#and she's never been allowed to have a friend ever

[coco-loco-nut]

Guilty as Sin?

pairing: Oscar x Reader

summary: you can’t help but to long for the Australian boy you met

a/n: sorry it took a while, i was adding ✨plot✨ and did as much research I could

masterlist ttpd masterlist

———————

Being the younger twin sister of the heir apparent to the throne is stressful, but it has allowed you to do a lot of things, such as attending the Dutch Grand Prix. Obviously you were there to support Max and meet all the Athletes, but it’s where you met and befriended Oscar. The Australian was nice and didn’t treat you any different because of your status, not to mention he was cute.

Since then, there’s been a shift in your mood. You are bored more than ever, the guilded cage of the castle that contains you is no longer fine. You text Oscar about it, requesting a song recommendation to change things up, he sends you a song that you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you want to cry, the idea of being stuck here forever until your sister marries and has children. For now you are stuck in the castle, pining over a guy who only knows you via texts.

Lately your dreams have been of cracking the locks that keep you in. When you escape you’d go on adventures with Oscar, crashing into him like the ocean waves crash onto rocks. Each dream leaves you longing for him more and more.

You can’t tell if he is just being cordial and politely responding, or if he is interested and flirting. Every time you flirt, things seem to get cold after. He’s a paradox over text, leaving you wondering if you are mad for thinking there was a chance.

You turn to your older sister for advice, telling her about what he does to you in your dreams. Secret trysts in the hedge maze, messy kisses, hands roaming each other’s skin. You keep recalling things you never did, as if he’s written mine on your upper thigh. You’d die happy if it were real.

“You know, there’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. I’ll talk to Papa about maybe going to Spain for a race in couple months,” Amalia says, invested in how this will play out.

You go on a few dates with various wealthy and noble guys your age, trying to distract yourself from the longings locked inside a vault deep inside you. Every date leaves you unsatisfied, counting down the days until you are in Spain. The fatal fantasies visit you in your dreams every night, leaving you feel like you’ve made a vow to Oscar that you are supposed to uphold somehow, despite knowing it’s all make believe.

You and Amalia fly out to Spain without the rest of your family, spending the week with the Spanish royal family. You are friends with the princesses and their cousins so it is a great distraction.

“Y/n, who is your favorite driver?” Leonor and Sophia ask as you lay on the floor of Leonor’s room together.

“Oscar,” Amalia answers for you as your cheeks flame. “She’s always texting him,”

“Amalia,” you groan, hiding your face with your hands.

“We are definitely stopping by the McLaren garage then,” Sophia grins, nudging you. Their cousins Irene, Miguel, Pablo, and Victoria arrive tomorrow morning to complete your group that is attending the Grand Prix. You had a crush on Miguel growing up, but it quickly passed once you turned 15.

“Girls, it’s time for Amalia and Y/n to return to their hotel, and the four of you have to be up early for tomorrow,” Queen Letizia says, opening the door slightly.

“Alright, we will see you tomorrow for breakfast and the driver reception,” Leonor sighs as the four of you stand up.

“Thank you for having us,” Amalia thanks the queen as you leave.

“You are always welcome, we will see you girls tomorrow,” she smiles, making sure her assistant gets you to the chauffeured car safely. The trip from Palauet Albéniz to your hotel is relatively short, one you didn’t realize was housing multiple drivers. You don’t notice Oscar as you walk into the hotel, a small security escort around you, but he notices you. He’s tempted to text you and ask why you are here, but Lando distracts him, giving him his room key and number.

Your room is plush, but lonely. You stare at your texts with Oscar, tempted to let him know you are in Spain, but something stops you. The morning is busy, your alarm waking you up early to shower and dress. You choose something simple but beautiful for the day. Your light blue dress lays nicely on you with matching heels, and your hair is styled neatly, a headband in place of a tiara. Your visit isn’t a state visit, so it is nice to have flexibility in your attire. A knock on your door tells you that Amalia is waiting outside for you.

Once again, you don’t notice Oscar as you leave, your eyes looking ahead, surrounded by the security detail.

“Your girlfriend is here,” Lando teases Oscar, noticing who he was looking at.

“She’s a princess, I would never be able to date her. She flirts over text, but I don’t want to hurt her,” Oscar sighs, watching you get into a car and leave.

“I think you already have,” Lando says, letting Oscar think.

You arrive to the palace, eager to see your friends again. Breakfast is wonderful, and afterwards you all go outside to the gardens to catch up. Despite only seeing each other every few years, your group chat is alive and well.

“Go talk to Miguel, he’s been eyeing you since breakfast,” Sophia tells you, you look over to her cousin. He has aged well since you last saw him. “Ask him about school, oceanography,” she nudges you in his direction.

“Oceanography? How’s that?” you slide up beside Miguel, deciding it’s a good idea to try and move on again. You listen enthusiastically as he talks about his studies and living in London.

“What are you studying?” he returns your question.

“History with minors in French and German. Nothing terribly exciting,” you say, a slight blush appearing on your face as he focuses on you. The two of you unconsciously separate from the group, caught up in conversation. Victoria and Irene grab the two of you, informing you that it is time to go back inside for the drivers welcome and lunch. Miguel’s hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you walk up the stairs.

“We will wait for you at lunch,” Pablo says to Leonor and Sophia, the six of you ready to find something to do as the drivers arrive from their hotels.

“No, join us. Mama and Papa would want you there,” Leonor says so you follow her in. The six of you stand a few behind the four royals, following royal protocol in that regard. You are chatting with Irene and Miguel quietly when the drivers walk in.

“Accompany me to the Opera tonight,” Miguel says quickly, you nod and blush a little before turning you attention to the drivers, eyes instantly meeting Oscar’s, your blush deepens a little before you put on your royal mask. It doesn’t matter if your date with Miguel goes well or not, deep down you know that you’d drop him for Oscar immediately if asked. One by one, the drivers are introduced before you are allowed to mingle before lunch.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” Max bows before you and Amalia as the two of you approach him.

“Max, it’s wonderful to see you again. Please don’t bow, you only need to in formal situations,” you smile, greeting the champion.

“Yes, no need to bow when we aren’t here formally visiting. We will be cheering for you this weekend,” Amalia says and you notice Oscar standing nearby.

“Excuse me,” you excuse yourself from the conversation, Max takes no offense as he sees you beeline to the Australian, Amalia continues her conversation with Max. It would be a bad look for the heir apparent to brush off her own countryman.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” Oscar asks happily, unsure if he can hug his friend, acting like he didn’t know she was here.

“Surprise visit. I didn’t want to wait until the Dutch Grand Prix to see my friend again, and I wanted to visit my friends. My sisters and I are close with the princesses and their cousins, but Amalia and I were the only ones who flew out since we like the sport. Sorry, I’m rambling,” you laugh nervously.

“That’s okay, it’s cute,” Oscar says with a cute smile, not quite realizing what he was saying.

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you can’t openly flirt with the Australian here, but you do your best.

“I’m sorry, Lando is beckoning me to him, visit me in the McLaren garage, yeah?” Oscar asks.

“I’d love to,” you smile, watching him go to his teammate. You rejoin your sister and Max, effortlessly sliding into the conversation. You can tell Leonor had a hand in the lunch seating because she placed you between Oscar and Max, Amalia was on the other side of max. Carlos and Fernando were sat near the King and Queen.

“Y/n, how does this work? I’ve never been to a royal meal before,” Oscar discreetly asks you.

“Follow the pattern for who to speak to, It will be dictated by the king, for everything else just follow my lead. King Felipe is a slower eater so you should have time to finish your meal, and this is more laid back than a state dinner. If I were wearing a tiara, you’d be in trouble,” you joke, Oscar seems relieved at your explanation. You turn to Max first, discussing the race and things he misses about the Netherlands. Once the meal is served, you turn to Oscar.

“This is a lot less stressful than what I imagined,” Oscar smiles, having trusted your quick overview of what to do, one he just shared with Lando.

“Not every meal is full of such protocol, usually just for guests and important meals. You should’ve told me you’d be here, I could’ve answered your questions. I only thought that Carlos and Fernando would be here,” you admit and he shrugs, balancing his talking and eating.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Sometimes I forget you are third in line to the throne,” you scrunch you nose, cringing a little.

“Don’t remind me,” you laugh a bit so he knows you are joking. “Where are they housing you?” you ask, taking a bite of food.

“The Hotel Arts,” Oscar says, ready to act surprised when you say where you are staying.

“Ah, Mr Fancy Pants. Living it up like royalty, I see,” you smirk, glancing around the table to make sure you are eating at the right pace.

“I take it you are staying there as well then,” Oscar says, taking the hint.

“Yes, we should get breakfast one morning before you go to the track,” you suggest, a little hope in your heart.

“I’d really like that,” Oscar thinks back on Lando’s words, deciding to take the risk. He’s worried about your life as a princess more than anything that will happen to him if he were to date you.

“Maybe not tomorrow though, I am going to the Opera tonight so I will be nursing a wine hangover,” you appreciate the light and easy conversation you are able to have with Oscar.

“Sounds like a deal, we can play it by ear,” Oscar smiles. The two of you turn your attention to your meals. The rest of the day passes quickly, the drivers having left after the lunch.

You and Amalia go back to the hotel to get ready for the opera. You just finished putting your heels on and securing your tiara when there is a knock on the door.

“Oscar?” you say confused at the Australian standing outside your door.

“I brought wine, figured you’d want to get the party started early. You look stunning, by the way,” He says, inviting himself into the small living room space.

“I thought drivers don’t drink before race weekends,” you smile, carefully sitting beside him.

“One glass won’t hurt,” he pours two glasses, carefully handing you one. It’s a cheaper wine, likely bought from across the street rather than from the bar downstairs.

“I’d also take shots, but wine is nice. Thanks, Osc,” you sip the white wine. Oscar chose a safer choice than a red. You have time before heading down with Amalia where one of the cars will pick you up.

“So why the tiara?”

“The opera is considered a white or black tie event, I don’t remember which it is. Plus, I agreed to go as Miguel’s date so I have to look perfect or else the media will slaughter me,” you sigh, taking a large sip of the wine.

“Oh, that sucks,” Oscar digests the last bit of information.

“He’s a great guy, but I think he’s more of a friend. I have my eye on someone else anyway,” you add on, quickly glancing at Oscar who regains his hope, noticing your glance.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you,” Oscar says as Amalia enters the room.

“Hello, Oscar. Y/n, we have to go, they are close,” she says, the two of you finish your wine.

“Thanks for the glass of wine, good luck tomorrow if I don’t see you,” you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, following Amalia out the door. You trust Oscar to leave once he cleans up the wine.

The opera is nice, and the next two days are fun as you spend time in the paddock. You wake up early to join Oscar for breakfast on the race day.

“Orange? For me?” Oscar grins after you order. You are wearing an orange blouse with white pants and heels. Since it isn’t the Dutch Grand Prix, you have a small pin with a bull and the number one on it attached to your blouse.

“For Max, but also for you,” you smile back.

“It’s actually papaya, I can get McLaren to gift you some stuff,” he says, leaning back in his chair a bit.

“That’s okay, I have enough Red Bull team wear in my closet. I wouldn’t even be allowed in McLaren clothing unless there was a better reason other than being friends with the driver, unfortunately Max takes precedence there. Also, I have money to buy McLaren merch, they are better off gifting merch to other fans,” you say, sipping your water.

“So what can I do to get you to openly support me?” he asks, knowing one of the answers.

“Well, if you get a podium at Zandvoort I can hand you your trophy,” you tell him and he nods.

“I can do that, maybe I will beat Max,”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” your laugh is music to him. The two of you finish your breakfast, both having obligations to attend to. You and Amalia arrive to the paddock together, only joining the Spanish royals for the actual race.

“Welcome to Red Bull, Your Royal Highnesses,” a hospitality employee greets you as you enter the garage.

“Hello, Max,” Amalia greets the driver with a smile.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highnesses. Welcome to our garage,” Max smiles, a girl and a woman with him.

“Maxie, are they real life princesses?” the little girl asks. She pulls at your heartstrings, your royal foundation works with young girls.

“We are, what is your name?” You kneel down as she looks at you with wide eyes, curtsying.

“Penelope,”

“Hi Penelope, my name is Y/n. You curtsied beautifully, but there is no need to curtsy to a friend,” you tell her, glancing up at Max and the woman who you assume is her mother.

“This is Kelly, my girlfriend, and her daughter, Penelope,” Max introduces them to you.

“Would you like a picture, Penelope?” Amalia asks, the little girl nods.

“That’s my big sister, she’s going to be a queen one day,” you tell Penelope as if it’s a secret.

“Can I, Mommy? I want Maxie in it too,” Penelope asks, when Kelly agrees, you carefully pick up Penelope. Both Red Bull and Kelly take photos. You chat with the group until you realize there isn’t too long until you will have to join the royal family, so you excuse yourself to walk a few garages down.

“Can I help you?” someone in papaya stops you from going too close.

“Yes, I’m here to visit my friend, Oscar,” you start, looking into the garage.

“Y/n! You made it,” Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulder, guiding you inside.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Princess. My name is Lando Norris of the United Kingdom,” Oscar’s teammate extends his hand, you find the childish antic amusing. You give him your hand, he bows slightly, lightly kissing the back of your hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Norris,” you giggle, feeding into the antics. Oscar went from worried to amused in those thirty seconds.

“Alright, she’s my friend, not yours. Find your own princess to hog,” Oscar pulls you away, his smile betraying his annoyed tone. You get some silly pictures together, and he puts his helmet on you before one photo.

“I could totally drive one of these,” you say, lying to see his reaction.

“When we get to the Netherlands, I’m racing you in karts and taking you on a hot lap then,” Oscar laughs as your eyes widen.

“Bring it on,” you don’t back down. Oscar could kiss you right now, but he never did ask about how your date to the opera went, so he doesn’t.

“Oscar, I’d like my sister to be returned, please,” Amalia says, walking over to the two of you.

“Oscar, I found my princess!” Lando grins, Amalia’s confused reaction causes you to snort and Oscar to laugh.

“She’s off limits to you, Lando. You aren’t king material,” you tell him, gently patting his shoulder.

“But Oscar is prince material?” Lando asks. Amalia drags you out of the garage before either of you can reply.

The race is exciting and you watch eagerly.

“Who is your favorite driver?” Pablo asks, watching from beside you.

“Politically, Max. Personally, Oscar Piastri, he’s a close friend,” you say, watching the track as Oscar passes, fighting for P3.

“It’s a shame my brother and you aren’t a match,” he says, referring to the Opera.

“We are better off as friends, something we realized quickly. Once we realized that we weren’t teenagers anymore, the Opera got much better,” you chuckle.

You are aware of the cameras watching your box as the race ends. You and Amalia celebrate carefully, not doing much other than clap and excitedly talk to each other. The podium ended with Carlos winning, Max in P2, and Oscar in P3. Max dropped in the last couple laps, his tires degrading too early.

That night you show up to the club with Irene and Victoria, being the only girls who could go out and not be yelled at. Your black party dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but your coat doesn’t let photographers know as you step into the club with them. After checking your coat, you head to the bar where you notice drivers taking shots.

“This round on me,” you tell Irene and Victoria. You order your round and a vodka Red Bull for after the shots.

“Princess! Oscar, your princess is here!” Lando slurs, calling over a slightly less drunk Oscar.

“You look incredible,” his smile causes you to blush. You notice Max and Carlos observing the interaction.

“Shots for the podium! And ladies, and I guess Lando,” you declare, ordering seven shots. You all take them and you are feeling a lot braver at flirting with Oscar.

“What are you drinking?” Oscar asks, standing close to you, his breath warm on your ear.

“Vodka Red Bull,” you tell him, sipping the drink.

“Hey Max, your princess really is your fan. She’s drinking a vodka Red Bull,” Oscar tells the Dutchman.

“It’s a good choice,” Max smiles, unsure how he feels about partying with the third in line to his home country. Carlos, however, has no problems, talking to Irene and Victoria.

“Dance with me,” you tell Oscar as you finish your drink, he follows you onto the dance floor, bodies close. His hands stay on your hips, holding you close but trying to stay respectful. A couple songs later you kiss him, and his hands wrap around you, pulling you into him.

Soon after, you are getting your coat and heading back to your hotel, pulling him into your room. Scenes from nights you’ve spent together flash through your mind, ones where he has you screaming his name, building up like waves and crashing over and over again. His hands roam your skin, bedsheets ablaze, maybe you can be guilty as sin this time.

You wake up in his embrace, his soft snores tell you he’s still asleep. You think about your options. After this weekend, you’ll face criticism anyway, why not go after someone you’ve been pining after. The public will always have opinions about who you date, but the way it feels when Oscar holds you is so right. The only way they will be happy is if you never date or marry until you’re thirty. They don’t know how keeping the crush to yourself haunted you every night, and how he is stunningly perfect.

“What’s going through that pretty mind of yours?” Oscar asks sleepily, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I choose you and me, no matter what the public says,” you whisper, looking in his half awake eyes.

“Finally. I choose us too,” he smiles, pulling you into his chest.

“I still can’t openly support you as opposed to Max,” you smile, Oscar’s eyes open again.

“I will propose right now,” he says, quite seriously. You giggle, running your hand up his chest.

“Don’t, that’s a whole process and a lot of conversations that I don’t feel like going through yet,” you say, feeling Oscar’s chest vibrate as he hums in agreement. He looked up what would happen if he were to marry you one night while texting you. He’d have to become a naturalized citizen, your parents would announce the engagement, then the parliament would have to approve the marriage in order for you to stay a member of the royal household.

Oscar gets up half an hour later, needing to board a plane to Austria with the team. As he waits to taxi, he sends you the link to a song, the same one he sent a couple months ago. The past twenty four hours have been better than any dream. Are you allowed to cry happy tears?

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (4)

Chapter Four: A Different Approach

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion may be on the cards sooner than you thought

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, gambling, again we have my interpretation of headspaces, limited use of y/n, fluff and mild angst, discussion of character death, protective reader and Hunter, reader and Crosshair kinda get into it

Word Count: 5.3K

Author's notes: Now we're getting into part of the series where each episode allows for a bit more creative license which I'm very excited about! It starts with the end of this one and I hope y'all like it! Also, with regards to tagging people, I'm only tagging the users who still officially register when I do it. Please, please let me know if you want tagged/for me to try your username again!!

Sparks flew from the control as Omega did her best to stabilise them, but it was proving to be a rather challenging task. “I could use some help up here! Our comms are down. I can’t contact Hunter!”

From down below in the shuttle, Crosshair was also doing his best to get things under control but the smoke, electrical malfunctions and the persistent screech of the alarm told him that was a very unlikely outcome. He analysed the screen dictating the state of the ship. “That’s not the priority. The ship sustained heavy damage.”

“I can see that.” Omega retorted.

Crosshair made his way back up to the co-pilot’s seat, with Batcher following close behind. “Get the stabilizers back online!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Immediately after she said that a large spark of electricity crackled from the console and the ship was torn out of hyperspace and spiralled towards the planet ahead.

“We have to land.”

“A little hard to do when nothing’s working.” Omega snapped at him as she fiddled with the steering but to no avail.

The ship entered the atmosphere and started to plummet towards the ground.

Omega pulled hard on the lever to even out the ship as the ground grew ever closer. It was all she could do before it crashed landed and skidded along the surface.

When it finally came to a halt, Omega opened the glass roof to allow them all to get some air and eventually exit the wrecked vehicle. She looked in dismay as the controls fully shut off and the last dying spark flickered. “This will take forever to repair.”

Crosshair exhaled a sore sigh as he got his bearings, but that soreness was soon replaced by irritation as the hound pushed insistently on the back of his chair. “No. there’s no time for that.” The dog’s fussing got too much for him. He stood up to allow her to jump past him and off the shuttle.

“We need to get the nav reader online to extract the coordinates to Tantiss for when we go back.” Omega said, turning to look at him.

He couldn’t understand how she’d only just escaped that hell and was already talking about returning. “We’re not going back.”

“We left the other prisoners behind.”

“And the Empire is going to be searching for this ship and us.” He grabbed the pack with the blasters and hopped out of the shuttle. “We have to move. I scanned a spaceport a few clicks east. We’ll start there.”

Omega followed his example and let him lead the way to the spaceport.

