#canon divergent mc fic

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[quiescentdestiny]

thinking about the fact that if Neil had died in Baltimore, literally none of Andrew's family would even know he was broken as much as he was by it. Like they saw him choke Kevin, but even after Baltimore, Nicky assumed it was just a fling.

[im-immortal]

Small Miracles

Beth Greene is not dead. Though it is not for a lack of trying.

After eight long years spent in the CRM's grasp, struggling to find reasons to continue surviving, Beth finally finds her reason: Rick and Daryl are alive, and they are closer than she ever could've guessed. Now she must take advantage of her only opportunity to escape and track them down.

Along the way, she revisits all of the places that changed her into who she has become. And she is forced to remember who she truly is at heart despite how unrecognizable she finds herself.

But she has an unexpected ally along for the journey. Just the same as her, he is somewhat of a living miracle. Except he's no longer living... he's a walker.

Moonshine Awards 2023 Third Place Winner for Best WIP ZA, and Second Place Winner for Best WIP Reunion/Fix It!

Chapter 25 // Part 16: North Carolina II

She glances over and sees Mae still running, eyes locked on nothing but the path forward, the gun gripped tightly in her hand as she allows Beth to keep hold of her forearm, to keep her close and at the same pace. She is pale and sweaty and breathless, but she is still running.  Not her, Beth thinks. Not her, not her, not her. They can’t have her! Daryl, I’m so close, just 300 more miles. We didn’t make it all this way to die now, for you to never know how hard I tried to get back to you. We’re so close! And then the shrill woman’s voice is all around them. “Pretty little things, come home to Daddy!”

[fedoranon]

"average reader enjoys 200k of pre relationship fluff" is a statistical error. average reader enjoys roughly 40k of pre relationship. slow burn eli, who cheerfully reads 500k before the protagonist even realizes he might be interested in a relationship, is an outlier and shouldn't be counted

[outeremissary]

You know I spent a lot of time reading Nuzlocke comics and fics as a teen and I think that really shaped my understanding of approaches to canon in fandom. Like there's fandom you're doing straight and trying to be faithful to the material on, and then there's fandom like a lot of the Good Stuff on Nuzlockes and wacked out chess AUs where you're somewhere on the sliding scale of remixes from "playing fast and loose with the base material" to "reality is whatever makes the story fun. heart." And they're both valid. God I fucking love how insane Nuzlocke comics could get.

[plutotheplum]

Resonance

sylus x fem!reader - read part 2!

summary: with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, fingering, teasing, spit kink, light choking, oral sex, praise kink, slightly ooc sylus?, minor canon divergence

wc: 4.5k

a/n: my first time writing a full fic or smut for that matter! given how many times sylus was trying to hold the mc's hand, i just figured he'd be into it. tried to be strong for zayne, but that didn't work out... sorry zayne. hope you guys like it! <3

also posted on ao3!

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place. 

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations. 

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.  

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair. 

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything . 

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him. 

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap. 

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot. 

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows. 

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .” 

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest. 

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push. 

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup. 

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words. 

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.” 

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe. 

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare. 

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties. 

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers. 

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric. 

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly. 

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing. 

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.” 

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.” 

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.” 

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up. 

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. 

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away. 

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace. 

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

It’s going to be a long night.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊STARTING TODAY, YOU ARE A HOST!

SUMMARY: after stumbling into the host clubs room and breaking an expensive vase, you have to face the dire consequences.. with grim of course.

MASTERLIST

GENRE: fluff, crack-fic

NOTES/WARNINGS: accidentally walking in while changing (not sexual), might be ooc, canon divergence

reader is afab, reader is yuu

after spending a couple days at nrc, you and grim have decided to finally start looking for ways to get you home. you held the creature tightly in your arms as you walked up and down the halls of the school, searching for the library. “myahh, henchman.. do you even know where you’re going? maybe i should lead the way. ” grim snarls, leaving you to roll your eyes.

“be quiet. no way in hell am i letting you off on your own. do you want to break another chandelier and risk another expulsion?” you retorted as you opened the multiples and multiples of doors. “all these rooms, and not a single one is the library..”

“maybe ya needa ask that ace guy.” grim shrugs, making you cringe at the thought. “in your dreams. him? helping someone at all? don’t make me laugh.” empty classroom after empty classroom. your constant bickering with grim had distracted you from even finding the library itself, ignoring the obvious signs.

unfortunately, your carelessness was going to cost you greatly. as you entered what seemed like your hundredth classroom, you were relieved to find the place bustling with students, hoping this’d be the place you were looking for. spoiler alert: nope!!

“welcome.” this isn’t a library.. it looks like.. a host club?!

night raven host club. a place where young men have far too much time on their hands, entertain other young men and women from other schools who also have too much time on their hands. think of it as.. a playground of sorts.

you hold the door handle tightly, practically leaving grim in a chokehold as you wished to fall into a hole and disappear. “sorry. wrong room.” you mumbled as you tried closing the door slowly. a hand pried the two sides of the doors back open, startling you at the incredibly fast reflexes.

“AGH?!” you yelp, nearly falling backwards. a boy with blonde hair and a very tacky looking hat stared daggers into your face, the silence becoming very uncomfortable. “could you be..” he murmurs, you and grim looking at each other with confused looks.

“..[MC] the magicless perfect and his weasel grim, perchance?” he smiles, causing a shiver to go down your spine. something tells you he’s trouble. “haha, nope! wrong person! super sorry, bye!” you try getting away, but your efforts are in vain as the boy pulls you back into the room, almost dropping grim face first.

“non! stay, you have walked into the host club after all.” he stated sternly, a whole group of other boys now staring you down. “floyd. jade. have you gotten the information i requested?” the one with light gray hair spoke, looking at two tall and lanky young men who are nearly identical. “im afraid not. they have just stepped foot onto campus recently with no traces of information or background.” one of them spoke.

“but they’re so small and teeny! i think i’ll call em shrimpy and his little buddy sealie.” im pretty they’re talking about me. and grim. you think to yourself as you stood there awkwardly. “..very well,” the silver haired boy looked at you, a polite smile on his face. “welcome to the host club, prefect. azul ashengrotto, housewarden of octavinelle. feel free to contact me in a pinch.” he came over to shake your hand, in which you reluctantly did.

“mon dieu! where are my manners!” the blonde exclaimed. “apologies, rook hunt, vice-housewrden of pomefiore at your service.” he took your hand away and lifted it up to his lips, making you flinch. “right..” grim pretends to gag, catching the attention of the two tall boys from earlier.

“so what really are ya, sealie? you some kinda raccoon or somethin?” the twin on the left said, laughing like a maniac as he snatched grim outta your hands. “now, now, floyd. even if our guest is a beast, it is still a guest. we must treat them with care.” the one, who you’re now assuming would be jade, said with a gentlemanly expression.

he turns his attention to you, his smile never dissipating. “a pleasure to have you, prefect. i am jade leech, vice-housewarden of octavinelle. if you couldn’t guess, this is my twin brother, floyd.” he pointed to his brother, who seemed to be squeezing the living daylights out of your ally. “GRIM!” you run over to grab your fuzzball, but he seemed to be locked in an iron grip. “hm? don’t worry shrimpy, you’ll be next on the squeezing list!” floyd giggles, making you shudder.

“oh my, things are beginning to look lively, aren’t they? i believe i’ve seen that young man at the entrance ceremony.” a short boy with a much deeper voice than you anticipated spoke, looking at his almost opposite counterpart. a tall man with horns, who seemed to be pouting, looked at him with a blank expression. “..is that so?”

“i say we join the fun!” the shorter one smiles, walking over to you and the twin. “welcome to night ravens host club, prefect! lilia vanrouge, vice-housewarden of diasomnia! over there is malleus draconia, diasomnia’s housewarden and future king of briar valley.” he stated almost casually, your brain taking moments to process that information. “don’t be intimidated, he’s just shy.” he smiles, the horned man behind him narrowing his eyes.

“don’t tell such lies, lilia.” he sighs, standing beside the vice housewarden. “okay, look. nice to meet all of you, buuuutt i really gotta get goin now!” you try prying grim out of floyds arms, in which they suddenly loosen. did you do it? “im bored of ya sealie, cmere shrimpy!” he giggled, turning to you. “no, no, NO!”

rook smiled from afar, watching the scene unfold. azul and jade stand by the side, watching as floyd chased you down. “floyd, don’t terrorize the guest of honor. it’d be such a shame if we lost a potential customer.” azul sneers, adjusting his glasses. the leech twin doesn’t spare him a second glance, only charging at you as you ran at high speeds.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!” you shout, feeling your life flash before your eyes. “cmere, shrimpy! i just wanna give you a niiiccee tiiiggghhtt squeeze!!” he giggles, grim following trailing far behind him. “HANDS OFFA MY HENCHMAN!”

as you’re running, you feel yourself trip over your feet and nearly fall face first onto the floor. the nearest object to keep you steady was a pillar, which you thankfully grabbed onto in time. relief resided within you as you saved yourself from injury.

until..

