#S.S. Hall

[questionableadvice]

~ Bliss of Marriage; or, How to Get a Rich Wife;  S. S. Hall, 1858

[liv2post]

Professors and Plants

Severus Snape x Herbology!Reader Wordcount: ~2.4k Summary: You're the new replacement for Professor Sprout and one day you require someone to plant-sit for you.

Read here or on ao3

Severus was struck the first time he saw you enter the Great Hall for breakfast at the start of the new term. You were Professor Sprout’s replacement as well as her cousin, but most people wouldn’t have thought the latter due to your appearance. Your dark robes resembled his and you donned a pair of boots with yellow thread sewn into the tops of the soles. What really stood out was your hair. It was snow white, transitioning into black at the bottom third of your hair length like a gradient. Your eyes met his and held his gaze for no more than a second as you took the last available seat that happened to be at the opposite end of the head table.

Despite your dark appearance, you were perfectly amicable and polite with the other teachers, even Lockhart, but you weren’t one to ever start conversations with any of them, preferring to keep more to yourself unless someone wished to converse with you. 

The first time he talked to you was that same day before classes would start tomorrow to get a proper read on you. 

“Hello, Professor Snape,” you greeted mildly, turning away from a Sopophorous Bean plant to face him as he barely clicked the door to the greenhouse behind him.

“How do you know my name?” His eyebrows furrowed and his soft baritone voice floated through the air.

“I know your first name, too. We went to school together, but you were older. I graduated just before you took over for Professor Slughorn.”

“I see…”

“Is there something you need from me?”

“Dittany leaves. Surely, Pomona left a plant or two in your care.”

“She most definitely did. Will a standard 16 oz jar’s worth do?”

“Yes.”

You smiled softly, retrieving a mason jar and a pair of snippers, and began trimming the fuzzy green leaves of one of the tall dittany plants that sat in the corner. “Did you and Pomona have any arrangements?” you called back to him.

“Arrangements?” Snape repeated, his eyes flicking over a decorative succulent whose pot was shaped like a mushroom before looking back at you. 

“Given our positions, I imagine you and I will be supplying each other with inventory and remedies or what have you. I was just wondering if you and Pomona had any arrangements that made each other's lives easier or more efficient work-wise. Do you like your ingredients bottled a certain way? Are there certain things you find yourself running out of more often than others?”

“We didn’t have any specific protocols established. Pomona was annoyingly protective of her plants,” he stated coolly. “But…now that you mention it, my store of wormwood tends to fluctuate. The younger years can be…unapologetically wasteful.”

“Noted. I will try to remain well-stocked on wormwood. And by the way,” you screwed on the jar lid, the glass filled to the brim with leaves—not so compactly that they were squashed inside, but certainly not leaving much wiggle room either, “I’m not as crazy a plant lady as my cousin is. Minerva tells me you're quite competent at your job and it sounds like I can trust you so…if you ever need to grab something feel free to come and go through the greenhouses as you please. I just ask that if I happen to not be present to leave a note citing what you took and the quantity. Y’know, for proper record keeping ‘n all. If I know what I have then I know what I can still provide you with.”

Snape nodded lightly. “Yes… That sounds practical enough.”

“Good,” you hummed, handing him the mason jar, your fingertips just barely brushing as he took it from you. “Glad we understand each other."

______________________________________________________________

Duties aside, you and Professor Snape got along rather well. He respected your need for notes and wrote what he took crystal clear, signing them off with “S.S”. You delivered ingredients he’d sent for in a timely manner, ensuring they weren’t overly compacted or bottled improperly. He returned the courtesy when it came to any potion meant to help your plants’ growth, sometimes brewing them fresh rather than giving you a bottle that had sat on the shelf for months at a time. Sometimes he’d add a sarcastic little comment on the notes about a student or a certain DADA teacher who you’d both found to be pretentious. 

From the notes blossomed more sociable interactions. Despite being separated by multiple floors, your classes were within the same vicinity of the castle’s layout, which meant, more often than not, you’d run into him when descending down to meals as he ascended up. You’d walk with each other, and talk a little bit, whether it be about incidents in the classroom or happenings informed to the both of you from the Prophet. The conversations would continue at meals where you’d start sitting next to one another. You didn’t get to know each other beyond a collegial level until around early November when the temperature started to get colder every day and the leaves were a vibrant wash of yellow, orange, and red. Your open-door policy on your greenhouses remained the same, but you had clarified that if he ever wanted to have tea or escape the chill of the dungeons, that open-door policy extended to your warm and cozy office. One day he knocked and when you opened the door he simply stated, “It’s cold,” before you promptly held the door back further, allowing him entry. 

You’d drink tea often, sometimes while the both of you graded, passively enjoying one another’s company as you did so, sometimes sitting on the couch or chairs and having direct conversations with one another. You compared each other's schooling experience with one another, gaping at the fact that he knew so many curses and had even invented a few spells. He confessed that it was actually Lockhart’s position he wanted, not to teach potions. 

“I didn’t take you for a Hufflepuff when I first saw you,” he admitted one afternoon.

“Was there anything else to take me as, Severus? My being here was not only to satisfy the Herbology teacher role, but also to fill the Head of Hufflepuff spot.”

“Of course, just outwardly…you didn’t seem the type. And the students have joked that your creatively witty chiding ought to have landed you in Slytherin.”

You exhaled quietly. “My whole family is mostly Hufflepuff with a few Gryffindors sprinkled in, but even so I understand my general dark attire and reticence made me a bit of a black sheep amongst my peers. I can’t really disagree with you much on that second point. All I can say in my defense is that my loyalty is sharper than my tongue. If you ever need a reminder that I am indeed a Hufflepuff, know that I am always wearing this.” You rolled up the left sleeve of your dark robe to reveal a beaded bracelet around your wrist, each bead yellow with black text stamped in on the sides, spelling out “HUFFLEPUFF.”

An unexpected, incredulous smirk tugged on Severus’s lips. “You really wear that all the time?”

“Only when I’m not bathing or sleeping. My sister made it for me after we got sorted. We, unfortunately, were not placed in the same house… Don’t look at me like that!” you chuckled at the mostly feigned repulsed expression regarding your sibling's sickly sweet behavior. “I happen to like this bracelet, thank you very much!”

“Who knew under your robes was something so garishly bright,” he sneered playfully.

“You’re not as slick as you think either, Severus. Don’t think I didn’t see that Slytherin scarf beneath your cloak at the last Quidditch match,” you eyed him knowingly. He parted his lips to refute but found he had no argument and grumbled while blushing against his tea cup.

______________________________________________________________

“Pardon me, Professor Lockhart, but could I speak to you for a moment?” 

The DADA teacher replied with an “Of course, dear” as he followed you to a spot off to the side from the entrance of the Great Hall after you had finished lunch one Friday afternoon. Severus eyed the both of you as he himself was slowly exiting the Great Hall as well. He slowed his pace down significantly as he floated through the corridor so he could pick up on what you two were saying. You had never willingly started a conversation with Lockhart before.

“...going to be gone this weekend. Leaving tonight, actually…

…take care of a few plants…? I left instructions in Greenhouse 4…”

“...ourse I can! Watering a few plants should be easier than defeating a vampire or two…”

You wanted Lockhart to plant-sit for you this weekend? That actually stung him a bit. Why wouldn’t you ask him to plant-sit for you? He was perfectly capable of doing so and he knew your greenhouses like the back of his hand. Did you not actually trust him like you claimed to?

He kept silent on the matter, his expression remaining impassive as he saw you off to the midnight train in Hogsmeade that same night. 

“See you Monday, Severus,” you bid softly, lightly patting his upper arm before stepping off the platform and disappearing into the night on the train until it was no more than a dot in the distance.

Severus didn’t trust Lockhart to do what was asked of him. Not one bit. Unless it was DADA-related or stroked his ego directly, the man couldn’t be bothered to accomplish what was asked of him. He imagined the fool would pass off the task to a student. Severus unlocked Greenhouse 4 the next morning and found the instructions you had left behind for Lockhart. They were simple and bullet-pointed, detailing exactly what to do and where he could find what. All that was asked of him was to spray a batch of Alihotsy plants with a germinating solution that sat on the third shelf in the supply cabinet, rotate them out of the sun at three o’clock each day, place them back at dawn, trim the matured leaves and store them in a jar. “Eventually to be delivered to our amazing potion master,” it noted, making him smile.

Severus kept a watchful eye on Lockhart that first day. Lockhart remained in his office until lunch, and after that made a trip down to Hogsmeade, no doubt to drink and find some entertaining company. At 2:45, Snape went up to Greenhouse 4 and confirmed that nothing had been moved from when he entered there this morning, the germinating solution still sitting in the exact same spot. He sprayed them all heartily and shifted the plants to a shelf away from the sun’s sight. A few leaves had matured so he gingerly snipped them from the stem and placed them in a standard mason jar. He also noticed several snails trying to sneak their way into some Potted Mandrake and disposed of them as well as repaired some worn netting protecting the Shrivelfig that was meant to keep out aphids.

He came by Sunday morning and treated the Alihotsy the same, making sure to place them in the sun at dawn so they had absorbed plenty of light by mid-afternoon. Once again, Lockhart hadn’t even bothered. 

______________________________________________________________

You returned Monday morning while everyone was at breakfast. Upon stepping into Greenhouse 4, you sighed in relief when it looked as though your plants had indeed been taken care of in your absence. You smiled pleasantly when you noticed some protective netting had been repaired, a task you planned on getting to when you had returned, but your smile broadened even more when you noticed a muddy boot print on the ground, one that did not at all belong to Professor Lockhart.

“Thank you for taking care of the Alihotsy this weekend,” you said to Lockhart who happened to be passing by the door that led down to the kitchen as you had come back from retrieving a snack that would substitute breakfast.

“Huh? Oh!” The man quickly recovered. The look of confusion lasted not even a second before plastering on a smile. “Yes, it was nothing! You can always count on me, Y/N!” he winked. You nodded once, drifting away from the man in favor of walking alongside the potion master who was breezing by in the same corridor.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Welcome back,” he replied, hiding his delight at your return. 

“Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not particularly, though I was tempted to push Lockhart down a flight of stairs multiple times.” 

“Aren’t we all,” you laughed.

He walked with you all the way back to your office, select words hanging on the tip of his tongue until finally, he couldn’t hold them back anymore as you pushed on the handle of the door.

“Lockhart didn’t take care of your plants,” Severus blurted. 

“Oh?” Your hand slipped from the handle to face him with feigned curiosity.

“I didn’t trust him and…was proven correct when he ignored the task and instead spent his time in Hogsmeade, so I took care of them,” he explained carefully.

You smiled sweetly at him, lacing your fingers together in front of you. “I know, Severus.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You do?”

“Mhm. Truthfully it wouldn't have been the end of the world had those plants gone a couple of days without treatment, but I wanted to see what Lockhart would do and how he’d react to receiving false praise. I can’t say I’m surprised by the results, really. He’s as phony as ever.”

The potion master smirked. “Quite.”

You took a small step forward, stood on your tippy toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, making him flush pink when you pulled back and looked at him with twinkling eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my plants, Severus,” you murmured, affectionately squeezing his shoulders, before slipping inside of your office. Severus stood frozen in shock, his heart drumming in his chest before he managed to stop his brain from short-circuiting further. Without warning, he entered your office as well—you did have an open door policy after all—where he received another kiss. And another. And another…

He should plant-sit for you more often.

[heavenlybodies333]

How to tell if your ex is the antichrist - S.S.

!warning!minorsdni, psychological torture/manipulation, heavy BDSM, dubcon, read at your own risk

word count: 2.8k

Pairing: ex!Sebastian Sallow x you

“Somebody’s watching me, it’s my anxiety.”

You know he’s watching.

You tried to act normal.

Sat through breakfast. Ignored the way your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Smiled and laughed when Imelda cracked a joke.

But then it started.

The intrusive thoughts. They weren’t yours.

"You should kill her."

You nearly choked on your pumpkin juice.

"Just a quick flick of your wand. You know the curse. She’s in the way."

You flinched. Your stomach twisted violently as you slammed your goblet onto the table, eyes darting across the Great Hall. Where was he?

"Nowhere you can find me, darling."

You felt sick.

No.

No, no, no. This was impossible.

"Poor thing."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Block him out. You know how to block him out.

"You really thought you could keep me out? After all our years together? After I’ve had my hands inside your mind? Inside your body?"

You shoved up from the table, chair scraping against the stone floor. Imelda’s eyes flicked up. “You okay?”

You could barely swallow. “I—I’m fine.”

"Liar."

You stumbled from the Great Hall, gasping for air. You made it halfway to the courtyard before the world tilted. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your vision swimming. The whispers hadn’t stopped. If anything, they grew louder, wrapping around your skull like a vice.

"Don’t run from me, darling. You know I’ll find you."

You pressed a trembling hand to your forehead, trying to push him out, trying to regain control. But the weight of his presence was suffocating. You could feel him, feel his amusement, his patience—like a predator toying with its prey.

A voice cut through the fog. “Hey!”

Ominis.

Your head snapped up, heart hammering. He was standing near the entrance to the courtyard, concern etched across his usually impassive face. “What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth—then stopped. What were you supposed to say? That Sebastian, who had been missing for weeks, had somehow infiltrated his way inside your mind? That you could hear him, feel him, even when he wasn’t there?

Ominis took a cautious step forward. “You don’t sound well.”

You swallowed hard. “I just— I need some air.”

Ominis didn’t look convinced. “Let me walk with you.” The thought should have reassured you. It didn’t.

"He won’t be able to save you."

You shook your head violently. “No, I—I just need a moment.” Before Ominis could protest, you turned on your heel and walked away, fists clenched so tight your nails bit into your palms.

You spent the rest of the day in a haze.

Class lectures faded into the background, voices blending into meaningless static. Every shadow felt like it held something more. Every whisper carried the weight of his voice.

You stopped responding when people spoke to you.

You didn’t trust yourself to answer.

Because what if it wasn’t really you speaking?

