Nicole hummed, dropping the liver she was holding in a freezer bag. Most body parts were already bagged and ready to be picked up by Cynthia and her undercooks, they were just putting into practice some things the brunette was curious about. She dropped the now blood soaked leather gloves in the sink and went to sit by Cassandra, who was scribbling some final notes.

"In that case I'll go enjoy a cup of tea," she sighed. "Tea that I had to skip because someone was eager to start on this early."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at her, accompanied by her usual smirk. "I meant plans with you."

Oh? That was new. The brunette laughed at Nicole's wide eyed expression and snapped her notebook shut. She took her sweet time putting it on the shelf with the others and checking the time, pretending not to notice the redhead's inquisitive expression. Then, she lifted Nicole’s chin with a thankfully not covered in blood finger.

"Don't get me wrong I love it here but," she grimaced, "it gets stuffy sometimes. Especially in summer."

Well, that much was true. The undergrounds of the castle were oddly warm, although not downright hot, compared to what one would expect from a castle. Pair that with the annoyingly humid atmosphere and having to wear a leather apron and gloves so as to not completely ruin your outfit and you got the perfect recipe for discomfort. She really ought to ask Cassandra about installing some kind of better ventilation down here.

"Meet me in the attic in about… an hour." She leaned down and their mouths were so close that Nicole could feel icy breath on her lips.

The attic? She's never been to the attic, it was not only off limits for most staff but also dangerous if rumors were to be believed. Not that she had the clarity of mind to voice any concerns when Cassandra finally leaned in to kiss her, complete with a nip on her lower lip that made Nicole’s breath hitch.

---

The fact that Nicole had no idea how to get to the attic could be a slight problem. She had asked Anita, but not only did she not know, she also seemed mortified by the idea. Another maid just gave her vague directions to look for a ladder on the top floor. As if that wasn't like trying to find the needle in a haystack. Or the needle in a giant castle.

She was just wandering around the top floor, praying not to stumble upon anyone who would be less than thrilled to see her there. A sigh of relief escaped past her lips when she heard familiar buzzing and steps coming towards her.

"Oh Cas-" she swallowed her words when she noticed red hair spilling from underneath a black hood.

"Nicole! What are you doing here hmm?" Her inquisitive hum was way too exaggerated the same way her fangs seemed too sharp when she grinned.

"I was just looking for Ca- lady Cassandra. She asked me to meet her in the attic."

Daniela's mouth fell open, almost forming an O shape. Then back to her characteristic giggle, almost as if laughing at a joke only she knew.

"What, you don't know how to get there?"

"...Not really," she sheepishly admitted.

And that was a mistake. Nicole would've preferred to wander the hallways until Cassandra eventually got bored enough of waiting and decided to come see where her glorified lab partner was. But her plan was ruined by Daniela wordlessly grabbing her arm and pulling her in the opposite direction she was going in. She even went the extra mile to partially turn into a swarm, which made Nicole's panic skyrocket. She didn't mind bugs. But having hundreds of them fly all around you, accompanied by manic giggling was a whole other thing.

Before she knew it though, Daniela let go of her arm, laughing a little at Nicole's stumbling. She gestured dramatically towards a ladder and said:

"There you go. Say hi to Cassie for me."

"Th- thank you my lady." And with a small bow of the head she grabbed the ladder and started ascending on shaky legs.

"And enjoy your date," she called out, once Nicole was at the top of the stairs.

Blushing, she decided to ignore the comment and start looking for the sister less likely to turn her into fly food.

The attic looked… old. It was obvious that people didn't come here often, although someone probably did clean it regularly as there were no cobwebs nor dirt on any surfaces, aside from some dust. It was full of neatly arranged boxes and crates, their contents as mysterious as the castle's inhabitants. Tentative steps took her across ancient floorboards, navigating old rooms.

"Rah!"

Nicole damn near jumped out of her skin, a string of curses spilling past her lips. "Jesus fucking christ Cassandra!"

The brunette only laughed, hands on her knees and pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"That's what you get for making me wait for so long."

"I didn't even know where the attic entrance was! Good thing one of your sisters came to my rescue." Nicole rolled her eyes at the last word.

Cassandra stopped laughing, eyes narrowing slightly. "Which one?"

"Uh- Danie-"

"Did she hurt you?" Cassandra grabbed her arms, golden eyes looking for any visible injuries.

Nicole just laughed softly, taken off guard by the display of concern. "No, no. Just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all."

With an eye roll, Cassandra guided her further into the attic, through more dusty rooms, until they reached a short corridor, light spilling from its other end. The room they entered was relatively small, almost half of it occupied by stacked boxes as if it used to be a storage room like the rest of the attic and nobody bothered to completely clear it out. A few pieces of furniture were also present: a couch with a coffee table in front of it and paintings leaning against a wall to collect dust. This room however had a window, left slightly ajar, that allowed you to see the mountains stretching on the horizon, crowned by the beautiful orange hues of dusk.

Nicole moved to the glass to take in the view, mouth almost hanging open, when an ungodly screech from outside made her backpedal straight into Cassandra.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked, eyes widening at the sight of flying creatures circling the towers.

"Mother's flying guard dogs."

"They sound the same way I'd imagine the souls of the damned do." Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the ghoulish creatures, almost as if keeping eye contact would dissuade them from attacking.

Cassandra just shrugged. "Wouldn't be too far off. Also here." She sat on the couch, gesturing towards a cup.

Nicole went to sit by her side, grabbing the mystery cup. She frowned slightly when the steam reached her nose, bringing with it a pleasant minty and honey aroma.

"Tea?"

"Since you were so disheartened about having to skip it earlier," Cassandra averted her eyes, seemingly finding the curtains very interesting.

After a long sip, she let out a content sigh. The warmth was more than welcomed, despite the weather. She set the cup back on the table and turned her attention on the brunette, now fidgeting with the corner of a pillow.

"Thank you," Nicole said, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Cassandra smiled and turned around, locking their lips in a kiss that at first mimicked her gentleness, but soon turned hungry when dainty hands made their way to the brunette's nape, pulling her closer. She shifted them both, pushing Nicole down on the pillows littering the couch, until she was laying on top of her, legs on each side of her waist. Her focus was on leaving a trail of nips and kisses down Nicole's neck when the redhead jumped and barely stifled a yelp at another screech from outside.

"Ugh what the fuck is today, scare me out of my mind day?"

"How are you scared of these but countless dead bodies don't phase you?" Cassandra laughed, sound muffled by her position with her mouth against Nicole's neck.

"I used to work on corpses, not on ugly gargoyles that could chew my face off!" She gestured wildly at the window and the few creatures visible outside.

"You what?"

"You...didn't know?" Nicole couldn't help a giggle at Cassandra's confused expression.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought your mother told you already. Or your sisters," Nicole shrugged.

"They knew?!" And, after something seemed to dawn on her, "Oh I'm gonna kick both their asses."

Nicole couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, placing her hands on Cassandra's cheeks and, with a pout for dramatic effect, "Right now?"

As much as the sight was both funny and endearing, the warmth starting to pool at her core was making her beyond impatient.

The indignation in golden eyes was replaced by an all too familiar glint and black painted lips went back to their work on Nicole's neck. Sharp fangs pierced the skin there, just enough to draw a few drops of blood and a whine. After licking every last bit of it, Cassandra's lips moved to the collarbones and lower, hands slowly starting to undo the buttons of Nicole's pesky uniform that was in the way.