CRASH!

sounds of glass shattering on the ground also happen to shatter your peace, peering over to see pieces of broken glass patterns scattered across the ground. “shit.”

lovely! first you and your accomplices char ancient statues and destroy a chandelier, now you can add destroying vases to your list! what a record.

“oh dear,” jade sighs, staring at the shards on the floor. “that just so happened to be an ancient vase found in the cave of wonders.. we were going to auction this off at our most recent gala.” he collects the broken glass pieces into his hand and stares at them with a frown.

“auction..? gala..?” you murmur, starting to feel a sweat on your brow. “that vase was going to start at 10,000,000 thaumarks.. what a shame.” azul sighs, feeling a plan formulate in his head. meanwhile, you felt your soul meet the gods and heroes then fall all the way down to greet the great seven.

no way are you going to be able to afford that.. grim felt like he was aging rapidly, falling over and fainting as he heard the outrageous pricing. “oh my, and i quite liked that vase too. it took me centuries to find it amongst my travels.” lilia murmurs, also catching you wide-eyed. is he being literal or figurative? at this rate, you won’t put anything past anyone in this damn world.

“non, non.. this simply cannot do.” rook sighs, holding his hat over his eyes. suddenly, a spotlight shines over him, raising his hat to reveal a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “then it is settled! starting today, you are the host clubs errand boy!” he points at you and grim, causing the beast beside you to hiss.

“WHO ARE YA CALLING ERRAND BOY! I AM GRIM THE GREAT! A MAGNIFICENT MAGE!” grim shrieks, making you cover his mouth instinctively. “e-errand boy?” you repeat, raising your brow. “oui, errand boy! we need someone to run the host clubs errands, and you both just so happen to qualify for the job!” rook smiles, grabbing you both by the shoulders.

and so, you ran the errands. running back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.. you get the idea. they worked you ragged, possibly even worse than crowley if you wanted to exaggerate things. you felt eyes on you each trip you made, you hated it. “henchman.. im tired..” grim yawns, swaying left and right drowsily. as much as you and grim argued, it was obvious you didn’t hate each other in the slightest.

“here, i’ll carry you.” you lift him up into your arms, cradling him in one hand while holding the brown paper bag in the other. when he doesn’t have his huge mouth open, grim was quite adorable. like a house cat. you smiled as he napped peacefully, setting down the brown bag onto a nearby table.

“oh goodness! is that yours?” a girl nearby chimes, pointing to the sleepy critter in your arms. “hm? ah, grim? not exactly, but he’s a friend.” you laugh awkwardly, rocking him in your arms. “he’s adorable! may i pet him?” she asks, a slight blush forming on her cheeks.

“sure, why not?” you smile, allowing her to brush her hand atop of grim’s head. wait, how’s there a girl here? “so cute! can i pet him too?” another girl mused, then another, then another, and another, til eventually you were surrounded by a mob.

if grim was awake, he’d either bask in this affection or push it away. but right now, he purred in contentment. “hm..” azul hums, staring at the group of girls and boys crowding you and your mascot. “..beautiful! absolutely beautiful!” rook evades the crowd and grabs your hands. “never mind errand boy, non, you’re going to be a host!”

“excuse me, what?” the crowd squealed in excitement at the thought of a new host, and to have it be such a cute and handsome “boy” as well! azul smirks, watching as another entryway to his elaborate pyramid scheme opens up. “jade, floyd, escort our club mate to the changing halls with a proper change of clothes.”

“right away./oki doki boss!” each twin grabs one of your shoulders and carries you towards the changing rooms as you gripped grim with all your might just to ensure he doesn’t fall. that weasel can sleep through anything..

“okay, okay, i get it! put me down, i’ll change myself!” you groan as you were placed onto the ground, yanking the uniform off the hanger. the two siblings awaited you outside the changing rooms, causing you to internally panic. there’s no way you’re going to escape now! and even if you could, you can’t just leave grim here! what to do..

maybe your best bet is to just play along. who knows what these stupid mages are capable of doing if you managed to leave.. you shudder at the thought of it. you change into the uniform, coming out with a fresh new style. jade chuckles, smiling in approval. “fufu, you look quite nice in your uniform. however, your hair is an absolute birds nest. it is best we take care of that immediately.”

“really? i thought it was fine— OW!” floyd aggressively brushes your unkempt hair out, causing pain to your scalp after each stroke. “sorry shrimpy, but ya got tons an’ tons of knots in you’re hair!” he shrugs, your yelps making this sound like a torture chamber.

“he’s readyyy!!” floyd cheers, presenting you like an item on display. rook covers his mouth with his hand, eyes wide as he looks at you. lilia holds his hand on his chin with a smile, inspecting you with careful consideration. “my, my, the uniform quite suits you! wouldn’t you agree, malleus?” he looks to malleus who stared at you with an intense gaze, almost to the point its uncomfortable.

“..you look much more presentable compared to before.” he stated straightforwardly, causing your eyebrow to twitch. was that a compliment? “gee, thanks.” you sigh, scratching the back of your neck. “C’EST MAGNIFIQUE! YOU LOOK STUNNING, PREFECT!” rook exclaims, rushing over to you and capturing you in a hug. “ACK—ROOK! CUT IT OUT!”

you shriek, feeling yourself lifted off the ground at the boys unexpected strength. “aww.. no fair! i wanna squeeze shrimpy too!” floyd pouts, pushing rook off of you and ultimately replacing him. “CAN YOU GUYS JUST GET OFF OF ME?!”

“floyd, that’s quite enough. as exciting as it is to welcome a new member, we still have guests to entertain.” azul sighs, massaging his temple. “boo, i don’t wanna.” the eels grip never relented, holding onto you tightly without even taking into account his job and status. you felt like you were going to burst before you were suddenly separated from the crushing grip.

“now, now, gentlemen. let’s settle down. azul is right, there are guests to attend to and we mustn’t dally on our duties as hosts! rook can show our new hire the ropes while the rest of us shall continue to entertain as per usual.” lilia insists, using his magic to keep floyd a considerable distance away from you. “lovely! what a beautiful idea! come now, prefect! we must transform you into a refined gentleman!”

and just like that, you’ve began hosting. as rook charmed the masses with his sweet words and enchanting poems, you chose to observe how the others won the hearts of these young women and men. “my dear, let me stay by your side for as long as the world allows me to. i am speechless just being within your presence, truly.” rook gets onto one knee, holding the hand of the woman before him. her hand rested on his chest, feeling it as it beat. “oh, rook..” she sighed.

oh god. you had to do that? seriously? you’ve gotta be joking. you look to the twins section, noticing they work in pairs rather than separately. “jade, you’re such a kind soul.. i’d love to end up with someone like you.” a boy coos as he covers his cheeks with his hands, only earning a chuckle out of the man beside him. “is that so? how utterly intriguing that is.. if you’d like, you can stop by the mostro lounge after this. your presence would certainly light up the whole cafe..”

“yeah, yeah, jade would be reeaaall happy to see ya there.” floyd adds, holding his brothers shoulder with a grin. you don’t even need to blink twice to know those two are lying by the skin of their teeth. jade couldn’t care less if that guy stepped foot onto the premises. he probably wouldn’t even care if they were eaten by vicious animals!

lilia seemed like quite the fan favorite. “my travels are certainly a tale! if you all would like, i am more than happy to tell you about them. each story has shaped me into the cute and adorable little thing i am today!” he muses, earning some ooo’s and aaa’s from the people around him. tales? why make yourself sound so old?

malleus was an interesting case. he didn’t seem to have spoke much, and once he did, it seemed his only topic were gargoyles. what weirdos reside in this club anyway? “ah, [MC], you and your cat seem to be quite famous at night raven college. the attention must be stressful.” a girls voice cuts you out of your thoughts, averting your attention.

right. you got this. just be cool! “it hasn’t really bothered me til recently, but i guess i’d better get used to it if i plan to keep attending this school without magic.” you answer, earning a nod from her. “so, how do you like it so far?” a boy asks, making you think for a bit. to be honest, things have been going shitty for the past few days. you made, what? 2 friends not including grim?

“i think my experience here is going to be wonderful,” lie. “especially since i get to spend my time with new personalities.” you smile, trying to charm them to the best of your abilities. was the making you cringe? yes. but it’s necessary.

“well to me, it seems like you’re nothing but a waste of space on their roster.” a girl jeers, stifling a laugh as she looked at you. “let’s be honest, a mage attending a magic academy without being able to master simple fire spells shouldn’t have been admitted at all. letting you into this club must be a way for rook to keep you from looking pitiful.”

what the hell..? what’s with this woman? it’s not like you had a choice! the urge to just straight up punch her is strong but thank the lords you had some self control left in you. “is that so? thank you for your delightful input.” you manage to murmur out, trying to seem unfazed. she hated it. suddenly, the table is tipped over and a hand grabs onto your wrist tightly.

you feel yourself pulled down, catching yourself before falling onto the girl. “[MC]! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET OFF OF ME!” she squeals, trying to “push” you off of her as she pretends to struggle. the attention of every guest is glued onto the unfolding scene before them, her screams growing louder. rook walks over, his expression neutral for the first time. cold water is poured over the two of you, making both of you soaked.