--

With the establishment of the new plan being they would get to the spaceport and sneak onto a shuttle, they acquired their disguises and the two of them blended in with the civilians of the town.

They walked past the various troopers in the town as casually as they could so as not to arouse any unnecessary suspicion.

Omega warily analysed the situation ahead as they reached the spaceport. “It’s too well-guarded. We’ll never slip past all those troopers undetected.”

“I can take out at least half before they know what’s happening.” Crosshair stated confidently.

“Or… or we could try a way that doesn’t involve blaster fire.” Omega countered.

“Like what?” Crosshair asked, his voice filled with doubt.

“Watch and learn.” With that, Omega calmly led the way to the ticket attendant.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.” Crosshair said with a sigh as he followed a few paces behind.

“Hello. We’d like two tickets on the next shuttle please.” Omega requested pleasantly.

“Chain codes?” Came the standard reply from the attendant.

“About that. We lost our chain codes.” Omega said coyly.

“No chain codes, no passage.”

“Right. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way of booking passage without a chain code.” She advanced towards the desk.

The attendant leaned forward. “Are you insinuating that I should take bribe?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Omega replied, feigning innocence.

“I do. And that could be arranged… for 15,000 credits.”

Omega’s composure slipped slightly upon hearing that price, “For two tickets?” She exclaimed.

“Per ticket. And it’s non-negotiable. You’re lucky I’m not charging extra for the creature.”

“Where do you expect is to get 30,000 credits?”

“Sounds like a you problem. Don’t come back without the credits.” The attendant waved a hand in dismissal.

Omega hung her head in defeat and left the port with Crosshair.

“Well, that went well.” Crosshair remarked sarcastically.

“Stow it.” Omega grumbled.

--

“Storming the spaceport would be easier than finding 30,000 credits.” Crosshair hissed as they aimlessly wandered the streets of the town.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t be naïve. Every second we’re here, we’re at risk.”

They came to a stop outside a bar.

“The quite wasting time complaining.” Omega argued before two troopers exited the bar and they both averted their gaze, but the opening of the door had given Omega another idea. “I think I know how we can make some fast credits.”

“Of course you do.” Crosshair mumbled as he saw her getting ready to make her way into the bar. The fluttering of a scrappy piece of paper caught under a nearby crate grabbed his eye before he entered, and he came to a sudden stop as he picked it up and saw what- or rather who- was on it.

Omega noticed he had stopped and when she turned back to enquire what was wrong, the question died on her lips as she saw what he was looking at. Only half the information on the sheet was news to her, but the rest made her eyes widen in shock. By the looks of things, you had been on your own for the time she’d been on Tantiss and clearly, you’d stopped hiding. And judging by the harsh language and substantial reward offering, the Empire wasn’t too happy about that. Now, not only was there the trouble of how exactly this information would go down between you and Crosshair but she also couldn’t count on the fact that you were back with Hunter and Wrecker. She glanced up at Crosshair and, despite the fact that most of his face was covered, he could not conceal the emotions that flashed behind his eyes. “Oh… um… she- well back when- I’m sure she would’ve told-” She broke off with a sharp breath as she struggled to find the words to say.

“Doesn’t matter.” Crosshair said dismissively, crumpling it up and putting it away before he carried on into the bar. The fact that Omega seemed to already have an idea of what your… situation… gave him enough of a timeline to go off of.

“One thing at a time, right girl?” Omega said with a shaky breath, patting Batcher’s side as the hound nuzzled into her. Putting her mind onto the task at hand, she too entered the bar.

--

The bar itself was relatively busy, especially compared to how Cid’s had usually been, and it gave Omega the chance to study her potential adversaries from their booth by the wall unnoticed.

“That’s your plan? You want to hustle someone?” Crosshair repeated sceptically. What had they taught this kid?

“I’ve done it before, and I prefer to think of it as a temporary requisition of funds.”

“And bet with what? We don’t have anything.”

“They don’t know that.” Omega said with a cheeky grin.

“And if you lose?”

“Well… I guess we’ll be in more trouble.” With that, she made her way to the card table in the middle of the bar and sat across from the Trandoshan and got her performance ready to go.

--

To say that Crosshair was surprised would be an understatement, the kid was winning every hand against the Trandoshan and securing credits within a matter of minutes. Whatever experience she’d gained with the rest of his squad was clearly something to be admired. Although the mental image of Hunter even allowing her to hone such a skill felt very out of place, he was quietly grateful for it right now.

The bar came to a sudden hushed silence as the door opened. Omega heard Crosshair clear his throat in warning and she looked to the entrance to see an Imperial officer flanked by two troopers enter. She studied them carefully but remained at the table as she won the next hand much to the Trandoshan’s disappointment. “I think I’ll quite while I’m ahead.” She said in response to his pleas for another game. Having an Imperial official here complicated matters and it was time she, Crosshair and Batcher left.

“Leaving so soon?”

Omega turned her head to face the officer as he stood by the table.

“You’re in my seat.”

The Trandoshan let out a low snarl before he departed and gave up his seat to the man.

Crosshair tensed as he saw the Imperial sit but Omega waved him back.

“So, you think you’re good at this game?”

Omega replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

“Want to try against a, uh, real opponent?” He suggested to the young girl. “I insist.”

--

“Your mutt don’t seem to like me.” He said as the dog released a series of growls.

“She’s harmless.” Omega said in reply as she organised her cards.

“She’s a distraction. Get rid of her.” He demanded.

Omega signalled to Crosshair to take her out.

Crosshair got to his feet, clicked his tongue, and led Batcher to wait outside.

The Imperial watched them go. “Never seen you or your dad around before.” He commented.

“We’re just passing through.” Omega replied as she watched him flip the next card and the rise in murmurs indicated that both he and the crowd seemed to think her time was up.

“Eh, I’ll admit you’re not bad. But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy.”

Omega only smirked, “Did I?” She placed her cards down and flashed the set of the three Eastern Stars. Game over. “I’ll take those 20,000 credits.” She grew nervous however when his two guards made to approach the table.

He held a hand up to stop them. “I concede. You beat me fair and square.” He gave her the credits. “Nicely played.” He left the table.

The Imperial went back to his men and one of them addressed him.

“Sir. Patrol found a crashed Imperial vessel on the outskirts of town.”

“I wasn’t notified about any shuttles arriving today.” He angled back to look at the two strangers with a newfound sense of suspicion. “Now, hang on a minute.”

Omega gathered the credits in her bag and, now that Crosshair had returned, she got up to leave with him, but the familiar voice of the Imperial stopped them both.

“We’re not done here.” He chuckled coolly. “You haven’t paid your fine.”

“What fine?” Omega asked.

“Gambling’s illegal in these parts.”

“What?” Crosshair snarled as he made to step forward, but Omega’s arm stopped him.

“The law is the law. Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I’ll be on my way.”

“How much?” Omega asked him as she did her best to keep her disgust at bay.

“Ten thousand credits… unless you prefer to be arrested instead.”

Omega got the credits out and handed them over.

“Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full.” He said smugly. “Try and stay out of trouble.” He dipped his cap and left the establishment.

Omega sighed in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”

Crosshair caught her shoulder. “How many credits do we have left?”

Omega checked the bag. “Thirty-five thousand. Enough for two tickets and a little extra.” She made the first move to leave.

--

“Crosshair, where’s Batcher?” Omega asked anxiously as she scanned the area for her companion.

“Oy. You looking for that hound?”

The two of them turned to look at the young boy speaking to them.

“You know where she went?” Omega queried.

“Sure do, but the answer’s gonna cost you. Ten thousand credits.”

The fact that he was a child made no difference, Crosshair sighed and stood intimidatingly over the boy. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Okay, okay.” The boy backtracked. “Five, but that’s my final offer.”

Omega touched Crosshair’s arm to call him off before she gave the boy the money.

The boy examined the credits before he supplied the information, “That Imperial officer and his troopers snatched the creature and headed for the cargo docks. Down that way.” He pointed. “Nice doing business with ya.” He ran away from them before they could change their mind about the money.

Omega started off in the direction of the docks.

“Omega.”

She angled back to face Crosshair. “You heard him. Batcher’s this way.”

“And the spaceport is that way. Forget the hound. We have to get off this planet.”

“We never would be escaped without Batcher. I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not abandoning her!” Omega angrily tossed the bag of credits at him. “Take the credits. If you wanna go, then go. I’ll find my own way.” She stormed off.

Crosshair watched her go but before he got ready to go his own way, he felt guilt coil in his gut. It was becoming very clear as to the impact she could have on someone and explained why his squad had cared so much for her since he too found himself following her rather than doing the more sensible thing of leaving from the spaceport.

--

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Crosshair agreed begrudgingly as he placed the bag down before Omega scaled the gate to the cargo docks herself. “But my skills are being wasted.” He offered his hands as a means to boost her over the top.

Omega gave him a warm smile, “Noted.” With his assistance she was able to climb over the gate with ease.

Crosshair made the quick climb after her and together, they snuck through the docks looking for where Batcher was being kept.

Omega then heard a series of whines and she saw Batcher’s cage. “There’s Batcher.” She signalled to Crosshair before she analysed the situation around her. “Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?”

“Don’t push it.” Crosshair replied.

--

They had managed to covertly make their way around to get better access to the centre console but before they could make a move, that dull voice spoke up.

“I thought you’d come searching for your mutt. Yeah, unfortunately for you, Lau has a very strict pet policy. No license means a hefty fine.”

“How much this time?” Omega asked, pretending to play along as the two of them were swiftly surrounded by troopers.

“How ‘bout you give me all my money back? Credits won’t do you any good when Hemlock shows up.” He saw the shared looked between them. “Oh, did you think I wouldn’t piece it together when I found that crashed shuttle? Nothing gets by me. I run this town.” He drew his own blaster. “So, hand over the credits and surrender.”

Omega sighed, “Alright.” She chucked the bag to the Imperial. “Let’s try things your way.” She murmured to Crosshair.

“Finally.” Crosshair waited until Omega ducked to cover before firing the first shot, but he noticed his hand was still no unsteady and his aim was more compromised than he liked.

Omega used the chaos of the firefight to get to the controls and release all the animals, the resulting stampede thinning out the Imperial forces and reuniting her with Batcher.

“I’ll handle this. Take Batcher, and power up the ship.” Crosshair ordered. He provided her cover fire as she got the ship ready and when he saw a break in the blaster fire, he made his move towards the step.

Once he was on board, Omega got the cargo ship in the air and into the safety of hyperspace.

--

You had remained on the ship to study Tech’s datapad and the various planets and their coordinates whilst the other two dealt with the lead on this particular planet, but its name escaped you- you’d been to so many in this sector already, the names of them were beginning to blur together.

You were doing what you could to try and determine the next, more efficient course of action whilst the others were out but the words and data on the screen were moulding into one pile of unintelligible information. You put the datapad down for a minute and rubbed your eyes as you huffed a tired breath from your lungs. You stretched your neck and adjusted your posture but before you picked the datapad back up, a faint chirping caught your ears.

You swivelled in your chair to see the communications light flashing and you knew you weren’t supposed to be hearing from Echo any time soon. So, when you patched the encrypted message through and untangled it to find coordinates to the moon just outside of Ryloth, you knew there was only one other person who could’ve sent it.

You jumped out of your chair and cleared the steps of the Marauder in one leap before you sprinted to find Hunter and Wrecker.

--

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked urgently as he saw you come running towards them.

You shook your head as you glanced between them. Your breath was heavy from the running but also from excitement as you said, “It’s Omega.”

--

“Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but what if this message is a trap?” Wrecker broached carefully as the ship flew through hyperspace.

“Who else would know those codes?” You disputed.

“But if the Empire has her…”

“If it’s a trap, then we’ll get out of there but if it is her… we need to be there, Wrecker.” Hunter said as the ship disengaged from hyperspace, and he entered the landing cycle. There was no sign of another ship yet, but he opened the door anyway.

“There’s no one here.” Wrecker murmured, wringing his own hands anxiously.

“Then we wait.” You said calmly though your own heart was pounding.

--

“The Empire will be able to track this vessel. We need to ditch it.” Crosshair advised as he entered the cockpit after getting rid of the hat and face covering that he had donned back in Lau.

“We will. I’m heading to a remote location, and I sent a coded transmission for Hunter and Wrecker and (Y/N) to meet us there.” Omega responded. She only hoped you’d be with them too.

Now that this reunion was approaching ever closer, he found himself unprepared for what was to happen next. “Omega. It’s- it’s been months. You don’t know if they’re still ali-”

“They’ll be there.” Omega interrupted sharply.

The ship exited hyperspace and as she peered out the window, she saw the welcomed sight of the Marauder waiting there.

Omega dashed down the ship’s steps but paused as she saw no immediate sign of any of you.

--

A few hours had passed but there was still no sign of the ship and nerves were starting to get the better of you all.

Hunter had begun pacing the length of the cockpit, you had not stopped fidgeting with your vibroblade and alternated between that and examining the hilt of your lightsaber, and Wrecker was busying himself around the rest of the ship.

You saw the uneasy expression on Hunter’s face, and you pulled yourself together enough to be there for him. You caught his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Just wait, take a breath. She’ll be here, Hunter. I know it.”

“But-” He broke off as he heard the sound of a ship landing and a whole different type of nerves overtook him.

Wrecker made the first move to look outside and what he saw filled him with pure joy. “Now there’s a sight!”

Take your time. You caressed Hunter’s cheek with a comforting and utterly relieved smile before you ran outside to join Wrecker.

Hunter braced his hands on the back of the pilot’s chair. He needed a minute to gather himself. This was the moment he had been seeking out for months but part of him couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

--

“Wrecker!” Omega cried in relief as she ran towards him and let him pick her up.

“I wasn’t even sure your message was real!” Wrecker said with a happy laugh as he held her close.

“I knew you’d show up.” Omega closed her eyes and let the comfort of his strong hold overtake her.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Omega opened her eyes to the sound of your voice, and she smiled brightly as she saw you standing just behind him.

You knelt down with your arms open as Wrecker lowered her.

Omega fell into your embrace and nuzzled into your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if- I thought you might’ve been-” She pulled away with a teary sniff.

You tilted your head as you tenderly wiped away the tears that had slid down her cheek and stroked a hand through her hair, the longer length of it a painful reminder of how much time had truly passed. “I’m right here, nothing happened to me.” You didn’t need to worry her about past events right now- that rehashing undoubtedly would come up later- but this current moment was something to be celebrated and not clouded by anything else.

Omega went to clarify what she meant but Wrecker’s words stopped her.

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you.” Wrecker revealed, wiping his own tears away.

“Five.”

Omega glanced past you as she heard Hunter’s voice and the sight of him created a feeling of pure elation that she wasn’t sure she would never experience again.

“But you’re the one who found us.” Hunter said with a smile from the doorway of the Marauder.

Omega started to run towards him.

Hunter darted down the steps two at a time and came to his knees as he held his arms out to her.

Your heart swelled and the emotions of the moment got stuck in your throat. That sight had been one you had been waiting to see for quite some time. You sensed and visibly saw how relaxed and content he looked, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Wrecker put a friendly arm around your shoulder as you both go to your feet, and he saw your reaction to their reunion. He too felt himself getting caught up in it all. Finally, things were looking up.

“We missed you, kid. We never stopped searching.” Hunter said affectionately and as he tightened his hold on her and felt her reciprocate, for the first time since Ord Mantell, he felt truly at peace. He pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders, “But how did you escape?”

Omega hesitated before saying, “I had help.”

Hunter looked past her to see… well to see his brother descend the stairs of the ship, but what hit him was far more complicated than the relief he had been experiencing a mere second before.

You all followed his eyes and whatever happiness and lightness that had been surrounding you all immediately vanished and was replaced by a palpable tension as you all faced the clone that walked down the steps.

Your hand automatically came to cover your lightsaber.

Omega gaze darted between you all and she saw the shift in body language as well as the serious and distrusting expressions on all of you. It appeared she may have miscalculated as to how this smoothly this particular reunion would go.

“We can do this now and remain by a ship the Empire will be currently tracking, or we can get out of here.” Crosshair said simply.

Hunter placed a guiding hand on Omega’s back and jutted his head to Crosshair as the rest of you boarded the ship.

Crosshair followed them, with Batcher now close on his heels and the Marauder entered hyperspace once more.

--

Omega stood in the middle of the hallway. None of you had so much as made a sound or really moved since the ship had begun the journey back to Pabu and it was getting rather unbearable. “So… I got a dog! Her name’s Batcher.” Omega said with an uneasy laugh into the dead silence of the ship, but it got no reaction. The four of you continued your standoff with Crosshair positioned down the hall of the ship closest to her room/gun turret and the rest of you closer to the cockpit. All of you had your arms crossed and you, Hunter and Wrecker looked particularly guarded. She took that resulting quiet as her cue to perhaps let you all have it out right now. She took a seat and called Batcher over to sit by her feet and waited.

It was Crosshair who broke the silence first, “Where’s Echo?”

“Working with Rex.” Hunter replied briskly.

Crosshair released a soft hum in acknowledgement before he asked the question that he’d been putting off since he’d deduced it from how Omega had talked to him all those months on Tantiss, “And Tech… he’s- he’s really gone?”

“Yeah. It-” Hunter released a sad sigh, “It was a mission gone wrong and he- he sacrificed himself for us so we could get away. He knew what he was doing but… yes, he’s gone.”

Crosshair’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly what mission Hunter was referring to. “So much for Plan 88.” He couldn’t help but say, the grief and tense situation getting the better of him.

“What?” You remarked with a glare.

“You were supposed to stay hidden.”

“We couldn’t do that.” Wrecker said grimly. “Not when it looked like you were in trouble.”

“We couldn’t leave you behind, Crosshair.” Hunter added quietly, some of the fight leaving him as he recalled the events of Eriadu.

“Why? You never had trouble doing that before.” Crosshair retorted harshly.

“Excuse me?” You growled.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t-” Hunter came to stand in front of you, but you stepped past him.

You couldn’t help it, the protectiveness that hit you was all you could act on. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw your choices back in his face. You were offered a different path, but you decided the Empire was where you wanted to be. And yet, despite all of that, the moment we found out you needed us, there was no real alternative. We never knew what had happened to you, but we didn’t need to. All we knew was that you were in trouble. We all knew the risks of ignoring that plan… Tech knew the risks. Don’t you dare-”

Crosshair wasn’t prepared to explain what happened to him yet, so he kept up with his provocation instead, “You want to talk about risks? What are you playing at staying around with them?”

Hunter and Wrecker both looked sharply towards Crosshair.

Your posture stiffened. “I don’t know what-”

“I may have been out of action but I’m not blind. If the lightsaber on your belt didn’t give it away, the wanted poster I just saw sure as hell did.” Crosshair spat as he flung it towards you.

You unfurled the paper, and your breathing became irregular saw this was one of the more detailed wanted ads that had been circulated. You crumpled it back up and then glanced to Omega who could only offer an apologetic grimace that she couldn’t warn you earlier, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

You looked back to the clone, “Crosshair, I-”

“You’re a Jedi and that wasn’t something you felt the need to share?”

“Every day.” You said tightly, “But I couldn’t chance something happening-”

“Well, something’s happened now, hasn’t it?” Crosshair bit back angrily. “Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put us in? Do you even care? You’d be doing us a favour by leaving.”

Even Omega joined Wrecker in shaking her head at him this time.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cautioned as he saw the guilt and shame that flashed across your face as your mask of composure slipped. “She’s not going anywhere. We’ve handled it so far.”

“You don’t know what the Empire is capable or what she is. I read what she’s done, and they won’t stop-”

“We’ve got it handled.” Wrecker repeated again as he noticed the way your shoulders started to heave.

Your jaw clenched. “You weren’t there. You don’t know-”

“I was there on Devaron.” Crosshair snapped. “I was there when you decided to join us. I was there when you decided to spend every day lying about what you are.”

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned again and there was no mistaking the protectiveness in his tone or his stance now.

Crosshair picked up on Hunter’s reaction, but he wasn’t to be dissuaded. “You want to judge my decisions, but you betrayed-”

“You don’t get to talk about betrayal, Crosshair.” Hunter interjected coldly as he came to stand by your side.