When both the button up and the skirt were discarded on the floor Nicole tangled her fingers through black hair and pulled Cassandra in for a kiss. Her free hand went to the back of the dress, pulling down the zipper and guiding it off of the brunette's shoulders. Once both of them were left only in undergarments, Nicole pulled back to look up at the brunette.

"If I knew I was supposed to dress up I would've asked the chambermaid if there's anything fancy in the uniform stash," she said, taking in the beautifully intricate lace of Cassandra's matching bra and underwear, complete with a giggle at her awful joking.

The brunette only raised an eyebrow. "Mhm I can take care of that. Not like you'll need these for long though." Her hands reached under Nicole's back to unclasp her bra and in mere moments that too was on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Then Cassandra bent down to crash their lips together, tongue slipping past Nicole's lips when a wandering hand elicited a gasp from her.

Cassandra was by no means a patient person. Quite the opposite actually. But teasingly dragging her nails across sensitive skin only to feel the girl under her squirm and whine when her hand just won't go where she needed it made waiting all the more sweet. Slender fingers started to toy with the edges of Nicole's underwear. After a groan against her lips and an impatient tug of hair, Cassandra finally gave in, slipping two fingers inside her. She felt Nicole arch into her, a broken moan escaping past her lips when she broke the kiss to let her head fall back into the cushions. Cassandra took that as an opportunity to kiss the length of her neck, occasionally stopping to suck or bite at a spot, enjoying every gasp and moan she drew out of the redhead.

With Cassandra's rough pace it didn't take long before Nicole was clenching her thighs around her hand. Cassandra kissed her, swallowing her moan as she came.

The small room in the attic, Cassandra's drawing room she would later find out, was the perfect secluded spot. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other. First evening of many.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Armin having a crush on you while you're dating Eren pt.3

{ Armin x reader, Eren x reader | suggestive | tw:possessive behaviour, tw:unhealthy-friendships, tw:toxic, tw:jealousy | angst, drama, pinning | modern }

{ "the stranded ship" 1843 by Asher Brown Durand 1796 - 1886 }

The anniversary of your first meeting was coming soon, an entire year since you stumbled into his life by mere accident.

Armin would've never guessed bumping into you outside the library would've had such an impact, and what a beautiful accident it was.

And now, an entire year later he can see clearly why you stole his heart.

He found in you what he lacked, things he desired and admired for so long, things that made him feel at ease.

Things he oh so desperately wanted.

Just your mention would make his mood better, the thought of you making the sky seem a bit brighter and the world not so dim anymore.

He was smitten and he knew it, after all how could he deny it.

especially since he's read about it in a hundred different books, the stories of those similarly struck by cupid's bow as they got high on love alone.

Watched it in tens of tv shows, people falling for each other, struggling to get together despite the world pulling them apart.

And as much as others would scoff and turn their noses at these things, calling it a mere fantasy, he couldn't deny how much deep down he hoped for it.

Maybe he was just too romantic with his head swimming in the clouds, maybe he was too eager and hopeful for a connection.

But he swore he could see it clear as day, see the both of you falling in love.

At that time, he could recite how it would go as if it was a movie playing in his mind just as he fell asleep, dreaming about a soon-to-be-real fantasy each night.

He's willing to put in the effort, you're worth the work after all.

And so he began making subtle moves, showing interest in small ways, bit by bit till he got bolder day by day.

As far as anyone could tell, you seemed to be on board.

But Armin was never sure, he didn't want to mess this up and make a move that might make you pull away.

He wasn't looking for a nonchalant sure from you, he was looking for an enthusiastic yes.

Which is why he took his sweet time getting closer, strategically considering every move and step, making plans for dates and backup plans if plan A failed.

He was giving his all, squeezing his brain for all it's worth as he analysed every move.

It's just that he didn't want to mess this up.

As if.

Fate had it's way as always, maybe he just cared so much about the tiny details that he was blind to the big signs, for how could he notice the sun if he was too busy studying the grains of sand.

Or maybe, pushing all that philosophical bullshit aside, he just waited too long.

You also made your moves but he didn't seem to respond in a clear way, not fully showing interest since he was too lost in his own mind.

Did you feel like he was subtly rejecting you? Did you feel like he was attempting to push you in the friendzone? 

He can't know how you felt, and whatever it was it must have been why you didn't hesitate to say yes to the next person who asked you out.

Which just happened to be Eren.

Thinking back to how it all fell apart, Armin would curse his past naive self for simply standing aside, without making an attempt to stop it as he watched Eren integrate himself into your life.

At the time he thought he was being the bigger person, a good friend to someone he brought he could trust.

He thought life couldn't be that cruel, in the end his hard word should pay off as you realise you belong with him right?

Ha!

Ha…No.

How could he have been so blind and stupid?

It's been a year since you've known Armin but it's been 9 months since you've been dating Eren.

He went through it all, becoming well acquainted with the stages of grief.

But he's fed up honestly.

He swears he could almost lose his mind if he saw another video of you on Eren’s Instagram story.

The other proudly showing you off in his arms, knowing exactly what he's doing.

And so Armin decided enough is enough, he's taking back what he lost, what rightfully should've been his and screw being a good friend.

He knew he can't just barge into your apartment, confess his undying love and ride into the sunset with you smitten in his arms.

Unless he wanted a restraining order.

What does he want most?

You of course.

What is he best at?

...being subtle.

It's what got him into this mess in the first place, and so it will be his saving grace.

A good morning text a day, nothing more or less, simple yet effective.

And that, turning into him checking on you throughout the day, you know casual stuff.

Did you eat? How did that project go? It's raining, did you take an umbrella ?

Slowly, day by day your conversations will grow as you get used to him being a part of your daily routine.

And that's when he turns it up a notch, maybe you'd like to meet at the nearby park? Or grab some coffee in the morning?

You need a friend to shop with? Yeah he's free and he would even carry your bags

...or well attempt to, cut him some slack you know he isn't that strong yet is trying his best.

Maybe, after some weeks of you falling back into the routine of meeting up with him, he could invite you over again.

Just like the good old times.

Of course he'd never tell you the reason he stopped visiting your place was because he couldn't stand seeing Eren’s clothes scattered around.

All you'll hear is that he feels the most comfortable at his own place, he even prepared some lunch and made freshly squeezed juice! You wouldn't say no to him after all the effort he did would you?

Yeah...you couldn't, that's exactly why he made sure only to ask you to come over after he finished preparing everything. 

You're a good person, you wouldn't want his work to go to waste would you? You wouldn't do that to him.

The small lunch you agreed on, soon enough turned into watching tv together.

Oh wow the show he picked is so good, and each episode ends in a cliffhanger, lucky he has all episodes on Netflix so you wouldn't mind watching them all now would you?

Let's just turn autoplay on and not pay attention to how each episode is an hour long.

The next thing you know, it's dark outside and you're yawning while hugging a blanket close on the couch.

Your phone was in the other room, it's 11pm and you have 5 missed calls from Eren at different hours.

Armin would assure you that it's just Eren being Eren, you should just send a text back later.

And aren't you hungry? How about you and him go make midnight dinner and think about these stuff later.

After you have your food, you realise it's too late to go home.

Not to mention Armin's words about how dangerous it is to walk alone this late aren't exactly helping.

Of course he's quick to apologise, claiming he's just...worried about you, why don't you stay over instead?