“you’re kinda loud, can you shuddup?” floyd scoffs, a bucket in his hands. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” her demeanor changes once her eyes landed on rook, her personality doing a 180. “r-rook.. those two brutes had just assaulted me! you’re not going to let them get away with it are you..?”

awh hell nah what the fuck man. this is the most pathetic girl you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. he sighs and tosses the girl a towel, making her swoon and smile. “awh.. you’re so sweet! than—“

“im disappointed, ma chérie.” he sighed, using another towel to dry off your hair. “faking a scene of such seriousness, i cannot approve of you.” rook looks to the girls expression, her face pale and drained of color. “oh dear, how troublesome. i believe it’d be best if we were to show her a proper goodbye.” lilia adds, frowning as he looked at her.

“faking an assault. how foolish of you.” malleus crosses his arms in disapproval. the girl stood in the middle of the attention, eyes laying on her at every angle. “jade. floyd. show our guest off campus.” azul snaps his fingers, the twins pulling out their magic pens. “of course. however, id rather not have to touch the thing so magic may be our next option.” jade smiled politely despite his insulting jab.

“you.. YOU IDIOTS! ROOK YOU IDIOT!” she yells, kicking and yelling as she was carried to the exit of night raven college. “how embarrassing, to think we housed a guest such as that in our club.. truly shameful. prefect, are you hurt?” rook asks, looking at you with a concerned expression.

“ah, no. i’m alright.” you reassured everyone, making a few sigh in relief. “i believe you should change into a new set of clothes. you’re are soaking wet right now.” lilia points out, making you embarrassed. “right.. i’ll change into the clothes from earlier.”

and so, you did. this whole incident was such an embarrassing thing to happen. while grim peacefully slept away, you had to deal with this shit?? this host club sucks. as you change, you hear the curtains shift causing you to swiftly look back. “prefect, we’ve got you extra towels just in ca—“

rook looks up and saw you. in feminine undergarment. he freezes, making you scream. “GET OUT??” the other host club members gather around, seeing as rook froze in place. as much as they all hate to admit it, they caught a glimpse of you before he closed the curtains, causing them all to look at each other.

no way.. you’re not a guy? they had just assumed so! considering there are some hyper-feminine guys here nobody really bats an eye to it. you blended in! you came out with an expression practically begging to be killed, feeling the life sucked out of you at each set of eyes on you.

malleus already knew from the start, as did lilia. jade suspected as much, but couldn’t help but feel surprised that his suspicions seemed to be correct. floyd was actually quite excited in contrast to azul’s extreme shock. seriously, the poor octo-mers face was red. rook couldn’t even move. like jade, he suspected as much.. yet..

“this proves to be quite the predicament..” rook suddenly spoke, his face twisting into one of delight and joy. “you had me fooled! color me impressed! from now on, i shall call you trickster!” he smiles, holding your hand tightly. you don’t even have time to process their reactions before you’re once again pulled into rooks embrace.

“i dont see why this is such a big deal though! im just doing your stupid club to repay my debts! who cares if im not a dude!” you groan, trying to break out of his tight hug. “oya? then i shall take your word for it! we expect great things from you, trickster!” he hums, seemingly unaffected by your uncaring attitude.

“your secret is safe with us, [MC]. we wouldn’t dream of sharing this with the public.. fufu..” jade smiles, his laugh sounding suspicious and slightly untrustworthy. “don’t you worry your pretty little head, shrimpy! jade, azul, an’ I won’t spill the beans.” floyd laughs, ruffling your hair with his hand. “r-right. ahem, we’ll be sure to keep your secret under wraps.” azul clears his throat, offering you a polite smile.

“we won’t tell a soul, you may take my word for it.” lilia flashes you a grin, his word more trustworthy than the trio next to you. “if anyone wishes to tell your secret with the others, they will not get the chance. you may count on me.” malleus mumbles, his threat sending a chill down your spine. “we’ll treat you with the utmost care! count on it!” rook finally adds, your eyebrow twitching.

“..thanks guys.” something tells me this’ll be a long year..

A/N: WOOOOOO FIRST ONE DONE!!!! lowkey kinda disappointed but WHATEVER‼️‼️‼️

date published: 8/3/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

TAGLIST (let me know if you wished to be tagged)

@jiwook18

[ancientmyrddin]

Rediscovering the joy of writing by killing Canon characters off one scene after another

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[prime-adeptus]

BAD IDEA (FORGET ABOUT IT, FORGET ABOUT ME) – QUANXI X READER

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. Or, the one where you’re not lovers, just strangers, and you’re fine with it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

CONTENT.⠀NSFW; female reader; friends with benefits, unrequited pining, angst, slight power imbalance (quanxi is mc’s superior), alcohol, mentions of medication, unhealthy relationships, hurt/no comfort, original character deaths, mentions of blood. Canon divergent, but takes place after the events of Part 1. ~6.5k words

NOTES.⠀my first fic of 2024 lets gooo baby HAPPY NEW YURI!!!! this is my contribution to my thank u, next collab :) likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! this is the most self-indulgent I’ve ever written but I hope you enjoy regardless;;

also on ao3 | @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue

You never think twice.

It runs in the family, you think. Your father was an insanely reckless devil hunter, your mother was impulsive even in the worst situations, and your brother did things just for the thrill. It’s ironic that for people with a job that relies on survival instinct, they had none at all. Impulsivity runs in your family, and there will soon come a day when it will get you killed the same way it did with them. That’s fine. Death doesn’t scare you, not anymore. He’ll come bearing his scythe when his time comes, taking your soul to where it needs to be, and you’ll let it happen when it does.

Public Safety wasn’t your first option. Being a professional devil hunter wasn’t, either. You wanted to pursue something less violent, like someone who could help improve a community’s welfare. You wanted kids to grow up better than you did. But with devils roaming the streets and the lack of the ‘strong-hearted,’ it came as no surprise that you had to give up on what you’d initially hoped. You’re still pissed about it years later in your career. The younger you wanted to help the world.

In a way, you got what you wanted. It just wasn’t the way you wanted it to happen.

You think you’re more familiar with firearms and blades than you are with flowers and crayons now. Your hands, once soft and delicate, are now scarred and calloused, stained with the blood of those you had to slay and lose in combat. Your heart, once full of hope and kindness, is now cold as ice. The innocence and joy you used to have were cruelly ripped out of your hands and crushed into pieces you can never put together again.

But you don’t have time to miss who you used to be, nor do you have the time to dream anymore. You have to survive in a world where danger lurks in every corner. You will pass the days instead of living them, letting them hurt you and bury misery deep in your bones, but you will survive, if not by sheer determination or instinct.

The drink you’re having burns your throat. Though you weren’t previously a drinker, having seen how it changed people like it did to your father, there’s nothing else you can turn to. You never liked bars either, yet here you are, sitting all by your lonesome. People change, whether it’s out of their volition or against their will. You don’t know where you fall between those categories.

The longer you stare into space, the more you tune out the world around you. You feel as though you aren’t here, but somewhere else. It’s been happening more often than you’d like—zoning out, feeling like you’re not in control of your body, vulnerable. You’re more annoyed by it than you are concerned. You’re a professional devil hunter, bound to an organisation that could dispose of you without a second thought if you fail them. There is no time for weakness. Your training and years of work have taught you that the hard way.

By the time you come back to your senses, your glass is already empty. A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. You’ve half a mind to order another shot to feel something other than perpetual numbness and exhaustion, but ultimately decide against it. Your tolerance isn’t as high as Kishibe’s is, after all. Who knows what will happen if you bite off more than you can chew? You don’t, and more importantly, you don’t want to deal with the consequences.

With a sigh, you leave the bar. The bells above the door chime as the door opens and exposes you to the winter air. A chill runs down your spine, making you shiver involuntarily. You’ve never been fond of the cold. It’s miserable, it makes you lethargic, and it’s a pain to get through without getting sick. You hate the shitty apartment you live in and the equally shitty radiator that came with it too, but this time around, you actually can’t wait to be home. You suppose there are still some things to look forward to, no matter how mundane they may be.

“Hm. Didn’t expect to see anyone out at this hour.”

You turn to see Quanxi leaning against a wall with a cigarette between her lips and the same deadpan expression you’re used to seeing her wear. Instinctively, you bow your head in greeting, though she makes no move to respond to it. Briefly you realise how you’ve never had a proper conversation with her, only good mornings here and there whenever you happen to cross paths. This is the first time she’s properly acknowledged you as something else other than one of Kishibe’s many juniors he ‘babysits,’ as he would say.

The wind blows the nicotine in your direction, causing you to grimace instinctively. In an attempt to cover it, you clear your throat and reply, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you didn’t like being out at night.”

“I don’t,” you say with a wry smile. “Why are you out at this hour, Miss Quanxi?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” With a sigh, she pushes herself off the wall and finds her place by your side. “I’ll walk you home. I’m going in the same direction anyway.”

You have a feeling she’s not going to take no for an answer, so all you do is nod and go along with her. It puts you on edge, being so close to someone you’ve always held in high regard. It’s also strange, in a good way, to be alone with a woman like her. Up until a few moments ago, you didn’t even know she was aware of you at all. You find that you like having her beside you like this. It makes you feel safe, protected, and in a way you can’t pinpoint why, like you belong.