You only let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I made my choices in the beginning but when would you have liked me to tell you, Crosshair? On Kaller? But would that have been during or after your attempts to kill the Padawan? Or perhaps you would’ve preferred it on Kamino when Tarkin was there, and you were talking about how great the Empire was and how the Jedi were traitors and what happened to them was justified? Or would you have liked to have a sit down during one of the many occasions you were already actively trying to kill us? Tell me, when should I have entrusted you with this part of me?”

This time he didn’t have a response for you, he just shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

You continued to speak but there was a distinct sadness to your voice now, “I wished I had been honest with all of you from the start. Truly I do. But after everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’ve only just found out because looking at you now, knowing what I do, I can’t be certain that if you had known what I was on Kaller, that you wouldn’t have tried to kill me too.”

Crosshair went to speak but found that he couldn’t immediately offer the reassurance that was needed.

“You’re our brother, Crosshair, and you’re welcome to stay on Pabu with us but don’t expect any of this to be easy.” Hunter said, placing his hand on your back in support.

“He helped me get out of Tantiss. He’s different now.” Omega remarked quietly.

Wrecker grunted and nodded towards his brother, but you and Hunter made no such moves, instead you both retreated further into the cockpit.

You sat in one of the passenger seats and stared at the paper again as you read the painful reminders of how you’d acted when you’d been separated from them. He’s right, you know.

“No, he’s not.” Hunter disagreed firmly as he knelt before you and untangled the wrinkled piece of paper from your hands. He paid it no attention as he threw it away. He came back and placed his hands on your shoulders as he crouched before you. “Are you alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. And you?

Hunter also nodded before he got to his feet and sat in the seat across from you.

--

“So, when did this happen?” Crosshair asked, gesturing to the two of you. The way you both were behaving wasn’t totally different to how things had been in the months before Kaller, but there was a definite shift that marked something more official. There had been a lot he’d missed out on.

“After Tipoca City.” Omega informed him as Batcher eagerly greeted them.

Wrecker enthusiastically petted the hound as he moved closer to Crosshair and Omega. “About time, right?” He added with a hint of humour in his voice, but the stern looks from the two of you had him clearing his throat awkwardly.

Crosshair simply hummed in reply and found himself wondering just quite how difficult things were about to be.

Next Chapter (to be posted)>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69

[shaisuki]

Bully! Miya twins and bully suna, what if she loses weight because of what they were saying?

loses weight? who are you kidding?

as if they would allow that. the moment you said that, the trio have been doing but nothing to sabotage your attempts at diets. you're not taking away the pleasure of it.

atsumu runs his mouth like there is no tomorrow. he calls you stupid for doing such atrocity. it's an insult to him. makes you feel worthless about it. saying that you're nothing if you weren't have such features or else they wouldn't notice or give you their time.

osamu feeds you on the daily. he won't allow you to cut off your meals. monitors you on the daily on how much you ate. your meals are prepared and cooked by him. they are meals with the nutritional value you needed and sometimes adding unnecessary stuff on it. some sugar or carbs. making sure you stay the way you are and when you decline him of feeding you, he gaslights you. guilts you in wasting his time and not appreciating his efforts for the sake of you and you ridden with guilt graciously accepts the meals he prepared of you. watches you with piercing gaze making sure you take every bite of what he made and you're rewarded. praising you for allowing him to get you fed by him as if he didn't threaten you.

suna tempts you with sweets and any other stuff they he knows you're weak of. hands you a candy bar out of the blue or tricks you to try a new snack and asking you if it's delicious or whatnots and never eating a piece of it. it happens always but never done to raise suspicions since he offered and was asking you like a friend would do. that's bullshit you know that but what can you do since he asked oh so nicely or so you thought cause it made you lower your defenses around him.

does it matter actually? either they'll just force you and threaten you with all the kinds or just straight up blackmail you. atsumu goes loud about it. osamu will just shove the food down your throat and suna will just make you feel worse than ever so never mention the word diet or losing weight or anything that relates to it, cause it won't end nicely.

[dreamcubed]

the archer | lorenzo berkshire x reader

song; the archer [taylor swift] pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!non-slytherin!reader genre; s2l, comedy, fluff word count; 5,8k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, alcohol, drunkenness, suggestive comments, blood and injury (bc of his cat) summary; lorenzo's cat hates everybody but you

masterlist

"who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?"

——————————————

Lorenzo Berkshire had no idea why his cat was such a hateful being, but she had always been that way, ever since she was a kitten. He would have understood if she had been a rescue from the streets or something, but, alas, she wasn't. She had always been feisty, and only docile with him, which was why his aunt (who owned the mother) had just sent her his way. Not that he minded, he often joked how his cat, who he had fondly named Midnight, was just like him: very selective with who he let close to him.

He had brought her with him to Hogwarts, naturally, and she had secluded herself exclusively within his dorm room— she hated being at the castle, but he knew that she would hate being at home without him even more. And, when he had graduated into sixth year, he had been blessed with his own dorm room, allowing her to finally settle down.

Only, the current problem was that she was missing. Lorenzo had returned from Saturday breakfast in hopes of a bit of downtime with his feline friend, but he instead found a frown forming on his face as he frantically searched his entire bedroom and then down the corridors and all the other Slytherin dormitories. She was definitely gone, he realised, beginning to feel an itching sense of worry as he loved that cat more than anything. Why would she have left? Did the privacy of a solitary bedroom meant she finally felt comfortable enough to explore the rest of the castle? He didn't know, and it didn't matter, he just knew that he had to find her.

"Have you seen Midnight?" he asked, hurrying up to Mattheo in the common room.

"No."

"She's missing."

"She's a cat, she's probably just wandering," his friend shrugged, "They do that, y'know."

"Not Midnight," he ran his hand through his hair, "Never Midnight."

Mattheo observed his friend carefully, "Relax, mate, she'll come back."

"I can't relax," he cursed under his breath, "I'm going to look for her."

What if she attacked someone who tried to pet her? Dumbledore might ban Midnight from the castle and send her home. Or, even worse, she would get put down. He couldn't bear that thought, but after searching all the rooms down in the dungeons, he quickly realised that he had no idea where to look from there.

***

Meanwhile, you had been enjoying a perfectly pleasant afternoon in the courtyard with a book, the last rays of Summer shining down on you before the chilliness of Autumn struck. You went to turn the page, when you noticed a commotion going on across the expanse of flagstones. With furrowed eyebrows, you let curiosity get the better of you and shut your book.

Upon arriving at the scene, you quickly realised that the centre of attention was a pitch-black cat who was hissing ferociously. Some second year boys were tormenting the poor thing who was clearly terrified— reaching their hands out to get a reaction, and then pulling away before it could swipe them with its claws.

"What are you doing?" you asked disapprovingly, normally willing to let younger years have their mischievous fun, but not at the expense of a poor innocent animal.

"It attacked Gareth out of nowhere," one of the boys gestured towards his friend, who was nursing a bleeding arm, "We're just getting our revenge."

You shook your head, "I can't allow that, I'm afraid, it's obviously terrified."

Crouching down, you placed your book on the floor and delicately held a hand out a safe distance from the cat. You made cooing noises to attract it over, hoping that it wouldn't see you as a threat.

"I wouldn't do that," the boy who had been scratched said, "A seventh year girl tried already, and now she's in the hospital wing."

"I'm not scared of a little blood," you replied, before saying to the cat, "I'm not gonna hurt you, baby, I'll get you away from these scary boys, yeah?"

Maybe it sensed your gentle nature, or maybe you simply seemed like the lesser evil next to the boys, but it ceased its hissing and started cautiously padding towards you. Eventually, its soft face rubbed against your palm, and you began soft pets until you could feel purring.

"There we are, you're safe," you murmured, delicately positioning yourself to pick it up, hoping it wouldn't freak out too much. Thankfully, it didn't, and settled into one of your arms as you picked up your book and stood up. "Your owner is probably looking for you."

A soft mewl came in response. You decided that it would be easier for the owner to find their cat if you stayed in the same place, so you returned to your reading spot and sat the cat down on your lap. It curled up instantly, closing its eyes as it entered a light slumber, while you reopened your book and continued where you left off.

***

Rumours spread like wildfire within the walls of Hogwarts, so it wasn't long before Lorenzo heard that a girl had been attacked so badly by a cat that she had ended up in the hospital wing. He immediately sprinted in that direction, ignoring scoldings from teachers and prefects, until he burst into the polished white room.

"Whatever do you think you're doing, young man?" Madam Pomfrey snapped.

"The girl. Cat attack," he panted out, "Where is she?"

The nurse pointed towards the end bed of the ward, "Just there— although I must ask you to-"

Lorenzo didn't listen to the rest of her words, running over to the girl's bed. She had a bandage on her cheek and right arm, and she didn't seem all that pleased.

"What colour was the cat?" he asked quickly.

The girl frowned, "I'm guessing that beast is yours then."

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, "Black. You ought to get it put down."

Lorenzo let out a sound that bordered on a growl.

"It scratched me so deep it hit an important artery. There was blood everywhere— my favourite shirt is ruined."

"I don't care," he bit off, "Where did it happen?"

She scowled at him, "The courtyard. Go deal with it before someone else gets hurt."

He didn't even give her a response before he was running off again, praying to all the Hogwarts founders that Midnight was still in the courtyard and completely unharmed.

***

Approximately twenty minutes had passed by with the adorable feline curled up in your lap when the sound of a door bursting open echoed throughout the courtyard. You watched as an angry Lorenzo Berkshire, a Slytherin boy in your year, made a beeline towards the group of second year boys that were still gathered. He must have seen the blood on one of the boys' arms, because he went to him first. You observed curiously as Berkshire spoke angrily, and then the evidently now scared boy pointed in your direction.

Berkshire looked over, and then his eyes locked on to yours. He was storming over to you with a fury that could destroy nations.

You raised an eyebrow at him, "Can I help you?"

He didn't reply, the anger not leaving his face, but he seemed to be contemplating something.

"Hello? Berkshire?"

"That can't be her," you heard him mutter. At the sound of his voice, the cat perked up, and instantly meowed at him. "It is you," he said disbelievingly.

"Your cat, I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, holding out his hand to beckon it over.

"What's its name?" you realised that this was the first conversation that you were having with the boy despite sharing classes for over five years.

"Midnight," he said, his voice sounding oddly strained, "She's called Midnight."

You smiled, scratching her neck in a way that made her mewl. "It's very fitting."

Lorenzo stared at you interacting with his cat, having never before seen Midnight so friendly with anyone except him. "She hates people," he said without thinking.

You hummed, "Yeah, I heard about the girl in the hospital wing."

He grimaced.

"She's quite sweet with me though."

"I've never seen her like that with anyone but me."

"Guess I'm special," you beamed, continuing to stroke Midnight.

"Uh, can I have her back now?" he asked, seeming almost unsure of himself. While Lorenzo was generally considered one of the nicer Slytherin boys, he still held himself with a terrifying confidence, and didn't have a completely scot-free track record either— refer to his behaviour when it comes to his cat going missing. However, now, stood before you as said cat had elected you as the second likeable person she had met, the confidence had been knocked out of him.

"Oh, of course," you said easily, picking Midnight up and handing her over. "Bye, cutie," you cooed, as the black cat reluctantly accepted her fate in Lorenzo's arms.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, turning on his heel and walking away. You couldn't help but watch his behaviour with an air of amusement.

***

"Fuckin' Azkaban," Lorenzo cursed, so loudly that Mattheo popped his head through the door.

"What are you shouting about?"

"Midnight's missing. Again."

Mattheo chuckled, "Maybe that girl who took a liking to your cat took her."

Lorenzo looked at him disbelievingly, "I highly doubt that. L/N isn't the type to sneak into another house."

With a shrug, his friend fully entered the room. "I'd say maybe don't freak out as much this time. We lost a lot of points for you being a dick to that girl in the hospital."

Lorenzo scowled, "You're one to talk. You've lost ten times as many points as me."

"Do you want to go look for her? It's almost curfew."

"I have to. Can't have another hospital case."

"Put a tracking charm on her when you find her."

Lorenzo agreed that it was a good idea.

***

Whenever there was a cacophony of meows coming from outside a common room door, it was customary to open it. Often times a cat would be returning to its owner, and it wouldn't do to leave it stranded out there. Today was no exception.

You were, as usual, curled up on a sofa doing some homework when you heard faint meows from the other side. Perking your head up, you watched as the boy nearest to the door went to open it, letting in a black cat. It didn't seem like anything strange: you knew a couple black cats who belonged to your house members. Only, they were sweet and friendly, and you watched as the cat tried to scratch the poor boy. Thankfully, he dodged it, and you quickly ran over as you suspected whose cat it might be.

Immediately, it meowed softly at you and went to rub against your legs— and that's when you knew that it was definitely Midnight.

"Get your cat under control," the boy said.

"Oh, she's not mi-" but he had already walked away.

With a sigh, you picked up the feline and moved back to the sofa, knowing that it was just past curfew so you couldn't return her right at that second. Unless she elected to leave herself, she would have to stay with you for the night. Not that you were complaining, but you could only imagine how worried Lorenzo must be. Those thoughts quickly slipped away, however, when she curled up in your lap and began purring.

***

Walking down the darkened corridor with nothing but his wand as light, Lorenzo found his feet leading in one particular direction. He had already checked the Great Hall, and the kitchens, and peeked out the window into the courtyard, but to no avail. Only one more idea of where she might have wandered off to lingered in his mind: he knew what house you were in, and that was where he was headed. He just hoped to Salazar that he wouldn't run into a professor.

"Mr Berkshire."

Fuck.

"Yes, professor?" he said slowly, turning around to face Professor Snape.

"It's past curfew."

"I know, professor."

"How disappointing to see one of my own Slytherins disregarding the rules of Hogwarts."

"It's my cat," he said, hoping Snape would show some amount of heart, "She's missing."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, "Cats are prone to wandering. This is hardly a cause for concern."

"Yes, but not Midnight."

"Regardless of the nature of your cat, do you really think you will find her considering the size of this castle?"

Lorenzo said nothing.

"I understand she was responsible for the attack the other day. However, that is hardly a risk as it is night time, when students should be in bed," he drawled the last part, his arms firmly crossed.

"Yes, professor."

"Five points from Slytherin." Lorenzo knew the punishment would have been harsher if he wasn't of the house he was.

"I know where she is, though."

"How is she considered missing, then?"

Lorenzo didn't have an answer for that.

"If you know where she is, you will have no trouble finding her in the morning. I will escort you back to the dungeons."

The boy let out a sigh.

***

Having not slept a wink that night, Lorenzo was up bright and early just after sunrise, ready to resume his journey to your house. He walked up to where he had heard that the door was— having never seen it in person— and thought about how he was going to enter. To his luck, it swung open, to reveal a prefect from your house. She immediately gave him a sceptical look.

"What do you want, Berkshire?"

"I need to see L/N."

"At this hour?" she sighed.

"She has my cat. I think."

"The black one?"

He nodded.

"Okay, fine— you can go in," she said, stepping out the way, "But don't tell anyone I let you in."

"Of course, thank you."

Mattheo had always told him that she was one of the softer prefects, having had a lot of experience with them on his late night antics.

He entered the common room to find that it was empty, and he didn't waste anytime heading up the girls' dormitory stairs. Thankfully, the layout was quite simple: each year had their own floor, and it went upwards chronologically. The first few floors had rooms that were shared, but when he reached the sixth floor, he found a number of doors that seemed to align with the number of sixth year girls in your house.

Only, which one was yours? He couldn't very well walk in on an unsuspecting sleeping girl: Salazar knows how she would react.

So, he decided to knock on the first door, waiting patiently as he heard a groggy, "What?" in response. He felt a little bad for waking someone up, but Midnight was more important to him than anything.

"Uh, which room is L/N's?"

"Berkshire?" the voice replied. He was surprised at how calm she seemed to be taking the news that a Slytherin boy had invaded the girls' dormitories.

"Uh, yes."

"Last room on the left. Your cat is fine."

He concluded that you must be friends with her, and informed her that the cat you were in possession of belonged to him.

"Thank you," he said, adding a, "Sorry for waking you," to which he heard no response.

Choosing to leave her be, he made his way to your room and once again knocked. Only, this time, he didn't get a response. He knocked again, and he still received no human response, but he did hear a familiar meow sound out. Praying that you would forgive him, he opened the door and peeked in carefully, to see that you were curled up within your pillows with Midnight lying down beside your head.

He entered the room fully and quietly closed the door behind him. His cat meowed again, louder this time, which caused you to stir in your sleep. When your eyes finally peeled open and caught sight of Lorenzo through your blurry vision, you jumped out of bed.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you whisper-yelled.

"My cat," he said simply.

"Is perfectly safe and healthy as you can see— that's no reason to break into girls' dormitories!"

Once again, Lorenzo found himself speechless. All you were wearing was a skimpy pair of shorts and a cropped top which had your nipples peeking through. Not much was left to the imagination.

"Berkshire! What if I'd been naked?"

That's when a smirk crept on to his face, as he felt his usual level of confidence oozing through his veins. "What if, hm?"

"Keep it in your pants," you grumbled, grabbing a jumper from the floor and pulling it over your head. You tried to ignore the way his gaze made you feel.

He shrugged, changing the subject, "I had to make sure Midnight was safe."

"Well, you clearly knew where she was."

He couldn't argue that point, causing an awkward silence to fall upon the room. Awkward until he involuntarily let out a yawn.

"That's what you get for being up so early," you mumbled, climbing back into your bed and under the sheets. Midnight immediately began cosying up to you.

"I couldn't sleep."

You regarded him carefully: it was strange to see a Slytherin boy so evidently worried about another living being.

"Here she is, then," you said, gesturing towards the feline, "Take her and go sleep before people see you were here."

"Embarrassed of me?" he chuckled, moving to pick up Midnight.

"I'd rather not get called a slut," you snapped.

He didn't reply to that comment, wrapping his hands around his cat who did not take kindly to the action: not that she tried to scratch him or anything, but she immediately wriggled out of his arms to return to you.

"Midnight, you're my cat, you can't stay here," he grumbled, trying to pick her up again. You watched the scene play out through half-shut eyes, feeling quite amused by the whole ordeal.

Once again, she escaped his grasp.

"This is unbelievable."

"What? Unbelievable that she likes me so much?" you chuckled sleepily.

Lorenzo scowled, "I'm not leaving until she comes with me."

You sighed, realising that you may not be able to escape any slut rumours at this rate. "Fine. But I'm going back to sleep."

Lorenzo watched as your breathing became slower and more laboured, unable to process the absurdity of the situation that he was in. However, he could process how peaceful and adorable you looked while sleeping, all while his furry feline cuddled up next to you with deep purrs. Eventually, he felt his lack of sleep catch up to him, his body finally allowing itself to relax now that he knew Midnight was definitely safe and sound. He sat down on your bed, reaching his hand out to stroke his cat. She mewled at the action, making him feel relieved that she hadn't started to hate him all of a sudden.

"Am I not enough for you, hm?" he murmured softly, sitting up against the headboard. His head began to lull back as he felt sleep overcome him.

***

You woke up properly at around nine o'clock, safe in the knowledge that you didn't have a lesson until eleven that day. With a soft yawn and a stretch of your limbs, you only remembered the events of earlier when you rolled over to see a sleeping Lorenzo slouched against your headboard, and Midnight sprawled across his lap.

Merlin, your usually mundane and repetitive life had really taken a turn. Unfortunately, despite the insanity of everything he had done, you didn't have the heart to wake him. You couldn't help but think that you would have done the same if Midnight was your cat. Plus, Lorenzo was very physically attractive— you knew that, everyone knew that. Yet, it was your bed that he was asleep on.

Sighing, you sat up, reaching over to scratch Midnight's head affectionally, causing her to wake up and start stretching. The action made Lorenzo stir in his sleep, and once his cat let out a soft mewl, he finally woke up fully. Immediately, you quirked an eyebrow at him, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Comfortable?"

He grumbled, "No."

You chuckled softly, "Your friends will be wondering where you are."

The proximity between the two of you was quite close: you were sat cross-legged with a mere inch between your limbs. It didn't feel strange, though, in fact it felt quite natural.

"Anyway," you tried to ignore the closeness, "As much as this has been fun, you can't come in here every time Midnight does."

"Why not?"