He even has some fresh towels and blankets.

Why?...uh no reason, laundry day just happened to be yesterday so that's why.

And for a single day, he gets to wake up to you first thing in the morning, to see the way the sun would fall on your face as he opened the curtains.

The way he gets to tuck you in and adjust the blanket before he goes to make breakfast, no way he's not spoiling you rotten while he has you in his bed.

You'd be sleeping soundly one minute and the next gently stirred awake to the delicious smell of pancakes.

Armin's smiling face, as he murmurs a good morning in his sleepy voice.

God he wishes he can stay in this moment forever.

But, Armin knows exactly what he's doing, he's 100% self aware.

Maybe that's why he doesn't feel bad when reassuring you that it's still too early to leave, and how about you help him move some boxes to the closet instead?

Oh! What's that? You found an old book in one of them, how bizarre, not to mention it's the one that inspired your favourite movie.

You wouldn't mind him reading you some lines would you?

But he doesn't wanna spoil the details for you, there's a lot of extra content the movie left out.

So how about this instead, forget the boxes, you and him should go back in bed and let him read you the book.

Why would he be the one reading? Because his storytelling is good and you know it, soon enough you'll find yourself entranced by the story as the outer world blurs out into a haze.

Time flies by quickly, because he's such a natural at it and so it's the afternoon when the doorbell rings, bringing you back to reality.

It's Eren, coming to pick you up because you weren't answering your phone.

After you leave, and his little play pretend date ends, he's taken back to the cold truth that no matter what, you will go back home to Eren by then end of the day.

Never him.

Well, not for long.

...

The car ride back home with Eren was...uncomfortable in a way.

His grip too tight on the steering wheel, shoulders too stiff and narrowed eyes glancing at you every once.

And yet he didn't say much, only answering your attempt at starting a conversation with a single word or a hum.

Maybe he was too lost in his own mind, making connections to how Armin seemed to he inviting you places more and more

How each time you come back much later than promised

But the thing that bothered him to the core, was the fact you'd just spend the night at Armin's place with no warning beforehand.

Eren has been trying to convince you to move into his apartment for what seemed like forever, and each time you'd refuse saying you needed your privacy and yet you'd just go and stay over at another guy's house like it's nothing 

He wanted to scream, he was fuming inside.

This isn't the only thing that got on his nerves, it's how your phone never seemed to shut up, one text notification after the other and even at the earliest hours of the day.

And for some reason you'd open the phone with a smile, never ignoring any of them because it's too rude to ignore a text.

Then why the fuck didn't you pick up his calls.

He had an idea on who has been texting you, he's not stupid.

He can't even count the amount of times he almost clocked out of work or canceled his plans last minute just because you called saying you're going out with Armin for the day.

Just the idea of you alone with someone else in some secluded area made him want to drop everything and go after you.

He's been attempting to get you closer to his mother, just to show how serious he was about you.

And maybe to show you off to her, but he would never admit it that he takes pride in flaunting you around in front of his family.

Carla even seemed to like you too, making you some food every once in a while, inviting you over for family dinner and including you in game nights.

It was an unspoken rule that you and Eren were an item, even if nothing was official, he made it clear to his family that it will be.

Maybe he'd even introduce you to Zeke one day, someone most of his friends don't even know he's related to.

Well the other already knows about you to be fair, it was by mere chance that you happened to call when both of them were smoking at the front porch while his mom made dinner.

Eren couldn't help the stupid grin spreading over his face when you called, almost forgetting his big brother was next to him the more he talked to you, playfully teasing.

The other observed quietly, the only acknowledgement he gave Eren was patting his back with a chuckle before going to help Carla inside.

Eren was late to dinner, having lost track of time while talking to you.

Sometimes he wonders how did it all get like this, how did he manage to get this infatuated with you.

He won't lie, he wanted to get closer to you since the day Armin brought you to hang out with their group.

His eyes wouldn't leave you, even if they did they'd soon glance back to you.

Even Jean was out of his mind that they didn't argue at all, instead Eren’s entire focus and attention was on the way you laughed each time Connie would tell a joke.

Or the way you licked your lips after Sasha offered you a bite of her food.

It wasn't until Marco asked him what's wrong that he realised he hasn't said a thing the entire time.

So he didn't waste his chance, shooting his shot right away and moving to sit beside you.

It wasn't even a full week before he asked you out, because what's the worst that could happen? If you reject him then he'd just laugh it off and attempt to get closer to you before asking you again after some months.

To his surprise, you welcomed his advances with open arms from the first time and that is what made him latch onto you even more.

He didn't expect to succeed from the first time, although it was a pleasant surprise it still made him wonder if you would've done the same to someone else.

...if you would've still said yes to someone else asking you, that it was more of being at the right place and time that made him win you over.

He knows it's irrational thinking to get irritated by imaginary scenarios that have no proof but it didn't quell his mind.

Thank fuck he snatched you first.

And what a catch you were, perfectly fitting for him as if you were specifically designed.

Your kisses could make him melt into a puddle, your touch could make him lose his breath.

He genuinely enjoyed spending time with you, just the two of you alone.

Not to mention how you are such an adorable thing too whenever you show him your hobbies or interests.

You've always given him validation without him having to ask for it, so much that he's almost addicted.

Mainly coming to you for compliments whenever he does a thing, just hugging you from behind and giving you those eyes till you've boosted his ego enough.

Maybe that's why he started clinging to you more, taking you to cheer for him whenever he went to play basketball with Jean and Reiner, even teaching you some moves just for an excuse to hold you closer from behind as you bounce the ball.

Or pulling you into his lap while playing videogames, giving you a kiss each time he wins and shamelessly asking for a prize afterwards.

Or maybe tracing his fingers up and down your thighs under the table at family dinner nights, more focused on the lining of your inner thigh than whatever story his father is telling about work 

you just...made his life better, more fun and so full of colour.

He could see something coming out of this relationship, a burred future but a future nonetheless.

Now with his face softened, he glanced at you again, meeting your gaze.

One of his hands left the wheel, taking your hand instead and giving it a small squeeze.

A silent apology maybe? Or was it to reassure himself that you're still with him.

That's exactly why things like these get a strong reaction from him, it's not that he doesn't trust you, it's that he doesn't trust the world around you.

Mostly because he knows Armin, more than anyone else, hell even more than Mikasa.

He has known him since kindergarten, and while Armin never picks up a fight, he never runs  away from one.

Eren isn't delusioned with the awkward and innocent front everyone else thinks of Armin, he fucking knows what he's capable of.

And he knows the second he lets his guard down, Armin wouldn't bat an eye before using it to get closer to you.

The worst mistake someone could ever do is underestimate his friend

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Number 17 (kissing to hide from bad guys) for the fic prompts? Bonus points if it's from one of the earlier seasons (maybe when they're still actively researching statements?) but the choice is entirely yours

so this is set in s3, sometime after 102. (possibly an au... who's to say!!) as such, warning for references to jon's kidnapping in 101, and scenes of people think they might be taken/killed/etc.

17. Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

" Here, " Jon whispers in a panic in Martin's ear, and pulls him abruptly towards a shadowy spot in an alley. Martin goes along immediately, pressing towards the wall while also trying to push himself in front of Jon. Jon's breathing is sharp and frantic, his hand tight where it's clutching at Martin's arm, and the footsteps of their pursuers are still echoing slowly down the street. 