By the time the sun dipped below the castle walls, you were exhausted, mentally drained from keeping him out. From resisting the pull of his voice. You curled beneath your blankets, pressing your face into the pillow, willing yourself to sleep.

But sleep never came peacefully anymore.

You thought you were losing your mind.

Until the hallucinations started. Sebastian standing over you, eyes black with hunger. His hands roaming your skin, his voice dripping with venomous affection. You’d wake up gasping, sheets tangled around your legs, your skin damp with sweat. You’d wake up with bruises around your throat, shaped exactly like his fingers. You’d find love bites on your thighs, his touch still burning against your skin.

At first, you told yourself you were imagining it. That the stress was getting to you.

Then one night, you saw him.

Not a hallucination.

Not a dream.

Him. Standing in the shadows of your dorm, watching you sleep.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your breath stuttered, throat tightening with terror. You blinked, willing the vision to disappear.

It didn’t.

The dim light caught the sharp angles of his face, the unreadable expression in his eyes. He was there. He was real.

And then, just as quickly as he appeared—he was gone. Shaking your head, eyes shut tightly trying to rid the anxiety running through you.

What the hell was wrong with you? This was the fifth time this week, you were losing too much sleep. You were up now anyways might as well go for a walk to try to clear your mind. Getting up, you dressed yourself quickly throwing on the closest pair of shorts and his old shirt you’d wear when you missed him. Grabbing your wand before you slipped into your running shoes.

The Forbidden Forest was the only place that felt safe. The darkness was suffocating, but at least it was real. At least here, the only things watching you were creatures with sharp teeth and glowing eyes—not the ghost of a man who refused to let you go.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your palms against the rough bark of a tree, trying to ground yourself.

“Breathe,” you whispered. “Just breathe.”

“You always were so stubborn.”

The voice came from inside your mind. You froze.

No.

Are you fucking kidding m—

and suddenly he was there, behind you, close enough that you could feel his warmth against your back. Your breath hitched, terror crawling up your spine.

You turned, slowly, and found him watching you.

Sebastian.

His face was calm—too calm. Like he hadn’t just fucking violated your mind. Like he hadn’t just spent the last week breaking you from the inside out.

“What—” Your voice cracked. “What the hell did you do to me?”

His lips twitched, a mockery of a smile.

“You know exactly what I did.”

Your stomach churned.

Legilimency.

He had used Legilimency on you. And you—you—hadn’t even felt it.

That was impossible. You had mastered Occlumency. You had spent years learning how to keep people like him out of your head. And yet, he had walked through your mind like he owned the fucking place.

Your fingers curled into fists. “How?”

A slow smile. “Did you really think Occlumency would keep me out?”Your mind started racing—there was no way. No. That wasn’t possible.

“You can’t—”

“I can.”

His other hand skimmed your waist, pressing you back against the rough bark.

“I built a home inside your mind, sweetheart. I know your deepest fears. Your darkest desires.” His lips brushed your ear. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Get out,” you breathed, voice shaking. “Get the fuck out of my head.”

He tilted his head, considering.

“No.” His lips curled into a smirk. “I’m having fun.”

You clenched your jaw. “Get. out. of. my. fucking. head.”

His eyes darkened.

Fuck you knew exactly what was coming. Pain shooting through your mind shattering. It struck without warning, tearing through your skull like a knife through flesh. Your knees buckled, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as you crumpled against a tree.

Your vision blurring as your body convulsed.

His voice—inside, inside, inside—

"I never left."

You choked, clawing at your own temples, as if you could rip him out.

His footsteps were slow. Unhurried. And when he crouched in front of you, those dark eyes gleaming with something fucking insane, you knew—he owned you.

Your breath hitched.

Memories you didn’t want to relive flooded forward—him between your legs, hands fisted in your hair, voice dark and commanding as he made you beg.

The searing agony returned, a slow and twisting pressure curling around your mind, your thoughts, your emotions, like a cut throat barbed wire slicing through. They weren’t your own anymore. They bled together, dripping down the walls of your consciousness, smearing into a grotesque display of everything you feared.

He wasn’t just reading your mind, thoughts and emotions. He was controlling them. Controlling your soul.

You didn’t remember how you got here.

Your head was spinning and your body ached, ankles were raw—ropes biting into your legs, binding you tight, keeping you from running.

You were stripped down to everything but your panties and you weren’t alone.

Sebastian.

Standing in front of you, sleeves rolled up, eyes filled with something terrifying.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“Where—” Your voice cracked. “Where am I?”

He tilted his head. “You don’t remember?”

You swallowed hard as he slowly stepped closer. Ran a finger down your bare stomach. Soft. Gentle. Almost tender. It made you shiver.

Before you could catch your breath, a sharp, stinging slap across your thigh came. You gasped, jerking against the restraints.

Sebastian exhaled, slow and measured, fingers tracing the red mark he’d left behind.

“You were never very good at listening,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“Let me go.”

His lips twitched.

“Say it again.”

“I said let me—”

Another slap. This time against your hip, hard enough to make you bite back a cry.

Sebastian’s pupils blew wide. “There she is,” he whispered. “I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

Your stomach twisted making you feel sick. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t real.

Except—It was. You could feel it. The sting. The heat. The ropes digging into your skin.

Sebastian stepped behind you. You tensed, but there was nowhere to go. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, slow, lingering. His teeth grazed your skin, just barely—

Then he bit down.

Hard.

You gasped, body shaking as your legs trembled beneath you.

He sucked at the mark he left, tongue laving over the wounded flesh, soothing and punishing all at once.

“Still think you can fight me?” he whispered against your skin.

Your pulse thundered in your ears.

“Fuck you,” you spat, trying to push him away.

Sebastian laughed as he caught your wrist, pinning it against the stone wall above your head. "You already have," he murmured, pressing against you. You could feel him—hard, wanting. "And you will again."

Your mind screamed at you to fight, to run. But when his lips crushed against yours, hungry and punishing, your resolve shattered. His grip was bruising, his tongue tasting of possession and madness. His free hand slid under you, fingers pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Merlin, you’re not just wet princess," he whispered against your lips. "you’re fucking soaked."

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, frustration, arousal, and rage tangling together in a toxic, intoxicating mess. "Sebastian—"

He yanked you against him, fingers slipping beneath the lace, finding you aching and needy despite yourself. "Tell me you don’t want this. Look me in the eyes and fucking say it."

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, riding his hand as he fingers your dripped cunt. Running his lips down your throat. “Can you take a third?” Three fingers slipping in and out of you with ease against your slick folds.

Your body arched, back hitting the cold stone, a whimper escaping your lips.

“You take what I give you,” he murmured, pressing a bruising kiss to your jaw, his fingers working you open, the slick sounds obscene in the silence. “And you’ll fucking thank me for it.”

Your vision blurred, heat pooling in your stomach as he pushed you closer, closer, until—he pulled away.

A whine of frustration tore from your throat, but he only grinned, licking his fingers, savoring your taste.

“Patience, princess,” he mocked, dragging his lips over your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’m not done playing with you yet.”

He gripped your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I own you,” Sebastian whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “Mind, body, fucking soul.”

Your vision blurred, then sharpened, fractured images flickering through your mind—your body arching beneath him, screaming his name; the way you rode, fucked and came for him. The memories weren’t yours. They were his. He was forcing them onto you, making you feel every moment the way he had.

You gasped, trying to shake it, but it was useless. His grip tightened, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip.

“You see now, don’t you?” he mused, voice dripping with satisfaction. “How fucking perfect you are for me? How no one else will ever know you like I do? How you are mine?”

A cruel smile twisted his lips as he spun you around, pressing your chest to the stone wall. His fingers dragged down your spine, teasing, toying with you, until he gripped your hips and pulled you back against him. “You drive me fucking insane,” he growled, his cock pressing against you, hot and demanding. “Can’t fucking contain myself when it comes to you.”

He dragged his fingers through your folds again, groaning at how wet you were. “So ready for me,”with no further warning, he thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt. Gasping, a choked moan, your fingers clawing against the cold stone as he set a demanding rhythm. A slow, deep drag, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, forcing a cry from your lips. again. and again.

“Say it,” he demanded, his palm coming down on your ass, the sting making your knees buckle. “Say you belong to me.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came, only broken moans as he fucked you harder, his movements erratic. His hand snaked around your throat, tilting your head back,his lips right over your ear. “I said, say it.”

“I-I belong to you,” you choked out, tears burning your eyes.

He hummed in approval, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder, tongue laving over the fresh marks he’d left. “That’s my girl.”

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he teased, fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles over your clit. “Gonna make a fucking mess all over my cock?”

Your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure mounting, unbearable, overwhelming. He knew. Of course, he fucking knew. He could feel it, sense it, the way the euphoria came over you as your orgasm coursed through you. His arms gripping your hips even harder, snapping himself into you harder, deeper.

Sebastian cursed, but he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, dragging out every last wave until you were gasping, shaking, barely able to stand. He followed moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a ragged groan, the familiar warmth from his cum filling you.

Sebastian exhaled against your skin, he didn't move, didn't let you go, just stayed buried inside you, like he could keep you there, trapped, claimed. His hand skimmed over your stomach, fingers ghosting down to where he was still inside you. "Still so fucking full of me," he muttered, pressing down, making you whimper. "Feels good, doesn’t it princess?”

You knew you shouldn’t answer, shouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you, back arching as another pathetic moan left your lips. His laugh was quiet as he kissed up your jaw. "I think you like this more than you let on," he murmured. "The way you take me.” He groaned, deep and raw, as he pulled out, his hands sliding possessively over your hips as if grounding himself before he turned you over, your back hitting the cold stone wall.

The silence was heavy before he broke it. “You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, his voice low but sure, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. His eyes, dark and unwavering, roamed over you like he was trying to memorize every inch, as if he needed to. "You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are to me."

The way he said it—so unguarded, so completely vulnerable—made your heart stutter. Because for all his arrogance, his sharp edges, and dangerous charm, Sebastian Sallow was, at his core, a boy who had only ever been taught how to destroy. Love was something foreign to him. Uncharted territory. And yet, here he was, trying.

Your lips curled slightly, teasing. "Getting sentimental on me, Sallow?" He scoffed playfully, his grip on your waist pulling you in closer to him. "Don't get used to it,"

His other hand curled around the back of your neck, possessive, firm. “You're mine,” he muttered under his breath, like a vow, like a prayer.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow,” you drawled, “you really can’t just ask me to be your girlfriend again, can you? You have to own me instead?”

Sebastian paused, lips parting slightly before he huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. Then, he let out the most exaggerated, dramatic sigh, bringing a hand to his chest as if you had gravely wounded him.

“My darling princess,” he drawled, voice laced with mockery and affection all at once. “Will you do me the great honor of being my girlfriend again?”

He extended his hand toward you, palm up, an amused smirk played on his face.

You tried—really tried—not to smile, but the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore. You let out a small laugh, cheeks heating as you slipped your hand into his. “Yes,” you whispered, watching as his fingers curl around yours.

He then lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against your knuckles. Without another word, he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, holding you against him like he never intended to let go. You melted into him, burying your face against his chest, breathing him in.

He held you there, his face buried in your hair, inhaling deeply as if he couldn’t get enough, as if you were the only thing that had ever made sense.

And maybe to him, somewhere in his fucked up mind, you were.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: is this too fucked lmao. im sorry ts would’ve worked on me sadly like i can fix him…

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[dandylovesturtles]

leo and mikey, treat

(fav duo tbh, pretty underrated)

More Sidelined AU! Are you sick of me yet? Hopefully not because this has consumed my brain.

Part 1

Part 2

We're jumping ahead a bit in time to hopefully give you guys a bit more idea of The Flavor of this AU. And also to give it a bit of a happier note. It's not all doom and gloom!

No content warnings to speak of on this one

---

Mikey lands on the roof and powers on his earpiece, whispering, "Mikey in position. Can you hear me, Base? Come in Base."

"Helloooo New York City," comes Leo's voice, loud and clear. "You're tuning into L.A.I.R 179.12, with your host, DJ Neon Leon! Bringing you the hottest rock from the other side of the millennia."

Mikey snickers, then tries to pull himself back together. "Leo, come on! I'm here."

"Who?"

He sighs, even though he isn't mad at all. "I'm here, DJ Neon Leon."

"Ohohoho, excellent." He hears the click of typing, and then Leo says, "Can you get me visuals, Shelldon?"

"Right away, Neon Leon," Shelldon's voice crackles through the comms. There's a moment of silence, and Mikey can just imagine Leo rolling his chair around his "command center."

(He and Donnie had spent ages building it to look like the bridge of the S.S. Starbolt, with added mobility access, of course. Leo loves it as much as Donnie loves his lab.)

"Got your visuals, dudes," says Shelldon. There's some more typing from Leo's end, then he says, "Alright, Miguel, you should see two guards coming around the building riiiiight... now!"

Sure enough, two guards in plainclothes circle either side of the old apartment building across the street. Mikey watches as the two of them meet in front of the entrance, exchange a few words, then turn and head back the way they came.

"Right on time, Leo."

"Perfect, we're synced." Some more typing, and then, "The rooftop will be clear - let me know when you're over there and I'll get you inside."

"Roger that," he says. "Mikey out." Then he clicks his earpiece to silenced.

A hop, skip, and a jump later he's on the opposite roof. There's a door here, and he edges toward it before contacting Leo again.

"I'm here!"

"Alright... Disabling alarms... now!" Mikey can just see how dramatically he must have pushed the button. "Check the door to see if it's locked."

Mikey reaches out and jiggles the handle, but it doesn't budge. "Locked."

"Alright, no problem - you got your lockpicks?"

"Yep!"

"Remember what I taught you?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Alright. Make me proud, little bro."

Mikey grins, pulling his lockpicking kit out of his gear. It takes him a few minutes, because he's nowhere near as fast at this as Leo is, but he gets it done without needing to ask for help. The training Leo made him go through is still fresh in his mind.