"I told you earlier. I don't need people making assumptions about me."

His eyes met yours, and you felt your stomach flip. "What if we made the assumptions true?"

You froze, then relaxed, "You don't mean that."

He shrugged.

***

Despite your hopes and dreams, people saw Lorenzo Berkshire leaving your dormitory, and the rumours spread throughout Hogwarts at a rapid speed. And, of course, as he was one of the Slytherin boys who were notorious for sleeping around— albeit less so than the others— you had been dubbed as his next conquest. It was a nuisance, but you weren't insecure, and knew that it would pass before long.

"If you didn't fuck, why was he in your dorm?" Iris, your friend from another house, asked. You were sat at a table in the library together, doing homework. Well, you were doing homework, Iris was borderline interrogating you instead.

"I had his cat," you replied simply.

"You stole his cat?"

You rolled your eyes, "No, Iris, his cat came to me."

"Isn't his cat the really vicious one who hates everyone?"

You hummed absent-mindedly, running your finger down the contents page of a book you were using for your essay.

"Why did it go to you then?"

"She likes me," you murmured, finding the page that you wanted and turning to it.

"That doesn't explain why he was in your dorm so long though."

"No, it doesn't."

Iris huffed, clearly irritated that you were giving her little to no information. You loved her dearly, but she was a bit of a gossip. Suddenly, she gasped. "Are you courting?"

"Who even uses that word anymore?" you scrunched up your nose, "And, no, we're not." Although, you couldn't help but think back to his suggestive comments.

"I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want to believe."

"You're no fun," she pouted.

"Meow."

You looked down to your side in surprise, to see that the familiar black feline was stood by your chair with her tail raised indignantly. "Speak of the devil," you muttered, leaning down to pick her up.

"Midnight!" you heard a yell as the library doors swung upon. You watched as Lorenzo was quickly shushed by the librarian. He apologised to her whilst scanning the room, soon spotting you with his cat sat on your lap. He hurried over.

"You need to stop freaking out whenever she goes wandering," you chastised when he was within a few feet of your table.

He scoffed, "You try not to freak out when you have an incredibly hostile cat who could be banned from Hogwarts."

"I think I do, in a way," you raised Midnight up into the air above you, examining her carefully.

"She's still my cat."

"Relax," you said, "I was just joking."

He glared at you, but there was no real threat in it.

"At least this means you get to see me so much," you grinned cheekily, making him shake his head with a sigh.

"How unfortunate for me."

"Wow, that hurts, Lorenzo." Since when did you feel like you could call him by his first name?"

"Well, Y/N, sorry for not enjoying running like a madman after my little terror."

"Then start thinking of it as running like a madman straight towards me."

He seemed surprised at that comment, and went silent for a few moments. These few moments were when Iris decided to cut in, having been observing silently until then.

"Seems like flirting to me."

You scowled at her.

"I'm just saying, would it not make sense to date the one other person who your cat likes?" she said this more towards Lorenzo than you.

He stared blankly at your friend, a finger on his right hand twitching ever so slightly. You didn't know what to make of that reaction, but decided that you wanted to learn more about what Lorenzo's body language said.

"Can I have my cat back?" he finally spoke.

"Can I please just keep her for a little bit?" you pleaded, "I can't have a cat because my mum's allergic."

Lorenzo surveyed you carefully: your half-hearted attempt at puppy dog eyes and the way Midnight nuzzled her head into your chest. He felt a pang of jealousy: strange and twisting. Weirdly, he didn't think he felt that envious of his cat's affections for you, so he didn't know why he felt jealous. A flashback of the skimpy pyjamas you had been wearing the other night crossed through his mind.

Shit.

"Yeah, uh, sure," he said all too quickly, "Only an hour though."

You hadn't expected him to agree so easily. Nonetheless, you beamed, and said, "Thank you, Enzo."

Enzo. He only let his friends use that nickname. Scratch that: he generally only tolerated when his friends used that nickname. But from you, it sounded sweet, and soft. He knew that he was a more civil and selfless person than the rest of the Slytherin boys, but he doubted many people would go as far as to say his name with such gentleness.

Gulping, he turned and walked away without another word.

***

A little over an hour later, you found Lorenzo in the Great Hall with his friends. They appeared to be enjoying a late lunch, as the tables were sparsely populated and only a few dishes remained. Just the sight of food made your stomach grumble, so you made your way over to him with Midnight curled up in your arms.

"Hello," you smiled, standing next to Lorenzo.

"Hi," he replied, before cooing at his cat who mewled happily.

Your stomach grumbled again, louder this time, and you shrugged sheepishly. "Haven't eaten yet."

"Then eat," Mattheo Riddle said from across the table, gesturing to the food.

You handed the cat over to her owner, and questioned, "Here?" You had never sat at the Slytherin table before.

Riddle shrugged, "Why not?"

You couldn't argue with that, and took a seat beside Lorenzo, dishing food on to your plate in a hurry.

"Where's Arachwood?" Enzo asked, referring to Iris.

"Got distracted by the boy she likes."

"Who does she like?" Riddle asked, clearly a lover of gossip and rumours— much like Iris.

You quirked an eyebrow, "Why should I divulge my friend's secrets?"

"She doesn't seem to have much regard for yours," Lorenzo piped in.

"Yeah, she does run her mouth a bit, but she's my friend," you scooped a large mouthful on to your fork, "I just take care not to tell her my most personal secrets." You then finally allowed yourself to taste the mouth-watering nourishment.

"So? Who does she like?" Riddle asked.

You stared at him incredulously as your mouth was full.

"I think the bigger question is who does L/N like," Theodore Nott added, smirking as he watched the eyes of you and Enzo widen.

Swallowing your food, you turned the topic back to Iris, "She likes Boot."

"Terry Boot?" Riddle clarified, and you nodded.

"I'm only saying that because she makes no effort to keep it private."

"But what about you?" Nott pushed again.

You paused, as in truth, you hadn't really fancied anyone for a while— that was, until, you remembered how gorgeous Lorenzo had looked sleeping on your bed. You felt your face burn.

"No one," you murmured, but your tone was anything but believable. You scooped more food into your mouth so you couldn't answer any further questions, but none were asked.

"We're having a party tonight," Riddle said, "You should come."

You were unable to reply as you chewed.

"It's really just Slytherins," he continued, "But we're all allowed a plus one. You can be Enzo's."

Cautiously, you looked at Lorenzo to gauge his reaction to that suggestion, but he didn't seem to have one as he mindlessly stroked Midnight.

"Yeah, if you want," he said, clearing his throat.

Finally, you swallowed, "That sounds fun. Should I bring alcohol?"

"I would recommend it," Riddle replied.

You were a mix of nervous and excited.

***

When you arrived at the Slytherin dungeons that evening, you were greeted by two fourth years at the door who seemed to be taking the job of security guard very seriously.

"Name?" one of them asked.

"Y/N L/N."

"And who are you here with?"

"Lorenzo Berkshire."

One of them wandered off into the party as the other turned to you, "We just have to validate this. Standard procedure."

You suppressed a giggle.

Not too long later, the other fourth year returned with Lorenzo by his side. With a nod to his friend, you were beckoned in and went over to Enzo.

"Very formal," you finally let out the giggle as the two of you began walking into the main party.

He shrugged, "Riddle insists on it. Salazar knows why."

You gazed around the Slytherin common room, taking in the green and black decor that you had never had the chance to lay eyes on before. There was music playing quite loudly, but you hadn't been able to hear it from outside— likely thanks to a sound-proofing charm.

"Have you started drinking yet?" he asked you.

"I had one while I was getting ready, you?"

"I've had a couple," he shrugged, stopping in his tracks for a few moments to properly look at you, "You look very pretty."

A blush crept on to your cheeks, "Thank you."

You could have sworn a small smirk graced his lips.

"L/N! You made it," the booming voice of Riddle thundered from nearby, and you turned to see him approaching with a bottle in his hand.

"Yeah," you chuckled, "Don't know how I'm gonna make it back without getting caught though."

"Just stay in Enzo's room," he said, clearly already too drunk to think over his words.

Before you could respond to his statement, he had spotted someone else and hurried over to them.

"You can if you want," Lorenzo said quietly, "I've crashed your room before."

You chuckled at the strangely fond memory, "Scared the shit out of me."

He grimaced, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, just give me a little more warning next time."

"Next time?" he repeated, a suggestive lilt to his tone.

"Where's Midnight?" you changed the subject.

"Up in my room, probably."

You hummed, "Right, I need to get more alcohol in me." And with that comment, you wandered off, not wanting Lorenzo to feel like you were following him around like a lost puppy— despite how much you had realised you wanted to be around him. It was a strange realisation: it was the first time a crush had snuck up on you rather than you more or less picking someone you found attractive to fancy.

And with that thought lingering, you poured yourself a shot, downed it, and then made a mixed drink to join the party with.

***

The increasing amount of alcohol danced through your bloodstream as the night went on and you found yourself dancing with some Slytherin girls, and having a full blown debate with a Ravenclaw guy who was there with his Slytherin girlfriend. You were having a lot of fun, but you found your drunken self wanting to go search for Lorenzo. So, you did just that, scanning the large room for any sight of him. Finally, your eyes locked on to the familiar tuft of brown hair sat on a sofa, with his friends all sat around him.

You walked over, somewhat clumsily, and immediately beamed widely, "Hi, Enzo," you said.

His gaze flicked to you and a small smile crept on to his face, "How are you doing?"

"I missed you," you said without thinking, sitting down next to him and bringing your legs up on to the sofa to curl into his side. His arm was spread out, resting behind you on the back of the settee.

"Did you?" he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink, which he held in his other hand.

You nodded, "Did you miss me? Wait, don't answer that."

His lips stretched into a full grin, "I might have missed you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Don't play with my feelings, Berkshire. I know you're not as much of a player as the others, but I'm still suspicious."

"Never," he said, leaning closer to you so he could say in a husky quiet voice, "Call me Berkshire."

You raised an eyebrow, "Don't think I won't leave if you show signs of leading me on." How had this turned into a full blown confession? Wasn't it a bit premature for that?

"Who could ever leave me, darling?" The alcohol had clearly inflated his already radiant confidence.

"But who could stay?" you whispered in his ear, before stumbling to your feet, only to feel his hand grasp around your wrist. You turned back, to see that he was looking at you with his mouth folded in a thin line.

"You could," he eventually muttered, "Midnight would miss you too much."

"Just Midnight?" you teased, finding that your drunkenness was filling you with reckless abandon.

He sighed, "I would, too."

You grinned, sitting back down next to him.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade next weekend?" he asked.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And, when you woke up the next morning cuddled up with Lorenzo and Midnight in his bed, you smiled despite your pounding headache— and slight urge to throw up. Scratch that: huge urge to throw up. But when you stumbled to the bathroom, waking up Lorenzo in the process, he followed you and held back your hair, talking you through it.

It was peculiar, really, how everything was still so new, but you didn't feel the least bit embarrassed about him seeing you in such an ugly state.

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 26/04/2024 —> 09/05/2024 published; 12/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

[thekidthesuperkid]

No but actually I love how central Crystal is to the story. She's the only reason the group ever goes to Port Townsend and therefore the only reason most of the plot even happens.

Even if you're just watching the show with shipping goggles (a lot of people let's be honest) you still can't extract Crystal from the story. She's the only reason Charles and Edwin go to Port Townsend, but also her arrival into the boys' dynamic shakes it up enough for it to start changing. She's the one who finds out about Charles' dad and then pushes Edwin to figure out what Charles has been hiding from him. She's also the one who pushes Charles to recognize his own repressed emotions and to deal with them. She's central to Charles' character arc over the show, and even though she's not as central to Edwin's character arc, she's still a catalyst. Niko, the Cat King, and Monty are more directly important to Edwin's arc, but Edwin and Charles never would have met and helped Niko if it hadn't been for Crystal (Niko likely would have just died from the sprites alone and this is deeply sad to think about), and Edwin also would never have met either the Cat King or Monty without being in Port Townsend. (Monty probably would have never become human.) Maybe if things had been different Edwin still would have been dragged back to Hell, but Charles would have had to find a different way to rescue him. The Night Nurse was only there to open the door to Hell because Charles and Edwin were stuck in Port Townsend long enough for her to track them down, and on top of that she was only able to track them down because of their connections to living humans (Jenny) through Crystal. And then Edwin's confession on the staircase was only really possible because of the realizations about himself that he had beforehand because of the influences of Monty and Niko and the Cat King. Crystal called Edwin and Charles a dead married couple on acid and that basically what they were: they had been together for so long with just each other, and they were so familiar with each other that their dynamic had become habit and they were taking for granted the things they thought they knew about each other...Charles is the happy one and isn't haunted by his past the way that Edwin is, Edwin isn't interested in romance and connecting with living people, etc. Crystal, and then Niko and their other friends as well, showed up and brought in a new perspective on their relationship and their lives and their problems, which allowed them to develop their relationship in new areas.

Independently of the boys' relationship though, Crystal's story is really done so satisfyingly. Her character arc of figuring out who she is is unfinished, but already it's cool how the story builds the contrast of who she is now versus who she was before her memories were stolen, where one of the biggest differences between the two versions of herself is whether she has people in her corner who truly care about her and support her, and whether she has people she cares about in return. She's also the only one able to defeat Esther in the end. The Elemental would have just swallowed Charles and Edwin without her, and summoning Lillith was something only she could do. And it's really cool how her role in the story creates a theme of connection to other people being vital. She forces Edwin and Charles (mainly Edwin) to interact more with living people, through getting them to take cases for living people and by being a way to get information from the living more easily, which ends up causing some bad things for them but also causes a lot of good things too. Like she brings in Niko, who is the reason Charles and Edwin don't get separated after returning from Hell. And even her powers rely on being able to connect with her roots and her heritage and her self. The way that ties into themes of identity are very interesting as well.

TLDR: I really like way the story used Crystal and I'm excited to see where her story goes if there's a season 2.

[kangnina]

Rich!Jungwon 7

Jungwon Masterlist

Now playing - Desire by ATEEZ; It's You by ATEEZ

 Everyone was shocked by the sudden death of Jungwon’s father, including you. Although Jungwon didn’t say it, you know he regrets not having the opportunity to repair the rift between them. The funeral was suspiciously fast, small and private for a world renowned entrepreneur. But you kept that opinion to yourself, as it was already hard enough on Jungwon. He wasn’t given the time to properly mourn before he was catapulted into complete ownership of Yang International. Your mother-in-law tried her best to guide Jungwon based on what she knew about YI. Even she wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming her late husband’s job would be for her college aged son. There was little to nothing you could do to help. You offered words of encouragement. Yet ultimately, you decided to stay out of the way until the dust settled. Jungwon would be gone before you wake up and he’d come home after you were asleep. He often left gifts so that you’d know you were always on his mind. He would text you when he had a moment to breathe. But of course, you missed him. You missed how much simpler things were before you got married.

“Wow, I never thought I’d be allowed to set foot back in here. Or if I ever did, I thought I’d get a bullet in my ass,” Sunoo says, unpacking his grocery bags. “Geez, Sunoo. We’re not the mafia,” you laugh. You were bored and lonely so you called him over for dinner. “Are you sure?” He whispers to you after glancing over at Franklin who is on the phone, clearly giving someone a report of what you’re currently up to. You shrug. At this point, you don’t care. For weeks, your husband has been non-existent and you still don’t have a clue who is supposedly out to get you. Having the only friend you have left come over for dinner makes life not suck so much right now. Sunoo’s visit lifted your spirits for a few hours and you agreed to make it a regular weekly event.

But when night comes, you are in your giant bed, staring at the ceiling. ALONE, yet again. You wouldn’t have even known Jungwon came home except for the fact that he yelled your name like a madman when he walked through the front door just after midnight. It scared the shit out of you. Franklin helped him up the stairs. You meet them at the landing, apologizing to Franklin as you take a hold of him and usher him into your bedroom. You close the door and remove your robe. Jungwon falls back onto the bed, his face flushed. Ears red. Clearly drunk. As you try to pull off his shoes and socks, he rambles on about an ungrateful client he had to wine and dine to keep happy. You reach up to unbuckle his pants and he playfully growls, pulling you on top of him. “All work and no play! I miss my beautiful wife!” He’s grabbing your ass and kissing you as you try to get up and finish preparing him for bed. “Kiss me! I miss you. Don’t you still love me, Jagiya?” he whines, looking at you with glossy eyes. “Yes, I love you Jungwon,” you say softly, giving him a quick kiss to reassure him. His phone rings in his pants pocket. He grumbles while fumbling for it. Once he yanks it out, he yeets it somewhere in the room where it lands with a loud thud and then silence. “GOOD! I hope it’s broken. I fuckin' hate that thing. It never stops ringing. I can’t even take a fuckin' piss in peace,” he says, running his hands over his face. He is in rare form and you can’t help but laugh at his unfiltered state. Hearing your laughter, Jungwon smiles at you, once again grabbing your ass and grinding up against you. His voice is soft, almost a whisper: “Please Jagiya. I miss you so much. Your laugh. Your kisses. Your body. Please. Let me fuck you baby. Please.”

It’s been a while since you’ve heard him speak to you like this. Every time he does it – you’re immediately down bad. You know he’s drunk but it couldn’t hurt if he wants it just as badly as you do. You kiss him gently but he’s urgent and desperate. His wine flavored tongue eagerly plays with yours as you unbuckle his pants and reach into his briefs to stroke him. Jungwon closes his eyes and moans against your lips. He’s pent up and so are you. You both know it. When you pull away to remove your nightie and underwear, he clumsily pulls off his dress shirt over his head. He’s so cute fumbling with his pants. You giggle and he smiles. Dimples deep because it’s music to his ears. You help him pull off his underwear before climbing back on top of him, grinding your pussy against his hard cock making him moan as he sucks on your nipples. He gives one a gentle bite making you flinch and mewl. “Don’t tease me, Jagiya. I need to fuck you,” he grabs his cock and presses into you, lifting his hips. You both groan in unison as you sink deeper. You rest your hands on his pecs, forearms on his abs as you lift your hips up and down, riding him slowly. You love the feel of every inch in and out. You want to savor it and make love. But Jungwon is impatient and needy. He wants to hear you scream his name while he makes you lose your goddamn mind. He grabs your ass with both hands and puts his feet on the bed, bending his knees. Lifting his hips to fuck up into you. “Oh fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” The angle is so perfect it has you clinging to his shoulders, digging your nails into his hot flesh. Vibrating, on the verge of cumming in a few thrusts. He grins, watching you collapse on to him, your body shaking as your cream on his cock. Jungwon rubs small circles on your back as you catch your breath. “I love you,” you kiss him as you start to roll your hips again, still clenching around his thickness. “Mmm, I love my greedy little Jaigya,” he chuckles. You run your fingers up his neck and into his hair. “So greedy,” you look into his eyes as you rock your hips faster. “Ooh, baby I’m close,” he says, cock twitching and filling you up within a matter of seconds. You feel his abs tense beneath you as his pretty eyes squeeze shut but you keep going. “Mmm baby. Please.” he says, biting his lip. Your fingers grip a little tighter in his hair. You clench around his softening cock. “Jagiya, ah ah ah,” he hisses from the overstimulation. Jungwon opens his eyes, brows furrowed with an intense gaze burning into you as he smacks your ass, grabbing it hard, to hold you still. “Don’t be a bad girl.” You kiss him softly, whispering, “It’s been so long. I just want every single drop of you, Wonie.”

------------

@nyfwyeonjun @maymarrylhs @nyxtwixx  @ilabjungwon @enha-ism @belowbun @mydearestwonnie @woniesprincess04 @esiromi @crispysharkwizard @snoopypupp @moonlightndaydreams @daydreams-after-dark  @wildflowermooon @emi-en

[weirdo-fun]

What Else Can I Do?

Azriel x Reader - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic. I don't know if this will be good at all or people will even like it. This idea has been in my head for a few months and I finally caved and wrote it. This will be a few chapters maybe 3 chapters long? I don't know but I hope you enjoy! Also side note grammar is not my strong suit, so if there are any grammar mistakes please be nice. :)

Summary: Reader ends up geting turned fae and befriends Elain and gets super close with her. But Reader notices Elain gets treated differently, and Reader would like to change that but a certain batboy always gets in her way of trying to help her friend and under her skin.