This was meant to be a work trip—or whatever passes for that these days. Another attempt to locate the ritual site for the Unknowing. Elias had suggested Jon go, and Martin hadn't wanted him to go alone. That's the last thing Jon needs, after everything, after being held captive for a month… Martin hadn't been willing to risk it, the possibility of Jon being taken again. 

It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, Elias had said. Just a simple scouting, it probably wasn't the site in the first place, the Stranger might not even be there, surely the fact that Jon had escaped so easily meant they wouldn't come after him again… 

This is clearly not true. They'd been spotted, inside the warehouse where they'd been searching. Martin can remember the moment with a shocking clarity: Jon's sharp intake of breath as he'd reached out to grab Martin's arm, his nails digging frantically into Martin's skin, the slow way Martin had looked up and seen it. Them. Things that looked wrong, inhuman, in a way that Martin can't even describe.

They've come after them. Followed them out of the warehouse, onto the street, and of course no one is around to see them, and Martin knows they should've gone for the rental car, should've immediately gone for the rental car, but they'd taken some wrong turns, frantic to get away from the blank-faced figures (the cheery voice calling for the Archivist and asking about his skin, and Martin is going to throw up). And now they're here, hiding in some alley while these things pretending to be human are searching for them, coming for Jon all over again. 

Jon's breathing has gone shaky. He's pulling at Martin's arm like they can get any further into the wall. Martin's got an arm in front of Jon, like they're in a car about to crash, and he's staring out at the alley, waiting for those things to catch up, and he says the first thing he can think of, in a whisper: "I-I won't let them take you again." 

Jon's breathing goes tighter somehow. "Martin, you can't… "

"I'm not going to let them take you, Jon!" Martin hisses, his voice pitching too high for a moment. Jon squeezes his arm frantically and he backtracks, quieter: " Sorry, sorry, it's just… I'm not letting that happen to you again!"

"They'd kill you," Jon whispers. "They wouldn't hesitate , Martin, and I am not… I am not losing anyone else!"

The footsteps echo closer; the echoing sing-song-y voice comes again, calling for Jon. Panic slices through Martin like a knife and he presses closer, as if physically shielding Jon will do a damn thing. (Maybe it will. You never know; maybe it will.) "W-we should run for the car," he says. (Although at the moment he has absolutely no idea where they parked it.)

"We'll never make it," Jon murmurs. Martin turns a little in time to see Jon, who's staring off into the distance with wide, haunted eyes. "We need to hide. " 

Martin looks back towards the street, at the approaching shadows. "I'll distract them," he says—one last ditch effort to at least get Jon to safety. "A-and you run."

"What? No. Martin." Jon's voice is pressing now; his hand slips from Martin's arm down to Martin's hand, intertwining their fingers. Martin looks back, startled, and finds Jon staring at him nervously. "Martin, do you trust me?" he says, voice wavering. 

Martin blinks a few rapid times. "Wh-what?" he says, caught off guard; he holds tighter to Jon's hand, suddenly worried that Jon is going to run out and distract them so Martin won't have to. 

Jon exhales frustratedly. "It's just that… I have an idea of how we could hide, and i-it's a little unusual, and stupid, a-and so I wanted your… to make sure you are all right with it first…"

The voice is getting closer. Panic snaps through Martin, and he hisses frantically, "Yes, whatever, it's fine, j-just do it before…" 

Jon lets go of Martin's hand and moves, in a flash, to cup the side of his face, both hands, and Martin only has a moment to wonder what the hell is going on before Jon rises on tiptoes, pulls Martin down a bit, and kisses him. 

Martin's brain shorts out for a moment—stuck between the marvel of him kissing Jon, Jon kissing him—and the panic of the fact that they're being chased by mannequin-things that will probably skin them. He makes a muffled, startled sound into Jon's mouth. Jon's hands are trembling on his face. 

Then the pieces start to slide together—Jon's doing that movie bit, where you kiss to hide from the bad guys. Quite possibly ridiculous, but it's something, something more than one of them being bait. (And to be entirely ridiculous for a moment… if they're both about to die, Martin's glad he's gotten to kiss Jon before he's done it.) So Martin plays along. He leans down and turns them a bit, so Jon's in the corner between the Dumpster and the wall, and his back is blocking the both of them from view; he'll look more inconspicuous than Jon will. 

And then he kisses Jon back. Tentatively, at first (just because you kiss someone to hide from monsters or whatever doesn't mean you actually want to kiss them), and then a little deeper. The way he's wanted to kiss Jon this whole time, as long as he's ever thought about it. He brings a hand to Jon's face, too, thinking to hide it from the Stranger. Pushes a little bit of hair behind Jon's ear. Jon leans into the touch; his right thumb moves, slowly, over Martin's cheek, and Martin has to hold back something that might be a sob. He leans closer, their foreheads almost touching, trying to focus on the fact that there are things trying to kill them, and not just on the fast that he is kissing Jon… 

Jon breaks away abruptly. Pulls back just far enough that their mouths aren't touching anymore—his hands still on Martin's face—and says, "I… Martin, I-I think they're gone now." He is breathing hard, his eyes darting over Martin's shoulder and then back. 

Martin is probably breathing hard too. He is drawing a blank; his hand is still in Jon's hair. "They're… they're gone?" he says, still in a whisper. His voice is shaking, he thinks. 

"Yes… yes, they're gone now." Jon looks right at him, his dark eyes huge in the dim light of the alley. "Martin… Martin, I am so… " 

"Car," says Martin. It is the first word he comes up with—they need to go, there are still things trying to kill them, and they can't just stand around talking when… He grabs Jon's hand where it's lowering, somewhere around his neck, and squeezes urgently. "Jon, car, we need to go… "

" Christ, I forgot, I…" Jon shakes his head hard and moves with Martin towards the opposite end of the alley. He doesn't let go of Martin's hand, all the way to the car, where they've left it two blocks away. Martin climbs immediately in the driver's seat, and turns the key, and drives off without hesitation, too fast to even buckle his seatbelt. 

There is silence in the car for a moment, as they drive away. Martin grips the wheel hard and stares straight out of the front window, unsure of what the hell to say. (Unsure whether to say Thank you for coming up with a plan to save our lives, or You just kissed me in an alley, maybe we should talk about this? or I've been in love with you for about a year now, and I guess you beat me to the punch, except I don't know if you actually MEANT it. ) But in the end, it's Jon who breaks the silence—to say, in a tight, rigid voice, "Martin, I am so sorry."

Martin's hands actually tighten around the wheel somehow. "Wh-what?" he says, uncertain. "What do you mean… Jon, you saved us."

"Th-that was entirely unprofessional, I… I shouldn't have kissed you like that, I just… I-I was afraid they'd find us, and it was all I could think of, and I just…" Jon's blushing. Martin can see it out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Martin takes a shaky breath. He must be blushing, too, he thinks; his face and neck feel like they're on fire. He says, "You don't have to be sorry," just as Jon says, "I-I didn't want to go back." Martin's mouth shuts like a trap as Jon keeps talking: "I… if I went back, I think they would have… and I didn't want… and I thought if they took you… th-they would've killed you, Martin, and I wouldn't… I didn't…"

"It's okay , Jon," Martin blurts, and as soon as he says it, he finds he means it. "It is. I… I was scared, too."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought you, Martin, I should've left you at home…"

"Did you forget the part where I insisted on coming?" Martin laughs a little. "I… I'm glad you weren't here alone, Jon. I didn't want them to take you again. I…" He swallows hard, stares out at the road in front of him. One of his hands falls away from the wheel, towards the center console. "Please don't say you wish I hadn't been here. Please."