The apartment building looms overhead and stands among electrical lines and small stores. The lightbulb in front of the elevator flickers before it goes out, leaving the hallway too dim for your liking. Anxiety starts to bubble at the pit of your stomach. You don’t know if it’s because of the dark or if it’s because of how close she’s standing to you. As your finger hovers over the button, you glance at her and blurt out, “Would you like to come in?”

She blinks as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. She probably wasn’t. Heat rises to your cheeks and paints them with shame. You tend to speak before you think, which has both worked in your favour and against it.

(You never learn.)

“It’s cold outside,” you try to reason. “You could come in for tea, warm up for a bit before you go. I’d feel bad if I let you leave without anything.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

Your face burns. You should’ve thought she’d say no. You should’ve thought more. Of course, the Quanxi has no reason to stay and chat with you. She’s not the kind of person to do such a thing. She’s stoic, unapproachable, and–

“But if you insist, I’ll come in,” she says, interrupting you just before your brain is about to go into overdrive. “I could use a break anyway.”

She follows you into the cramped elevator without another word. It’s hard to keep your cool as you’re all too slowly taken up the building. With trembling hands, you unlock the door to your apartment. Your nerves are going haywire for reasons you can’t begin to fathom. You ignore them the best you can.

“Tea? Coffee?” you ask. You like to think you’re pretty good at keeping your composure, but you’re not so confident tonight. It’s fine. You’re being considerate, nothing more, so there’s no need to be so nervous. You’re just being a good host.

“Tea is fine.”

“Alright. Um, have a seat. I’ll be done in a minute.”

She takes off her shoes at the doorway before stepping into the living area, glancing around wordlessly. You hope she doesn’t mind the mess on the coffee table, even if it’s only receipts, newspapers and some blister packs you keep forgetting to throw out. Normal, mundane things. You haven’t had the time or drive to organise your place lately. You wish you did. For anything in general, really.

You’re surprised how stable your hands are this time around as you carry the tray towards where she’s sitting on the couch. She takes the mug with a barely audible thanks and you take your own. The couch isn’t small by any means. It’s old, yes, but it’s more than enough to seat two people. For some reason, it feels like it’s smaller. You’re close enough that your knees brush against each other. You try not to think about how this is the closest you’ve ever physically been to someone in years.

You almost want to scoff at that. It’s never occurred to you (or rather, you prefer not to think about it) how deprived you are of warmth and contact. Every day consists of you passively following a monotonous routine. People like you don’t get the chance to be close to someone, physically and emotionally, not when they can be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. You should be used to it by now.

You don’t think you can ever be.

“Is it okay?” Your voice is soft, hesitant. “It’s not too sweet?”

“It’s fine.”

You don’t know if Quanxi is one for small talk. You highly doubt it, but still, you find yourself chattering away. You talk about almost forgetting your keys in the morning, about how friendly your neighbours are despite their intimidating appearance, about the dog that greets you every morning and every time you come back.

Self-consciousness suddenly threatens to consume you whole when you catch how much you’ve been rambling in your flustered state. You can’t tell if she’s actually listening or if she’s only humming and nodding along so you’d stop eventually. Maybe you should.

The sudden silence makes her look at you curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I, ah, nothing.” You shake your head. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“You were talking about your last mission,” she offers. You’re almost disappointed that she had been listening to you. “The bodyguard one.”

You didn’t expect that.

“Right… I’m sorry, Miss Quanxi. I didn’t realise how long I’ve been keeping you here. Would you like me to see you out?”

“I don’t mind. You sound interesting.” She places the cup down and leans back against the cushions, getting herself comfortable. You aren’t sure if you should take it as a compliment or something. “And Quanxi is fine. I’m not Kishibe.”

“Of course! I’m sorry, Miss—I mean, Quanxi.”

Names have always been important to you; hers isn’t any different. But as her name rolls off your tongue, you find that you like how it feels. Familiar, like you’ve been saying it for years. In the back of your mind, you wonder if she knows your name—she hasn’t uttered it once since she spotted you outside the bar.

Somehow, that makes you sadder than you should be.

“You live alone?” she asks. Your mind goes blank for a moment. Is she interested in you? No, that can’t be. She’s just making conversation. She probably pities you for the fact that you’re the only one doing the talking.

“I do. Have been since I was seventeen,” you say, cutting off your train of thought before it gets worse. “I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

You don’t realise what you’ve blurted out until Quanxi hums curiously.

Why did you say that? Why do you say anything?

“You don’t?”

“No,” you mumble. You avert your gaze to the side, nervousness taking hold of you once more. “Are you… Interested? In me?”

When you finally look back at her, her face is only inches away from yours. You stare at her wide-eyed. A myriad of emotions swirls deep in your chest as you stutter and stammer, your lips parting then closing like a fish out of water.

“Maybe,” she answers, and the apology you were going to say dies on your tongue.

Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest with how fast it thumps in the confines of your ribcage. Despite the winter outside, it feels hot—you feel hot, like you’re standing by a burning flame. You think you’ve short-circuited when she gently tilts your head up with her fingers and leans in to kiss you with a softness usually reserved for a lover.

And because you never think twice, you don’t hesitate to comply when she urges you to sit on her lap. Your arms wrap around her neck and it doesn’t take long before the kiss turns more heated, before you start grinding against her. Cold digits trail across your skin and crawl between your thighs, smoothly unbuttoning your trousers to reveal what they’re searching for.

Hesitantly, you pull away to catch your breath. You can hardly understand what’s happening, and maybe you don’t have to, but there’s a deep longing to hear it directly from her.

“Miss Quanxi!” Whatever you’re trying to say gets interrupted with a gasp as her fingers dip past the waistband of your panties. “What are you—”

“Helping you relax,” she replies nonchalantly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tense you’ve been since we got here.”

You’re not sure you can handle seeing how attentively she’s watching your expressions right now, so you squeeze your eyes shut. It doesn’t help, not when you can feel everything at once, from her heated expression to her sinfully adept fingers.

There’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is wrong, unfair, but when she brushes over a spot that has you shivering against her hand, the thought ebbs away like it was never there at all.

You don’t want her to stop.

Maybe the strange heavy feeling within your chest is just anxiety from not being in a situation like this for a long time. Maybe it’s what your classmates used to call ‘butterflies in your stomach’ because you’re with someone you admire. Reason slips out of your reach with every curl of her fingers against your walls, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you’re reaching the edge. The sight of her doing something to you that only lovers do to each other isn’t helping your case, either.

Her name leaves your lips in a pathetic whine. “Quanxi—”

“Let go,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your cheek, “Let me take care of you.”

Your orgasm washes over you like the sea crashes against the shore, rendering you breathless and teary-eyed from how overwhelming everything feels. She doesn’t relent until you weakly wrap your hand around her wrist in a poor attempt to stop her from breaking you any further. She eventually pulls her hand away and brings her fingers up to your mouth, imperceptibly smiling at how you take them in without question. Seemingly satisfied, she withdraws and lets you slump against her body, tuckered out and boneless.

“Look at you,” she coos, her voice dripping with endearment. She’s probably used to saying these things and getting these reactions, and as bitter as you may feel about it, they have your heart racing nonetheless. You’re not used to praise. In your entire life, you’ve only been satisfactory, yet here she is praising you for doing nothing except surrender yourself to her. You part your lips to speak, only to be interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me.”

It’s almost worrisome how she can tell what’s on your mind so effortlessly. With a huff, you bury your face in the crook of her shoulder. You doubt you can look her in the eye without saying or doing something embarrassing.

“But…” you mumble out.

“I can take care of myself.”

You frown, though you don’t argue with the finality in her tone. Your body gradually relaxes as she runs her fingers up and down the length of your spine. It’s getting difficult to stay awake when you feel so sated, so safe. Eventually, without realising it, your blinking slows down and you start to drift off in her arms, growing blissfully unaware of the world around you.

—

You wake up in your bed dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

Quanxi must’ve carried you here before she left. Your vision slowly adjusts to the change in lighting as you look out the window by your side. It seems that people have already gotten their day started, judging from the cars moving down the road and the dogs barking in response to the disturbance they bring. You’re groggy and your thoughts are unclear, leaving you more wearied than you’d normally be. A dull ache rings in your head, growing stronger when you push yourself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your mind feels like it’s shrouded with fog. You’re beginning to think going to the bar yesterday was a mistake. You tend not to dwell too much on the consequences of what you do, only what satisfies you in that moment. It’s a bad habit you can’t seem to get rid of. But it’s far too early to think—in fact, you’d rather not do it at all—so you clumsily grab the shower valve and let the water wash away yesterday’s events. It takes a couple of tries to find it, but you make it nonetheless. A curse escapes you at the unexpected cold that has you jolting awake against your will. You suppose you did need that rude awakening.

The word ‘mistake’ seems to echo in your mind louder and louder as you struggle to properly button up your shirt with sluggish hands. You’re pretty sure one of your socks is mismatched, but you don’t really have the energy to change them. You glance at the bottle of painkillers in your cabinet. You never quite liked taking these things even if they’re supposed to help you. You didn’t like having ‘too much’ in your system. A bit ironic, considering all the supplements and medication you’ve had in your lifetime.