Word Count: 1.7 K

Warnings: Bickering, slight dislike of inner circle, slight enemies to lovers, fem! reader, reader being sort of a rebel

Author's Note: Was this slightly insipred by "What Else Can I Do?" From Encanto? Maybe... (I do not claim or take credit for the song, all rights for the song go to the respected owners)

Side Note: Azriel will come into the story later I promise.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” You ask Elain as you sit on in arm chair with both legs draped across one arm of the chair with your back leaning against the other one. The book you were just reading now lay on your chest as you look at Elain who is sitting, a lot more elegantly, on a sofa adjacent to you. You wait for her to answer as you give her a questionable look. 

She sheepishly looks up from her own book. “I don’t mind it. I know they only want whats best for me and to protect me.” You raise an eyebrow at her not entirely believing her. “Yeah, but doesn’t it bother you that they practically tell you what you can and can’t do?” You ask, pushing the conversation more. 

These have been questions you have had for a while. Ever since you and Archeron sisters were thrown into the caldron and turned High Fae, everyone decided, weather subconsciously or not, to keep Elain in this sort of bubble. Treating her as this precious flower that needs all the protection from everyone. You never had any ill will towards Elain, she is a very feminine woman who does tend to be on the more soft spoken side, which is what makes Elain Elain. This is what gravitated you towards Elain and wanting to be her friend. Being a very outspoken and extroverted person you always tended to befriend the more quiet types. It has always been this way since you were a child. The extroverted girl talking and hanging out with the introverts. You don’t know why you subconsciously gravitated to being friends with the quieter crowd when you were the complete opposite. Maybe it gave balance in your life. You being the talker and the other one being the listener. You don’t know why or how but those friendships always worked out when you were mortal. 

That was true until you accidentally, more like breaking a rule, decided to take a stroll in the middle of the night throughout the Archeron estate. You were a newly hired servant and you were too excited for your new job that you couldn’t sleep so you walked around the estate and ended up in the middle of the crossfire of the Archeron sisters, Nesta and Elain, being kidnapped. You of course jumped in to help but ended up being taken as well. 

After being turned and by the grace of the Mother, the Inner Circle allowed you to stay even though you weren’t related to the Archeron’s. You were still turned fae and needed a place to stay. Although the healing process was slow and mostly done on your own you never thought the inner circle was completely bad.  

It wasn’t until Elain finally started to come around and was healing from her trauma when you decided to befriend her. You guys fastly became close. Mostly thanks to you for always seeking her out and wanting to strike up a conversation. From the outside it may have appeared that you kept forcing yourself in her life but Elain wouldn’t turn you away and she would start conversations a good portion of the time. But it was when you guys started to become close that you noticed the treatment that the inner circle gave her. You never said anything in the beginning thinking you were thinking too much into it. But after so many days, and even weeks of the same treatment that you were questioning everything regarding Elain. 

You have questioned Elain about this treatment but she would brush it off saying things like “oh well i don’t see a difference” or “it’s ok Reader they are just being friendly and making sure I am ok.” And you haven’t pushed Elain further until today. 

A certain bat boy got under your skin earlier. And to be frank, he actually has always gotten under your skin when it comes to Elain. He is the master of the “delicate flower treatment” towards Elain. This treatment would be cute if 1) he was courting her, which he isn’t and 2) if it was dialed waaaaay back and the treatments actually respected her as being a true adult woman and not a fragile little girl. 

Azriel, is the bat that gets under your skin. You have tried to be friendly to him but he never talks to you and you never know what he is thinking. His face, although you first thought very handsome when you first met him, is always expressionless and stone cold. You have tried to be civil with him but because of your outspoken and extroverted nature he mostly disagrees with you for the simple fact that he knows you don’t like how he treats Elain. You have confronted him before about the matter in a friendly way but he shut you out and blew you off saying how you don’t know anything about what Elain has gone through and you don’t know whats best for her. The whole interaction left your relationship with him strained. And since then both you and Azriel have been on opposite sides on everything. Both wanting to challenge each other and win; never seeing eye to eye.  

Elain sheepishly shrugs. “I don’t think they really do-.” “Girl, no they do.” You interrupt her sternly. She looks at the ground and her posture slouches a little and you can tell that she knows your right. That her sister, with Cassian, and especially Azriel treat her as a fragile little princess. That anything can break her. But she survived the Caldron, she survived her trauma from it. You know she is a strong woman and you try to show her that; try to show the inner circle that. “You know I am right.” You say in a firm way as you swing your legs from on top of the arm rest to sitting right in the chair with your feet on the ground and back straight. She looks at you with innocent and confused eyes. “Well, I don’t know what to say to them when they tell me what I can and can’t do. I just agree because I don’t want to create conflict with them.” She softens her tone at the end, getting shy and embarrassed. “But is that what you want?” You ask her straight in the eye. “To keep agreeing with whatever they say and tell you how to live your life? To not have an opinion or a say? Is that what you want?” You ask in a calm yet concerned manner. “Well, it’s just that-” “Is that what you want?” “Well no but-” “Is that what you want?!” “I can’t just-” “ELAIN! Is that what you want?!” You yell for a third time. Wanting to hear her true feelings, her true thoughts and opinions on the matter. With no bullcrap excuse about how she won’t mind for stupid reasons. And no running away from this conversation. 

“No.” She speaks so softly that you don’t hear it. “What?” You ask leaning into her to hear what she said. “No” Elain says. You hear it this time, but her head is down and her hair is fell in front of her face, not being able to see her. “Elain what did you say? I can’t hear you?” You lie to her to try and get her to voice her opinion louder and to lift her head up and say it more confidently. She slowly lifts her head, straightens her back and looks at you with truthful eyes. “No. That is not what I want.” She says without her voice wavering. “I would like to go out shopping when I want to go. I would like for them to tell me things straight up and stop carefully stepping around eggshells thinking I won’t be able to handle it, that I might break.” 

You smile at her. Proud that she was finally able to say what she was feeling out loud. You walk over to her and pull her up to stand and give her a hug. “That is all I wanted to hear you say.” You look at her proudly holding onto her upper arms. “But, I still don’t know how to tell that to them. You know it’s hard for me to voice my opinion.” You shake your head. “We will take this one step at a time. Step one was to get you to voice out loud to me what you actually want. And we did that, so congratulations.” You tease as you walk back over to the arm chair you were sitting at to pick up the book you were reading. “Well then what’s the next step?” Elain asks curiously. You smirk and turn towards her. She sees the smirk on your face knowing you are already planning something. Her eyes widen in concern because every time you had a plan it would always get you in trouble and Azriel would always be the one to scold you. But you keep doing these “plans” because you didn’t care what Azriel was going to tell you.

“Remember when you told me that you thought my power could do so much more, than make pretty plants and flowers?” You ask as you create just a simple pink rose on your hand. “Yes.” She nods, not knowing where this conversations was going. You smile, “Well, I have been secretly trying to practice to create new things but it’s hard when just in the confines on my room.” You hand her the pink rose that you just created. “Why don’t we take a walk through the forest. And maybe along our walk I try to practice without the worry of the inner circles eyes and ears.” You ask sheepishly. “Look I know this is supposed to be about you but I would just like to be with my favorite person in the forest exploring my power more without judging eyes.” You plead. Elain nods and gives a small smile. “Thank you Reader for wanting to help me. And if helping me also includes me being able to see your power that I am super jealous of by the way, then yes.” You smile at her, grab her hand and both of you guys start to giggle like little girls as you guys walk out of the living area planning to “sneak out”. 

That is it for Chapter 1! Did I also give Reader Isabela's powers?...Read the next chapter to find out! I am already thinking about chapter 2 and I promise Azriel and Reader will be interacting with each but I was setting everything up until then. But chapter 2 may take me while to publish because I am getting ready for my vacation but depending on how people react to this I may be motivated to publish it sooner. ;) Please if you have feedback leave a comment because I would love to read them. Thank you so much for reading and if you made it this far. Until next time, take care everyone!

[evergone]

Misunderstandings

Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Jane Austen inspired)

Warnings: some angst, drinking.

Description: Ominis and the reader broke each other's hearts as teenagers. When they meet again as adults, the reader disguises herself as Natsai's cousin and they fall in love all over again.

Shoo-ing your friends away and promising each of them that you would not be long, you sat down in a quieter room adjacent to the ballroom to catch your breath. If you had to dance with one more minister or minister’s son you may well have danced yourself to death. You held your fan to your breast and fluttered it rapidly in the hopes to find some cool air in the cramped heat of the Minister for Magic’s yearly ball.

You reached for a glass of white wine from a passing server and allowed yourself the mercy of a long sip unfit for a gentlewoman of your blood. The glass came from your lips with a grateful and exhausted sigh as you turned into the table you were at and placed down your fan.

A man was sitting on the other side of the table with a distant look. His hair was bright, his skin fair, and when you attempted to catch his gaze (a fruitless action) you noticed his eyes were a cloudy sort of grey-white. He was sitting in bored silence beside a brunet man far too engaged in conversation with a woman in purple to notice his poor companion was nearly falling asleep.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” You inquired over the music being played by the young lady behind the pianoforte.

The man’s grey eyes searched for your face in vain, never landing and just moving quickly around your general space. It was an action that seemed quite familiar, and suddenly you recognised the man as Ominis Gaunt. During your Hogwarts days he had been one of your closest friends, and the object of your affection. You had ended your friendship on bad terms, and had your heart broken. On realising this, you were frozen with terror.

“Please, I suffer from blindness, my apologies that I cannot look at you when you speak to me,” said Ominis and you managed to squeak out a soft acceptance of these apologies, “This ball must be wonderful, but with my companion occupied there is not much for me to do. Never mind me, though — How is your night, Miss…?”

“Onai!” You lied, using your dear friend’s name to mask yourself from him, “I am Miss Onai.”

“As in Natsai Onai? Your voice is familiar, but I did not think…”

“Oh! She is my cousin,” you cringed as you said it, but anything to draw suspicion away from you, so you thought up the first Shona name you could think of and used that instead of your real name, “I am Tsitsi Onai. Natsai’s father’s brother’s daughter.”

Ominis’ brow creased with a frown, but he accepted her word as truth and you let some tension release from your shoulders. A quick glance to his side, and you gathered that his companion must have been Sebastian Sallow, a man whose sight was not so impaired that he could have mistaken you so easily for someone else. His presence was a danger to your lie.

“Well, I really must be going, sir,” you said as pleasantly as possible through the stress, then you stood up.

To your dismay, Ominis rose, too. It was manners and respect, is all, or at least that is what you tried to assure yourself as he circled the table to be slightly closer to you.

“You remind me so much of an old friend of mine,” he said, “Please, would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He held his hand out towards the direction of the music leaking in from the ballroom and you cursed good etiquette for forcing women to dance with every man who asked, and then you cursed yourself for ever leaving the floor in the first place. You obliged his request, and led him into the ballroom by slightly tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. He had not even bothered to tell Sebastian where he was going, and your heart panged with concern that they would never find each other again and you would end up stuck caring for Ominis until the end of the night.

The music slowed slightly as you reached the ballroom floor and his hands took their dutiful places. Dancing in itself was not a sensual touch, but even so, he touched you with such delicacy, such gentility, that you could not help but wish his hand was slightly firmer. It seemed it was not him touching you, but his shadow. Had he known who you were you would have teased him, and elbowed his hand until it was gripping at your waist as if you were the only thing stopping him from falling from a great height.

As you began to dance, conversation flowed somewhat freely. So far from anyone you knew, there was no fear of being exposed to him. You would enjoy yourself, you decided.

“You know my name, sir, but what is yours?” You asked, and he introduced himself, “I think Natty has spoken of you.”

“Goodness, you must tell me what she has said. If I have reflected poorly, I would be mortified,” he said with a flustered blush on his nose.

“Either she has not spoken at length, or I do not listen to her enough to remember anything of import. You must tell me of yourself so that I might build my own judgement,” you smiled.

“Truly, there is not much to tell,” he said modestly, “I was educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (this is how I know your cousin), and I am apprenticing to be a barrister currently.”

“And what of your hobbies? Do you fancy gardening? Music? A good game of whist?” You said.

“Recently, I have become a fan of the opera,” he explained, “My companion, Mr. Sallow, is learning Italian, so we saw Otello in London and he translated as best he could. I have seen the play, so I understood what he did not, and I much enjoyed it.”

“Molto bene! I love the opera!” You nearly grinned with excitement. “I am no enjoyer of Otello — It is regrettably muggle in its racial concerns… But I saw Faust in Paris and it was wonderful!” He nodded along as you spoke, hanging on to every word that left your mouth. “I think that performance is the magic of muggles.”

“How incredibly insightful, Miss Onai,” he said thoughtfully and you blushed, “I must agree. Wizards can perform, certainly, but we do not know art like they do.”

Soon after, the dance ended. You and Ominis exchanged bows, and you politely led him back to Sebastian. You left with a quick good-bye without much decorum at all so as to avoid being seen, but not before you gave him the address of the townhouse you were staying at with your “cousin” and friends. What did you intend to gain by giving him the address? Of this, you were not completely sure. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped he would call on you.

The next day, Ominis awoke with three things: a start, a headache, and a realisation. The first of these things made him gasp and place a hand on his chest, the second made him groan and order his house elf to fetch him some water, and the third made him drop his water all over himself and run into Sebastian’s room without any warning at all.

The poor brunet squinted as his friend drew back the curtains and let the sun pound in through the window. There was no clock in his room, but Sebastian could tell it was much too early for him to be awake. He voiced this complaint, but Ominis cared not, so Sebastian dropped back into his pillows and let his friend speak.

“My good man, I think I fell in love last night,” he said with wide, unseeing eyes.

This made Sebastian sit up again, this time with a curious raised eyebrow.

“Ominis,” he started, “For the last — What? Three years? — For the last three years, you have been whining about how Y/n L/n from school broke your heart. I have not heard a man so adamantly declare that he would be a bachelor for life as you. Yet, today, on this eighteenth of April, you tell me you have fallen in love!”

There was a sense of disbelief in Sebastian’s speech that made Ominis sigh deeply. He sat down on the edge of Sebastian’s mattress, and tried his best to stare him seriously in the eye (Sebastian laughed at this, grabbed Ominis’ head, and positioned it correctly).

“She was just like Y/n,” said Ominis.

Sebastian rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he was safe from being seen, but Ominis felt the movement in the air and slapped Sebastian’s arm in annoyance. Sebastian hissed and slapped Ominis back. They were as immature in adulthood as they had once been as boys.

“Well, then it was good it was just one night!” Sebastian frowned.

“I have her address,” Ominis admitted in a state of pure bliss and Sebastian threw up his arms in defeat, “I am going to call on her.”

“Do not call on her!” His nose was scrunched up in disgust.

“You should have heard her talk, Sebastian! I was so entranced that I thought she was Y/n. She sounded exactly like her,” Ominis said.

“Are you sure it was not the ghost of loves past?” Sebastian teased, “Should we be on watch for a jolly bearded giant now? And what after that? The phantom of loves yet-to-come?”

“Do not jest,” Ominis scoffed, “This woman is a needle and thread. She has sewn my heart back together.”

“And what is this seamstress’ name?”

“She is cousin to Natsai Onai, her name is Tsitsi. Is not it as beautiful as she?” Ominis mused lovingly.

“I have not seen her, so I cannot attest to her beauty,” Sebastian said, unconvinced, “In fact, you have not even seen her.”

Meanwhile, in your townhouse, you were anxiously pacing in the parlour. You had been awake since you arrived home, the jitters not offering you a minute of sleep. One of your house elves, the first to wake, had found you writing in your diary in the earliest hour of the morning and suggested you take a bath and get ready for the day in a well-meaning, but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to calm you down.

Finally, Natsai, Poppy, and Imelda awoke, and the house elf ushered them into the parlour as quickly as they were dressed. Imelda carried a cup of tea in with her, a scowl already plaguing her otherwise handsome countenance. Natsai and Poppy, on the other hand, wore looks that only read as confusion.

“Have you not slept, my darling?” Natsai asked and you shook your head vehemently.

“Oh, dear! Y/n, go to bed, please! You cannot go about your life exhausted,” Poppy said, placing a hand on your back as she tried to lead you to your room.

“Girls, I am not tired,” you said and sat Poppy down on the couch, “I have the most exhilarating, horrible, interesting, wild information to share with you about my time at the ball last night.”

This made Imelda’s ears perk up and her scowl softened slightly.

“I danced with Ominis Gaunt.”

“What?” Imelda gasped, placing her tea in her lap, “And you did not immediately tell me this in the carriage home?”

“I was far too flustered to speak about it then, Imelda!” You exclaimed, “He did not know it was me.”

“How did he not know? He may be blind, but he is not stupid — nor is he deaf, he must have recognised your voice at least,” said Imelda.

“I disguised myself as Natsai’s cousin, Tsitsi—”

“— I have no cousin Tsitsi,” Natsai interrupted.

“Well, you do now, and it is I,” you said firmly.

“How did you fool Mr. Sallow? I assume Mr. Sallow was with him?” Poppy asked, her attention entirely encapsulated by the scandal of the conversation.

“Nay,” you replied, “He did not see me. I fear I have trapped myself in a terrible lie, for I have yet again fallen in love with Ominis and know not how to tell him.”

“Yet again?” Imelda cackled, “You never fell out of love with him, Y/n. This is a continuation of love!”

“This conversation is all for naught,” Natsai said matter-of-factly, “He does not know it was you, he does not know where you live, so you will not see him again. Do not forget how he broke your heart, Y/n. Do not allow him to take hold of it once more.”

“Natsai,” you said gravely and she frowned in concern, “I told him our address.”

Natsai scoffed in a mixture of disgust and disbelief, and circled to the back of the couch so she could stare at the wall behind it instead of at your face which appeared to her in that moment as the face of a traitor to your own emotions. She could not fathom how you could be so easily deceived by your own heart (the very same heart which had not three years earlier been torn to shreds) to fall once again in love with Ominis Gaunt.

Had you forgotten how he betrayed you? How he strung you along for years like a guitar stuck playing a sad song? Had you forgotten how you ran to her in tears? To Natsai, it was only yesterday that she held you in her arms as you wailed that he was leaving you.

“I will not watch you carry the pieces of your heart back to him,” she said in a stern tone.

“My heart rebuilt itself the moment I saw him,” you told her.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but there was a knock at the door that made all four of you go silent. Your eyes made contact with Natsai’s first, but then moved over to Imelda’s as she shouted for one of the house elves to go see who was there. A little elf scrambled to the door and you faintly heard her talking to someone before she returned.

“There is a gentleman here for Tsitsi Onai,” said the house elf.

The frown on Natsai’s brow deepened, but you ignored her and went to the entryway. Ominis stood there in his day attire, fiddling with his cravat like he used to do with his tie at Hogwarts. He looked absolutely spectacular. Beside him was Sebastian, who stared at you as if he had seen a ghost, and then quite loudly announced your name, exposing you to Ominis.

“Ominis,” you said and his brows furrowed as he put two-and-two together.

You and Ominis were given space in the study while the girls entertained Sebastian in the parlour. The silence in the room was so quiet and all-encompassing that it seemed to make the room sharp and cold. Ominis was seated on the big leather chair while you leant against the desk with your hands folded in your lap.

“You lied to me,” he said finally.

“I was scared,” you admitted, “We did not leave on good terms. And to be truthful, I tried my best to escape you last night, but good manners kept me shackled to you.”

“Shackled?” he scoffed, “Well, I apologise that you had such a horrible time with me.”

“It is just like you to take that personally,” you rolled your eyes, “You had the blessing of ignorance, but I had to pretend as though everything was fine. As though I was not dancing and conversing with a man who could not care less about me.”

“It was not I who destroyed our bond,” said Ominis.

At that, you laughed loudly and sarcastically. You could not think anything but pure rage at his audacity.

“It was not I who invited you to the most romantic night of your life just to tell you that I was moving hundreds of kilometres away,” you said with venom on your tongue.

“I was going to propose to you that night!” Ominis’ voice raised and he stood up so he was facing down at you, “You kept asking me if I had some lint in my pants because I would not cease shoving my hand into my pocket — the ring was in there! And I thought that if you loved me you would ask me to stay.”