"Alright, I'm in," he says as he slips through the door. He's in a deserted stairwell, but just to be safe he crouches down into the shadows near the wall.

"So far, so good. You need to go down two flights of stairs. No guards are coming around right now, but keep it quiet just in case."

"Don't worry, I'll be silent as a mouse!"

"Knowing Dad that's not giving me as much confidence as you think."

Mikey giggles, then sucks in a breath and gets his game face on. Right. Silent. Ninja skills GO.

He does manage to make it to the right floor without major incident. There's no one in the hall when he enters, looking at the rows of numbered doors. He doesn't know why this is where the artifact is being kept hidden, but it doesn't matter.

"According to our intel, you should be looking for door four-oh-nine," says Leo. "The floor's clear, so get goin'."

"Got it," whispers Mikey, then hurries along in a silent crouch to the door Leo specified. He stops when he gets there, hissing in disappointment.

"What's up?"

"There's some kind of keypad lock."

"No problem. Just hook Donnie's doohickey in there."

Donnie would definitely hate it if he heard them calling it a "doohickey," and that makes Mikey grin. He pulls it out of his gear (it looks like a USB stick, but slightly thinner) and slips it into the maintenance slot on the keypad.

"Alriiight, hacking in progress," says Leo. "Big solo mish is going pretty smoothly so far, huh?"

"Yep," says Mikey proudly. "Told you guys I got this."

"That you did. Oh, and... alakazam!"

There's a click as he says it, then the red light on the keypad turns green. Mikey grins and opens the door, slipping inside the dusty apartment.

"You're getting pretty good at that hacking thing."

"Uh, you know I don't actually hack anything, right bud? I just get Shelly here to do it for me, or shoot it off to Dee if it's too complex."

"Don't sell yourself so short, dude!" says Shelldon. "You're picking it up real quick!"

"Ugh, don't say that. It makes me sound like nerd."

Mikey laughs again, searching the apartment for... well, he's not sure exactly. But he's pretty sure he'll know it when he sees it.

"What's the Foot Clan want this thing for, anyway?" he asks.

"Ours is not to question why, Miguel. I'm leaving that question for Donnie to answer."

"Mm... guess so..." He's about to say something else, but then he feels... something. Like a pulse, getting stronger as he moves toward a closet.

"...I think... I can feel it."

"Feel it?"

"Yeah... it's like..." He frowns, moving forward. "Like it's calling to me."

He opens the closet to find a safe. It also has an electronic lock, so once again he inserts the doohickey. The safe door opens with a click, and he peers inside.

There's only one item: a glittering green stone, with markings he doesn't understand carved in its surface. The pulse is super strong now, waves of energy washing over Mikey. Whatever this thing is, it's definitely powerful.

"I found it!" he says to Leo, a little louder than he should. He reaches in and wraps his fingers around it.

"Great! Hold on, just let me see if-"

Before he finishes his sentence, Mikey pulls the stone out - and immediately a loud alarm starts blaring, making him jump.

"What the heck is that!?" he yelps, jumping to his feet. He hears Leo curse on the other end of the line.

"Pressure alarm. Get out of there!"

The windows are barred - it's why he didn't come in that way in the first place. Mikey has no choice but to go back the way he came, dashing into the hallway. He turns on his heel and is making for the stairwell when his earpiece crackles again.

"No good, they're coming up the stairs."

"Then where am I supposed to go!?" he asks, frantic. All the windows are barred in the hallway, too, so that's no good.

"Okay, okay, hold on... oh, I got it! Opposite direction, about five doors down. Laundry chute."

Mikey sprints. Just as he hears the door of the stairwell open, he's tipping into the chute, pulling his limbs into his shell.

Getting chased by guards? No fun. Sliding down a laundry chute? Very fun.

"Whoooohoohooo!" he cheers when he reaches the bottom, landing in a pile of old rags and t-shirts. "That was awesome!"

"I remember having a distinctly less fun time the last time I had to do that," says Leo. "Anyway, stay there. I'm going to set off the roof access alarms and lure the guards up top, then you go up the stairs and slip out the front. Got it?"

"Got it!"

Leo's plan goes perfectly, and within a few minutes he's back outside. One later and he's back on the rooftops, running to safety.

"Yessss!" he yells once he's finally far enough away, jumping in the air and pumping his fist. "Mission successful baby!"

"I knew you could do it, little bro!" cheers Leo, his voice full of pride, and it makes Mikey beam.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Leo," he says back, truthfully.

It takes Leo a second to answer, which puts the smallest damper on Mikey's enthusiasm, but finally he comes back with, "Sure thing. You know I'm always here to help."

It's not perfect. But it's getting better. Leo is getting better, every day.

Mikey's celebratory mood cannot be quashed. He whoops again, eliciting laughs from Leo's end.

"Alright, now get your butt home before Raph freaks out. He's walked past my door twelve times."

"Thirteen," Shelldon corrects.

"Thirteen!" Leo echoes.

"You got it! Mikey out!"

He clicks the earpiece to silent, then runs and jumps to the next roof with an extra spring in his step. His solo mission was a complete success!

Of course, no missions were truly solo anymore. Not with his faithful older brother ever in his ear.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

QUESTION...? - s.s

midnight rain | vigilante shit | masterlist

Warnings: mentions of sex

Summary: the one where you realise that there is something going on between you and Scott

Wordcount: 2.6k

His arm wrapped around your waist made your face break out in a blush, a smile pulling at your lips. you shouldn’t feel so giddy but you can’t help yourself, body warming at his touch.

And how could you not. When you look up at him, aa smile on his face as he talked to one of his friends from math class, there was something so peaceful about it all, like the two of you slotted together perfectly. You were a good girl, you shouldn’t be doing this with some sad boy from across the hall.

You weren’t one to believe in soulmates, to believe that two people were supposed to be together but here you were, staring up at the man you’d only known for a few months and you were certain there was something special there.

You were always supposed to meet. That was for sure. You just had to wait a while to figure out if this was a good thing or a bad thing; no matter what happened, you knew you would always remember this moment as you stood in his arms.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he glanced down at you for a second, lips pulling into a smile before he quickly said goodbye to his friend, turning to you and glancing down so intently at you that you could almost feel his eyes looking at you through the visor.

“Come here,” he pulled you close by the waist, your head pressed up against his chest as you both stood there for a while.

Never in your life had you ever felt that way before, like the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, like you could lie in his embrace forever.

One of his hands brushed over the back of your head and you looked up at him, feeling like this was perfect, both of you slotting together perfectly in a way you had never felt before.

You had no clue how long you and Scott stayed like that, your head pressed against his chest, his head leaning on top of yours. It was like you were always supposed to be like this.

You hoped he couldn’t feel the pounding of your heart in your chest, that he couldn’t feel how nervous you were about all of this.

It would be a lie if you said that you were not attracted to Scott Summers and that you hadn’t been checking him out all night. He was perfect in every definition of the word, chiselled muscles, a dashing face.

It wasn’t just that, it was his personality too, the way he could make you laugh with even the silliest of jokes, the way he looked after the other students like his family. He was just everything you could have ever asked for and here you were.

He pulled away, hands coming to your shoulders as he looked at you. You wondered what he saw through his glasses, whether you were red and blurry or the person of his dreams.

“You wanna head outside?” He asked.

You nodded your head, pulling away from his embrace and feeling that emptiness within seconds. It was so strange how quickly you had gotten used to the feeling of him in your arms.

You walked outside, head spinning as you thought of that previous interaction. The garden in Xavier’s mansion was always busy during these parties but tonight it was practically packed, everyone smushed together.

He found the first seat he could and sat down on one of the benches, “Come sit,” Scott suggested.

Tilting your head to the side in confusion, you looked at him, a warm glow brushed across his face from the alcohol you had both been consuming all night, “There’s no seat,” you folded your arms across your chest, feeling the cold air seep into your bones.

He raised an eyebrow before patting his knee and you cocked your head at him, watching as the smirk pulled at his lips, “here,”

You looked around at the crowded room, anyone could see you here. Jubilee was at the bar, what would she say if she saw you sitting on his lap. Your head was spinning at the thought though.

There were so many voices in your head telling you that this was going to be a mistake but as you looked at him, warmth practically exuding from his skin, you knew that you’d be fine for them to gossip about this.

Scott shot you another look and you gave in to that warm feeling in your chest and walked over, hooking your arm around his neck and sitting down across his legs. This was not the way that tonight was supposed to go.

There was a warm feeling bubbling up in your chest as you looked at him up close, eyes trailing along his face. Through his glasses, you could almost see his eyes bearing into yours and you were sure nobody was ever going to look at you so intensely again.

under the warm lights of the garden, his protective glasses were almost glowing in the amber hue, light reflecting off of it. You watched as his head tilted down slightly and you were sure his eyes had just flickered back to your lips. When he made looked back up at you, your eyes meeting the visor, your throat was dry.

“I would kiss you, if you let me,”

The words made you freeze. You were already cold from the October air but a chill shot down your spine at his words. They were all you ever wanted him to say and here you were, sitting on his lap.

“Scott,” his name was quiet, sensual as it slipped from your lips and you watched him swallow at the way you said it.

“Yes,” his hand hooked around the back of your neck and your eyes fluttered shut for a second.

Every part of you wanted to say that this was a bad idea, that your friendship with Scott Summers would be ruined the moment he placed his lips on yours and yet your heart didn’t care.

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to reason but as you watched his eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, you could feel your resolve crumbling.

This was so unlike you. You were never supposed to come to this school and fall in love with the first guy who gave you a morsel of attention and here you were, sitting on his lap and holding him in your arms.

You placed a hand on his chest, almost trying to keep him a little further away but you found yourself instinctively leaning in towards him.

He muttered your name under his breath and you looked down at his lips, heart pounding in your chest.

Get a grip!

”We shouldn’t,” you repeated but this time the words were quiet and hushed, you were mere inches away from his mouth and then centimetres.

There was a twisting feeling in your stomach and you could start to feel your right knee shaking, spasming under the touch of his hand.

He hummed as he leaned in but even though he was drunk, he waited for you to make that first move, to lean in and kiss him.

Heart pounding, you did, lips colliding in the middle of Charles Xavier’s garden where all of your friends were going to see but for the first time in your goody-two shoes life, you could not care less.

The world seemed to slow as you kissed him, a mutation you knew neither of you had, and yet you were frozen in time, head twisting to meet his kisses, feeling his mouth open up to engulf you in it even more.

There were no words to describe this moment, his hand coming up to your neck to hold you in place, his palm cold but warming against your skin.

It was a dream you were sure you would wake up for in a minute, pulled out of it and tugged away. You squeezed your eyes shut and stayed in that moment for a few more seconds before pulling away.

His nose nudged against your cheek, your head spinning in the aftermath of the kiss. You opened your eyes and looked at him for a minute, eyes trailing over his face like this was the only time it would happen.

This had never happened to you before, nobody had ever kissed you like this in the crowded garden and you wondered if your friends were going to see, laughing at the situation, or applauding your bravery.

Scott kept his eyes closed for a minute and you soaked up the moment. You looked at the sharp lines of his nose, the small blemishes that littered his skin, the way his eyelashes touched his skin.

His eyes fluttered open and met yours, a smile pulling on his lips, “My room or yours?” He mumbled.

You weren't sure if it was his hand on your lower back or the alcohol that was making that warm feeling spread through your spine.

You watched as Scott’s eyes flickered down to your lips and he pulled you in for a hug, his face slotting perfectly into that crook in your shoulder like he was always meant to be there, his chin brushing against your chest. You leaned your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

Inhaling, you wondered if this was going to be the worst mistake you ever made. He pressed a soft kiss to your skin, lips mouthing at your collarbone like he wanted to mark you forever.

There were no thoughts running through your head as he sucked a mark into your neck, collarbone bruising under his touch. God, you were going to be ruined by him after this, soul marked by this moment under the bright lights.

You looked down at him, a hand brushing over his hair. He always was so specific about that, making sure his hair wasn’t messy. You just furrowed your brow and watched as he allowed you to do the one thing nobody else ever could.

“My room,”

Closing your eyes, you knew you were going to regret this moment.

Scott moved his head away from your neck but kept his eyes focused on it, pad of his thumb brushing over the mark against your neck that was already tender under his touch. He looked up at you, eyes wide like a puppy dogs as he nodded his head.

You stood up, knees a little bit shaky. You had never felt like this before, head spinning from his affection, his eyes hooded as he looked at you.

Reaching a hand forwar, he took yours and held it tight. Then he pulled away and your brows creased together in confusion. Using both of his hands, he interlocked your fingers, “Like this,” he mumbled under his breath, letting your hands drop, swinging them slightly together.

Your face heated up in a blush at his touch and you lead him upstairs, looking over your shoulder every now and then just to make sure it was all real.

The lights were blaring in the common room just like they did whenever Charles would leave, the teenagers all taking over the building.

The Christmas holidays passed easily and you made it back home for a little while, sitting on the porch of your Arizona house and pretending that none of this had happened.

It had been months since your rendezvous with Scott and you both made the decision that dating would be a problem for you both, especially with him still reeling from his break up with Jean.

Still, you couldn’t help that feeling that came into your chest every single time that you thought about that night, the way he felt pressed up against you, the taste of sweat on his neck as you sucked at his skin, his hands roaming your body, gripping onto your flesh and pulling.

you remembered everything about that night, the mole he had on his right shoulder blade, the way his chest felt underneath your hands, the freckles against his collarbone. All those little details that you knew about him that nobody else did and you couldn’t even tell anyone.

That was the deal. Nobody was supposed to know about that night you had spent together, nobody had caught him sneaking out of your bedroom the next morning and that was for the better. This was, nobody could tease you two.

Maybe you could have given it a try, had a real relationship but he was broken in two from everything that Jean had put him through and you were not the one who was going to fix him - it wasn’t even like he gave you a chance to help.

She was probably on his mind. Jean was always on his mind. He probably wished he could still touch her, that the girl that night had been you. It would be more suitable for him to get back with her and you were sure he had been waiting for it.