Bitterly, you take them. You can’t have something so inane affect your efficiency at work.

The headquarters is already busy when you arrive. Camaraderie isn’t a thing here, so the atmosphere already feels stiff and awkward. You suppose it’s reasonable, having gone through a few losses yourself. In a world like this, you simply can’t get attached to anyone. You shouldn’t. After all, they can be ripped out of your hands, ripped apart until the only proof of their existence is their blood stained on your skin. It’s not ‘hating the world’ or ‘being unapproachable;’ it’s a way to protect the other person. In a way, it protects you too.

Your mind reels back to last night now that you’re more awake. The way she held you. The way she just knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she kissed you. Only lovers touch each other like that, your mother used to tell you, but you’re not lovers even if it felt like it. The intimate moments you shared threaten to bring tears to your eyes as they play through your mind again like a film reel. The memory of her lips against your skin, of her holding you as if you were made of porcelain. They’re likely nothing to her, but they’re everything to you.

So how are you meant to brush off something like that so easily? When you’ve never had or let anyone touch you in such a way? What is it about her that had you caving in without a second thought? What is it about her that has your emotions going into overdrive?

The coffee nearly burns your tongue and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. And sure, maybe the coffee wasn’t a good idea either, but what does it matter? All you have to do is work, hopefully stay alive, and come back to a boring life after a long day of saving the city. What happened last night was only a one-time thing. There’s no reason to mull over it again.

You unceremoniously toss the paper cup into the trash. Coffee was not a good idea.

The day, although surprisingly uneventful, is spent writing reports and being in the worst mood you’ve ever been in. Thankfully you didn’t need to talk to anyone, save for Kishibe who dropped by earlier to see if you were still alive.’ It was oddly kind of him to do. You’re more used to him being distant or plain merciless like he was to the chainsaw boy and the blood fiend. It’s nice to have someone look for you, think of you, even if it’s for such a grim reason.

You were tidying up for the day when your coworker approached you with a smile on her face. ‘Do you wanna come get drinks with us?’ she had asked. Seeing as you didn’t have plans for the rest of the evening—you never do—you agreed. A couple of drinks won’t hurt.

It’s not that difficult to spot your colleagues and seniors in the izakaya. It’s hard to miss them, actually, when one of them is excitedly calling your name and waving you over. They’re already drunk. You understand them, you think. You generally dislike feeling inebriated and what comes after, but with the current path you’re on, it’s the only source of comfort you have.

You grimace. You really have become your father.

The table is cluttered with beer cans and unfinished plates of snacks. Kishibe sits silently in the corner. He’s opted to bring his own drink this time around and barely acknowledges you with a glance. There are a couple other seniors you don’t recognise. With a bow that feels more perfunctory than it does respectful, you greet them and quietly slide into the booth.

Quanxi sits across from you, calm and collected like always. She doesn’t say hello to you with the same enthusiasm that her colleagues had, though she does nod and subtly raise her glass at you. Flustered, you blink, you purse your lips, and then finally you get it together and smile at her, the same way one would when seeing an old friend. Sure, that isn’t what she is, she’s just your senior, but you’d rather stay on her good side. You’ve seen how she dealt with that Hirofumi boy when they both came back last year. As attractive as you found it, you also don’t want to end up being someone she regards coldly.

You shake your head. Why are you worrying so much about what she’d think of you? All she did was acknowledge your presence. Luckily, one of your colleagues (someone you recognise, thank god) notices you and starts to ask all about your day. It’s enough to keep you busy. It’s also surprising you aren’t drained yet, considering how much more talkative they are compared to you.

“This is why I’m trying to help you out of your shell!” they playfully chide once you trail off, feeling self-conscious. “We want to get to know you better! Don’t be shy. Come on, tell me. What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been—”

Whatever phrase you were thinking of immediately goes forgotten when you feel someone’s foot brush against your ankle. You’re nearly seized with panic before you make eye contact with Quanxi and realise that it’s her doing. Somehow, it doesn’t do much to calm your racing heart. She seems so nonchalant, casually smoking her cigarette as if she isn’t threatening to make a mess of you with something so simple.

They furrow their eyebrows in concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Sorry,” you reply sheepishly. “I’ve been… well, busy. There’s a lot of backlog I still need to catch up on.”

Quanxi doesn’t do much after that, something you’re thankful for. Perhaps she took pity on you. Tearing your gaze away from her, you turn back to your colleague with a strained smile. You hope they won’t notice how you’ve tensed up and how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“W-What about you?”

It’s even more surprising that you can still speak while feeling so tongue-tied. Your conversation partner starts to chatter away, talking about everything and nothing, which you try your best to stay invested in. It makes for quite a good distraction, and Quanxi doesn’t tease you again until your colleagues begin to leave one by one. Until you’re eventually left alone with her.

You bite the inside of your cheek nervously. Her surprising you earlier could’ve been an accident, so nothing is stopping you from going home. You should go home. It’s not like she wants you to stay, right? She’s probably waiting for you to leave so she can do the same thing. You try to think of a polite way to excuse yourself, but nothing comes to mind and the words are stuck in the back of your throat.

“You’re thinking too much.”

You’re sober. Sober enough to be able to function, but not enough to notice that Quanxi has moved to sit next to you with her hand on your thigh. She leans in close to press a kiss to your neck, an invitation. A promise. You watch as her lithe fingers teasingly skim across your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your core. Your eyes remain on her hand, how it feels pressed against you, so warm and perfect—

“Not here,” you breathe, “H-Home.”

The night passes by in a blur. Before you know it, she has you on her bed, your cheeks flushed and your clothes torn from your body. Everything feels warmer, stronger, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re tipsy or if it’s because you’re pent up, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t think of anything, not when she keeps taking your breath away time and time again with every roll of her hips. Moans and broken syllables of her name leave your lips, doused in lust and whatever remaining modesty you have left.

Once isn’t enough for her. Your thighs are trembling as she pushes you into the blankets, keeping a tight grip on your shoulder as the sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room. The lewd noises leaving your body make your cheeks burn, and you wonder if she can feel how warm they are against her thighs when she finally lets you return the favour with your tongue. You’re sloppy and unpracticed, you know you are, but when she says your name and tells you that you’re so good for her, your heart soars.

Eager to please, you stay for what feels like an hour before she has you on your back and her fingers inside you once again. She doesn’t stop until you’re a teary-eyed, trembling mess beneath her. She doesn’t stop until your voice is hoarse from how loud you’ve been. Sleep comes easy to you that night; once more, you nestle close to her side and drift off, completely spent. The same way you did last night; only this time, she doesn’t hold you.

She’s gone by the time you wake up, and her taste lingers on your tongue as you leave her apartment feeling satiated but hollow.

—

You don’t know when meeting up with Quanxi just to fuck became a regular thing, but it did.

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. You know it’s a bad idea when you always leave her place feeling used. Emotions have never been your strong suit—you’re not made to think, you’re made to do—but the whirlwind and the paradox have set you a few steps back. From what, you don’t know; all you know is that you can’t move on without her, without something more from her.

It bothers you how you both go back to work and act like you don’t know each other. It bothers you how she doesn’t even notice you when you happen to walk by. It bothers you how she feels so distant even though everything you’ve ever done with her has been things only lovers do. It bothers you how much you feel like you need her to satisfy you in more ways than what she’s currently doing. It’s not meant to be something serious. You’ve known that the moment she kissed you.

A distraction is all you are. A vice, like her drinks and her cigarettes and the other women. Something she has readily available to her, and because it’s Quanxi, you let it happen. You think she’s worth the turmoil in your mind. Why wouldn’t she be? She knows your body like the back of her hand, knows what you like, knows what you need. You’ll grin and bear it, accept the love she gives you on sleepless nights, and come whenever she calls.

Work has been busy enough for the past week or two. You were sent on a mission to somewhere in the south, ordered to exterminate a cluster of fiends and granted temporary leave after one of them managed to give you a nearly fatal wound. You don’t think she even knows that you were at the hospital until you had enough blood in your veins to heal again. It’s fine. Of course it is. She’s as busy as you are, if not more, and she has her own things to worry about.

You haven’t seen her in a while. Not at work, not at the bar you frequent. It harrows and relieves you at the same time because you feel her wherever you go. You walk in crowds hoping that she’ll be among them. You stay out hours after the work day ends hoping that you’ll bump into her. You keep your ears open hoping that you’ll hear something about her, or if you’re lucky enough, hear her calling your name. You don’t know how she’s woven her existence into your life this much, nor do you know what you want from her. But it’s not that necessary to put a stop to something you need, is it?

It’s fine if she doesn’t need you for anything else beyond sex. It’s fine that your love (is it even so?) goes unreciprocated. It’s fine if you feel cold in her embrace, and it’s fine that she’ll never be yours the same way you are hers. If this is a ‘bad idea,’ then you’ll make the most out of it—anything to keep you happy, anything to please her.

As long as she still knows your name, and as long as she still wants you, it’s enough.