“I do love you! That is why I could not ask you to give up your career for me!” You shouted at him, your arms thrown wildly to the side, and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

All time stopped. It did that excruciatingly painful thing where it drew itself out like a rubber band so that one second became one minute and one minute became one hour and one hour became a whole day. And then, once it felt like a week had passed, time started again, and you were right where you left off — attempting to breathe through your sobs so that the blind man in front of you could not hear you crying, even though you could see the tears on his cheeks.

“You love me?” Ominis asked.

“You were going to propose to me?” You said.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling out my long time best friend on her transphobic tiktok reposts?

💎, to find this when it gets posted

for context. i have this friend, whom i met when we were eleven but we got very close in high school. as we grew older, we started having very different perspectives, esp about politics - i am generally (still not using labels techincally, bc i don't think i am informed enough yet, but y'know. by extended lines.) an anarcho-communist, while she is more neoliberal leaning. still, we went through a lot together and were at each other's side when we both were at our very rock bottoms. and i mean that as in, for what regards me, she helped me through panic attacks and dissociative and psychotic episodes before i ever had even any medical (or adult, for that matter) support. it was horrible for me but it certainly has been tough on her as well, to handle my situation

now, we started going to uni in completely different cities, and of course we have sort of drifted apart, tho i still call her my best friend and i assume she does the same, since we never "officially" took distances (we haven't actually seen each other since, idk, last summer??). however, as i was lazily going through her reposts on tiktok, i found she reposted a heavily transphobic video; it was a trans woman talking about the good old "kids are too young to know they're trans and they should never be allowed to make a choice like that". y'know, that kind of rhetoric.

now, as i said before, we had been having different opinions on things for a long time, also things like marriage, assimilation vs liberation, but, due to our relationship, and also because i basically had no support system beside her + crazy emotional dependence and attachment, i always bit my tongue about it and let it go with the classic "we just have different opinions".

this time, though, esp given the context, it irks me a lot, and it very much makes me uncomfortable to keep sweeping this under the rug; also bc someone very close to me is a young trans person who has suffered his entire life due to the lack of access to self-determination in our social context and would've really been happier and healthier if he was given the chance to voice and receive support for his discomfort earlier.

however, bc of our history, i am also terrified that she will 1.think that i'm bringing this up specifically to start a fight 2.think of me as ungrateful (and it would also probably be?) after all the shit she took from me because of my horrible mental health.

[nutteu]

pseudo-incest cattonquick???

like, ollie's parents were pam's friends, and when they died, pam gossiped all about it to elspeth, and out of the graciousness of her heart, she took the whole family to the quicks' funeral. there they saw oliver, and because he's so obedient and good and polite and traumatized, elspeth thought, oh, another project i can fix, and another child i can put my projection onto. why the hell not?

so oliver was raised by the cattons, and he easily won felix over, but it was a bit hard to get close to venetia. farleigh was surprisingly the easiest to befriend, because that boy just needed love and oliver had had that in abundance from his late family. james and elspeth loved him because he was so different than their unruly children. it's all nice and fluffy and happy because sue me, i want the fluff.

then, then, they grew up and at first, it wasn't something to worry about. oh, they were brothers, they grew up together, of course felix and oliver loved each other, would help and give each other everything. but also, and this only venetia and farleigh saw, they were willing to burn the world, to come back to each other's arms.

it was easy to overlook, if one didn't know what to look for. but felix, sweet felix and his savior complex, with all the affection one could give, loved so hard that it was suffocating to be in his arms. but that was alright, because ollie liked the feeling, liked the breathlessness of it, liked being suffocated by felix's love. it was alright, because he was used to it since their childhood.

it was okay, even if they sat closer than what was acceptable, even if they slept on the same bed because oliver often had nightmares, even if they didn't have friends except for venetia and farleigh because both oliver and felix didn't deal well with jealousy, even if they only had each other because it was all they could ask for.

it was okay, even when felix's first girlfriend ran off screaming profanities when oliver blatantly said that he didn't like her and felix put his opinion first and foremost; okay, even when oliver never had a girlfriend or boyfriend because all his time was hogged by felix; okay, even when they were wrapped around each other so tightly that there was no space allowed to be between them.

it was okay, even as they grew up and saw that what they had between them wasn't normal, or necessarily healthy, but that wasn't a concern because, hey, they had each other from the very beginning. and then, when felix punched oliver's first boyfriend, and locked oliver in his room for kissing someone he didn't approve of, it was also okay, because oliver understood, felix didn't know how to share, and it wasn't like he'd like it either if a girl or a guy hit on felix.

then, felix, with all the love he could muster, realized that it didn't matter when it came to himself, it would be just one night stands and it wouldn't matter, but poor oliver wouldn't have been able to handle that because he loved with his entire heart. felix couldn't see him get hurt, he had to do something. so he did, by protecting oliver, by chaining him close, by loving him so he'd never feel the need to ask for another's love.

elspeth and james didn't know how to handle it, so they didn't, so they let it be. even farleigh wasn't allowed to come between them, because the more felix grew up, the more he realized that other people could have coveted what oliver had always given so freely to felix, and he didn't like that. he wanted to be the only one oliver ever had the feelings and eye for. venetia understood since the start, but she knew that it'd be messy if she was involved, and it wasn't like felix or oliver would ever listen to her if she were to tell them to separate themselves from each other. so she just watched the trainwreck with a bottle on her hand.

it all came to a head when felix had a fight with oliver, because oliver accused him of being unfaithful, for dating girls left and right when they went to college, without asking oliver's opinion first, and felix felt guilty but he was too stubborn to accept the blame. so they fought, didn't contact each other, but when felix finally accepted that he had to apologize, he found that oliver was being flirted with by a girl. he had always been taught to not hurt a girl, but at that moment, he was so enraged by oliver's audacity to allow this thing to happen, and he was so, so afraid that oliver would leave him for someone else. he had always felt that way, but it was so different now when they had grown up. he couldn't just use the excuse of them being children for hogging all of oliver's attention, demanding his time and his love and his care, all in the name of 'family', because they were brothers and they were raised together. he couldn't use that excuse anymore because now they were on the cusp of adulthood and oliver, despite felix's wish and hopes, had his own freedom in choosing who he wanted to be with.

he couldn't handle the thought that it was someone else in oliver's arms, so he dealt with the issue in the way he knew-- eradicating the threat, and chaining oliver close to him, like he always did from his childhood into teenage years, and more. he punched the girl, and she screamed and oliver was also screaming and felix didn't understand why oliver was angry. it wasn't right for her to flirt with oliver, it wasn't right for him to flirt back. felix didn't want it, couldn't accept it.

he pulled oliver away from the commotion in the bar, drove them to his apartment, and threw oliver on the floor as he locked the door behind. they had a screaming match, accusing each other, mocking and jeering and hurling insults, hurting each other so badly because they grew up together and they knew the way to each other's hearts like the back of their hands.

"if you want to act like this, then fucking take responsibility, felix," oliver snarled, and felix, blind with rage and love and fear of being left behind by the person he loved the most, even knowing that it wasn't right, did.

they fucked and it was messy, they fucked and they hurt each other, they fucked and they realized that they were so entwined with each other that there was nothing left for someone else to come in-between. it was painful and bloody and felt more like a fight than an intimate moment. but it was the culmination of years spent together, in each other's arms, being each other's worlds; it was the height of their love, and they finally accepted that this was the only way they could ever make the other understand the length they'd be willing to take for one another.

so, they fucked, and it felt like victory, felt like regret, felt like a sweet taste of defeat, because even if they now had owned each other, it also meant they were securing the leash tightly on their necks, made by binding chains that they could, would never break. because they couldn't survive, couldn't go on, couldn't just live life without spending it side by side. there was no one that could, should go between them. just them, oliver and his twisted love, felix and his suffocating love.

(idk where i'm going with this but i just want to put it out there. might or might not write this properly later. if you want to write it, go ahead, i give you full support.)

[darkwolf989]

I saw your dad vox things and they're great! Could I request fem!reader and Valentino as her dad. Reader tells him she has a gf ( val thought she was straight) and how he would react. Thanksss♡

I actually have two requests for this! @absolut3lyn0t this one is for you too!

I took a deep breath as I stood outside of my fathers studio. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I thought about the conversation I needed to have with him. Fear knotted in my stomach, and nausea flowed through me. I wished beyond all belief that I could skip through time and be done with this discussion,or better yet, keep it to myself for just a little while longer. But the dance was two days away and my Papi would find out one way or another. Better to have him be upset privately than to hurt my girlfriend's feelings.

Girlfriend. The word itself sent butterflies coursing through my tummy. At seventeen I had of course been out on dates. All with guys. All who had come face to face with my father before I was even allowed out the door. But she, she was different. We shared our first kiss at a sleepover a month ago, and our relationship sealed itself in passed notes and secret kisses out of the sight of my Uncle Vox’s thousand cameras. Thankfully, my father thought she was a friend and had no issue with me going out to the mall or to sleepovers, or dinner with a friend. As long as I had my tracker on my wrist, I had a specific degree of freedom. After all, my Uncle Vox had eyes everywhere- there was no real use for a bodyguard. 

When I told my father about the dance, he asked instantly who would be picking me up. I kept it as vague as I could, and told him I hadn’t decided yet. He chuckled, ruffled my hair and told me he couldn’t wait to meet the young man who would be escorting me. The thought that I liked girls had never been a discussion, or even a consideration for my father. Now with only days to go, and my girlfriend planning on picking me up before the dance, I knew I needed to tell my dad the truth. 

I like girls, Dad, the thought played over and over in my head. Dad, I like girls.

I tried not to think about how he might react, but the fear still knotted in my stomach. What if he was angry? What if he didn’t accept me? Or worse, even, what if he kicked me out, called me a disappointment and refused to ever acknowledge me as his daughter again?

The elevator door opened and my father looked over from his director's chair. The stage was empty, which meant I had caught him at a good time- between shoots, not in the middle. 

“Ah, pequeño amor, what are you doing here?” Valentino asked as he stood up. “Bebita, I know you’re technically old enough, but I really don’t want you in here.”

“Daddy? Can I talk to you in your office? It’s about the dance.” I said as he came over to me, his red robe sweeping behind him. “Do you have a minute?”

“For you, bebita? I have many minutes. Come, come.” He planted a kiss on my forehead and led me to his office. 

The door closed behind us and I crossed my arms uncertainly. My father’s expression softened as soon as the door closed and he planted another kiss on my forehead before running his hand down my check, pausing and holding my chin so I looked at him. 

“What’s the matter, cariño?” Valentino asked gently. “You look sad, niñita. Did your boyfriend bow out of the dance?” His eyes began to glow red, “did he hurt you?”

“Papi, that’s sort of what I need to talk to you about, there is no he.”

Valentino stared at me and released my chin. “What do you mean, bebita?”

“I mean he is a she,” I replied, looking down.  “I have a girlfriend, Dad. Not a boyfriend. And I really like her.”

He blinked. “Oh. Alright then. Sorry, did she bow out on you? Did she hurt you?” The palm of his hand found my chin again and tilted my head up to meet his eyes. “Bebita, why are you crying?” He released my face and  folded me into his arms. “Shussh, niñita. Papi is here. Who does Papi need to kill?” His hand gently stroked my hair, “just give me a name, pequeño amor. Papi will take care of the rest.” 

“No, Daddy, I…she didn’t hurt me, I love her I just…she’s a her,” I replied, my voice muffled by his jacket. 

“Bebita. I understand what lesbianism is.”

I sniffled. “You’re not mad?”

I felt his grip on me tighten. “ Is that what this is about?” He pushed me out from his chest and held me by my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine. “No, ninita. I’m not. I’m the overlord of lust and depravity- there is nothing you can tell me that I haven’t seen. You love who you love, and no matter who you love…” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “Doesn’t make me love you any less. You’ll always be Daddy’s little girl.” 

Out in the studio, the bell that called his workers back to the stage rang out. He released me, and I could feel his gaze as he studied me. 

“Are you okay, bebita?”

I nodded but wrapped myself back into him. He again put his his arms around me and stroked my hair. All the fears, the stress, the anxiety of having to tell him came flooding out. 

“Sweetheart, hey, bebia. Papá está aquí. Daddy is here. Shussh. It’s okay. I’m not mad, I promise. Come now, dry your tears.” 

I continued to sob and he sighed and held me out by my shoulders.

“I need you to breathe, and I need you to think, ninita. Have I ever once indicated that I would love you any less? For anything?”

I shook my head no. He folded me back into his arms. 

“Then why, bebita, is this any different?” You’re still my bebe niña. My little girl. So enough with the tears,” he used the sleeve of his jacket to dab at my face. “Bebita, what can I do to prove to you I love you? Talk to Papi.” 

“You promise you’re not mad?” I asked as the tears slowed. I put my head on his chest and felt him sigh. 

“I promise I am not mad, Bebita.” He squeezed me tighter. “How about this? You sit in here and do your homework and I’ll go back to work. When I’m finished we can go out to dinner and you can tell me all about her, okay conejito?” 

His little bunny. I smiled at my childhood nickname and nodded. “Sounds good, Papi.” 

“Good. Now do your homework, I’ll let Uncle Vox know I’m checking it tonight. So do your best work.” He gave me a gentle nudge towards his desk. “And stay out of the bottom left drawer.”

As I settled down in his oversized chair, I married my pencil across the paper. Relief and excitement  washed over me. It had been forever since we had spent time together. I couldn’t wait to tell him all about her.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

How do you think Peeta could join the Careers at 74th Hunger Games?

What did he do? Duel with another career? Killing another tributes on the Cornucopia?

Do you think before The Rule Change (2 victors from the same district), Peeta already determined to help Katniss becoming the winner? Thoughts?

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

*clears throat and smacks a binder on the podium*

I have thoughts @curiousnonnyblog. Even if this one has also been sitting in my inbox for freaking ever.

Then the boy from 4. I didn't expect that one, usually all the Careers make it through the first day. - The Hunger Games, chapter 11

I just get a glimpse of Peeta, lit by a torch, heading back to the girl by the fire. His face is swollen with bruises. There's a bloody bandage on one arm, and from the sound of his gait, he's limping somewhat. I remember him shaking his head, telling me not to go into the fight for the supplies, when all along, all along he'd planned to throw himself into the thick of things. Just the opposite of what Haymitch had told him to do. - The Hunger Games, chapter 12

And finally:

"Let him tag along. What's the harm? And he's handy with that knife. Is he? That's news. What a lot of interesting things I'm learning about my friend Peeta today. - The Hunger Games, chapter 12

Okay. Hear me out. when Katniss first sees Peeta after the mayhem of the blood bath is over, he's injured. He's clearly been in a fight. And the Careers provide further evidence for that by saying that he's "handy with that knife," which is information Katniss didn't have about him. She never saw him wield a knife during training because Haymitch told them not to show off their greatest strengths in training, and Peeta didn't even consider her wrestling experience as useful in terms of hand to hand combat until Katniss pointed it out.

So here's my theory. When Peeta asks Haymitch to train separate from Katniss, it's because he knows he's going to try to team up with the Careers, for a couple of reasons. 1) Peeta has zero hunting and wilderness survival skills. Teaming up with the Careers is his best chance, other than teaming up with Katniss herself, at not starving. But also 2) The Careers are the most obvious threat the Katniss's survival in the Games. So teaming up with them allows him to keep tabs on them, to "mislead them about [Katniss]," which she comments on him doing without giving details when they're watching the recap of the Games. It also gives him the chance to help her out or buy her time in certain situations, as with the tracker jacker tree. He gets them to stop actively threatening her, which buys her time to come up with a solution.

I'll come back to Peeta's teaming up with the Careers as a survival strategy for Katniss in a minute. But first... how did he join the Careers?

I think that was something set up in advance between Haymitch and the mentors of the Career Districts. However, while the Careers know he got a training score of 8, in book world, they have no idea why. They're going to want proof that he's somehow useful, beyond getting their hands on Katniss, who they'd see as their biggest competition along with Thresh. So how to prove he can hang with the Careers? One of them attacks Peeta during the blood bath.

And Peeta's already admitted that while he doesn't want to kill anyone, he would if it came down to it. So I think the boy from 4 drew the short straw, so to speak, and had to test the upstart from 12 wanting to be in their pack. And Peeta won that fight, explaining why he's injured, how he wound up in the Career pack, and also how they know that he's good with a knife.

Careers in the arena are only going to see two reasons to call someone "handy with that knife." I doubt Peeta killed an animal for food because honestly he's too beat up for me to believe that interpretation, and also it's too early in the Games for the Careers to need food. They have all the Cornucopia supplies still. So at that point being "handy with a knife" means they saw Peeta fight with it and win.

Why wouldn't Katniss tell us this? Because she wouldn't have deemed it important. It probably looked exactly like self defense, not going down without a fight on film. Maybe Peeta wasn't even expecting it, although I doubt Haymitch left him unprepared to face a challenge like that. The point is, Katniss would view him killing the boy from 4 as a moot point in terms of how she views him as a person, how she sees his character. She's far more concerned with how he reacts to accidentally poisoning Foxface because that wasn't self defense. She wasn't yet a threat to either Peeta or Katniss.

Which brings me to Katniss's comment about Peeta running into the bloodbath being the exact opposite of what Haymitch told him to do. Yeah, that is what he tells them both to do on the night of the interviews. But who's to say he didn't pull Peeta aside after that and give him a different set of advice? Whose to say that Haymitch hadn't already prepped Peeta during their private training sessions for getting caught in the bloodbath or jumped by the Careers right after?

As for your last question, I think Peeta decided to fight for one of 12's tributes to survive from the moment he asked Haymitch to train separately. Perhaps even before that. I've talked about it before HERE and also HERE but the gist is that Peeta wanted his death to mean something, and since he didn't think he could win the Games, he wanted whoever did win the Games to help the people he cared about back home in 12, which would be Katniss. And there is something to be said about how subversive that is, in and of itself. It's not new to the Games for the Tributes to show compassion for each other, as we see with Haymitch and Maysilee, and with several of the tributes in Ballads, but it is extremely rare for a tribute to willingly sacrifice themselves for another. I think Peeta was prepared to die for Katniss to win, in part because not only would her win benefit their district and everyone he cares about, but he's also aware from book 1 that her family needs her to survive while his will be just fine without him. He's trying to do the most good with his death, and I think that the rule change when they allow 2 victors is actually when Peeta allows himself to hope for his own survival too. Up to that point, I think he was preparing himself to die.

[loulouwrites]

HELLISH . AFLIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's secretary makes the decision to marry, it's a shame her prospective husbands seem to disappear after one meeting warnings: angst, violence, swearing, jealousy, threats, borderline stalking honestly, muderous thoughts, unedited, unrequited love word count: 3.5k a/n: i've been away for a while bc life is hard. i wanted to write a little alfie story not related to the 'home series' and came up with whatever this is so i hope you enjoy. i'm working on a taglist, so if you would like to be included, lmk <3 also lmk if you'd like a part 2 to this, i've already cooked something up!

She had known Alfie Solomons for about three years, and they had been friends since they had met.

Two years into their strange friendship, she had been sacked from her job as a secretary for an Italian businessman, he didn't say why he suddenly decided he didn't require her services, but they both knew. Tensions were rising between the Jewish quarter and Italian quarter in Camden, and everybody was sticking to their own side of town.

When she had told Alfie about it, he had offered her a job immediately - the rising tensions were partly his fault anyways.

Her mother had not been happy when her daughter came home with news she would be working for Alfie Solomons, but when she saw the stack of notes Mr Solomons had given as a 'pay advance', she warmed to the idea.

It was easy work. He had his men for the nitty-gritty stuff, she merely typed up Alfie's ramblings and sent threatening telegrams to people - it was easier than any legitimate job she had ever had, and it paid better, too.

She would often have lunch with Ollie, Alfie's second in command if you wanted to call him that. She was allowed a longer lunch than he was, Ollie wasn't supposed to have a lunch break at all, but if she were talking to him, it was rare they would be interrupted, unless there was an urgent matter to attend to.

Ollie was a good gossip, better than any of the other men in the bakery, Alfie excluded. But, unlike Alfie, Ollie had no interest in her, sexually or romantically, so she enjoyed the time she could spend talking to him, discussing rumours or chatting about their lives outside of work without it turning into something else within minutes.