The break from school had been good but now you were back in classes and every time you would look at him, you could see him above you, arms braced between your head as he swooped down to kiss you again, tongue fighting its way into your mouth.

Every time you could feel his beard scratching against your skin, a joke about a potential rash slipping from his mouth and making you laugh as he pressed himself further against you. He had given you a look in that moment, head tilted back in laughter and you wondered how this had all happened.

It was like a dream that night but you were still living the nightmare of loving someone who didnt love you back and you were sure that he never would. You had been searching for the feeling ever since, and here you were, lost in the situation.

“Hey,” a voice said and you looked up to see him standing over you, a drink in his hands, “How was Christmas?”

Blinking a few times, you tried to ignore the sound of his moaning playing in your head like a broken record, the way his eyes had squeezed shut, the way he gripped onto you like you were going to disappear.

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it all, “Good,” you nodded your head, “Pretty mundane, how about you? You go home?”

he shook his head, “Couldn’t, my parents were in Wisconsin and I’m kinda banned from going back,”

You chuckled, “You gotta tell me about that some day,” you looked up at him with those eyes again, those eyes that screamed ‘fall in love with me!’

”one day,” he hummed in response and looked down at you.

You wondered what he was thinking at that moment, that he might think about you and him together on that night. You wondered if he ever relived that moment like you did, if he could hear you gasping out his name, fingernails digging into the skin of his back.

the music was blaring over your conversation but as you looked at him again as he sat down, it was like you were the only two left in the room.

The tension between the two of you were growing every second and even though you knew that it was just a silly situation but tonight, you were sure you could change both of your minds.

Neither of you were drunk this time, at least it looked like he hadnt even touched his cup yet. The words that slipped from his mouth made you realise how stupid you were.

“My room or yours?”

Your response was even dumber.

“Yours,”

[beezlub]

a scarf won’t hide much || S.S x MC

a/n: this is entirely unproofread so excuse that. this has been rotting in my brain for the last week or so, and i needed to get it out before continuing my other works lolol. it ended up being a lot longer than i expected but eh i’m not complaining

tags: slightly suggestive themes, sebs can’t apply makeup for sh!t, overall just very fluffy. seb and mc are in their ?? 7th ?? year? something like that idk i didn’t really have a year in mind but it’s def when they’re older than 17. leander slander (i’m sorry)(not really)

wc: 1.9k

likes and reblogs greatly appreciated :)

“seb, what’s on your neck?”

shit was the first thing that came to mind when he heard your voice in his ear. luckily, the great hall was mostly empty at this time, most students not wanting to get up so early in the dead of winter, wanting to savor the remaining bits of heat embedded in their blankets. you two, on the other hand, took this to your advantage. a quiet meal together in the mornings is just what you both needed more often than not with the chaos going around the school and hamlets, you off on your broom when you didn’t have classes, and sebastian in the undercroft or library, adding books to the every-growing list he thought you’d like.

“it’s, it’s nothing, love. how’s your eggs? they’re delicious today, oh and the sausage. if you won’t eat yours, i will, along with your pumpkin juice too,” sebastian could feel his cheeks burning, prying his gaze away from your curious one. he knew his sticks were limited; you could read him like an open book, and according to a tangent you’d gone on a few months back, rambling on about something insignificant was a key sign the teen was attempting to lie about.

“you’re a terrible liar, and a worse boyfriend for trying to lie to me,” you mused, a smirk coming to your face as you twisted around to get a better view of the awfully orange section of skin on his neck. as if he felt your eyes on his neck, sebastian brought his unoccupied hand up, covering his neck in a feeble attempt to hide the blotchiness. letting out a groan, you gripped his forearm, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks as you felt the muscle underneath his robes flex from your touch as you tried to pry away his hand. “seb! let me see! please,” you pleaded with the brunette, continuing to tug what seemed like your whole body weight down on his arm, but to your dismay, he didn’t even budge a centimetre. “if it’s a bruise from quidditch, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. it happens!”

letting out a groan of his own, sebastian shook his head, his fingers clamped down on his scarf and around his neck, his other hand idly pushing around the breakfast on his plate as he tried to ignore your assault of questions and comforts. how could he even begin to tell you that the awfully covered bruises on his neck were from you. his hardworking, intelligent, sweet girlfriend. he couldn’t break it to you; if he knew you as well as he hoped he did after half a year of dating, you’d be mortified at your actions from last night. a hot and heavy make out session in the room of requirement led to more than tousled hair, unbuttoned, and untucked shirts. it had led to your lips on his neck, legs wrapped around his waist as he was just putty in your hands after not seeing him properly for almost a week. ‘sickeningly sweet lovebirds' is what ominis had called you two with a fake gag when you had first started going out, and the name only became more true as the weeks flew by. now, it seemed as if you couldn’t go more than a few hours without reappearing by the other’s side, glued at the hip. amit had said you guys were star crossed lovers long before an official confession was even made from you (who was tired of sebastian’s flirtatious banter and his lack of balls to ask you out properly. you threatened him that you’d go out with prewett if he didn’t cough up an answer soon enough), and there you were last night, too caught up in each other to realise the fog that had consumed both your brains.

“MC, it’s. it’s not from quidditch,”

“then what is it from? ominis finally rocked your world with his duelling skills?” you snickered as sebastian glared at you, only for it to soften as he saw the joy in your eyes.

“something like that, i suppose.”

“wait- it wasn’t from anne was it? was she sick of your awful jokes finally and decided to take revenge?” you faked a surprised gasp, erupting into a fit of giggles as sebastian elbowed you gently in the side.

“my joke are not awful, i’ll have you know. got professor sharp to laugh at one the other day!”

“yes, dear, i know. we’ve been in the same potions class for how long now?”

“when will you stop piercing this beating heart, oh love,” sebastian let out a theatrical gasp, his hand moving from his neck unconsciously as he clutched the fabric over his heart, his head falling back to match his dramatical action. taking the opportunity, you yanked down his scarf, a nasty shade line of purple and blue hues ran down the column of his neck, and you suppressed a gasp as you tenderly ran a finger down his neck.

“sebastian! who did this to you? oh, merlin, i’m going to have their chin at the end of my wand for hurting you like this!” the anger was evident in your voice, and as much as sebastian liked seeing this rare, possessive side of you, he couldn’t hold the truth back from you any longer. you were right, he was an awful liar, and even worse at keeping things to himself.

“MC, calm down, please,” he whispered, grasping your wrist gently as he looked around the hall, making sure nobody’s prying eyes were on the two of you before yanking you off the bench and dragging you to the floo flames. before you could spew more nasty things about yourself unknowingly, he had you both inside the room of requirement. turning to face you, he could practically see the steam coming out of your ears, and he bit down a smile at the pout you had on your face. “do you really want to know?” he asked you, watching you frantically bob your head up and down.

“what kind of question is that! yes, sebastian sallow, i would in fact, love to know who did this to you! fighting with wands is one thing, but getting into a physical altercation with another student is another thing! i should go to professor weasley about this, or merlin, even professor black! they should have a week’s worth of detention, or even expelled!” sebastian could only watch with an amused look on his face as you paced right in front of him, throwing your hands up in the air every once in a while while your boots clacked on the stone of the floor. once you seemed to get most of your anger out in a verbal way, he let out a laugh. “what’s so funny, sallow? being beaten up sure isn’t, and from the looks of it, you didn’t even put up a fight! your knuckles are perfectly healed, and you don’t have any breaks on your face like you’d had when i first came.”

“you’re right, love. i didn’t put up a fight. i actually enjoyed this assault,” he watched as your jaw dropped, a smirk playing on his lips. oh, it was truly amusing to see you being so naive and forgetful.

“sebastian sallow! have you finally lost what little brain cells you have left?” you stood on your tip-toes and rattled your knuckles against his forehead, internally relieved that his brain wasn’t missing.

“you see that couch over there?” he pointed at the leather couch you had, pushed against the wall, giving a good view of the christmas tree you’d set up in the middle of the room. nodding to his question, he continued. “that’s where i was assaulted, per se.”

“but- how? only you and professor weasley know about this place. and deek, but i doubt he’d do anything to you.” sebastian was having way too much fun with this, the look of confusion and worry etched onto your features only fueled the fire in him.

“it was this awfully pretty witch who did it. she had let her hair out of her bun, and i was completely thrown off by her, having never seen it down. and her hands were all over me too, never once leaving my body. sat on my lap and everything.”

“sebastian! not only did you get assaulted, you, you cheated on me?” maybe he pushed it too far now, realising the pain in your voice and the tears pooling in your waterline. sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you.

“MC, you are dim. it was you, love. you are the witch who assaulted me, and supposedly should get a week’s worth of detention or even expulsion.” it took a few moments for the gears to turn in your brain before it all clicked, and sebastian had a front row seat to this show. your face turned scarlet in a few mere seconds, and you’d let out a series of incomprehensible words before covering your red face with your hands. a few apologies were strewn out too, though barely audible beneath your hands and you tried to hide yourself away from the man. laughing, sebastian grasped your wrists, prying them away from your face only to be met with your teary eyes and a furious blush.

“i’m- i’m so sorry sebastian! i didn’t mean to! i-i swear!” you hiccuped a few times, and it only made sebastian laugh more as he pulled you into his chest.

“oh, my sweet witch. whatever am i going to do with you?” he asked to nobody, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

“you-you aren’t mad?” you looked up at him, and his heart melted at your sorrowed expression.

“love, i am the furthest thing from mad. i quite enjoyed myself last night, and you seemed to as well, if those little breathy moans were anything to go by,” he shot a wink down at you, and you pushed his chest away from you, pouting once again.

“you aren’t funny, sallow.”

“i meant it dear. although, it would be nice for me to pay back the favor,” his voice lingered in the air as he withdrew his arms, instead interlocking your fingers together as he tugged you towards the couch.

“seb?..” you were confused, intrigued but confused as he plopped back on the couch, pulling you into his lap as you let out a yelp from the surprise.

“my little witch deserves some affection too, don’t you think?” his breath was hot on your neck, and any thoughts lingering in your brain vanishes as you felt his lips on your neck, peppering the skin in light kisses before they grew more hot.

“i-i hurt you, seb,” you breathed out, hand on his chest as he resumed his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest, his lips not leaving your neck for a moment.

“quite the contrary, dear. if anything, i should be thanking you. finally got some fifth year off my ass because of your..handiwork, and i think i should return the favor, seeing how prewett has been eyeing you again recently,” you could feel the smirk on his lips as he spoke against you skin, and instead of arguing, you just nodded along. “good,” was all he said before a harsh nip came at your throat, finally understanding what he meant by him wanting to return the favor. “after i’m done with you, i’m afraid a scarf won’t hide much, MC.”

[battlingangels]

The Heir of Slytherin - S.S. fanfic Chapter 16

to read on ao3

Seldom have I shared my bed with another, which is why when I felt something with me in my sleep, on top of me at that, I became quite confused. My eyelids fluttered open. The dog - the big, black dog with the beautiful grey eyes peered down at me. Its wet nose rubbed against my cheek gently. This time, for the very first time, it spoke to me.

"I need your help."

I rasped back, "Who are you?" 

The dog huffed in response, and I was pulled out of that reality.

It's not necessarily that these dreams of the dog were upsetting. That seemed quite banal, and like I had said to Albus, I was not afraid of the creature and did not believe it was trying to cause me harm. However, the fact that it was getting harder and harder to distinguish between the sleeping and waking worlds was becoming very concerning. I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore at this rate. 

I stumbled out of bed groggily and grabbed for my robe. I slipped it atop of my nightgown and slid my feet into my cozy slippers. My hair was a bit of a mess, but given how late it was, I didn't expect to have company on my walk anyway. I left my quarters feeling anxious. 

While stalking around the castle, I did end up running into Remus. He was looking much better, as it had been a few weeks since the full moon. He noticed my presence behind him and gave me a broad, kind smile. "Samira. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Couldn't sleep." It was a half-truth, but it would do. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I also couldn't sleep." He chuckled. "Shall we walk together, then?" 

"We shall." I sighed.

The man linked arms with me as we trotted along in relative silence. Until, of course, the sound of bickering could be heard just a few feet away. I looked up at Remus, who returned my gaze, seeming to be equally as intrigued. 

"Sounds like good old Professor Snape," Remus whispered to me. "Should we go save the poor soul?" 

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "I believe it is our duty." 

So we took on down the hall from which we heard the noise. Much to my surprise, the child being chastised by Snape was the one and only Harry Potter.

Snape could be heard raising his voice, "Why you insolent little-"

Remus jumps in now. "Professor."

Snape spins on his heels, pointing his wand at both me and Remus. "Oh, out and about having a nice little stroll in the moonlight, are we?" He is glaring daggers through my head, and for what reason, I had no idea. 

Remus pays him no mind, instead looking at Harry, who is absolutely seething. "Harry, are you alright?"

"That remains to be seen." Snape spits, tearing a piece of parchment out of Harry's grasp. "I have just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin. Supposed to be your area of expertise. Clearly it's full of dark magic."

I drew closer to Remus, looking over his shoulder at the parchment which he unfolded. I giggled, entirely on accident, at the text inside mocking Snape's nose. He once again glared at me, and this time, I wholeheartedly deserved it. 

"I seriously doubt it, Severus." Remus smiled. "It looks to me as though it's merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it." He chuckles now before clearing his throat. "I suspect it's a Zonko product."

Snape goes to snatch it back before Remus takes it out of reach. "Nevertheless, I shall investigate any hidden qualities it may possess. It is, after all, as you say, my area of expertise. Harry, would you come with me, please?"

Harry walks forward now.

"Professor," Remus looks to Snape, "good night."

I stayed behind for a moment with Snape, who is absolutely glowering at me. 

"Skipping about with Professor Lupin, are we, Al-Kahina?" He raises his brows. "Don't tell me you enjoy the smell of wet dog." 

I raised a brow back at him, arms crossed tightly over my chest. "Me and Remus are merely friends, Professor Snape. Not that that concerns you."