Jon's quiet for a moment. The only sound is the tires chewing up the road beneath them, before he finally says, "Still. I-I never should have kissed you, Martin. I am so… "

"Jon, you don't… y-you don't need to apologize, okay? You don't, " says Martin. "It's okay, it's fine, it was… I-I didn't mind, all right? You don't need to apologize."

"I… I should have clarified. I didn't really ask before I…"

" Jon. Please, it's okay. " Martin reaches for something else to say, and all he can come up with is: "I have had much worse kisses, okay? Much worse."

Jon laughs, a laugh sharp with surprise. After a moment, Martin laughs, too. This whole night has been so absurd. They were chased by some mannequins or whatever, they had to run for their lives, and Jon kissed him, and he kissed Jon, and they're alive. It's pretty hilarious, if you think about it for more than five minutes. It's about as absurd as anything else they've been through in the past year. He'd take this all over being trapped by worms. 

"I… I have, too, actually," says Jon, finally, after they've stopped laughing. " Much worse. You're not…" He stops, makes a strangled noise like he's embarrassed or something, before going on. "Th-thank you, Martin. Really."

Martin chews at his lower lip. "Thank you, " he says. "For… for getting us out of there." 

Jon takes a shaky breath. His fingers brush over Martin's free hand, where it's resting over the center console; Martin tenses all over, automatically, but Jon doesn't take it. Just brushes his fingers there. Martin thinks of Jon's expression before he leaned up to kiss him, Jon's fingers against his cheeks. 

"I… I should've left you at home," Jon says, almost reluctantly. "But I'm… glad you came with me, Martin. I'm glad you're with me."

Martin swallows hard. Bites back a small smile. He'd meant it, when he kissed Jon back; he wishes he could tell Jon he meant it. (He could, he supposes. Nothing stopping him. He wonders what Jon would say back.) 

But what he says is, "I am, too," because it's a sort of a confession, and he means it, too, as much as the kiss. Even with the almost dying, with all of it, he's glad, somehow, he was here. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jon smile, just a little. Martin smiles, too.

[kindnessisweakness2]

{DELUSIONAL- PART 4}

*Not my GIF, can we all just take a second to appreciate those hands tho?😍*

Sitting up at the sound of her alarm, Delaney groaned. Grabbing her denim shorts she wore last night from the floor she pulled them on and made her way to Jax's room. Knocking on the door, she opened it just in time to see him exit the bathroom in only jeans and still wet from the shower. "Hey D, you sleep here?" Nodding her head she tried her best to keep her eyes from wandering to his chest. "Yeah I was too tired to drive home. Can I use your shower and borrow a hoodie? The one in the spare dorm still isn't working". Jax smiled at her. "You know you don't have to ask. Take what you want, I've got church." Delaney's heart skipped as he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. As she watched him pull his shirt on over his head and make his way down the hall Delaney couldn't help but think that he was going to be the death of her.

An hour later Delaney was freshly showered and dressed in a pair of Jax's grey sweatpants and white samcro t-shirt. She was most of the way done with cleaning the bar when Gemma made her way in holding a package. "Here sweetie. This came for you" handing the box to a confused Delaney Gemma leaned against the bar waiting for her to open it. Reluctantly Delaney removed the cherry red bow and lifted the lid to reveal the expensive chocolates on the inside. There was a white envelope with her name typed on the front. The same as all the other ones her 'Secret admirer' had left her. Her stomach twisted up into Knots as she opened the letter.

"To the love of my life. Why must you do this to me? You flaunt your love for him in my face. All I do is try to make you happy. I treat you so much better than he EVER Would. I send you flowers, chocolates and shower you with compliments and you don't even notice me. You pretend I'm not there. He will never love you like I could. He doesn't even know you love him. He doesn't WANT you. Not like I do. If he wasnt around, you'd be with me. You need to take this as a warning my sweet girl. Stay away from the little 'Prince' Or I'll have no choice but to hurt him."

Underneath the letter was a photo taken at last night's party of them embracing outside by the picnic tables. Delaney had told Jax how happy she was to have him home. It had been horrible not having him around. She missed him terribly. It would've been a nice photo if taken in different circumstances. Delaney covered her face at the realisation she'd put Jax in danger. Tears welled in her eyes as she knew she had no choice but to tell the club now. She didn't care about her life but Jax's was different. Jax was important to her. Hell he was important to everyone. He'd never hurt her and was always there for her without question and what did she do in return? Put him on a mad man's target list!!

Looking to a confused Gemma in panic Delaney's tears spilled over. "I'm so sorry Gemma. We need to speak to the club. I-ill explain everything. I promise" Delaney sobbed as Gemma pulled her into a tight hug. After a few minutes Delaney wiped her eyes and made her way towards the large wooden doors that lead to the club's meeting room. Banging on the door she waited for the sound of clays voice shouting "come in" before she and Gemma entered. Everyone's faces turned to worry as they looked at Delaney. Her face was flushed, her eyes were red and still full of tears and she was clearly distressed. "Can I have a minute with you guys? I'm really sorry to interrupt." Nodding his head Clay moved his chair to the side allowing Delaney to address the club from the head of the table. Gemma moved to stand being Clay and waited for Delaney to start explaining. Stood inbetween clay and jax she looked so small and fragile, especially in Jax's oversized clothes, and that's exactly how she felt in that moment. "Erm I'm not sure how to start this but for the last few weeks I've been having weird things happen. I've been getting flower deliveries and chocolates and notes left for me. Both here and at home. I'm not sure who is sending them or even why but he just calls himself my 'Secret admirer'. It all started when Jax left for Nevada. The notes are your usual creepy shit, mainly compliments but he details places where I've been that day and photos of me. I'm 100% he's following me. I didn't go home last night and I lied to you about why. Because I felt scared that he knew where I lived I put cameras up outside my house. I thought that if I could catch him on footage id know who it was and could get him to stop." Delaney swallowed thickly. Tears freely spilling over now. "I caught him on camera watching me through my window sleeping. I was so stressed I took a couple sleeping tablets so I was knocked out cold. He just stood there for hours watching me. I couldn't see who it was or anything noticeable about him as he was dressed in all black. He could've broken in and done anything and I wouldn't of woken up." Delaney broke down. All the fear and stress she felt for weeks came spilling out. Jax stood and pulled her into a tight hug. "I didn't want to tell anyone because it's not your problem. I didn't want you guys to take this on. I was just going to ignore it and hoped he'd give up and go away. But it's not just me he's targeting now. I don't care about me but I won't let people get hurt because of me" passing the note and the photo that came with the chocolates around Delaney watched as every member became visibly more angry. Jax was the worst. He held her tightly, eyes smouldering with fury and jaw tightly clenched. How fucking dare someone target her. Was the only thing he could think. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt her. He'd die first.

And as Jax made that vow in his mind to protect her, Delaney could only think that this was the beginning of something nasty. And she was the cause of it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And that's it!! Part 4 is up!! Thank you so much for everyone's support on this story so far. I really hope you enjoy it. As always feedback and advice always welcome. Part 5 soon to follow!

Love to you all, stay safe! 🌷

[idjitlili]

Oh no, all the hobbits Aragorn.