"Do you think he'll let me leave an hour early?" She asked from where she was perched on the man's desk, swinging her feet back and forth.

"He'd let you leave now if you asked," Ollie replied, rolling his eyes at the girl. It was true, Alfie would probably still pay her if she didn't show up, he'd let her release a group of pigs in his office if she wanted to.

"He's in a mood, though."

"He's always in a mood."

"Not as bad as this," she pointed to their boss' office, where the blinds were pulled up, showing his figure stomping around the small room, throwing pieces of paper and trinkets onto the ground.

"Fuck," she sighed as a loud crash was heard, though they couldn't see what had bared the brunt of the man's rage from their seats.

"Maybe reschedule?" Ollie offered, his eyes not leaving the glass window of Alfie's office.

"I'm just going to ask him," she planted her feet on the ground, ignoring Ollie's protests. "The worst he can do is say no," she shrugged, walking towards the office door.

"That is not the worst he can do," he called after her in an urgent whisper.

She didn't knock when she entered, she never had, and she wasn't about to start now.

A book flew past her face when she stepped inside, and she quickly stepped to the side, it hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor.

"What did...that Russian book ever do to you?" She asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide.

"Shit, sorry 'bout that, love," he sighed, wiping a hand over his face but she waved him off, moving to sit in one of the chairs at his desk.

"Bad day?"

"Better now," he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave an hour early," she offered him a wary smile, clasping her hands together pleadingly.

"You fuckin' what?"

"Please, Alfie-" she started, but he was up from his seat before she could finish her sentence, pacing up and down the cramped office with his hands on his hips. "It's only an hour, and I'm not doing anything anyway."

"You're not doing anything?" his eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "You're really admitting that to your boss?"

"Please, Alfie," she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. "I never ask you for anything."

She scowled at the obnoxious laugh he let out in response.

"Never ask me for anything?" his voice raised an octave to mock her. "A pay advance that you still haven't paid back," he help up a finger as he counted. "A weekday off so you can go shopping when it's less crowded, a bonus so you can get your mum a birthday present, a day off when your fucking cat died," he stepped towards her. "Asking me to come to it's fucking funeral."

"You said it was a lovely service," she placed a hand on her chest in offense.

"You know what?" he sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. "Just fuck off, yeah?"

"Really?" She smiled, clapping her hands.

"But you will come in an hour early tomorrow to make up for it, or so help me God, I will come to your house and drag you here myself."

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

"Thank you, Alfie." She reached to place a kiss on his cheek, not taking offense when he reached to wipe his cheek when she pulled away, already opening the door to leave. "I'll see you bright an early tomorrow."

She couldn't make out what he grumbled after her.

Alfie waited until she had left the bakery to slink out of his office, approaching Ollie's desk, and tapping on it with his knuckles.

"Why'd she want to leave early?" he asked his assistant, not missing the way the younger man sunk down in his seat.

"I don't want to tell you," Ollie replied, sheepishly.

"Ollie," Alfie warned.

"She's meeting up with someone?"

"Ollie."

"A man. She's meeting up with a man, her mum's friend's son or something. Think she's looking to settle down, you know?"

Alfie hummed, a hand coming up to rub his beard. "Interesting," he mumbled, walking back to his office, landing a smack to Ollie's head as he passed.

Her suitor had been a perfect gentleman. Jacob had taken her to a fancy club in a nicer part of London, had bought her dinner and drinks without grumbling about the prices, and had dropped her off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to take her out again the following weekend.

She hadn't thought a man her mother had set her up with would be particularly charming, but she had been proven wrong, the stupid smile she wore on her face all week being proof of that.

She had been thinking of settling down for a while. All of her childhood friends were married with several children at this point, and she didn't miss the sympathetic looks they would give her when she told them she was still unmarried, still childless, and still working.

Marriage was always something she thought would come naturally -as it seemed to do with everyone else around her - but years rolled by and she was still no closer to the life that had seemed so easily achievable when she was young. So, she had decided to take matters in her own hands, informing her mother and everyone else she could that she was ready to marry, and asking them to let her know if they knew a boy they thought would be a good match.

And, she thought she had found the good match on her first try, but when the week after her date rolled on, and there was no word from Jacob, she realised how stupid she had been.

She had been moodier than ever that week, stomping around the bakery with a scowl on her face, smacking the keys of her typewriter harder than necessary, and barely speaking two words to whoever approached her.

She was not dealing with the rejection well.

So, when a handsome worker - who she recalled was named James -- passed her desk, offering a confident smile as he did, she wasted no time.

She wandered into Alfie's office with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly as she waited for him to look up from the papers on his desk.

"What?" He asked, still reading the scribbles on the page.

"Didn't know you'd taken new people on," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her tone light and unbothered.

"And? What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again, stepping further into his office. "Just a lot of new faces around here,"

Alfie groaned, dropping the papers from his hand and removing the glasses he wore from his face. "Since when do you care about new faces?"

"I don't," she laughed defensively. "I was just wondering about one of them, is all."

"You were just wondering about one of them," Alfie's eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What were you wondering about?"

"I mean...maybe some background..."

"Like what? His favourite fucking book? The fuck you expect me to know?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she held her hands up in defense, and her boss' eyes squinted at her words.

"I thought you were already seein' someone, that is why you left early a couple weeks ago, ain't it?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

"Don't matter," Alfie offered her a smile. "Didn't work out or something..."

"No, it didn't," she huffed. "So...about James..." she trailed off, waiting for Alfie to step in, but he merely offered her a blank look. "Alfie," she whined, stomping her foot against the floor."

"Don't know 'im. Sorry, love," he waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine," she spun on her heel, storming out of his office. "I'll find out myself."

James was lovely. She had 'bumped' into him when she was leaving, and it hadn't taken him long to offer to take her out for drinks when he finished his shift, which she had accepted with a grateful smile.

He had met her outside of the local pub near the 'bakery', it wasn't a particularly nice establishment, but the lager was cheap, and she supposed he didn't have the money to spend in a fancy club like Jacob had - not with the pittance she was sure Alfie was paying him.

He was funny, and quite respectful in comparison with some of his colleagues. He had asked her questions about her interests, had shared his own, and she was delighted that they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

They had ended the night at her door, with chaste kiss, and another promise to go out again the following week, and she had closed the door with a grin on her face.

"See you at work tomorrow," he had said as he walked away.

When she arrived to work the next morning, the same grin still on her face, she couldn't stop her eyes scanning the floor as she walked to her desk, desperately trying to seek out James, but, when she couldn't find him, she had shrugged it off.

Maybe he was ill or something.

It was now Thursday. Her date with James had been on Monday, and there had been no sign of him ever since.

It was hard not wonder, had something bad happed to him? Had he been hiding every time he saw her walking through the distillery? Had he been so repulsed by her that he had quit his job just to avoid seeing her again?

The thoughts had consumed her all week, and they had affected her mood significantly. Unlike with Jacob, where she had been an angry force at work, she was now forlorn, barely speaking to anybody, and zoning out of conversations with a vacant look on her face.

It was starting to worry her boss, who spent longer than appropriate watching her from his office window.

He had called her into the office that afternoon, watching as she walked seemingly in a daze, her eyes were duller, and he face appeared more sunken.

She didn't say anything when she took a seat at his desk, nor did she meet his eyes when he said her name.

"You alright?" he had asked, his tone more concerned than he wanted it to be.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice flat, fiddling with a thread on her skirt.

"You've been wandering 'round like a ghost for the past week, love. What's goin' on with ya? Please don't tell me another fucking cat died."

She huffed a laugh that was clearly fake, still fiddling with the thread when she responded. "I think I'm unmarriable, Alfie."

Alfie's shoulder's straightened at her words, leaning his arms on his desk, he studied her face, watching as she blinked away the tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Two men in two weeks, Alfie. I have gone out with two men in two weeks and they have both disappeared...literally disappeared, I haven't seen them since."

Her eyes lifted from her dress to meet his, and Alfie was struck by how sad she looked. He had never thought she would be this upset by a couple of boys not getting back to her after one night.

"That's silly, love," he sighed. "It don't mean nothin'"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "it does."

He considered telling her in that moment, he truly did. A better man would have, would have confessed right then and there.

A better man would have told her that they had cornered Jacob after he had dropped her off at her door. How he had almost certainly broken the young man's nose before he had a chance to blink, how he had had his men hold the boy by the shoulders while he whispered a warning in his ear.

"Stay away from her."

He really should have told her that he had turned up at James' shitty flat on Monday night, waiting for the man to return from his date with her. That his worker's body had began to shake when he saw his boss leaning against his front door, his arms crossed against his chest and a cold look in his eye.

"Have to let you go, son," Alfie had said. "A worker that is more concerned about fucking my secretary isn't one I want workin' with me."

James had begun to splutter a reply, but Alfie was already heading for the stairs.

"Best you stay away from her, yeah?"

It hadn't been a question.

He really should have told her, but he didn't. Instead, he had sighed and rose from his seat, moving into the empty chair beside her.

"You ain't unmarriable, woman," he told her, patting her shoulder. "You just chose two fuckin' idiots."

"Whatever you say, Alfie," she said, standing up and walking out of the office without another word.

He should have confessed, but he didn't. He did, however, promise himself he would not get involved in her personal life anymore. The next man she met, would not have to face a threat from Alfie Solomons.

She had been leaving her home to go to work when she had ran into Elijah on the street. He had chased after her, holding an envelope in his hands, waving it frantically when she finally turned around when she heard the stranger's voice calling after her.

"I think you dropped this," he handed her the envelope, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she took it from his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she laughed. "My boss would have murdered me if I lost it."

He had laughed at her words, not realising she wasn't exactly joking about her boss.

"I'm Elijah," he held out a hand, which she took with a smile.

"He's really nice, Ollie," her words were muffled as they travelled into Alfie's office, and he had to press his ear closer to the door to be able to hear her clearly. "A real gentleman."

'A real gentleman.'

Alfie rolled his eyes, 'gentleman' was just another word for a soft prick.

"We're going out again tonight," she told her friend. "Said he has a surprise for me."

"What do you think it is?" Ollie asked her, and Alfie rolled his eyes again. Ollie was worse than a fucking twelve year old girl.

"I mean we've been seeing each other for a while, he's met my family, I've met his..." she trailed off, and Ollie's gasp was clear as day from where Alfie was standing.

"You think he's going to propose?"

And just like that, Alfie's heart dropped to his stomach. He tore his ear from the wall, storming back to his desk, dropping to the seat with a heavy thud.

Of course Elijah was going to propose, of fucking course. She had been seeing him for the better part of four months, and she spent every waking minute talking about the nice doctor, it was natural that his was how it was going to progress.

He regretted not cornering Elijah on is way to work the moment she had mentioned his name, regretted not giving him the same treatment he gave the two men that came before him. He should have, should have twisted the man's arm behind his back until he was crying like a little girl, should have had his men hold him down while he kicked him in his ribs until blood came out of his mouth, he should have put the barrel of his gun to his head an pulled the trigger.

But to what end?

She was a good girl. She wanted to get married, have a few children and take care of the house while her husband was at work.

Alfie couldn't offer her that.

Everything he could offer her, he already had. He had given her protection, a stable income, and some form of friendship. He could never give her what she truly craved. He knew that, no matter his feelings for her - feelings he didn't understand himself - he couldn't give her the life she deserved.

And that thought made him sick.

The room was too hot for him to sit in any longer. Alfie pushed through the crowd of people, shoving them harder than necessary until he reached the door, the sound of music and laughter fading as the heavy door closed behind him.

He took a seat on a damp wooden bench, his head dropping in his hands.

It had been a lovely ceremony, a bit small, and a bit cheap for his tastes, but she had managed to make it lovely anyways.

He stood when she entered, her parents on either side of her, walking her to the end of the aisle.

She didn't spare Alfie a glance, too busy looking ahead - looking at him. The bitterness twisted in his stomach and it took all the self control he possessed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Elijah met her at the end of the aisle, taking her hand and helping her up the little steps, a sickening smile on his face.

Alfie didn't miss the sympathetic glance Ollie, who was beside him, threw him.

"Not enjoying the party?" her voice was as sweet as anything, full of happiness.

"Weddings ain't really my thing, love," he offered her a smile, it dropping as quickly as it came.

"But this isn't just any wedding, Alfie," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's mine, you should be happy."

"Why is that?"

"You've finally gotten rid of me," she laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You don't have to pay me to sit around and do nothing all day, should save you a bit of money."

Alfie didn't laugh with her, a bitter smile on his face as he looked down at his hands.

"Oh don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?" her voice held nothing but humour and Alfie wanted to scream at her.

How can you be so blind?

Can't you see I love you?

"Nah, I'm just upset it took this long," he said eventually, rising from his seat, patting her on the shoulder as did. "I'm gonna head out, but congratulations, love. You look very beautiful."

Her eyes softened at his words, her smile widening from where she was sat, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling.

He didn't have time to react when she shot up from her seat, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for, Alfie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, pulling her arms away from his shoulders and taking a step back. "Fuck off, now. You're missing your own wedding you stupid woman."

She laughed, nodding her head and disappearing back into the building before Alfie could blink, leaving him frozen in place, the bitterness that once consumed him being replaced by what felt like an all-encompassing sadness.

'The best friend I could have asked for."

What a fucking joke that was.

[writing-whump]

A punch to the gut

Dylan wants to see a real wolf fight. It isn't exactly safe. First time meeting Rip. A bit of violence, blood and emeto.

Dylan didn't want to meet Isaiah Wolfson, yet everywhere he went to the city, the guy kept following him around.

Was the guy as tough as Isaiah Wolfson? Is there an Executioner as strong as Isaiah Wolfson? Did you ever meet Isaiah Wolfson?

Oh my god. There was no escape of hearing the name.

But Dylan didn't want to meet this surely stuck up arrogant wolf with a giant shadow. And it wasn't because he must have been wealthy as heck or had reputation over three countries or was from the coolest, most powerful wolf family with probably the best training in the world.

It was the least because he managed to charm his sister away from them. That was one reason Dylan would never admit to and never forgive.

Okay, they weren't getting along that much, when he was 17 and his shadow was all over the place and his grades took a nose dive...and yeah, Seline was academic and too smart and a show off and always the best at everything that his parents expected him to be at least half as good at.

But she was his sister and he missed her. It felt like giant fail that she moved to Vienna without him (1) that she found a pack in matter of months after leaving (2) and that she had the Isaiah Wolfson for a boyfriend. Jesus fucking Christ. It couldn't be any worse.

While Dylan was the famous packless high school dropout of 19 that had loving but entirely human parents and absolutely no connections to get into one.

Yeah, he had friends in all towns he lived in, in Bratislava and in Vienna, from primary school and high school and then the other high school and then from the little summer jobs and bigger jobs he kept switching up.

He had many wolf friends too. Peers. Other pups. They sparred together and worked out and gave each other tips on the best shakes to get the right kind of toned muscles. And boxed and trained and everything.

But they had their own packs and now they had girlfriends and dads they could spar with and not protect.

Yeah, he was ungrateful. He had great loving parents. Who loved staying home and working in the garden, making their own tomatoes and shit. It was awesome.

For them.

It was boring as hell to a 19 years old shadow wolf, who just wanted to feel like...like a proper wolf for once.

And yes, he had advantages for being so "human". He was one of those rare wolves who had friends across packs, who also got along with human kids his age, who was great at break dancing, got invited to every and each big beach volleyball play on the Donaukanal. He was invited to all parties, human, wolf, everything.

But he wasn't a damn witch to be invited into a pack in three months. And he wasn't Isaiah fucking Wolfson to be recognised on the streets.

So when Dylan heard of that not so offal street fighting ring in the lawless district, where wolves of different packs could fight with shadows and fists - unsupervised - he was intrigued.

His friend was explaining the risks and safety measures and the rules that came with wolf fights and shadows in public and blablabla.

Dylan heard 'unsupervised' and 'wolf fight' and knew what to do with his Friday night.

He was a decent fighter. Maybe never been in a real fight, like hostile 'we aren't friends' kind of fight, but he would do well, right?

No better way to learn a bit how he would fare.

...

He imagined it a bit like an underground Fight club, not a few wet streets between apartments, but hey. It was a start.

The wolves looked the right kind of scary. Torn up shirts and even earrings! The guy had to pierce his ear everyday for it to work, his shadow would heal it up with each sweep.

He watched the fights in fascination. There really was no referee, just a circle of wolves and the two guys currently fighting.

No shirts, contact allowed, no gloves. And shadows, all naked and black slashing out at each other.

Maybe the pavement wasn't wet just from yesterday's rain. Now that he looked closer, maybe it was kind of bloody too.

He had never been in a party where the wolves truly made the best of their healing. Meaning, they didn't mind getting injured quite drastically. Making them lives bleed or tear up the arms or muscles or break bones, knowing they would heal up with a sweep.

Or until morning.

"Hey. What pack are you from?" It came from the guy with huge arms in a white undershirt.

"Oh, me? I'm Dylan Sil-"

"No, dumbass. Your pack."

"I'm packless at the moment," Dylan said with a grin. "You?"

The wolf threw a look behind him, then returned the smile. Though there was something about the crookedness of it that didn't seem genuine to Dylan.

"Forrester. And my friend over there is from the Starks." He said it in a way like Dylan should know them. Dylan was a little behind on all the names and packs he should keep track of.

There were the old ones, but he wasn't sure if that meant they had the oldest members (guys that looked 40 but were actually 140) or they were in the city the longest.

Then there was pack order by size and number of branches, which wasn't necessarily by importance, money, property, profession or size of district they claimed as territory. And allainces. And proness to fights.

To cut it short, there were many factors. None of which involved Dylan or that someone would explain to him, cause a wolf with human parents was apparently super rare.

Not the fun kind of rare.

"How long do you have to wait for a round?" Dylan asked. Conversation was good right? "Is there like a list or...?"

The guy chuckled. "Hey, Toby. This guy says he wants a round."

"Can you get me inside the ring?" Dylan asked hopefully.

"Nah, man. Only proven guys get into the ring."

"How can you prove yourself?"

The guy snickered, joined up by who was apparently Toby. And another guy to his left.

"You need a lesson. A testing fight so to say."

Dylan was starting get a bad feeling about this. "One on one?"

All three of them laughed. "Nah, newbie. Someone's gotta teach ya the rules."

Dylan wasn't sure how they got away from the crowd, but no one seemed to mind. The circle around the two current fighters cheered and laughed and screamed.

And he was pushed out, just a few meters away, but somehow with his back to the wall. "Hey," Dylan repeated the greeting he heard. "Maybe this is a misunderstanding. You guys could-"

"What? You wanted to fight, didn't you?"

Dylan frowned, eyes narrowing. "I can take you. One by one, so it would be fair, but I can take you like this too. You don't know what you are playing with."

This was posture. Or maybe pure belief. Dylan just knew that face to face to a wolf, you never showed fear. You needed to convince your attackers you were too much of a hassle to fight.

Or so he heard.

The first guy chuckled while the two others exchanged hungry grins.

Dylan crouched down, thinking of the boxing gloves in his backpack somewhere at the feet of the crowd, calling up his shadow.

That triggered another round of laugh from them. It was a little disheartening.

"Oi. What do you guys think you are doing?"

The guy - the wolf - that showed up wasn't the tallest. He didn't have the biggest muscles and he wasn't the oldest either.

If anything, he looked scrawny. Average high, a mop of curly black hair that needed a haircut, his clothes kind of torn up and dirty.

But the trio of would be attackers still froze, each of them averting their gaze.

"We are just playing around with some fresh meat, Rip," Toby said. "He is new. He doesn't know the rules."

"So you are helping out?" Rip said dryly.

The first guy, the one in the white undershirt, growled. "He is ours. Go find your own."

Rip focused his eyes on him. They looked dark from the distance but Dylan thought they weren't black. What kind of colour was it? They looked like catching a sunlight on a sharp knife.

"You are on my turf. You need my permission to fight." He nodded towards the ongoing fight. "You want to fight somebody without it, you fight me."

Even the big guy ducked his head this time. "He needs a fucking lesson."

Rip shrugged. "Alright."

Dylan blinked. That wasn't the kind of answer he expected.