The dark-haired man scoffs. "No. Of course not." 

With that, he turns and exits the hallway, leaving me alone. I take it upon myself to catch up with Remus and Harry and find them walking into the Defense Against the Dark Art's classroom. I shut the door behind me as I walk in behind them.

"Now, I haven't the faintest idea, Harry, how this map came into your possession, but quite frankly, I am astounded that you didn't hand it in." Remus chastises. "Did it never occur to you that this, in the hands of Sirius Black, is a map to you?"

The man raises some good points, I will admit.

"No, sir," Harry mumbled.

"You know, your father never set much store by the rules either, but he and your mother gave their lives to save yours. And gambling their sacrifices by wandering around the castle, unprotected, with a killer on the loose? That seems to be a pretty poor way to repay them!" Remus continued cutting into the boy. 

Honestly, he was so harsh I got a little nervous just standing there, arms wrapped tightly around myself. 

"I will not cover for you again, Harry," Remus states. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispers.

"I want you to return to your dormitory and stay there." 

Harry nods, turning to leave.

"And don't take any detours. If you do, I shall know." The man reminds.

"Professor," Harry calls. "Just so you know, I don't think that map always works. Earlier on, it showed someone in the castle that I know to be dead."

"Oh really? And who might that be?" Remus inquired. 

"Peter Pettigrew." Harry stated.

My ears perked up at this. I looked at Remus, whose skin turned pale as though his blood ran cold.

"That's not possible," Remus said nervously.

"It's just what I saw." Harry shrugged before turning away and leaving the classroom. "Goodnight, Professor Lupin. Professor Al-Kahina." 

When the boy looked, Remus looked at me, his breath shaky. 

"What is that thing? The map?" I asked.

"We..." Remus sat down, unsteady. "Me, Sirius, James, and Peter. We made it. Hence, the nicknames. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Moony is me, for obvious reasons. Wormtail is Peter because his animagus is of a rat. Padfoot was Sirius, because his animagus is of a dog, and Prongs was James... because his patronus is of a deer."

At the mention of Sirius, my own blood ran cold. "A dog?"

"A large, black dog at that." Remus nodded. He hurriedly opened the map now, pointing his wand at it and stating, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Sure enough, it turned into the map it was intended to be. I leaned over his shoulder tentatively, and there it was. Peter Pettigrew's name was walking through the castle.

"The thing about this map, Samira..." Remus breathed. "Is that it is never wrong. It has never been wrong." 

"If the map isn't wrong," I whisper, "then..."

"Peter is alive." He states. "Peter Pettigrew is alive and somewhere in the castle." 

If Sirius did not kill Peter, and he has been coming to me in visions in his animagus form asking for help... Something was wrong. Somewhere along the way, this story became mangled. My hands began to shake at the information unraveling in my mind. 

"Samira," Remus said gently, grabbing for one of my hands. "Are you alright?"

"I just... I think I need to go back to sleep." I say quietly.

I couldn't tell Remus of my visions. Not yet. I wasn't sure if they were real or not, or what they meant, and if they were real, I didn't want Remus to do something he might regret. 

"Can I walk you back to your quarters?" He asked.

"No. I'm okay... really." I mutter in response. "Goodnight, Remus."

Given the new information, it was of utmost importance that Albus listen to me. I needed real answers about my visions, and I needed him to take me seriously. So the next morning, I returned to his office. I stomped up the stairs, and assuming we were alone again, I started speaking. Perhaps out of turn, might I add.

"I've had another vision of that dog, Albus," I say, exasperated. "And I fear that I may know who it is, and this is greatly confusing to me because I could swear as if my life depended on it that this thing... this creature in my dreams is good to his core." 

"Perhaps, then, Al-Kahina, you don't quite understand much of anything." That voice... it came seemingly out of nowhere. I was so upset when I came into Albus' office, I hadn't noticed that the stairs were already out. Someone was here. That someone being Snape.

I was so angry, in fact, that when I turned around to look him in the eye, I simply couldn't help myself. Nothing about my conduct was going to be professional from here forward. 

"Say that again, Snape. Tell me again how dumb I am, I dare you." I spat venomously. 

He walked forward, we were nearly touching now. "You have an ego the size of planet Earth. You can never be told that you, perhaps, may not know everything, can you? Absolutely not. That would tarnish your self-image of being the most important, intelligent witch in Europe or perhaps the entirety of North Africa." 

Before I can snap back, something bizarre happens. One moment, I am peering into Snape's eyes, and the next, it is as though I am inhabiting his mind. Looking at memories of his that I couldn't possibly have access to. I had not, to my knowledge, cast legilimens. How was I doing this? How was this happening?

And most importantly, how is it possible that Snape was watching memories of mine from far before I knew him? Memories of me in the desert of Morocco, using magic to wield the sand into shapes. I was young then, maybe 11. Before I could watch on, I was violently pushed out of his mind. 

I gasped, and before I could catch my breath, Snape's hands were on my sweater. He pulled me closer to him, his face filled with anger and resentment. "You insolent girl. How dare you cast legilimens on me? How dare you peer into my mind!"

"Severus," Albus shouts from behind me. "You take your hands off of the girl at once!"

Snape looks to Albus, to me, and then to his fists, which have my clothes bunched between them. It is almost as if he had no idea what he was doing. He seems taken aback by his actions. He lets me go, and before anything else can be said, I sprint out of the room in a panic.

I ran all the way back to the dungeons, tears spilling down my face. I felt like I was going mad. How had I done that to Snape? It was entirely unintentional, and now he definitely didn't trust me. How could I have crossed such a boundary? Why was my mind doing things that I couldn't explain? 

I wept as I turned the hall towards my quarters, but something was wrong. It was as though the walls began to weep. The scent of rainwater flooded my nose, but it was not raining outside. It hadn't rained in quite some time, in fact. At the end of the hall stood Snape, unreadable and motionless, half masked by shadows which seemed to move about. That was entirely impossible. He couldn't have possibly beat me here. 

"Snape," I called out. 

He did not answer me, still staring into me, or possibly through me. Now, the water was pooling on the ground. It was filling quickly. The more I walked forward, reaching out to the Potions professor, the higher the water rose. I cried harder now.

"Snape! Please, help me!" But nothing.

Faster now, faster. The water rose and rose. I was practically swimming in it. One last time...

"Severus!" I cried. 

The water came up and covered my face, and through the clear liquid, I could see that he was not there. He had never been there, perhaps. 

And then I fell to the ground, gasping for breath, my chest heaving and my lungs aching. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst, and I was sobbing. The water was gone, and yet the smell of rain lingered.

[apunctureinthesky]

If you are lucky to be in London by the next May 11th, make sure to buy a ticket to RRR Live in Concert at the Royal Albert Hall, featuring a pre-show talk with S.S. Rajamouli, M.M. Keeravani, Jr NTR and Ram Charan. And if you do go, please send them all the love they deserve

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[speedyartist30]

New home

The rumbling of tires over rocks woke Jay from his sleep. He blinked, feeling disoriented and confused. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and found himself in the back of a truck. The windows were so heavily tinted that he could barely see outside.

Where am I…How did I get here?

Jay moved toward the window, pressing his small hands against the glass and squinting. Silhouettes and buildings blurred by, and a sense of unease settled in his chest. His thoughts were foggy, and he couldn’t remember how he ended up here. When he looked down, he saw a band-aid on the back of his sore hand.

A deep voice suddenly told him to sit down, and Jay jumped, startled, seeing two strangers in the front seat. Wide-eyed, he quickly sat down, cradling his sore hand to his chest. His eyes met a pair of shaded ones in the rearview mirror. The other person, a woman, was on the phone, speaking in a hushed tone, but Jay clearly heard his name.

Glancing at the door, Jay slowly tried to pull the handle, but it didn’t budge. He looked for a lock, only to realize there wasn’t one. Panic started to rise in his chest, but before it could fully set in, the vehicle came to a stop.

The strangers got out, leaving Jay alone inside. He stood up again and pressed his face against the window, watching as they talked to an older man in a strange uniform. The strangers who had been with him wore black suits. When Jay saw them moving toward the window, he scrambled back until they opened the door. A bright light flooded in, and Jay shielded his eyes with his hand as a chilly breeze swept through the vehicle. The woman picked him up and carried him out of the car. Jay squirmed in her arms until he got a look at his surroundings.

Tall trees and buildings surrounded him, and in the distance, he saw a huge wall. He didn’t get a chance to take in the sights for long, as they were quickly heading toward the woods behind them. Curiously, Jay looked around until they came across an old, worn-down shed. They stepped inside, where rusted tools lined the walls. The man in the suit took out his phone and made a call. Right before Jay’s eyes, the floor opened up, revealing an elevator.

The four of them stepped inside the elevator as it descended. Jay watched the numbers light up one by one until it stopped at a button labeled "S.S." When the doors opened, a long hallway was revealed. The man in the strange uniform glanced at Jay out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking away. They turned into a stark white area filled with monitors and people in white lab coats, while others wore black suits. Suddenly, Jay was put down, but the woman grabbed his wrist and pulled him in a completely different direction. He stumbled over his small feet, trying to keep up with her quick, purposeful strides as she led him down a new hallway with only a single door at the end.

Jay looked up at her as she opened the door, revealing a stark white room inside. There was a bed, a closet, and a bathroom. On the bed were some clothes. She released his wrist and told him to get dressed. Jay tilted his head in confusion—he was already dressed.

The woman frowned, nudged him into the room, and closed the door behind him.

Jay fidgeted with his hair and slowly approached the set of clothes laid out for him. They were all black. Looking down, he saw he was wearing a light gray sweatshirt and joggers, but no shoes—just socks. Glancing at the door, he turned back and began changing. He pulled on the black camouflage pants and the black sweater, struggling a bit with the heavy boots but managing to get them on. Once dressed, he stood on his tiptoes to open the door and peeked down the hall. He saw the woman from before and another unfamiliar woman.

Nervously, Jay gave a wave and a shy smile, but neither woman responded. The new woman stepped toward him and said firmly, “You will refer to us as 'handler,' as well as anyone else you see in a black suit.” Jay tilted his head, unsure of what a “handler” was. The woman turned and started walking away. “It’s time for your training. Afterward, we’ll evaluate your progress,” she said over her shoulder.

Jay didn’t move, feeling confused and frightened. What training? The women stopped and looked down at him. His throat tightened as he struggled to understand.

“When you are given a task, you follow it until completion. Understand?” one of them said.

Jay slowly shook his head and took a step back, his heart racing. He wasn’t supposed to be here—he didn’t even know why or where he was! His hands began sparking with electricity. Taking a deep breath, Jay bolted past them in a blur of speed, sliding to a stop when everyone turned to look at him. Panicked, Jay tried to find a way out. An alarm blared, and heavy footsteps echoed behind him.

What’s happening? Where’s Mommy and Daddy?

Jay came to a dead end, the hallways all looking the same. Breathing heavily, he covered his ears as the alarms continued to wail. Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick on his leg. Yelping, he looked down to see a dart. His vision blurred as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, and he collapsed to the floor. His eyes grew heavy, and his body relaxed uncontrollably. Through his hazy vision, he saw a pair of black heels approaching before everything went dark.

The next few weeks were a blur for Jay, his memories slowly coming back. He remembered that these people had kidnapped him from his home and hurt his parents. The recollection of that terrible night left him heartbroken and terrified. His so-called “handlers” around him remained emotionless, showing no concern for his fear or sadness; they only cared about his progress in the relentless training sessions he was forced to endure.

The doctors in the underground facility frightened Jay. Whenever he saw someone in a white lab coat, a small voice in his head urged him to get away. Despite his screams and tears, the doctors drew blood from him, making him feel sick afterward. Jay didn’t understand why they needed it or what was so “special” about it, a term he constantly heard from them.

In the facility’s training area, Jay was pushed to his limits. He was forced to run, lift weights, and learn combat. Every day, he was exhausted and bruised. Instead of receiving the comfort and reassurance he needed, he was met with criticism: “You were too slow on that last run. Your form was sloppy. You need to control your emotions. Stop crying. Focus!” Jay learned the hard way that any attempts to escape or acts of “stubbornness” led to even more time locked away in the training grounds.

Jay desperately wanted to go home, but he wasn’t even sure if he had a home to return to

Samual’s POV

Outside near the trail in the woods, Samual had just ordered his squad to run as part of their warm-up for the day’s training. As he was preparing to start, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Signaling his team to wait, Samual answered the call. It was his commander.

The commander informed him that he was needed in the recovery unit. A bit concerned, Samual told his team to continue without him as he left to find out why his presence was required.

Upon arriving at the recovery unit, he saw his commander standing outside. Calm but with a hint of worry, Samual asked, “Is everything alright, commander?”

The older man nodded and instructed Samual to follow him. “A few weeks ago, a squad was on a mission and they discovered the child alone in the woods. But this child is capable of doing… well, things people would deem impossible.”

Samual glanced at his superior, puzzled. “A child, sir? Not to be disrespectful, but is this some sort of joke? Why on earth would a child be brought here?”

Commander: "The child has been unwell and needed immediate medical attention."

The commander’s eyes shifted briefly to Samual before returning forward. Climbing a few stairs, the commander led Samuel to a room where two doctors stood outside—one man and one woman. Opening the door, the commander allowed them to enter. Samual saw the child asleep on the hospital bed. The other doctors stepped in, and the woman whispered something to the head doctor.

Doctor: "Can you two clear the room for a moment?"

Respecting the request, Samual and his commander stepped outside. Though they didn’t speak, Samual couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had about the situation, especially the peculiar behavior of the doctor.

Commander: "The child’s name is Jay."

Samual, surprised by the sudden information, looked at his commander.

Samual: "Sorry, what did you say, commander?"

Commander: "The child, his name is Jay. I didn’t mention it earlier, but it’s important to know."

The commander didn’t make eye contact; he kept facing the wall with a strange, frustrated, and perhaps guilty expression.

Samual: "Commander, are you—"

Before he could finish his question, the nurse opened the door and gestured for Samual to come in. As he walked back into the room, he noticed the two men at the computer, whispering to each other.