Aragorn x reader.

Request for Thatfoolishhuman 'I would love an Aragorn imagine! Could you do one where the Mc is a healer (like, she can make wounds disappear with her hands.) and she patches Aragorn up after a battle and he falls in love with how gentle she is.'

Summary: Imagine being apart of the fellowship, being Gandalf's niece , you learn some stuff from him whether he liked it or not. Basically following the fellowship in secret from Rivendell, until you slipped up.

A/n: Arwen and Aragorn aren't together in this imagine, he still grew up with Elrond. A pitch is a piggyback ride it's the original name for it. Totally didn’t make a meme for this

Word count:2253

Warnings: I'm British, so spelling for certain words differs, such as grey, colour, among other words, don't be mad please.

Growing up around a wizard, especially Gandalf the grey, you learnt a lot. He just left books laying around, books full of spells. Of course Gandalf wasn't really related to you, but he might as well have been. Your parents travelled a lot, so you ended up being around Gandalf most of your childhood.

Gandalf had taught you some basic spells, nothing major, healing spells mostly, children are clumsy. It was no secret your parents didn't like you running through the forests, saying it was too dangerous , general protectiveness, you guess. Many times they proved that they were right, many times you had fallen into traps left for animals. You would've probably bled out, if it wasn't for Gandalf.

Still living with your parents, no longer a child, not knowing what you wanted to do, you parents wanted you to go work in the local bakery, not wanting you to travel around like they did, dangerous times with black riders frequently on the road and such. But of course you didn't want a simple life.

Again your parents had left on business, this time you didn't go to Gandalf's house, you had maybe listened in, when going to visit Frodo , only to see Samwise Gamgee listening under the window. You know how it goes, Gandalf caught him, not you.

You ended up following Frodo, Sam , Merry and Pippin. Life is boring, might as well take a risk, you longed for adventure, like the mister Bilbo. 

Surprisingly the elves had not even noticed you at Rivendell, actually not surprising Gandalf had brought you there many times, so they probably thought you were with him. You had waited in the trees outside Rivendell's gates, for them. 

You hadn't know what was actually going on , or whether there would actually be a quest, but to your lucky there was. Not really lucky for Boromir though... soon enough Frodo and Gandalf had emerged along with 7 others.

You weren't noticed for a long time considering, Frodo's fault completely, when Frodo had fallen down the mountain in the snow, you had been hiding not so great in the snow, and of course Frodo landed facing you. While Aragorn had rushed back to Frodo, Frodo's face was laced with confusion as he stared at you.

"Y/n...?" Frodo had stood up, not realising he had dropped the ring, you rising with your backpack and coat one, with the snow littering your hair.  Aragorn had just stared too moving towards Frodo, carefully, the others travelling down to see what was going on.

"Oh, Frodo!  What are you doing here? I was just out to get some milk for my dinner." Standing calf deep in snow, freezing, yet your facing burning with embarrassment.

"I was wondering when you'd reveal yourself." Gandalf chuckling , of course he knew you were there, but what you didn't know was that Gollum had been not even three feet away from you..  Gandalf had turned back grabbing the ring from Boromir and launching it at Frodo, like he was Michael Jordan.

"Gandalf who is this?" Gimli of all of the fellowship had questioned you, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind.

"Y/n is my niece , now come along we don't have all day."

Thus, you were no longer a stalker , but part of the fellowship. Time had passed and you had lost your uncle, but it didn't feel right, you couldn't process his death, so you pretended he just slipped on some bread and was at home resting.

Soon enough you were all heading for Lothlórien, without realising it, you had stayed close to Legolas at this moment, mostly to bug him.

"If elves are so great, then how didn't you notice me? For all you know I could've been watching you pee, I wasn't but I could've been.  While you was sleeping I could've chopped your hair off and made a wig. Why do you look like your are apart of a dance routine? Why do you float? How does it feel to have a dick for a father?" Rambling on , you are surprised that Legolas doesn't whoop you, he could've, you wouldn't have been able to do much, you aren't the best person at defence.

You couldn't tell if you was annoying Legolas or not, but Gimli had kept smirking your way, as he stomped through the forest.

"Hey, Legolas? "

"Yes, y/n?" Legolas had sighed , he much preferred Gimli antics.

"Can I have a pitch?" But he had just stared at you, frowning, huffing you had walking around Legolas so you was next to Aragorn. Only for your ankle to roll, making you fall into Aragorn, it didn't necessarily hurt but. Aragorn had grabbed you and placed you back onto your feet.

"Um, Aragorn? You know you much better that Legolas..? Can I have a pitch?" You were undoubtedly attracted Aragorn, come on, he looks like a God. Fuck Thor. He didn't even answer just knelt down, allowing you to grip around his neck, and grab your calf's. Carrying on walking with ease.

Raising your eyebrows and smirking at Legolas behind you, he just never showed any emotion, except in that scene with Haldir , where he just smirks creepily in the background.

You weren't particularly close to anyone in the fellowship other than Frodo and Sam. But when Boromir died, yes it was sad, but where did the hobbits go? You had stayed close to Aragorn as he fought down the Uruk-hai as you hid in a tree. Before lifting you down, rushing to dying Boromir.

"They took the little ones,"

"Be still."

"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him."

Kneeling next to Boromir, "The hobbits Aragorn, but we shall get them back." Boromir was too far gone to be saved, the wrong brother died sadly. Boromir eyes had met yours once more , as he smiled , before he finished his speech to his king.

After Boromir was sent home, the fellowship was down to just four, rushing after Merry and Pippin.  "We must hurry! The hobbits Aragorn!" Five minutes of running , and you were already getting a stitch.  This was no time for jokes.

Soon enough Gandalf was alive, and Aragorn was dead, as Théoden had lead you all to helms deep. You had seen Eowyn, oh how heartbroken she was after she found out Aragorn was dead, that bitch knew him for what five minutes, she was already grinding up on him.

You were witch, she was a princess, obviously Aragorn was going to prefer her. Soon enough Aragorn practically marching into helms deep, injured but alive , what's with all the faked deaths.

After Aragorn had done his big speech and everyone had left to get ready for war, you had stayed behind obviously, you didn't want to confront him in front of everyone. "Uh, Aragorn?" You were unsure of yourself, honestly, you can't have a crush on a king. You swear kings have bad hair, lucky Aragorn didn't , look at the British royal family.. now that's embarrassing.

Aragorn had turned Aragorn to face you, waiting for you to speak, he definitely didn't fall from heaven, the Valar decided to test him by shoving him off a cliff.

"Um, I was wondering if I c-could help with those wounds, um, I didn't know if you needed help?" You were sure that your face was probably flushed red, it would be surprising if he could even understand you , as you stumbled over your own words.

Aragorn had nodded , before sitting down near by.  Grabbing the king foil out of your bag , along with other healing herbs, Aragorn had removed his jacket and undone some of the buttons on his tunic. Bringing a stool in front of Aragorn for you to sit.  You weren't about to chew up the kings foil,  tearing it up before trying to gently apply it to the huge gash across his chest.

A small groan had emerged from his lips as you had placed a piece kings foil to the gash too harshly. "Sorry." Looking into Aragorn's bright eyes , for a spilt second before going back to gently placing the kings foil. Aragorn stops you , by grabbing your wrist , not with force, making you look back up at him.