Before he could brace himself or even move, there was a smear in the air and suddenly there was a leg shooting up, kicking his feet from under him.

Dylan fell flat on his back, his shadow flailing around in confusion.

Rip was above him, his leg on the top of Dylan's neck. "You came to fight, eh? You forgot to ask."

Dylan tried to say something, but the weight on his throat intensified. Probably a rhetorical question.

"Let me show you how it's done."

The last thing Dylan remembered was Rip's sneaker heading towards his face.

...

Dylan woke up with taste of iron on his tounge.

He shot up into a sitting position, doubling over as pain immediately flared up in his ribs. His right side was burning.

Gingerly, he reached out towards his face. It had fried blood all over it, from his nose and mouth.

He spit on the ground, doubling over himself. His stomach was doing somersaults as if trying to catch him up on the events.

"How stupid can you be to say you are packless?"

Dylan whirled around towards the voice.

Rip was sitting just a few meters away. Ripped jeans and a bloody shirt with short sleeves, but somehow still radiating danger.

"That's the one thing you never, ever say, even if it was true. Makes you an easy target, fool."

Dylan blinked in confusion. Wasn't Rip the one who kind of saved him...and then kind of beat him up?

He rolled his shoulders, trying to make an overview of what was hurting. His stomach was one thing, his ribs, his nose, his throat...he reached for his shadow then, in a way he never did before. But it was there, jumping to respond, happy and willing as always.

It wasn't something he ever had to. It was usually just fun or a twist of an ankle or hurting teeth.

But this time he pulled his shadow over himself like blanket. The wave of needless ran through him, prickling in a soothing way.

Dylan let out a deep relieved breath as the pain disappeared, carried away by his shadow as it settled back down.

He looked at Rip, understanding downing on him as his skull stopped throbbing. "Thank you."

That had the other wolf jumping up to his feet with a snarl. "Don't you say that. I didn't help you."

Dylan smiled. "Of course you did. You saved me from being torn to pieces by three by beating me up yourself. Really smooth. Not the most comfy approach," he said with a wince. Somehow his stomach was still rolling inside him, despite the healing.

"You are an idiot. What are you doing here?"

Dylan carefully got to his feet, not liking how Rip towered over him when standing. "Just looking around. Exploring." He gave him a wide grin, hoping there wasn't blood stuck on his teeth. "What pack rules here?"

"Why do you think it's called the lawless district, huh? So that wolves could claw at each other in the open, without pesky humans."

"But we can't use our shadows in public to seriously hurt someone.."

Rip's head went back. "That's the kind of rules that work in the center. Where humans would get scared if your shadow as much as stuck out. Not here. You could freaking die here, man."

Dylan nodded, trying to take it seriously. The intent in those guys definitely wasn't friendly. He had a little trouble focusing though, with the nausea making the hair on the back of his head stand up.

He swayed a little. It just all seemed so foreign and too far away from reality. His reality.

Rip shook his head. "You better head home, city boy. This is not the park for you."

But that was exactly why Dylan was there. To prove it was, that he could make his way- a sudden burp snuck out.

Dylan pressed his hand against his lips, swaying again. What the hell was this about?

His stomach rolled and flipped and then suddenly rocked up with a twist.

Dylan barely manged to brace himself on his knees before his lunch loudly lurched out of him onto the grass. They were standing on grass?

Dylan burped, his stomach churning angrily. "I don't-uuuurp- understand. I just healed up-" another wave of vomit shot up his throat and splashed in the grass between his feet.

Rip sighed. "Punch to the gut. You can heal the injury, but not the effect."

"Oh, that's interesting, I never heard- urghh..." Dylan vomited again, almost losing his balance. He managed to take a few steps away from the pool of sick, falling to his knees.

Everything was spinning, so leaning his forehead against the cool grassy ground felt good. Grounding.

"Nice meeting you. Rip, right?" he said in the general direction of the other boy. "I'm Dylan." Which would have been a lot cooler of an introduction if he didn't burp right after. He wrapped both his hands around his stomach as it bubbled, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey, Dylan," Rip said, sounding nearer. He sat down near the sick wolf. Not moving closer, but not moving away in disgust. "You just hurled all over your shoes."

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (III)

third instalment (read the first and second)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

“Okay, but I don’t think you’re properly considering my perspective on this.” James offered calmly. 

“Because your perspective is asinine and foolish.” Regulus spat back causing Remus and Peter to chuckle.

“Asinine and foolish… Regulus Arcturus Black, I’ve raised you better than this; quit speaking like such a ponce.” Sirius scolded, causing Regulus to glare at him.

“Your friend is the stupidest fucking wanker I’ve ever met in my life.” He corrected. 

Sirius brought a hand to his chest and looked at his brother adoringly. “I’ve never been more proud.” He whispered as he wiped a fake tear from under his eye. 

“I just think that two things that have eight legs ought to be closely related. I don’t think it’s outlandish to call an octopus a wet-spider.” James carried on level-headedly.

“Because they’re completely different phylums!” Regulus bellowed. 

“Okay but they’re definitely the same shape.” Peter added solemnly. 

“They are-” Regulus started, turning to look at Peter incredulously. “They are not the same shape! How are they the same shape?”

“Well, they’ve both got, like…their bodies? Right? And then they’ve got their legs just….all outward like. You know?” Peter explained, using his hands to represent said body and legs. 

“Salazars saggy balls.” Regulus muttered under his breath as he stood from the library table and gathered his things. “Je n'arrive pas à croire que je m'entoure de parfaits abrutis. Âme sœur ou pas, je ne peux pas continuer à vivre ainsi.”

Regulus continued muttering furiously under his breath as he made for the door causing Remus to let out a long suffering sigh and gather his own things. 

“Way to go, boys.” He sighed in faux admonishment. “You’ve put my soulmate in a bad mood.”

James muttered what sounded an awful lot like ‘well it’s not very hard now, is it?’ as Sirius quickly looked at his watch. “Oh shit! Is it four o’clock already?”

Remus opted to wait for Sirius as he carelessly shoved his untouched homework - that they had originally gone to the library to complete - before hurrying for the library door his brother had just exited. 

“What’s happening at four o'clock?” Remus asked as he caught the door Sirius had just allowed to close unceremoniously on one of his oldest friends. 

Both Sirius and Regulus grumbled - albeit for very different reasons - as Remus and Sirius stepped outside of the library where Regulus had been waiting for his boyfriend. 

“Must you bring your brigade of buffoons with you everywhere?” Regulus hissed at Remus who simply tsked at him and pulled him into his side. 

“Play nice, Reggie.” He murmured into Regulus’ hairline.

“Yeah; play nice Reggie.” Sirius mocked petulantly, earning him a swat up the back of the head from Remus.

“What’s happening at four o’clock?” Remus repeated as he professionally managed a potential level four sibling squabble between his best friend and his soulmate. 

“I have to meet with Y/N and Junior.” Sirius explained solemnly.

“You have your soulmate bond organised by a timetable?” Remus asked as a joke, pausing in his chuckles when he realised Sirius was being quite….serious. 

“It gets better.” Regulus added unhelpfully and unprompted as he followed Sirius and Remus (unwelcomely) to Sirius, Barty, and your meet-up spot. “They have to have supervised hand-offs.”

“Don’t call it a hand-off Regulus; she’s not some child in a divorce.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“I agree, I rather think you and Junior are the children in this situation.” Regulus bit back with his nose in the air; Sirius wanted to break it.

He didn’t get the chance though, as Remus ushered the conversation along. “Why does it need to be supervised?”

“Because Junior kept trying to hex me when we’d meet up, and then when Y/N told him he couldn’t do that, he’d hide somewhere in the castle and I’d have to snag the map from your trunk to find them.”

“Who supervises these exchanges?” Remus carried on, but Sirius needn’t respond when they stepped into the courtyard where Barty, you, and Pandora were waiting near the fountain.

“Hello Sirius!” Pandora greeted brightly, causing Barty to scowl. 

“No fair! He’s not supposed to bring back up! I would have brought Evan!”

“It’s not back up Barty.” You argued exhaustedly, looking particularly mortified at the attendance at today’s exchange. 

“Hello, Junior.” Sirius bit out as politely as he could manage only to have the sod glare at him. 

“Is there something you’d like to say, Bartemus?” Pandora asked serenely.

“Yes. Get fucked Black.” He spat.

“That was perhaps my fault.” Pandora conceded. “Barty, say hello to Sirius.”

“Hello…..Sirius.” 

“Good job, Bartemus.” Pandora praised like he was a snotty little nursery school student. “Now say goodbye to Y/N.” 

Sirius heaved a sigh as he crossed his arms and shot Remus a look before watching Barty turn to you and pepper kisses all over your face; you - Merlin love you - looked like you were working really hard to fight your fight-or-flight instincts. 

“Now Treasure, if you get tired of him or need anything, just-”

“Barty, I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine.” Barty conceded. “It’s him I’m worried about.”

“Barty.” You repeated; tone taking on a severity Sirius wasn’t accustomed to hearing from you. “It is Sirius, our soulmate…our soulmate. I will be fine, yeah?”

Properly chastised, Barty shot Sirius another glare before acquiescing and pressing one last kiss to your cheek before letting go of your wrists. 

You nodded gratefully at Pandora for her service and shot Remus and Regulus a wary look as you made your way across the courtyard. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” Sirius greeted you salaciously, causing you to flush impossibly further at the attention. 

“Sirius, please.” You begged.

“What?” Sirius scoffed in faux offence. “He’s allowed to make a fuss over you and I’m not?”

You groaned and stomped your foot a little bit as you allowed Sirius to take your hand in his. “You’re supposed to be more reasonable.”

“Fine.” Sirius relented as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I can wait until we’re in the privacy of the dorm to fuss over you.”

You groaned in horror again when Remus laughed and Regulus grumbled at the thought of his brother fussing over anyone.

“I’m going to be attending poor Y/N’s funeral before I ever attend her soul-bond.” Remus joked as the four of you made your way back into the castle.

“Make sure it’s a nice funeral, yeah?” You asked him quietly. 

Remus barked a surprised laugh at that. “Consider it done.”

“And then send the bill to Junior.” Sirius added quickly, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

[lily-fics-11]

Good Luck, Babe! Part 2 (Ellie Williams, TLOU)

Good Luck, Babe! //Ellie Williams, TLOU//

Part 2 (Part 1 here)

(Inspired by Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan)

@dynsdiary made a post about Ellie x closet!reader Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan and I couldn’t go to sleep without writing it so this is not super well edited. Then @fictionalgap mentioned a happy ending to I had to write a part 2 lol

Word count: 2k

CW: Profanities, allusions to sex, internalized homophobia, drinking, minimal editing 

With tears blurring your vision you watch Ellie leave. Her hands are in her pockets and she is walking with her usual swagger, but almost stomping, and at a quick pace. She should have done this a long time ago, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It’s heartbreaking to see Ellie disappear into the night, but even more so knowing how hurt she is. You force yourself to watch her go, as a punishment for all that you’ve done. It’s the least you can do to try and repent for your sins. 

The other bar patrons standing around don’t pay much attention after the yelling stops, but you still wish you could get the hell out of town and never return. For both your sake, and Ellie’s. Not that running away is what you really want. Ideally, Ellie would take you back, her arms out like an angel, which is what she would be if she ever forgives you. But Ellie has never been one to forgive or forget. You want to be Ellie’s girl, for everyone to see, but you are too late. 

In trying not to blow up your life you’ve set fire to the one thing that actually made it worth living. Yes, you still have your friends and family, but Ellie falls into both of those categories. She knows you better than anyone, because no one has ever made you feel as comfortable as she does. Ellie makes you laugh harder than anyone else, wipes away your tears, and gives you everything she has. Though you give her the same, you've always done so behind closed doors. Ellie doesn’t always know what to say, but that has never stopped her from trying. Even if she has to resort to using puns as a distraction from whatever you are feeling. 

That argument sobered you up quite a bit. You would shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling, but Ellie was right, it’s only a temporary solution. 

Going home immediately would be ideal. However, Ellie’s house is on your way and she is already angry enough. Having to see you would probably just piss her off more. That girl has been through more than enough. Even if she had time to cool off, the sight of you would only be a bitter reminder of everything that’s gone down. Leaving in 10 minutes will give her more than enough time to get home before you even start walking and prevent any unnecessary interaction. 

You felt nothing when you kissed guys. The kisses you’ve shared with girls had sparks. But kissing Ellie ignited the brightest, most colorful, fireworks. 

Ellie is the only person you have ever loved, but you’ve had quite a few crushes on girls over the years, and even a few flings, despite having convinced yourself you just really wanted to be their friend or were just messing around. They were all special in their own way, but would never compare to Ellie.

As you sit and wait you decide it’s time to make a confession. You owe it to yourself, and to Ellie. 

“I’m gay,” you whisper out loud. Then you whisper it a few more times before you can finally say “I’m gay” at a regular volume. You would yell it at yourself if it weren’t for the other people hanging around, you’ll have to do it when you get home. What’s the point of exposing yourself when the only reason to is gone?

Thinking about the future Ellie had described forces you to ask yourself what do you really want in life when it comes to love? You’ve been pushing who you are down so hard that you haven’t ever been able to think about it before. You would never allow yourself to even dream, because it made you feel sick to your stomach. 

Finally allowing the thoughts to flood in, there is much less to unpack than anticipated. There really is only one thought. Ellie Williams. 

You could’ve had everything, but you were too immature, too insecure, to take what was being offered to you. The only way you could forgive yourself would be if Ellie did so first, which she is not known to do. Not that you even have a right to her forgiveness, after everything you put her through. So however many years you live, is how long you will be hating yourself. 

Sure, there are other girls out there, but none of them even quite like Ellie. You may be young, but she is without a doubt the love of your life. Or she was, now she is nothing more than the loss of your life. Ellie will move on one day, and you will have to watch from afar, grateful that she has found the happiness she deserves, though it will kill you to watch that happiness come from someone else. 

Ellie Williams is just about the only thing in your head and you know she won’t ever leave. 

After ten minutes you walk home, feet shuffling, shoulders hunched, head hung low. When you turn onto Ellie’s street you cross to the other side, avoiding close proximity. Your heart rate increases exponentially the further you walk. You smell weed, Ellie must be out smoking on the front porch. You look straight ahead and veer into the darkness, out of the illumination cast by the street lights. Silence had been your goal, but in order to stay in the darkness you had to step through a bush… and it rustles. “Fuck” you whisper to yourself. Without a doubt, Ellie’s hypervigilance hears the sound. 

“Who is that? Why are you skulking around in the dark?” Ellie’s voice calls across the street. You can tell she is suspicious and ready to start a fight. 

“I-it’s me.” You step back into the light. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me.” You panic and take off at a run. “Wait!” Ellie calls and you stop dead in your tracks. That was the last thing you expected. It would have made more sense if she had cursed you out. Slowly, you look over your shoulder to see her standing up, holding onto the railing and leaning over it ever so slightly. 

“I want to talk to you,” she grumbles, crossing her arms, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve just crossed through someone's backyard or something. I’ll do that from now on.”

Ellie shakes her head and takes a hit, then slowly exhales a cloud of smoke. “That’s not it.”

You turn around to face her. “I know where and when you hang around town. I promise I'll stay away.”

“Just come over here,” she say and motions with her hand. You can hear bitterness in her voice, but not the anger you expected. 

You walk over and stand in front of Ellie as she sits down on the steps. She continues smoking as her knee starts to bounce. “I’ve decided to give you the chance to talk. But only one chance.”

You gulp, feeling the weight of the immense pressure. 

“I know you won’t forgive me, and that I don’t even deserve it, but I still have to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I’ve made you, the unbreakable Ellie Williams, cry, and that’s not fair. You deserve someone who loves you for the world to see, without caring what they think. Even though I’m ready now, I know I'm too late. I'm a fucking fool. I wanted to stop the world just to stop the feeling, so I had to stop you, because you are my world. I should have called it love so that you didn’t have to call it off.”

Ellie’s eyes are wide as she bites her lip. She pats the spot next to her for you to sit down. You sit as far away from her as you can and avoid looking directly at her, only able to see her in your peripheral vision. 

Legs spread casually, and elbows resting on her knees, Ellie starts her explanation of her uncharacteristic behavior. “Normally I would cut off anyone who hurt me this badly. But on the walk home, I remembered that you aren’t just anyone.” Her audible disdain is all but gone, replaced by a sense of yearning. 

You can finally take your first deep breath since before the argument. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, I know this can’t be easy for you. I really appreciate it.” 

She just nods as she takes a drag. “You’ve been thinking too, haven’t you, about everything I've said.”

She has managed to make you laugh a little, the way only she can, something you thought you would never experience again. “You know me so well, don’t you. But yes, and you were right. I could kiss a hundred boys in bars, I could even kiss a thousand girls in bars…” you trail off. 

“Well kissing girls is kind of the whole point, guess. All though I was thinking about just one girl in particular…” Ellie sounds so disappointed.

You finally look over at her and meet her mesmerizing gaze. “I could kiss every girl on the planet, but not a single kiss would matter unless it was with you. When I wake up in the middle of the night, and think about you all those years ago, I want it to be because I’m watching you sleep in our bed in our house. I’d listen to you breathe, and smile at the way your nose twitches when you are dreaming. I’d be grateful that I’ve gotten to spend my life with you.”

Ellie’s breath hitches and she searches your eyes like a human lie detector. “Did you really mean it, when you called it… love?”

“Yes. I love you. I really really love you. I’m so in love with you that I was afraid of it. But I also love you enough to stop making excuses and coming up with stupid reasons.” You look out into the darkness and yell, not caring who hears, "I'm gay and I’m in love with Ellie Williams!”

“I love you too baby.” No tone is left in her voice aside from an air of wonder when Ellie laughs and puts her toned arm around you, pulling you against her warm body. 

“You’re like an angel,” you whisper, lost in her beautiful eyes. 

“If I’m from heaven I can’t imagine what you think hell looks like.”

“It’s full of men,” you sigh. 

“Fair enough,” Ellie chuckles.

“So are we.. something?” You murmur. 

Ellie places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I don’t know how you haven’t gotten it through your pretty head, but I’m absolutely in love with you. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be my girlfriend and show you off.”

You reach out and stroke her freckled cheek. “Then show me off. Let’s go back to the bar. Show every guy I kissed that I’m your girl. I want everyone in town to know that I’m the Ellie Williams' girlfriend. 

Ellie’s eyes light up and she bites back a smile. “If I’m the Ellie Williams than you are the most amazingly beautiful girl there ever was. It’s really the least you can do, let me emasculate every sorry bastard in town, they’ll be shitting themselves knowing the best girl we have is mine.”

You nod shyly. “Yeah. You deserve a girl that’s proud to be yours, and I am.”

Ellie kisses your temple before taking one last drag from her joint. The two of you walk together, her arm around your shoulders and yours around her waist. 

“I’ve always wanted to dance with you, can we dance together?” You ask shyly.

“Of course baby,” she tells you with a dreamy look in her eyes before giving you a quick kiss. 

The two of you are all giggles and smiles on the way back, though it doesn’t stop Ellie from teasing you and telling you owe her big time. 

As a happy couple, you two approach the bar and no one outside even takes a second glance at you, too occupied by their cigarettes and drunken conversations. You walk through the door, ahead of Ellie, holding her hand as you push through the crowd. Any man that would normally pay attention to you does, but the only person who you take notice of is your guy friend that you had promised a date to. Oops, you’ll have to deal with that at some point but now is a time to celebrate. 

You quickly look back at Ellie and smile after accidentally making eye contact with him. “I really want to punch that guy in the face.” She murmurs, glaring at him. Nonetheless, her rough exterior melts away when she looks back at you. Anyone who saw the way Ellie looks at you would think that you put every star in the night sky, just for her. 

Taking a spot in the middle of the dance floor, you put your arms around Ellie’s neck and she grabs you by the waist to pull you close. The music isn’t the right tempo, but you start slow dancing like you are the only ones in the room. You lean in to give her a real kiss. No cheek, or forehead, or peck on the lips. You want to show her just how much you love her. Ellie’s soft lips move in sync with yours and you aren’t even thinking about all of the people around you. When you finally pull away Ellie says “Baby, I can’t believe you’re really mine.”

“Well, I am. You’re stuck with me. Good luck, babe!”