Nurse: "Captain Burns."

Samual looked back at the nurse, who was holding Jay, still asleep. She handed the child to Samual, who carefully took him, making sure not to wake him. The child seemed deeply asleep, his head lolling limply on Samuel’s shoulder.

The nurse turned her back to Samual and joined the doctors at the computer.

As Samual walked out, he noticed his commander had vanished.

Samual: “What’s wrong with everyone today?”

Stopping by the mess hall, Samuel picked up some fruit for Jay when he woke up. On his way back to his room, he attracted unwanted attention but managed to deter his nosy comrades with a single cold look.

Finally making it to his room, Samuel placed Jay on the couch and closed the door to keep others out. He turned on the TV at a low volume for background noise and sat beside Jay, starting on some paperwork he had fallen behind on.

While working, Samuel kept an eye on Jay, ready to take him back to the medical facility if needed. The child barely moved. After finishing a few documents, Samuel left the room to deliver them to an office just a few doors down. When he returned, he noticed the TV was glitching and the lights in the room were flickering. Jay was frowning in his sleep, curling up. Samuel didn’t want to wake him, but the child’s distressed expression was concerning.

Samual: “Jay? Jay!”

When Jay didn’t respond, Samual reached out and gently shook Jay’s right knee. Jay’s eyes flew open, and he pulled his leg away, tears filling his eyes as he clutched his knee with a small cry.

Samual: “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I’m so sorry!”

Standing up to give Jay space, Samual considered getting a doctor but quickly dismissed the idea due to their strange behavior earlier.He looked back at Jay, who was still clutching his knee, tears streaming down his face. Jay seemed to relax a little as he glanced around the room, though he still looked confused.

Samual: “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jay nodded, starting to wipe his tears away. Samual noticed how exhausted Jay looked—the sweater he wore was too big for him, and he seemed extremely stiff.

Slowly returning to the couch, Samual sat beside Jay, keeping a respectful distance. Jay didn’t move away but watched Samual intently.

Samual: “I’m going to check your leg, just to make sure you’re okay. Do you want some fruit while I do?”

Samual pointed to the bag on his desk, and Jay nodded. Standing up, Samual picked up the bag, untied it, and handed it to Jay. As Samual crouched down in front of him, he glanced up to see if Jay was watching. The child seemed more interested in the fruit, starting with the apple slices.

Samual gently rolled up Jay’s pants leg and discovered a dark pink and purple bruise on the boy’s knee. It was obviously swollen and needed ice. Despite his training to keep a straight face in serious situations, Samuel struggled to suppress his reaction.

Samual: Is this what the doctor meant by "unwell"? If they knew this, then why force the kid out? He needs rest.

Lost in his thoughts, Samuel felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Jay offering him an apple slice.Smiling at the gesture, Samuel took the slice and ate it.

Samual: “Thanks, Jay.”

A small smile appeared on Jay’s face as he continued eating the fruit from the bag, looking more relaxed than before.

Knowing he needed to get his squad, Samuel turned off the TV and stood up.

Samual: “Well, it’s time to go.”

Jay pulled his pants leg back down to cover his knee and climbed off the couch, holding the bag close. Though Jay moved stiffly, he didn’t whine or complain. Samuel suspected the child had more injuries but didn’t have time to check.

Determined not to let Jay walk on his injured leg, Samual drove them to the training area.

Arriving at the weight room, Samual didn’t find his squad but he saw a mess. Annoyed by the disarray, he tells Jay to sit on one of the benches until he finished cleaning up.

As Samual picked up discarded weights, he noticed a golden glow. Turning toward it, he saw a blur zoom around the room. Within seconds, the room was completely cleaned and organized. Looking around, Samual saw Jay back on the bench where he had been sitting earlier.

Samual paused, astonished. Had Jay just glowed and moved faster than he could blink? The commander’s words rang true. Samual snapped his mouth shut and shook his head to regain his composure.

Samual: “Um, thanks for helping, Jay. Er… you’re very fast.”

Jay nodded but grimaced, holding his right side.

Samual: “Are you hurting?”

Jay winced, but shook his head.

Samual: “It’s okay; you just need to rest so it won’t hurt anymore, alright?”

Noticing that Jay’s eyes were watering again, Samuel crouched beside him and gently asked:

Samual: “Is it just your leg that hurts, or is there something else?”

For the first time that day, Jay spoke.

Jay: “It hurts here.”

He pointed to his right side, the same side where his knee was injured. Samuel lifted Jay’s sweater and saw that the entire right side of the child’s torso was bruised. The sight was disturbing; it looked like something that could put a grown man in the hospital.

Samual: “Jay, who did this?”

There was silence.

Samual: “Jay?”

Still, there was no response. Realizing he might have pushed too hard with his questions, Samual decided to change the topic.

Samual: “I’m going to get you some ice.”

He carefully picked Jay up and headed outside to get some from the mess hall. As they walked along the trail, Samuel said,

Samual: “Jay, from now on, if you need help with anything—whether it's injuries or somewhere to stay—let me know, or just come to my room, okay?”

Jay didn’t say anything but looked up at Samuel and layed his head down. His small hand gripped Samuel’s jacket as he gave a small nod.

As Samual carried Jay, he noticed his squad approaching. When they saw Jay in his arms, their expressions shifted to shock. Jay, startled by their presence, sparked briefly.Cameron was the first to react.

Cameron: “WHAT THE F*CK!”

[vintagelasvegas]

Apache Hotel / Horseshoe Club / Binion’s Gambling Hall

Apache Hotel, Fremont & 2nd, right around the time of opening in March 1932. No signs on the building. Photo by Larry Ullom.

Apache hotel and various clubs:

‘05: Property bought by W.R. Thomas, begins building a hotel in ‘10, abandons the project, leaving exposed open basement through the 20s.

‘31: P.O. Silvagni buys the property, begins building. A.L. Worswick, architect.

‘32: Apache Hotel opens 3/19/32. Hotel leased to R.R. Russell for 15 years. Silvagni opens a series of clubs in the basement in ‘32-34 - Apache Indian Village, Kiva Club, and ‘Pache Club. Apache Casino, a separate business, opens on the ground floor in Oct. by Pop Houskey, T. Thebo.

‘41: New Western Casino on the ground floor in Jul.; closed Spring ‘42.

‘42: Forester Jewelers on the ground floor (10/1/42-7/28/44).

‘45: S.S. Rex Club on the ground floor, opened 3/3/45. Partners include T. Cornero, Silvagni, W. Alderman. Sign by Nevada Outdoor Advertising. City orders partners including owner/landlord Silvagni out in Jun; G. McAfee licensed to take over the club in Jul. The "S.S." was dropped from the club name on paper post-Cornero, but the signs never changed.

‘46: Rex Club sold to M. Bernstein in Feb; M. Sedway as manager; casino becomes Eldorado Club in Aug, Sedway continues as manager.

‘47: Apache Hotel rooftop sign installed (c. late ‘47). Arthur Rozen, Ed Moss take over management at Eldorado Club.

‘50: Eldorado closed in Dec. The club reopened as Clover Club circa Jan.-Feb ‘51 with Eldorado sign in place.

‘51: May, Benny Binion buys and closes Clover Club. Eldorado sign removed from marquee that month as renovations to the club begin.

Horseshoe club:

‘51: Horseshoe Club opens on the ground floor 8/14/51.

‘52: “Benny Binion” name added to the Horseshoe sign c. May, after Binion is licensed.

‘53: Binion loses license in Dec after federal conviction; casino under control of new partners J. Brown, W. Dorsett, “Doby Doc” Caudill; Binion name removed from the sign in late ‘53 or early ‘54.

‘54: Dec. 10, Grand opening Horseshoe Club's new restaurant and bingo room in a new building on South 2nd St, and the Horseshoe's Million Dollar Display. Apache Hotel Annex occupies the second floor of the new building. An alley separates the main building and the annex.

‘58: Horseshoe Club leases Apache Hotel. Rooftop sign removed, replaced with a sign that says "Hotel," and the Apache name retired until 2019. Brown’s stake sold to Ed Levinson & Fremont Hotel partners, Levinson becomes president of Horseshoe.

‘59: Million dollar display removed, currency belonging to Joe W. Brown estate.

‘60: Jack Binion, age 22, approved as 2 ½ owner of Horseshoe

‘61: Neon facade installed on the building and expansion onto former Boulder Club property.

‘62: Parking garage addition, McAllister & Wagner, architect.

‘64: Binion family becomes sole shareholders of the Horseshoe. Main building and annex joined, removing the alley at unknown date in mid-late 60s.

‘69: Million Dollar Display re-introduced.

‘70: World Series of Poker begins.

‘88: Horseshoe buys The Mint in Jun; expands into the club in Jul; “Mint” lettering immediately removed from the signs; signs entirely replaced throughout Fall ‘88-early ‘89. Benny Binion statue sculpted by Deborah Copenhaver, at Casino Center & Ogden, unveiled in Nov.

‘90: Culinary Local 226 and Bartenders Local 165 union workers at Binion's Horseshoe go on strike, Jan. 27 to Nov. 7.

‘98: Becky Binion Behnen sole owner of Horseshoe.

‘99: Million Dollar Display sold, removed.

‘04: Horseshoe closed after cash seizure, 1/9/2004. Sold to Harrah’s. Harrah’s retains Horseshoe brand and World Series of Poker, sells remaining assets to MTR Gaming.

Binion’s Gambling Hall:

‘05: Hotel-casino rebranded Binion’s Gambling Hall & Hotel in Mar.

‘08: Casino and hotel lease sold to TLC Gaming.

‘09: Hotels closed (former Mint tower and Apache).

‘19: Older hotel reopens as Apache Hotel.

Photos from the collection at Nevada State Museum, Las Vegas. Sources include: D. Swanson. Blood aces: the wild ride of Benny Binion, the gangster who created Vegas poker. Viking, 2014.

Below: circa 1932, view on 2nd Street, main hotel entrance. 

[tabswrites]

7 Snippets, 7 People

Tagged by @writernopal here! Thanks, Nopal 💜

Tagging (no pressure, as always!): @theroseempress @writinglittlebeasts @hd-literature @j-1173 @clairelsonao3 @gummybugg

Silver Sentinels tag list (please ask to be added/removed!): @outpost51

Silver Sentinels, Ch. 3

Adrin gave the girl an encouraging smile as she set down a pail of water and a folded piece of linen beside him. “Just tell me what you can remember.” Before she could set the bottle down, Davis snatched the spirits out of her hand, causing her to jump back. Adrin felt a surge of annoyance rise up inside of him as he watched the man take a long sip with his free hand.

“All I know is, Henrietta was talking to her one moment and the next that crazy bitch was attacking me!” he exclaimed, wiping drops of liquid out of his beard.

Henrietta stiffened at his words. “It was a misunderstanding.” she said, so softly Adrin had to lean towards her to hear.

“How so?” he asked.

“She thought he was trying to hurt me-”

Davis slammed his good hand onto the table. “Hush, girl!”

“Hang on,” Adrin squeezed the injured hand as a small warning. “Do you mean to say the exile was protecting you?”

Henrietta opened and closed her mouth, eyes darting between her parents. The tension in the room was stifling. Adrin found himself unable to speak as he considered how to proceed. They hadn’t covered how to mediate uncomfortable family meetings in guard training.

S.S, Ch. 3

An older guard close to his father’s age saluted the captain from his post at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let them through.

The interrogation room was a cold, uninviting place made of four solid granite walls. The only light came from the two torches hung on either side of the door–Adrin supposed there was no need for comfort in a room so few ever saw.

He guided Henrietta towards the table and pulled out a chair. She sat down slowly, her dark brown eyes reminding him of a frightened doe as they wandered around the room. He joined Hollowar on the other side of the table.

“Why was Mara Wilkes at your home, Miss Rameau?” The captain placed her arms on either side of the chair and straightened her posture, staring down at the girl with a thinly veiled look of displeasure.

Henrietta swallowed, shifting in her seat. “I’m not sure, ma’am.” she squeaked. Her hand drifted up to her hair and tugged at a random curl. “She arrived shortly after sunrise, asking me to deliver something for her.”

S.S, Ch. 3

“Ramsby, escort Miss Rameau to a cell.”

Adrin stopped his pacing and spun to face her, his cape whipping around with him. “Captain, is that necessary?” His heart ached at the sight of Henrietta’s small frame slumped over the table. There was something so honest about her, a natural sense of freedom in the way she expressed her emotions. It reminded him of Sophie, he realized. “Look at her. She’s hardly a threat.”

“That is not your decision to make.” Hollowar growled in response. “Let’s go.”

Adrin was left with no choice but to obey, glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist. Nothing about the situation felt right, but he figured couldn’t do a thing for Henrietta if he was in a cell, and he was already in shackles, so to speak. He followed the captain back to the main hallway and through a heavy set of wooden doors.

S.S, Ch. 4 (whaaat? Chapter 4 already? Go me!)

The still of the silence revived her. Mara opened her eyes to a clear blue sky and exhaled, knowing she had once again evaded death. As she sat up and looked around, she wondered if it might be too early to celebrate.

Ascension, Ch. 2

Callie opened her eyes to a sky full of stars, a peculiar observation due to the fact that she was indoors.

It had been just over a week since her brother had left, the same amount of time he had spent working on her parting gift. The mural covered the entire space over her bed. It had a background of the deepest blue and tiny stars in glistening gold.

Kiran had traded a quarter of his cattle for the paints, insisting it was worth it. She was still very cross with him for leaving in the first place—they hadn’t been apart for more than a day since he had arrived in Atharis ten years prior.

“Oh, come on Callie,” he implored her with a taunting grin. “We’ve shared the same air for most of our lives. Could you settle for sharing the stars?”

Ascension, Ch. 2

“Ah, Your Highness!” Duke Overly exclaimed, clapping his hands together as she appeared. “So kind of you to finally join us.” He took an agonizingly slow sip of ale.