It’s a particularly rough day when you leave an abandoned building with blood on your sleeves. You know your job isn’t done yet. There are reports you have to write, some civilians you need to check on, but you’re not confident that you can keep your impatience and anger under control. You’re tired, miserable, and you’re wondering if those pills do help you or if you’ve been lied to again. A cold shower and coffee weren’t enough to wake you this morning. The so-called soothing balm did nothing to heal the ache in your neck, and things went downhill insanely quickly. Today’s mission was the worst one you’ve ever had. You couldn’t save your partner in time. Their life was syphoned out of their body as they cried—no, begged you to help them, and all you could do was watch it happen.

The weight of your sword on your back feels heavier when you think of your failure today. A good craftsman never blames his tools. Can you say the same thing about yourself? Your weapon is an extension of you. The blade hasn’t dulled, but you have. It makes you feel even worse to know that you aren’t competent at the one thing you can do. If you were, you could’ve saved your partner, the one before that, and the others you lost along the way. Their blood will always be on your hands no matter how much you clean them. You’re quite sure there’s still a splatter on your shirt, but you are so, so tired. Stains are the least of your concerns.

The path to the bar is more familiar than it should be. You can barely register the worried and fearful glances people send you as you walk by them, exhausted and dishevelled. Hell, the bartender isn’t even shocked when you take a seat. He’s seen you more times than he can count. Not as many while you’re looking this beat up, though he takes it well enough. Wordlessly, he brings you your regular order. He doesn’t bother you again after that.

The burn barely fazes you anymore. You settle down the glass a bit harder than you should’ve, making you wince. You don’t want another thing to go wrong today. Quite frankly, you just want it all to be over, so you can retire, rest and visit the places you’ve always wanted to go to. Maybe get married, have a family, or adopt a pet. What a normal entails isn’t that known anymore. You’ll take anything at this point.

“Rough day?”

Quanxi leans on her side against the counter, running her gaze up and down your form. It should make you feel embarrassed, what with the current state you’re in, but you don’t think you can even care anymore.

You chuckle humorlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

It doesn’t occur to you until moments later that this is your first time seeing her in weeks. A part of you feels relieved to know that she’s fine, she’s here, and another part of you is in disbelief that she still wants to talk to you despite the state you’re in. You can’t decide whether that’s endearing or pitiable.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You’ve already made several bad decisions, what’s another one going to do? You can drink the whole night, or you can do something that’ll make you feel good and forget for a little while. You cut to the chase, staring down into the glass. “My place or yours?”

She blinks, bewildered, then she speaks up again, “You can come to mine.”

The world doesn’t come back to you until you’re in her apartment again, already out of breath as you try to keep up with her hungry kisses. They’re addicting, borderline overwhelming, but you always crave for more, more, more. Her hands are on your hips and tonight she touches you with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your other trysts. Her touches are featherlight, treating your body like it’s made out of glass, and for some reason unknown to you, it’s more than enough to make you break into tears.

You pull her closer, your arms wrapped around her waist as you sob into her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, only rubs soothing circles on your back and lets you cry your heart out. Conflicting feelings make their way into your heart, holding it tight within its suffocating grasp. You want her to say something, but at the same time, you don’t. You want to ignore everything, have her make you forget, but you also don’t want to.

Then you can finally breathe. Your cries turn into sniffles. Your breathing is shakier than it should be, but it gradually calms down. Her collar is stained with your tears, marked with your vulnerability, your weakness. It’s hard to speak. The silence kills you inside, breaks down every wall you’ve put up around you. You crumble before her, your nails lightly digging into her back as she gently lays you down on the bed. You’re still holding on to her when she tries to get up.

“I’ll get you some water,” she says. You think it’s the softest she’s ever sounded. Your hand lingers on hers for a moment before you reluctantly let her go, too worn out to ask or argue.

When she comes back, she crawls into her side of the bed. No words are shared as you curl up close to her. Her heartbeat steadily lulls you to sleep while she pulls you closer with her hand on your back, tucking your head beneath her chin.

And just like last time and the time before that, you wake up alone.

Your head hurts. Your body aches all over, hurting with the smallest movement, but you manage. Some water spills when you drink, which you haphazardly wipe away with the back of your hand. The clock on the wall tells you that you’re late for work, but you’re far too weary to move. Instead, you nestle deeper into the blankets, blankly staring at the nightstand as the city continues to live without you.

She didn’t leave you a note. Why would she? She’s not your lover; she doesn’t have to tell you anything. There’s a sense of urgency in the back of you should leave too. That there’s a busy day ahead of you, there are people and families you need to get in touch with, and there’s some loose ends that you need to tie up. It will get worse the longer you stall, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to care about it.

You don’t feel anything. You want to feel happy, angry, sad, anything, but you just can’t. Not when you’re on your own and the only company you have is the quiet. You don’t feel anything unless you’re in pain. You don’t feel anything unless you drink until you black out. But with Quanxi, you feel alive. With her, you don’t feel like a machine. You don’t feel like a killer, stained in the blood of those you failed to save. You’re someone she likes, at least enough to keep around for as long as she has. You’re someone she looks for when she needs you.

It’s not love. You know it isn’t. You don’t think she’ll ever love you the same way you love her. You’re not that oblivious to ignore what this truly is—pure unadulterated lust and desire, something to relieve stress whenever it arises. Days ago you cried until you had nothing left because you wanted more. Now, you just ignore it all. If it makes you feel good in the moment, makes you feel like you’re worth something, who are you to deny it?

You know you make bad decisions, ones that lead you to consequences you deal with alone like this one. You don’t care anymore. You never think twice. It’s just how you’ve always been.

You never think twice, but as the bed gets colder, you wonder if it’s about time you did.

[berryless]

OK, Mr Grim Stalker

Grim Reaper | Casper x Custom Female Main Character (PWP, NC-17 || 5k words || smut, fluff, dirty talk, consensual voyeurism, masturbation on camera)

Summary:

Casper was caught in 4K during call, and MC lives for it. They banter lots, tease each other, Casper's barking and begging.

!Warning!

Not Enterely Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Slight Canon Adjustments, Alternative Timeline, Canon Typical Angst and Mentions of Death/dying/etc (but nothing bad really happens, I promise) (at least not in this fic) (this is pure smut with just a sprinkle of warnings)

Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"You're blushing, Casper," Caha smiled, her head tilted as she watched him sputtering on the other side of the screen. Somehow the certainty of being seen made his usually perfectly coordinated limbs stiff and awkward. 

"…What are you wearing?" he managed in a strangled voice, habitually avoiding answering unwelcome statements.

"Oh, this?" Caha tugged on one of the straps of her top, and her breasts jiggled right in front of camera. Casper wanted to look away, but couldn't, eyes glued to the display. "Laundry day clothes. Be thankful I bothered to put on anything at all."

Did it mean she could've potentially been sitting there naked..? He tried really hard not to think about it, but failed miserably. A stupid thing, really. Not that he never reaped someone during the intercourse, or never saw other bodies naked—both things happened to him plenty of times. The problem was, those things happened with strangers he had no feelings for whatsoever, and so was able to stay perfectly calm and composed the entire time.

And Caha, as much as it pained Casper to admit it, wasn't such a stranger. She was a nuisance and a sole failure in his outstanding career, and, fuck, why was she leaning closer..?

Casper straightened up, squeezing himself into the back of his armchair, watching Caha's chest practically pressing against the camera as she fished for something. He never knew she had a mole there, right in between. Perfect spot for kissing.

"Lyusha says hiiii," Caha hugged the cat to her stomach and waved Lyusha's paw.

"Hi, Lyusha," Casper answered weakly, casually waving back. 

No, he wasn't at all disappointed with the creature's appearance. Or the fact that she was now babied to pieces, taking all of Caha's attention.

In fact he could stand not being watched for a minute or two.

Losing a glove in process, his right hand slid under the desk, brushing against the throbbing tent of his pants. Hells. It was infuriating how little Caha needed to rile him up.

Casper watched her scratching Lyusha's belly, breasts jiggling with each movement of her arms.

Caha had plenty of moles on her face, but he never knew… Right in between, huh..?

He propped his chin, leaning on his left against the table while his right hand was quietly pulling down the zipper. Unlike certain someone, he was dressed properly for the call. And now regretted it a little: sweatpants would've been easier to get around. Still, he managed. Without the constraints of tight clothes, his erection freely stretched the boxers.

Casper took a quick look at the screen, but Caha was still preoccupied with petting purring Lyusha sprawled on her lap with the most annoying baby voice accompaniment possible. 'Oh, who's the cutest sweetest little thing in the whole wide world' and 'yes, my darling baby angel, you guessed right, it's you' were spilling from her like they cost nothing, flowing right into his ears together with the endless kissy noises, like she was saying that to him.

She wasn't, though, and Casper couldn't help but look at Caha, voicelessly begging her to spare at least a crumb of that attention and affection to him.

She didn't notice, of course.

She never did.

Casper hid the lower part of his face under his left hand and took a first tentative stroke, still through clothes, lips tightly pursed to not let out the slightest sound, eyes on the screen, on that fucking mole, thinking only about how it would feel on his lips. Caha was so warm that one time he touched her. So soft. Even through his gloves, Casper felt that.

His lips would probably melt off on spot if he were to kiss her. Run his palms along her curves. Squeeze her chest, fingers sinking into soft flesh. Bite her collarbone, then neck, taking in the pulse of her life beating against his lips.