"Do not be sorry, I just fell off a cliff, I've been through worse." A smile reassuring smile plant on his face, but you can only think what is worse than falling off a cliff.

"Okay, sorry, I mean I'm not sorry, you are very intelligent or a king, there's warg! Let's go fight our enemy on the edge of a cliff. Um, actually that's embarrassing because I fell down a well because a owl scared me, I was stuck down there for hours, and then Gandalf found me and used a bucket to get me out. I had to sit in the bucket while he pulled it up."

Aragorn had let go of your wrist , allowing you to continue as you spoke, "you have not changed."

"Pardon?" Aragorn was smiling down at you as your eyebrows scrunched together.

" Last week I saw leaf , hit you in the back of your neck, you jumped three feet in the air." Your face flushed again, as you tried to contain a smile, as Aragorn laughed at you.

"I did not, that was not a leaf, it was a snake!"

"A green round snake, I believe you , y/n" you had stopped applying the kings foil, to put your head between your nerves , to hide your face in embarrassment . "It was a deformed snake."

"Last month, you skidded in mud and fell flat on your back, when Legolas put his hand on your shoulder briefly. Or when you kicked Boromir's cock when he was try-" sitting back up to look at Aragorn.

"You are right, next time it will be you that I will kick." Aragorn could not have shut his legs quicker, making you laugh at him, "I'll have to start wearing a shield."

"Never know when I'll strike, your balls are going to be deformed." Aragorn had gasped at you, as you brought your hand other his wound beginning to heal him as you chanted quietly.

"Such foul language, Gandalf would not approve." Looking up to Aragorn with a small smile, placing your other hand on his shoulder softly, to stop him from moving.  Really the healing didn't take very long, the cut left a blood stain though.  "Stay there," (or you get unprofessional neutering.) Grabbing the water pouch from your bag, and piece of cloth.

Before returning to sit in front of Aragorn with the damp cloth, wiping off the dried blood gently.  You couldn't help but feel like you had done something good today, you got to heal ,clean an very attractive man stopping his wound from getting infected and him dying. 

Plus,he's Aragorn, who wouldn't want to touch his chest.   As you finished, you had look down for your pouch, only to see how blood his hands were. Lifting his hand up to examine it, no way you were a doctor. " How have you not gotten infection? All that Orc blood going into your open wounds." Again having to heal all the  little cuts and slices on his hands.

It was no secret to Aragorn that he had developed a like for you, from the moment Frodo saw you sticking out in the snow like a mole heap.

“Tis the best you are going to be, after this battle you will covered again. Legolas probably glide through here, any minute asking where his beloved is.” Both of you standing up, grabbing your bag, you had leant up to press a kiss to Aragorns cheek, before turning away to head to where the woman and children were, Gandalf’s orders.

Aragorn had stopped you again, by the shoulder, causing you to turn back around. “Y/n, thank you. May I ask for something else?” Aragorns eyes looking into your e/c ones

softly, you had nodded. “Would you accept me courtship?” You had just pressed your lips slow onto his before pulling away.

The door was quickly opened “ARAGORN!” Legolas glided into the room, rushing towards you and Aragorn. Sighing “your beloved is here,” Legolas was stood between both of you, you had to walk around him, to wrap your arms around Aragorn,briefly embracing, before pulling away.

Legolas just stared, “I’m not hugging you too, leg a less, that’s what your name would be if you had no legs, because your legs aragorn”

[lovelystarlings]

Chapter Five - Neville’s Very Clumsy

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two 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. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.

[qqueenofhades]

Can you please explain why you like Warren more than Sanders? I was too young to vote in 2016 but I would've voted Bernie in that primary, and I plan to do so this year(I'll vote whoever the Democrat party chooses in the real election, I understand the dangers of not doing so). I don't know much about the differences in their policies except that Sanders is slightly more leftist and a relatively simple comparison between the two would help. And how big of a factor should his age play in my vote?

Thanks for asking!

I think the best place for you to start, if you want everything explained in depth on each issue far more eloquently than I can, is to simply read the Political positions of Bernie Sanders and Political positions of Elizabeth Warren pages on Wikipedia, which outline their positions on pretty much everything you could think of. The main difference in how people perceive them lies in the fact that Bernie has been a democratic socialist for his entire political career, while Warren became a Democrat in 1996, and is viewed by the hard left as still being too pro-capitalist and/or pro-military and/or too ethically suspect and/or untrustworthy and/or could change her mind and betray them again. For a certain subset of people for whom purity of ideology and/or the strength of conviction is only ever demonstrated by never changing your mind and only ever having held the right positions, the fact that Warren’s political positions have changed over time seems dangerous, and that she isn’t as purely “socialist” as Bernie means that she is, in their eyes, a lesser candidate. As I said in the earlier ask, we will never have an American president who is completely free from the toxic elements of American ideology. There are things that I don’t fully agree with Warren on, absolutely. But lashing into her as a secret spineless corporate shill who would completely betray the progressive movement if she was elected has nothing to do with reality, certainly nothing that reflects her actual rhetoric and voting record, and once again demonstrates the tendency of a certain subset of Bernie supporters to completely refuse anything less than their candidate no matter what, and that is… frustrating.

Let me be clear: Warren and Sanders are my top two choices. Policy-wise, they’re the only candidates proposing anything I want to actually see enacted. I completely support anyone who wants to vote for either of them in the primary, and indeed, I ended my last post by strongly urging the anon (and anyone else who identified ideologically with Bernie) to vote for him in the primaries. I myself get a cold shudder at the idea of having to vote for Biden or Buttigieg as the Democratic nominee (even if I don’t think it’ll happen). I don’t want to have to do it, which is why I keep urging progressives to turn out in droves and vote their conscience in the primaries: that way, we won’t even end up in a situation where we have to hold our nose and vote for a nominee we don’t really like, don’t support, and who will continue more ineffective centrist policies that don’t address the real problems in the country. If progressives vote in sufficient numbers, we will get a progressive nominee that we can actively vote for and feel good about, rather than one that we can barely stomach. If we sit home and only let the moderate/centrist white Democrats vote in the primary, that is the nominee that we will end up with. Gross. 

So in other words, I am not here to stoke the worrying and self-inflicted factionalism ongoing between Sanders and Warren supporters who have to outdo each other with My Ideology Is Better Than Your Ideology. That was exactly what I was critiquing in the earlier answer. I think both candidates align well with my values, I would vote for either one of them without qualms, and I think they are proposing policies that broadly target the major issues at hand. Destroying one to try to advance the other is unnecessary, counterproductive, and doing half the Trump/GOP machine’s work for them. It is a hollow moral victory in shouting echo chambers on the internet that has no real-world value and helps no one at all in the long run, except for feeling smug that you have The Most Pure Doctrine. Yay. Still not helping us get rid of Trump. So vote for whichever one you want in the primary, and then vote for whoever wins in the general. Like I said above, if progressives turn out in sufficient numbers, we won’t end up with a terrible candidate in the first place.