Callie curtsied to her father before turning her focus to the duke. “It takes time to be presentable in accordance with the court’s impeccable standards.” she replied with a beaming smile. “Perhaps if the court would reconsider my request to wear less formal clothing from time to time, my morning routine could be considerably shorter.”

Ascension, Ch. 2

News from the border was never good. It usually meant Aleksander had grown bored once again, and was starting an even more infuriating game with them. Kiran had mentioned just before he departed that Atharis was reaching its limit, and their father was uncertain about how to proceed. One thing was clear—they could not survive another escalation.

[sm-writes-chaos]

Yo what's goin on with case #72?

My attempt at writing a murder mystery in three days while I was at a girls camp. But I came up with some pretty interesting characters so although I never finished it, I hold it dear. —

Case File: #72

Detective On Duty: August S.

Time Period: June 13-15

Case Name: The Girl Who No-One Liked (Wip name!!)

***

A murder occurred on June 13th, the infamous Kelly J. was suddenly down on the ground in a pool of blood. Shortly after the tragedy her body went missing alongside any evidence.

A mystery was born, and everyone was a suspect.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, I should begin where all stories begin,(no not my birth), but three (3) day’s before the crime occurred.

— Here’s a snippet of all the characters: (our main character is August, a 12 year old girl who aspires to be a detective)

Sycamore Camp is run by my school, Sycamore School.

The founders of the school started it as a “fun activity that will inspire perseverance and survival skills for youth.” But that just meant you had to walk a lot.

The school buses could take us most of the way, but we had to hike the last three hours to a crook at the top of the Mount Reswald where the camp was located.

At this point in the story, er, file, I should point out a few oddballs in my school who will be important to this case.

First of all, S.S (Sycamore School) has kids from my age, all the way to high school seniors. Every age goes to this camp. In my class we have the most important to the case, Billy, Turnip, Mike, Ike, and Taffy.

Billy, who I call Search Browser Billy, (not that he ever bothered to give me a nickname), supplies me with additional information when necessary. A detective needs their sources after all. Sometimes he’ll answer whether I ask or not.

He wriggles himself into all different groups, ones his age or not, and collects secrets, confessions, details etc. Anything he can get his ears on.

Despite not giving me a nickname when I gave him one, he’s promised me to always be the first to know when new information is revealed.

Next is Turnip, not her birth name of course. Though I’ve never been able to actually confirm that. Billy knows nothing either seeing as she clams up whenever he walks by.

I once followed her to her parents car when they were picking her up one day, but they too call her Turnip.

She often reminds me of a mushroom. It might be because of her haircut though. Gloomy and glaring, I find her too intimidating to approach. I’ve only observed her from afar but that hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

Onto the twins, Mike and Ike. Contrary to their names however, they are anything but sweet. A twin rivalry has persisted ever since they were six. Billy tells me it’s because one Christmas one of their toys was slightly bigger than the other and he complained about it for days. Out of desperation their parents insisted that everything they do would be exactly the same. Same clothes, same food, same toys.

I suspect this has only made them more resentful, trying to prove one of them is better.

The last important figure in my class is Taffy. Short for Tiffany. The teachers are the only ones who call her Taffy, so she resents the rest of us. I’ve profiled her as a rebel. She gels her hair up in a mohawk, wears denim vests with cut sleeves, and large cowboy boots that when heard gives the impression of a giant walking down the halls.

She often crosses her arms, and I’m beginning to think they’re just glued that way. She spurs everyone during lunch to watch her jump off the highest things she can find before the teachers stop her. And challenges random unlucky people to spontaneous straw sword fights.

I’ve always thought of her as an ally. A detective needs a good distraction sometimes when investigating, so I always keep her favorite candy, green lollipops, on hand at all times.

Then there’s Colin’s class, the soon to be 12th graders. 

First up is the infamous Kelly. J.

I say infamous because she’s the cookie cutter popular girl, except everyone hates her.

A scowl permanently on her face, rude, and only communicating in scoffs, the younger classes have taken to giving her an equally hateful scowl in return.

The only people who seem to tolerate her is her best friend Marge, and her boyfriend Brad.

Marge is really Margaret, but she insists it really says Marge on her birth certificate. Brad was a little different. Instead of tolerating her, he was more scared of her. Being treated more like a butler than a boyfriend, he listens to her every command, always giving her that same nervous smile.

—

I might as well tell you the ending because I don’t really plan on finishing it anytime soon. So Kelly J actually faked her death so she could leave her school that hates her and go to a new one. (Very dramatic) Her bf Brad was really suspicious throughout the story so August thought it was him, but in really he had had a fight with Kelly prior to her “death” and told her to “trip on a rock and die” so he thought it was his fault. They were fighting about how in kindergarten he should’ve won this race but he kept tripping (bcuz of Kelly). Anyways thanks for the ask!

[bolllywoodhungama]

Baahubali: The Beginning, directed by S.S. Rajamouli, will screen in Norway at the Stavanger Opera House.

Prabhas starred in the 2015 film Baahubali: The Beginning, which was released.

The 2015 film Baahubali: The Beginning, which was directed by S.S. Rajamouli, will be shown in the Stavanger Opera House in Norway. The Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra will perform live during the screening of the Prabhas starrer. S.S. Rajamouli, the director, thanked the audience on social media while sharing the exciting news.

Can't forget the wonderful #Baahubali: The Beginning showing at the Royal Albert Hall in London, which is still ingrained in my eyes, he added. Currently, we are anticipating another wonderful film in concert screening of Baahubali 1 in Norway on August 18 at the Stavanger Opera House with a performance by the Stavanger Symphony Orchestra.

In the historical fiction movie Baahubali: The Beginning, a young warrior seeks to exact revenge on his father's killer. The movie was a box office and critical hit, making over Rs 1000 crore globally. It is regarded as one of the greatest Indian movies ever made. In addition to Rana Daggubati, Anushka Shetty, Tamannaah, Ramya Krishna, Sathyaraj, and Nassar, the two-film series starred Prabhas as the principal actor.

Returning to S.S. Rajamouli, his most recent film, RRR, was directed by Ram Charan and Jr. NTR. He and Mahesh Babu are now working on their future movie.

[premium-places]

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Decorative main door

All other doors are flush door with good-quality fittings

Anodized coated aluminum sliding window with stone seal

Electrification

Concealed copper wiring with modular switches & sufficient number of points

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Designer-glazed tiles up to lintel level

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[loveforpreserumsteve]

Love Grows (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

3

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Steve and Hodge were late.

"There you are! We were so worried!" Mrs. Erskine pulled the pair into her home. Smoothing her hand over Steve's hair like his mother would.

When Steve had first moved out on his own, he had joined another male omega, a non-binary omega, and a female beta. Dr. Erskine and his lovely wife, Greta, lived next door, and eventually became second parents to the younger neighbors. Helping out with emergencies such as: The Time Carol Almost Fell Off the Fire Escape Trying to Catch a Firefly and The Time Sam Almost Choked to Death on a Marshmallow. Dr. Abraham Erskine, he was German with a thick accent, he was a retired professor, and he wrote a series of adventure books for children that Greta illustrated.

Now, every month or so, Steve and Hodge had dinner with Abraham and Greta. They were far better cooks than Steve could ever hope to be, even if Greta gave him the same recipe, it never came out right. But the same happened with the cards his mother gave him, so maybe it was just Steve.

Greta asked, "How're you? How was the move? How do you like it so far? Have you met the neighbors? Are they nice?"

At the barrage of questions, Greta's dear husband asked, "You moved?"

"We're sub-letting," Hodge answered, toeing off his shoes.

"Oh?" Abraham opened a bottle of wine, "And where should we be sending the housewarming gift?"

"Stark Tower," Steve took a seat at the already set table.

CRASH!

Startled, Steve, Hodge, and Greta directed their attention to the older man. Concerned, Greta asked her husband, "Darling, are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine."

The answer was too quick though and Steve knew that he wasn't the only one who knew Abraham was lying. No one was going to call him out for it though. Instead, Hodge crouched so he could help clean up the mess from the shattered bottle of white wine. While Greta went to Abraham, Steve went to the hall closet for the broom.

"You nearly scared me to death," Greta chastised her beloved.

"I'm sorry, dear."

"Is your arthritis acting up?" Hodge asked, disposing of the larger pieces of the bottle.

"No," Abraham assured. "I was just surprised."

"Surprised?" Steve's brows furrowed, putting the broom away.

"Well," Abraham began cleaning his glasses, "Yes."

Hodge good-humoredly scoffed. Greta, on the other hand, was giving her spouse a stern look. The older betas clearly having a silent conversation. It reminded Steve of his parents. Reminded him of how his mom would look at his dad whenever a conversation was inappropriate for Steve to witness.

"I'm not sure if you're aware," Abraham started, avoiding Greta's looks. "But Stark Tower had a rather unpleasant reputation in the beginning."

Steve glanced over at Hodge, seeing if he had any idea what the older beta was going to say. Hodge looked just about as curious as Steve did.

"It doesn't have a bad reputation anymore," Hodge shrugged. "In fact, everyone seems to be dying to get in."

"It's still where the She-Witch of the S.S. performed her experiments, and where Agatha Harkness held her parties. Silvan Jules lived there too; and so did the serial killer, Cletus Kasady."

"Who was the She-Witch of the S.S.?" Hodge asked, and Steve asked, "Who was Silvan Jules?"

"The She-Witch of the S.S.," Abraham started while Greta busied herself with finishing the pasta, "Was Hilda von Hate. She killed several children in hopes of reanimating them for an unstoppable army of Hitler Youth."

"Lovely," Hodge commented, looking at the empty wine glass in front of him as though he wished Abraham hadn't dropped the bottle.

A shiver ran down Steve's spine, horrified and heartbroken for those poor children and their families.

"Silvan Jules practiced witchcraft. He made quite a splash by announcing that he had succeeded in summoning Satan. Apparently, he had a handful of hair and some black claws. Whether or not it was true, some people believed him. Enough people, at least, to form a mob that attacked – and nearly killed – him in the Stark Tower lobby."

"You're joking," Steve gaped, never having heard of anything like that happening.

"He's serious," Greta answered, setting the serving dish with pasta primavera on the table.

"I'm not sure how Howard Stark's son managed to turn the reputation around, but he did it and made it one of the most desired buildings to call home. Instead of, of course, what they used to call it, Stank Tower, where sensible people stayed away."

Looking over at his husband, Steve wasn't as thrilled about the upscale apartment as he had once been. After all, how could soil like that not stay sour?

"Oh, c'mon, Erskine," Hodge chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, "Awful things probably happen in every apartment now and then."

"Now and then, sure," Abraham agreed. Taking a bite of the pasta, "The point is, though, that at Stark Tower awful things happen a good deal more frequently than 'now and then.' Including –"

"Abraham," Greta warned, clearly wanting the conversation to end. It wasn't exactly dinner talk, anyway.

"No, no," Hodge encouraged the older man, "Including..."

"Including the pack of feral pups who had been found in the basement feasting on a dead infant."

For a moment, the room was silent. Abraham kept eating as though he hadn't described a nightmare. Greta stood and, at first, Steve felt the need to comfort her, but then she grabbed another bottle of pinot grigio. Popping the cork, she set forth to pour it for them. Standing beside her husband though, she flicked his ear. Clearly, unamused with the topic of discussion.

"But just because a building has bad things happen in it, doesn't make it bad," Greta tried to soothe the situation.

"I suppose," Abraham considered. "Perhaps it's simply the notoriety of the She-Witch that attracts a Silvan Jules, and his notoriety attracts an Agatha Harkness, and eventually it becomes a rallying place for people who are more prone than others to certain types of behavior. Or perhaps there are things we don't know yet – like a magnetic field or electrons or whatever – ways in which a place can quite literally be malign."

Steve finished his bite of pasta. "Maybe there are good houses too. Houses where people keep falling in love and getting married and having babies."

"And becoming stars," Hodge added.

"There probably are," Abraham agreed.

"It's the stinkers that get the publicity," Greta smiled.

"Exactly," Steve said while Abraham toasted, "May Stank Tower stay in the past and Stark Tower bring nothing short of prosperity."

"Hear, hear!" Hodge clinked his glass of white wine against Abraham's.

"Hear, hear!" Steve and Greta echoed.

And bring forth a healthy baby, Steve privately toasted to himself, smiling at his husband, clinking their glasses together.

[battlingangels]

The Heir of Slytherin - S.S. fanfic Chapter 30

to read on ao3

Severus and I had arrived at the castle late in the evening that next day. We decided that we would remain in separate living quarters for the school year just to prevent students from asking too many questions. It wasn't exactly that we were hiding what this was, but we didn't want it to become a spectacle, either. 

Once I had settled and unpacked, I decided to take a stroll in the mostly empty castle. Hogwarts has always carried a kind of quiet hum, something low and ancient, hardly noticeable if one wasn't listening closely. But with the students absent and the corridors empty, the silence was almost unnatural, and I was listening.

I walked slowly, my fingertips trailing against the textured, cool stone walls. My boots clicked softly against the floor. I should have been thinking about other things - the coming school year, the lessons I needed to prepare for the next several weeks of the term - but there was something wrong. 

The air felt heavy and thick. Outside, the sky had become dark with storm clouds that lay motionless as if they, too, were waiting - waiting to see what was wrong. I wasn't sure what it was. I could only feel the heaviness of it on my body, in my bones, coursing through my veins. 

As I made my way toward the Great Hall, I could feel something within me. Something was trembling from my hands. The torches that lit up the room flickered violently, forcing me to stop in my tracks. Then, a sudden gust of cold wind swept through the room, pressing against my skin, curling under my robes like fingers searching for something. The castle itself seemed as if it was breathing around me, the stones beneath me vibrating, fully alive.

And then, there was the pain. It started just under my elbow and began emanating up toward my hand, burning from within as if my veins had caught fire. I gasped in shock as my knees buckled. I reached out to the closest pillar to steady myself, but the second I touched the stone of the castle, I was no longer in Hogwarts.