Now he could only bite on his glove and swallow down the swears as he slowly stroked himself. Quiet. He needed to keep quiet.

Caha paused, then smiled, eyes sparkling. 

"I was expecting a pretty please, but that's better."

She slipped out of straps of her top and then yanked it down, breasts bouncing free of fabric. Casper watched her, breath caught in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. Caha scooped them into her palms, fondling herself carelessly, fingers digging into flesh. That mole was there again, deep brown in jarring contrast against Caha's pale skin. 

"Well, how about it?" she asked, looking at him with a smile. "How do you like your bones, Grimmy? Are they up to your distinguished taste?" 

He tugged his left glove away with his teeth and ruffled his hair, shaking his head that felt two sizes too big all of the sudden. 

"You really want to see me barking at you like a dog, don't you?" Casper sighed helplessly. 

"Maybe. Is that the only thing you want to do with me?" 

 "…Hardly. If anything, I want so much, I can barely think human thoughts." 

Caha let out a satisfied laugh as she plopped back into the pillows. 

"Not a very good boy, are you now, Grimmy?" she teased, finger circling around her nipple. "With many, many naughty thoughts in that fluffy white head of yours, tsk, tsk, tsk."

"And who's at fault for that?" He couldn't help but glare at her, grating his teeth. 

"Yours, of course," Caha scoffed in a matter of factly manner, her chin raised high. "You could've been fucking me like an animal all you wanted, no thoughts, head empty, brain smooth and unwrinkled, but instead you chose this. Now suffer in the bed you've made. Or rather, in a chair. Touch yourself with those beautiful cold hands of yours, thinking about how mine would've felt. Warm. And soft. Very, very soft. No calluses, no rough spots. Wrapping around all of your length, one atop another, stroking, caressing and rubbing you all over."

"Hah… hngh…" 

Casper choked on his suddenly thickened spit. With Caha voice in his ears, saying stuff like that as she played with her tits, watching him masturbating, his body tingled all over, nipples tender and taut, hips thrusting into his hand by themselves. 

"Please… Talk more, Sunshine… Please… I want…I want to hear more…" 

She sighed in a way that made him tremble, then her right hand slid down again.

"It's not just my hands that are warm, you know? It should be much hotter inside my mouth. I'm not sure if I'd swallow you whole, you're kinda…a handful, in more ways than one, but the tip? I would've circled it with my tongue and taken it in. You know those ridges at the roof of the mouth? Right behind the front teeth? Bet they'd feel good against the skin, won't they?"

"…Yes, yes they would."

Hot sweet mouth. That sharp tongue of hers gliding all over him. She would definitely be all teethy about it, just to make him quiver in anticipation of a bite.

Hands on him, warm touch of them. Handling him with that tender carelessness of hers.  Soft, then firm, then soft again. Light scratches. 

Her face, her eyes, looking at him from the bottom up with that mischievous glint to remind him that she may be on her knees now, but it's him who's getting played. Defenseless and at her mercy. Getting the desired relief only with her permission.

"You're so pretty, Casper. So, so pretty." Caha whispered, words round and sticky inside her mouth, r's rolling from her tongue right into his head like pebbles, disturbing his already unstable mind. 

"Can't…take your eyes away…can you?" he scoffed weakly, trying to shake the picture away before he'd start begging out loud. 

"Can't."

"Knew…it. Ha. Good…you're finally admitting it. Told you…I'm charming…and irresistible…for your kind. Hah. Hngh. Fuck…"

He bit on his lip, squirming in his chair, close, so close… 

"I'm trying, believe me. You know…there is another hot and wet place beside my mouth I can put you in? One that'll take you whole. It's practically dripping now, I'll have to squeeze my shorts after this call, really, what are you doing with me… Better then, what you're not doing with me. When you could've. Honestly. You. Ugh."

He knew what she was talking about. Of course he knew. 

"Caha…" 

"It's hard to do it dry handed, isn't it? You're so sensitive, Casper. Bet it's grating to you without any lube, huh? I could've helped with that. Maybe. Depends on your attitude."

"Please…" 

"No. More."

"Woof..?" 

"Still no. More."

"Sunshine…please…"

"Please what? Use words."

"Please…help me. Please… I…I want…" 

"Yes?" 

"I want…this. You. I want…you…so much, I'm going…crazy. You're fucking up… my life…and my head…and my job…and I still… I… I… Caha… Sunshine… Please."

"…You're telling all this, but still aren't coming. Even though I have perfectly toasty dripping pussy to put you in. Swallow you whole and squeeze the life out of you. Or death. Or soul. Or something. I'm sitting here, wet heaving, frothing at my privates, begging to be stuffed. Begging, Casper. Contracting on nothing but air. Achingly empty inside. All those nice wet folds and pulsing muscles left unused when they could've been wrapped around your stupid pretty pink cock. Hot and tight, so, so, sooooo tight. Milking every last drop out of you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

That was the only thing in his head as Caha spoke, words and images blending together, all the fantasies about her he played on repeat swarming in at once, flickering under his eyelids in sporadic fragmented flashes: Caha with her legs spread wide, demanding to fill her; her again, palm pressed against his chest as she straddled him with that annoying cute irresistible smirk on her lips, her wet folds sliding against his cock, covering him in her juices; her again, hands on his shoulders, palm cradling the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin as he thrust inside her; her again, pushing his head between her thighs, fingers raking through his hair before grabbing a fistful of it right at the roots, the tug just the right amount of painful to feel pleasure; her again, eyes closed, teething on her lower lip, all her soft flesh and curves trembling while he mindlessly beat into her like an animal in heat; her again, riding his face, trembling and moaning, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place; her again, his teeth on her neck, biting and licking and biting again, leaving possessive marks in his wake, mine, mine, mine. Her body, her soul, her heart, everything, all of her, only his.

Nothing but her on his mind. 

Just like she wanted. 

Casper came and choked, gasping on air, dizzy and breathless, lost between fantasies and reality, not sure which was what. 

Caha looked at him from the screen, head tilted, pouting, her cheeks bulged. 

"Congratulations. Good for you. I still think I would've done a better job. Made much less of a mess. And you could've cuddled with me afterwards, and I would've kept you warm. Humph."

She turned her face away, but soon looked back at him from the corner of her eye, then turned even further, chin raised high, harrumphing again. 

How could someone be simultaneously so stinking cute and so fuckable? It was still a mystery to him. 

Casper leaned onto the back of his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, evening his breathing and heartbeat. 

Caha was so incredibly wrong about that one thing: she was the one who made all this mess in the first place. Unceremoniously squeezing into his life, into his head, carelessly breaking and destroying all the rules he upheld, all the things he thought were right, all the plans he had for the future, and triumphantly taking the main place among the rubble of his disorderly mind, crowning herself as she took all the space inside it, leaving no room for other thoughts. 

And a week later he was supposed to claim his rightful rewards for winning the bet and ferry her soul to the afterlife, never see her again, and turn back to the life he had before he ever knew her. 

Yeah. 

She couldn't have made a bigger mess if she tried. 

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 4

ch.1, ch.2, ch.3

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: or: Sebastian is a gremlin bahahahahahahahahahhaahahaha

I want to reiterate that this fic is REALLY CANON DIVERGENT!!!!! I will NOT be following the game’s plot at all really with this (it really starts to diverge around chapter 6/7 maybe I don’t remember), and I don’t see Eloise as the game’s MC either.

"SEBASTIAN SALLOW!"

Eloise jumped at the ferocity of the voice, and looked up as the boy in question was bounding down the steps of the Entrance Hall. He came to a quick halt as he reached her.

"Eloise! Fantastic to see you. Come along then, we must be off on our excursion to Hogsmeade."

He glanced over his shoulder as he grabbed her by the hand, using his other to push open the door. Eloise was so flabbergasted by his behavior that she completely forgot the mortification she had felt right before his arrival.

When Professor Weasley had put her on the spot and asked her who she would like to accompany her to Hogsmeade, of course she had said Sebastian. Natsai was nice, of course, but she had spent more time with Sebastian and felt comfortable around him. What she hadn't known however, was that Professor Weasley was going to leave that very moment to find Sebastian and that he was going to be pulled away from whatever he was doing to escort the new girl to Hogsmeade. She had been waiting in the Entrance Hall, wondering if it would be possible to vanish in mid-air from embarrassment alone when Sebastian made his arrival.

"It's nice to see you too, Sebastian," Eloise said as she was dragged across the grounds. "But...I was preparing my apology for you right before you arrived...I-I didn't know that it was going to be so..."

"Nonsense!" he interrupted, looking behind them again. His face was flushed and his hair particularly unruly. Apparently not liking what he saw, he picked up the pace considerably as a look of alarm spread across his face.

"SEBASTIAN SALLOW!" Sebastian's face paled as his name was called out again, and he broke into a run, bringing Eloise with him.

"Come on! I can't let her catch me." Eloise chanced a glance back and saw a stern looking woman walking briskly towards them.

"But Sebastian, it's just an old lady," she protested. Her shoes weren't fit for running and she was already feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Why can't we slow down?"

"Hah, just an old lady," he scoffed. "That, my friend, is Madam Scribner, and the reason why I am currently running. She is not one to be taken lightly."