I like Warren because she has shown a consistent willingness to learn, grow, to take feedback and adjust her policies accordingly, to engage with community leaders, and, frankly, to demonstrate a more nuanced awareness of intersectionality and identity. Bernie has a tendency to struggle with differentiating class and race, dismisses “identity politics” and can confuse it with tokenism, and still holds the position that, essentially, socialism and economic justice will fix everything. Even the left-leaning The Guardian has found some grounds to criticize him on how he has handled this. I think that Warren is more aware on some levels as to how multiple factors inform an individual’s politics, not just economics and social class. But guess what: these are still minor quibbles and the kind of nitpicking that I get to do at primary stage! I’m still completely happy to vote for the man in a general election! Nothing that I say about Bernie here disqualifies him from my support if he’s the progressive candidate that comes out on top! And none of what I say below about Warren should be read as some sort of insidious attempt to prove that Bernie doesn’t hold these positions too/passive-aggressive slam on him, etc. etc. I’m simply explaining what I like about her particularly.

I like Warren because her plans are detailed, workable, based on extensive research, highlight multiple values that I have in common with her, and give practical recommendations as to how to implement them within the existing framework of the American political system (as well as, where needed, changing it radically). Her policy documents specifically highlight the African-American maternal mortality crisis, valuing the work and lives of women of color, protecting reproductive rights and access to care/abortion services, funding, respecting, and supporting Native Americans and indigenous people, supporting the LGBTQ community on many fronts, cancelling all student debt on day one of her presidency (as an academic with a lot of student debt, this is a big issue for me), confronting white nationalist terrorism, getting rid of the electoral college, regulating and breaking up market monopolies, taxing the shit out of billionaires, holding capitalism accountable, fighting global financial corruption and “dark money” in international politics, introducing immediate debt relief for Puerto Rico, overhauling immigration policy to make it more fair and welcoming, fighting for climate change especially as a racial justice issue, ending private prisons and federal defense budget bloat, recognizing that just throwing endless money at national security issues has not fixed them, drastically revising and ending a foreign policy currently based on endless money and endless wars, breaking up Wall Street economic monopolies and misbehaviour, transitioning to 100% clean energy and Medicare for All, reinvesting in public schools, and… I could go on, but you get the gist. She is a lawyer, professor, and senator with public and professional expertise in many relevant fields. She used to teach bankruptcy law and economic policy. She is smart and tough, but can break complicated concepts down and explain them clearly. She has earned the endorsement of black women’s groups and over 100 Latino leaders. And: yes. It’s time for us to have a female president. It just is. I feel strongly about it.

Warren was recently attacked for putting out a plan related to how the U.S. military could drastically reduce its wasteful carbon footprint and help combat climate change, as this was clearly proof that she was in fact just a lip-service progressive and didn’t want to, you know, apparently abolish it entirely and pretend it didn’t exist and personally tell everyone in the military what a bad person they were. I am not a fan of anything about the U.S. military-industrial complex. But if you don’t recognize that it’s largely composed of poor, working-class people of color and/or economically deprived people who have no other career option, that veterans are discarded instantly the moment they’re no use to the war and propaganda machine and that any politician is going to have to reckon with this, and that you can’t snap your fingers and make it go away, then that’s also not helping. Warren has also been attacked for not wanting to get rid of capitalism entirely, as if that is a remotely feasible or workable option in 21st-century America. She has voted for and suggested regulations and wealth taxes and major restructuring and everything else you can think of, she proposed and founded the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and so on. But for some people, this still is Just Not Good Enough. Which…. fine. You don’t have to vote for her in the primary if she’s not ideologically the closest candidate to you. Once again, the point of the primary is to pick whichever candidate you like the most and to do everything to help them win, so you aren’t stuck with a bad choice when it comes time for the general. But acting like this is a huge and horrible disqualifier and that she’s an awful corporate hack who will just be terrible (her main crime not being Bernie/competing against him) has nothing to do with reality, and everything with having to win internet woke points and ideological militancy arguments. It’s not helpful. 

Since the earlier post went viral, I am now getting random hate or completely bizarre misinterpretations of my argument or whatever else, none of which I will answer and all of which will be deleted out of hand, because I am just not interested in trading insults about this and/or engaging in pointless arguments with people who have already made up their mind. But for some people, it’s apparently really threatening to say that if you only vote for the best ideology in the primaries and then quit in a snit fit before the general election, you’re not helping. You’re not doing anything useful. Everyone who was reblogging the post and agreeing with me was around my age or older; everyone who was reblogging it to slam me was usually a lot younger. And I’m glad that 21-year-olds feel that winning the ideology battle is more important than having a functional government, but: sorry. I’m old and I don’t have to listen to that, and I’m not going to. Perfect cannot be the enemy of good, or even better than what we’ve got now. And let’s be clear: anything would be better than what we have now. It would directly save lives and impact policies, and if you can’t admit that because you’re too hung up on how Elizabeth Warren might Be A Capitalist Pig Who Likes Billionaires, please, please get off the internet and go outside.

Would Warren, Sanders, or even Buttigieg or Biden lock immigrant children in cages and concentration camps at the border and commit deliberate slow-motion genocide by denial of care and access? No. Would they actively roll back Obama-era regulations protecting LGBTQ rights, the environment, climate change activism, and anything else you remotely identify as a progressive cause? No.  Would they start a needless war with Iran, build a border wall, stoke Nazis and white supremacists, pander to all the worst parts of American insularism and xenophobia, collude with Russia, lie about everything, destroy all regulations and policies that don’t benefit anyone but the rich, white, and male, fill their administration with convicted felons and homophobes and people who want to rob us blind, and be aggressively incompetent, unprepared, malicious,  stupid, angry, and dangerous to both the country and the world? No. So the various attempts to claim that there is “no real difference” between the presidency of a non-Sanders Democrat and Trump are… please, please sit down for a moment and think about what you’re saying. I realize this is, again, a hard position to hold when you depend completely on having The Right Ideology, and nuance, complexity, evolving positions, and willingness to be open to new ideas are not things that are valued in zealots on either the right or the left. I don’t know what fantasyland these people are living in, when they act like not voting for a non-Sanders Democrat against Trump would be a great moral victory or proof that they’re too good for the world that the rest of us have to live in, or think that the election into being about some magical chance to make the entire capitalist global military-industrial system vanish. It won’t. It won’t even if Sanders wins the presidency. Change only comes slowly and systematically.

This is once again, long. So to summarize:

1) If you want to understand the differences between Bernie and Warren from a place outside just what I say, go and read their policy summaries on Wikipedia and elsewhere. Look on their websites, compare their plans, do your own research, and don’t fall into the ideology-war trap just for the sake of looking better on internet arguments.

2) Vote for Bernie in the primary! Please! We want a progressive candidate who will make genuine change! We don’t want one who is just a moderate Republican but has to be a Democrat because moderate Republicans no longer exist!

3) I like Warren for many reasons and will be voting for her in the primary, but will vote for Bernie (or anyone else) who wins the primary and emerges as the nominee. I only wish that all Bernie supporters would give the reciprocal guarantee. There is a subset – again, not all – who are only loyal to him and nothing else, and who seem to feel that if they can’t have him, not voting is a better or more “moral” choice, even if the alternative is Trump.

4) For me, Bernie’s age is an issue. I can’t answer for what it might be for you, but he would turn 80 in the year he was sworn into office. He also did have a heart attack and would have a year of grueling campaigning to go.

5) Factionalism and ideology wars and loyalty to one person, rather than even trying to consider the lives and people that are at stake, that have already been lost, and that continue to suffer from Trumpism, is not helpful, not empathetic, and not more moral. You can sit and feel self-righteous all you want, good for you. People are dying. Refusing to make a change because it can’t be all the change, all at once, is not and will never be how this works.

Anyway. I hope that helped you.