A dark field stretched around me. Tents hiked up, engulfed by flames, swallowed by shadows. Screams echoed in the distance. Then, a stampede of masked figures moved slowly, their robes fluttering behind them in the smoke, their wands raised toward the sky. 

I looked up. The sky was green, lit by the Dark Mark - the same Dark Mark I had become so acquainted with on Severus' forearm - spiraled above me. The snake slithered monstrously.

And before I even knew it, it was calling to me. The realization struck me just as hard as the pain had. The burning within me wasn't just a fire, it was a pull. My stomach lurched at the thought. Something ancient inside of me was answering - not because I wanted it to, but because it knew. Because I was connected to this, somehow, without understanding why - and that terrified me more than anything else.

Then, the ground beneath me shook. My vision faded in and out, from the Great Hall to the field, as if I were being pulled in two separate directions. I could have sworn I heard footsteps, a presence behind me, solid and grounding.

Then, a voice in my ear.

"Samira."

Of course, I recognized it. Deep, firm, loving. Severus.

I wanted to turn around, I wanted to see his face, but I was incapable of moving. My vision swayed between the castle and the tents aflame. The torches around me were flaring wildly, flickering between a gold and green hue. 

"Samira." His voice was closer now. Soft, urgent.

Then, someone else. Someone else's footsteps that I had grown to recognize as well, and the air began to shift - my vision began to clear. I was coming back now, leaving the field behind me. It was Albus.

I felt him before I ever had to see him. His magic was settling into my bones like a massive weight, assessing and observing. He did not move immediately - he merely watched. He watched the way my hand was clutched around my searing arm, he watched the unnatural fire that had risen in response to my magic, and he watched as Severus stood stiffly, watching me, understanding far too much.

"Would you care to tell me what that was?" And at the sound of Albus' voice, I had come back.

I gasped. The torches dimmed, returning to their natural state. The air settled, but my skin was still aching. I pressed my fingers to it, but there was nothing there. No scar, no cut, no burn, no proof of what I had felt. 

My lips gaped open and then shut again. I didn't know how to respond. If I told them, it would be real, and it couldn't be real. I should not have felt that. I should not have seen that, and yet it reached for me anyway.

I turned around to see Severus gripping onto me tightly, his eyes filled with concern. In total shock, I began to cry. He enveloped me in his arms and held me tightly against his chest.

"It's okay, darling. You're safe." He whispered into my ear.

But I couldn't help but feel like that wasn't true.

The air in Dumbledore's office was heavy with the scent of old parchments and candle smoke. The enchanted window behind the greying wizard showed a storm still gathering, clouds unmoving. 

Severus stood stiffly behind the Headmaster's desk, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression blank.

"You saw what I saw," Dumbledore said at last.

Severus' jaw tightened. He did not need to ask Albus what he had meant. He dropped one arm down and began to unbutton the sleeve before sliding it up to look at his Dark Mark, which had begun to deepen and move.

Dumbledore did not face Severus, did not look at his arm. His hands were clasped behind his back. His silence was louder than any words he could speak.

"How did she feel it?" Severus breathed. "It called to her, Albus."

The older wizard turned on his heels. He exhaled deeply, nodding as if something had just been confirmed.

Severus narrowed his angry eyes at the man. "What do you make of it?"

Several beats passed before Dumbledore spoke. "Interesting, isn't it? How her magic seemed to bring the air around her to life when it happened."

Severus stiffened. "Interesting? Are you fucking mad, Albus? It called for her! A Mark that she has never bore. He called for her!"

Dumbledore did not respond to Severus' outburst. He merely nodded again before taking his seat. He sighed. "I hoped that she might be spared this."

"Spared what!" Severus shouted.

The man, again, remained quiet.

"You knew..." Severus' voice was dangerous and low as he stepped forward. "You knew something like this might happen."

"I suspected," Dumbledore corrected.

Severus' breath was uneven now. He ran a hand through his hair. "You have to tell her."

"No, Severus." Dumbledore shook his head. His voice was quiet, but it was firm. "You need to tell her."

Severus lowered his sleeve now, butting it back up. "And why is that, Albus?"

"Because she still trusts you," Dumbledore responded. 

Severus was seething, but Albus was right. Samira did not trust her godfather at the moment, and Severus needed her to soak in the information.

"You know what this means, don't you?" The grey-haired man raised a brow.

Severus turned around now, heading for the door, but before he left, he paused. His voice was quiet but certain. "He will come for her."

The next morning, Severus and I woke up wrapped in one another's arms. He had held me so tightly during the night; I don't think either of us had moved even an inch. My waist ached from where he had clenched his arm around me, and I had some faint bruising from his fingertips digging into my stomach. I didn't mention it to him, though. He was terrified, and frankly, I was too. I could take the soreness and the tight grips just to know that he was there. That I was with him. That we were safe.

We had heard the news almost immediately about what had happened at the Quidditch World Cup. We saw the photos in the Daily Prophet. That a band of rogue Death Eaters had caused chaos and violence, but I didn't need to read about it or look at those damned photographs. I had seen it all for myself. 

Severus had tried to prevent me from thinking about it or dwelling on it too much - we had a busy day ahead of us. So, we got ready slowly; we showered together, dressed together, and had some tea. Not once did that man leave my side. And when it was time for the first faculty meeting of the year, he remained at my side. 

We were running behind because, of course, we were. Because despite the fear, despite the skin tingling on our arms, we had yet to successfully reach a point where either of us could keep our hands off the other. We spent half of our shower just kissing each other, touching one another's bodies and bringing moans out of each other's mouths. By the time we were done with one another, I had several hickeys all over my body, but one that was particularly large on the side of my neck which Severus got a swift smack to the chest for. 

So, when we reached the door to the faculty meeting, we were both slightly out of breath. I swung it open, and every faculty member was sitting there, staring at us, mid-conversation. Minerva gave us a pointed glance, Emmanuel was grinning gleefully at me, and Albus traced his eyes over us, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He cleared his throat.

"Nice of you to show up, Professor Snape. Professor Al-Kahina."

I swallowed hard and walked over to Emmanuel's side, who pulled out a chair for me. He squeezed my hand. Severus closed the door behind him and took his seat beside Albus. We eyed each other from opposite sides of the table, but neither of us said anything to Albus' little comment.

"As you are all aware," Albus began, his voice measured, "this year will be unique."

Everyone shifted in their chairs. Others crossed their arms. Emmanuel leaned forward, eager to hear the news.

"We have the great honor of hosting both Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament. This gives us an opportunity for inter-school relations, but it also poses certain complications." He continued.

Minerva spoke up immediately. "Security, Albus!"

Albus nodded. "Indeed." His blue eyes flickered to Severus. "We must be vigilant."

I could see the way that Severus tensed under Albus' gaze. I could feel the weight of that sentence. He wasn't just speaking to the faculty - he was speaking directly to us. 

I cleared my throat before speaking up, "Has there been any concern regarding the Dark Mark's presence at the Quidditch World Cup?"

The room went silent. Everyone stared at me, and suddenly I felt a little self-conscious. 

Flitwick frowned at me. "A most distressing event, surely, but what are you asking, Professor Al-Kahina?"

I looked back at him and held his gaze. "Is there any reason to believe that this was more than just a suggestive display of nostalgia?"

Silence, again.

Then, Severus spoke up. "It was more than nostalgia."

And every head turned. 

His voice lowered. There was something sharp in it, something I didn't recognize. "There are those who don't see the Dark Lord's absence as a loss. The Death Eaters who committed those acts of violence did not do so out of sheer boredom." 

I exhaled slowly. Of course, I already knew that. But hearing Severus say it out loud sent a chill down my spine.

Albus folded his hands on the table. His expression remained even. "We must not assume, but it is pertinent that we prepare." 

I scoffed. I had half a mind to question him right at this table, to demand that he remember exactly what happened last night. To look me in the eye and dare say that we are assuming anything. But Emmanuel's grip on me tightened as if he sensed my upset. He gave me a look as if to ask if I was okay, and before anyone could say anything else, a loud clank interrupted the conversation.

The door swung open, and a large, one-legged man with a magical eye entered the room. The eye whirred violently, scanning everyone at the table. "Well, well, well." He grumbled. "Familiar faces."

He looks at Severus for a very long moment, and Severus does not look away.

Who was this person?

Albus' eyes twinkled at the sight, and as if he had heard my question: "Alastor Moody! Perfect timing."

The man grunted in response, dropping into a chair beside Hagrid, who gave him a hearty pat on the back. "What'd I miss?"

Albus smiled. "Nothing yet, but I suspect you will find this year to be quite eventful."

I glanced over at Severus, but he was still watching Moody with something calculating in his eyes. I was beginning to get the feeling that this was the first of many meetings that would spiral into something much longer and complicated.

After the meeting concluded, the faculty made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Emmanuel swept me away into a quiet corner at one of the tables. He lifted my curls away from my neck and laughed maniacally at the sight of the large hickey. "Now what have we got here, love?"

I swatted at him and fixed my hair again. "Keep your voice down."

"Oh, don't want the rest of the faculty to know you've been shagging someone in the castle? First Remus Lupin, now who?" Emmanuel smirked, piling breakfast items onto his plate.

I rolled my eyes, a blush forming over my cheeks. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

I gave an exhausted sigh. "It's a bit of a long story... but here goes nothing."

So, I told him everything. I told him about Remus, about what happened that night after the Whomping Willow. I told him about the bond between Severus and me. I told him about the summer at Spinner's End, about the way I had fallen for him. 

And when I was done, he was looking at me slack-jawed like I had just told him I had slept with his mother.

"Professor Snape!?" He shouted. 

Suddenly, the entire room was looking at us, conversation quieting. Severus was staring over with confusion cemented on his face. 

I pulled Emmanuel's ear, hard. He seethed, slapping my hand away. 

"Do you know what it means to be quiet?" I whisper-shouted. "Fuck!" 

"You just told me that you are shagging my Potions Master." He whisper-shouted back. "The man who I have been terrified of since I was eleven years old! How am I supposed to react to the information that my best mate is getting railed by the Dungeon Bat!?" 

I groaned, growing utterly flustered as the moments went on. People were still looking, of course, but he had been quiet enough that I was rest assured no one had heard. 

"Don't mind Professor Baptiste," I chuckled nervously. "Just telling some funny stories from our school days!" 

That seemed to get everyone to go back to talking among themselves. 

I looked back at Emmanuel with a terse look. 

He groaned, rubbing his face. "Remus was a much better choice, Samira. You gave up sexy werewolf vibes for... for..."

"My literal soulmate." I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, sure, when you put it like that."

"I hate you," I grumbled. 

"No, you don't." He smirked, biting a piece off of his sausage. "Now, tell me... who's bigger?"

I gasped and shoved him, and he fell to the floor. This time, when people turned around to see what was going on, Emmanuel spoke up.

"Sorry, sorry." He coughed, choking on the sausage. "I am a menace and deserved every bit of that."

I giggled at his confession as he sat down again beside me.

He sighed, rubbing his ass where he had fallen. "Well... does he at least treat you well, love?"

I nodded, with a dreamy look in my eye, I'm sure. "He is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Emmanuel seemed to accept that. "If you say so, mate. I'm happy for you then." 

And, of course, for the duration of the day, he would continue to ask me invasive questions about my sex life with Severus. I would occasionally indulge him.

The day had been long, filled with many meetings and orientations. I was exhausted by the time I made it back to Severus' quarters. The dungeons are always quiet at night, but tonight they seemed especially so. The torches were burning lower than usual, the stone walls cold with the lingering bite of autumn. I sat on the sofa, curled into the arm of it with a blanket once again wrapped around me.

Severus was standing by the fireplace, his long fingers wrapped around a mug of tea, his dark eyes flickering with the light of the flames. 

"You were right, you know," I mumbled.

He didn't turn to look at me. "As usual."

I huffed a quiet laugh, although there was little humor behind it. "You know what I mean."

This time, he did look at me. "Go on, then."

I hesitated for a moment, not because I didn't know what to say but because saying it meant acknowledging it out loud. "It wasn't nostalgia."

He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling tighter around his mug.

I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on my knees. "It was a message. The World Cup, the Dark Mark... it was a warning."

Severus set his tea down on the fireplace mantle and crossed the room. He lowered himself down onto the seat beside me. His presence, as usual, was heavy but grounding.

"You felt it before anyone else." His voice was quiet now, almost thoughtful. "Even before I did."

I swallowed. "I didn't just feel it, Sev. It was like... it was pulling me. Like..."

He watched me carefully now, as if he was picking my thoughts apart before I could finish them.

"Like it was reaching for me." I finished.

But his expression did not waver. 

I hadn't realized that my hands were trembling until one of his covered mine. Severus never touched, just to touch. It was never thoughtless. Every movement the man made was deliberate, calculated, knowing. His fingers curled over mine, anchoring them together. He was so warm, so steady, and when I breathed out a tremor, he squeezed me.

"I know." His voice was hardly above a whisper when he spoke.

I blinked back. "You do?"

He nodded tersely. "I saw it in your eyes. I felt your magic."

I looked down at our hands, then back up at him. "Severus-"

"I won't let him take you," he interrupted, voice firm. "Whatever this is. Whatever he wants... I won't let it reach you."

I could feel the sting of something sharp and deep in my chest. I turned my hand under his and linked our fingers together before squeezing back. "That's not a promise you can make, Severus."

"I just did."

I shook my head, smiling softly. "You're terribly arrogant; you know that, right?"

I could see something close to amusement on his face. His lips twitched - hardly, but enough.

"I'm right," he murmured. 

This time, I chuckled. Something soft, breathless.

His eyes were softer now. Not demanding or pushing - just waiting. Always waiting for me.

I leaned in close to his face, not all the way. Just enough. Enough to make sure my words settled between us like a vow.

"I trust you, Sev."

His fingers clamped tighter around mine. For a moment, he didn't speak. But when he did, his voice was barely audible over the low hum of the fire - yet his answer was full of certainty.

"Good."