"Sebastian," Eloise panted. She really needed to find a way to get in shape; dancing waltzes had been her main form of exercise for the last few years and it hadn't prepared her to be sprinting away from Hogwarts like this. They were nearing a bend in the road, and she pulled on his hand to slow him down. "Please explain."

"Oh, very well. I was just in the library, humbly trying to study, when all of a sudden the librarian decided she didn't like the look of whatever it was I was doing. As she was walking over to no doubt give me detention, I was saved by Professor Weasley and I beat a hasty retreat. Alas," he added, sighing dramatically. "It seems I wasn't quick enough because she managed to follow me."

Eloise giggled. They had slowed to a halt and were standing in the middle of the path.

"Well, it certainly seems we've lost her now."

"I don't think she can spend too much time away from the library or she loses some of her life force," confided Sebastian. He looked down and noticed he was still holding her hand, which he promptly dropped. Both of them colored slightly and he cleared his throat loudly. "Anyways, we can keep going. I apologize if my escort services have been unsatisfactory up until now."

This more leisurely pace - Madam Scribner had apparently given up on her chase - allowed Eloise to now take in their surroundings and they took her breath away. To their left was a huge, dense forest, but it was their right that captured her attention. Hogwarts was beautiful. The castle seemed to grow out of the rocky outcropping it was built on, perfectly blending in with its surroundings. The Black Lake sparkled under the late summer sunlight. Birds were singing in the background, and small groups of students occasionally passed them.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Eloise glanced at Sebastian, who was watching her. She nodded and turned her gaze back to Hogwarts. This was what she had always dreamed of. "I can't believe I'm actually here."

Sebastian just smiled in response.

"So," Eloise said after a while. "Researching forbidden topics in the library?"

"Oh yes," Sebastian replied, nodding. "It's one of the only worthwhile things you can actually learn at this school, and for some reason all of the best information is hidden away in the restricted section. Why even have the books at all if nobody's allowed to actually look at them?"

"You know? I completely agree with you," Eloise said, thinking back on her own childhood. Her family had an extensive library built up for generations, and her parents certainly never paid attention to what she was reading. Although most of what she had read had been age appropriate, she had gotten her hands on some books on dark magic.

They had been infinitely more interesting to her. She didn't know if it was the subject matter itself, or the thrill of reading something she knew was forbidden. "Some of the most interesting books I've read have been about topics that most would consider taboo."

"Maybe you could accompany me sometime then," Sebastian said, looking sideways at Eloise with a smile. "I haven't found many like-minded individuals during my time at Hogwarts."

"Maybe I will. Oh!"

A flurry of black creatures broke out of the treetops of the forest to their left.

"Thestrals," Sebastian said. "You can see them too? Most people would just see the trees moving and assume it was a sudden gust of wind."

"It's a fairly recent development." Eloise still felt guilty for how she didn't feel about Mr. Osric's death, and didn't quite know how to respond. "You know how I was attacked by a dragon yesterday? The man who accompanied us was ripped to shreds right in front of me. The thestrals pulling our carriage materialized right in front of my eyes and seeing them is actually how I realized I had just seen a man die."

Sebastian was silent for a while, digesting what she had said. Eloise avoided looking at him, embarrassed by her newfound penchant for oversharing. Stupid, she thought to herself. Why would a boy you just met want to hear about the gory death you witnessed? Who cares if you two were just casually talking about topics that most wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole? I bet he's already regretting coming with me instead of accepting punishment from -

"That's quite brilliant, actually," Sebastian said, interrupting her thoughts. He immediately blushed and hastily added, "well, not the fact that it happened to you. But, seeing a real dragon up close must have been quite exciting."

"It was," Eloise replied. "I'd only read about them before. In the moment, I wasn't thinking about my life being in danger or about seeing Mr. Osric die. My brain focused on the weirdest things..."

"By the way," Sebastian added. "How do you know about thestrals? Ominis told me you were raised in a muggle orphanage.

At that, Eloise laughed. She didn't know why, but she was quite pleased that Ominis hadn't spilled her secrets, even to his best friend. "Not all of the rumors about me are actually true, you know. And Ominis should know better! We talked last night in the common room, after everyone had gone to bed. He might be the only one who actually knows almost everything."

"That ass! I should have known something was up the way his mouth kept twitching as he spoke," Sebastian said. "But since I saw you two talking so much this morning in the common room, I figured that he probably knew more than the rest of us."

Eloise was mortified. "Did everyone see us talking?"

"Well, you are quite the hot topic among the student body today. Nobody knows anything about the mysterious new girl, but plenty would love to get to know you better. Haven't you been hearing everyone whispering today at all?"

"Honestly, no," Eloise admitted. She didn't really want to know that everyone was talking about her, although she probably could have reached the conclusion had she considered the possibility. She held out her hand and lifted her fingers as she listed things off. "First, I arrived with a bang last night after almost being murdered by a rogue, homicidal dragon. I'm a brand-new fifth-year who has never held a wand before in her life, and I need to make sure I don't fall behind. I'm also focused on besting certain cocky boys in Defense Against the Dark Arts." At that, she shot a sly glance at Sebastian and was pleased to see him smile at that. "So no, I haven't yet found the time to listen to the rumors flying around about me."

"Mark my words, we'll have a rematch soon," Sebastian assured her. "God, I can't believe I was beaten by a girl who never used magic before." This time it was his turn to give her a sly smile before adding, "it must be because I was blinded by her beauty."

They were fast approaching a small covered bridge that led to a lovely little village. Eloise had stopped to gape at Sebastian, who took the opportunity to cross the bridge before her, turning around and raising his arms with a flourish as he walked backwards. "Welcome, fair lady, to Hogsmeade. The only fully magical village in all of Britain! Feast your eyes on the quaint storefronts, the colorful locals, the - ow! What was that for?"

Eloise had caught up to Sebastian and hit him on the arm lightly. "Sebastian, stop," she hissed. "People are looking at us. I've had enough of it for one day."

"Oh, fine," he replied. "I was just trying to give you the full tour like Professor Weasley asked, but since I didn't actually stay to hear what she was telling me, I may have missed a part or two. I shudder to imagine the sort of torture she might come up with if she hears I didn't give this my all."

Eloise was laughing now. "I may have just met her, but I have a hard time imagining that she could come up with anything awful. Besides, I doubt she told you to tell me to break all of the rules, or that you should act like a fool."

"Hey, not fair," said Sebastian, sauntering up the road. "I might be many things, but never a fool. So, what sort of things do you need to pick up today?"

Eloise looked at the list that Professor Weasley had given her. "Well...I lost everything yesterday. So, I need to get a lot. Potion ingredients, textbooks, some more clothes...oh! And I'll finally be getting a wand of my own."

"How about we meet back up in a few hours? I think that should give you enough time to explore Hogsmeade and pick up everything you need. I actually need to run a few errands myself. After, we can inaugurate your first trip to Hogsmeade with a stop at The Three Broomsticks! If you want, I can show you where all the shops are."

"No, it's fine," said Eloise. "I don't want to impose on you too much, and I think I'll enjoy the opportunity to explore without dragging you along with me."

Eloise found herself enjoying her time exploring the village more than she had expected to. Although she had grown up surrounded by magic, there was something being profoundly different about being in an all-magical settlement like this. And the people she ran across seemed genuinely happy.

In her family, there had always been an air of disdain for anyone they considered below themselves, and they hadn't mingled much with others outside of social events. Even the attitude among the muggles she had studied with in the other school had been more elite, those girls having similar qualms about socializing with others. When they had ventured into the closest village on occasion during their daily walks, the girls had always made a point to stick close together and avoid the villagers.

Because of all of this, Eloise found it quite refreshing to be among people without sticking out so much, allowing herself to take her time and explore.

She went to Ollivander's last. Being close to the hour she figured she was to meet up with Sebastian again, it was perfect timing.

Walking through the door, it was immediately apparent that the place was special. The magic was palpable in the air, similar to the feel of Hogsmeade itself but amplified. It almost felt as if Eloise were to reach out, she would be able to cup it in her hands. A shimmery feeling just outside of her perception.

A small bell in the doorway rang as she entered. She looked around the tiny store in awe, realizing that the in the tiny boxes filling the floor-to-ceiling shelves were each filled with a wand. One of the biggest disappointments she had had to overcome as a younger girl had been coming to terms with the fact that she would never be able to own one herself. After Leo had come home from Diagon Alley that first time, brandishing his own wand, Eloise had been filled with a jealousy she hadn't known she was capable of. The jealousy had morphed and turned into something much darker...a simmering resentment...when it had finally been confirmed that she was a squib.

"Oh! I wasn't expecting customers." A small man had come out from behind the counter, blinking at her from behind his spectacles. He gave her a curious look, taking in her appearance. "Normally I have the one rush before the school term starts, but it's always younger children than you. May I help you?"

Eloise smiled at him, too excited about the prospect of finally getting her wand to be annoyed at his blunt tone. "I'm actually just starting Hogwarts now, I don't have my -"

"You must be the new fifth-year I was told about." At this, he beamed at her as he shook her hand with gusto. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. My name is Gerbold Ollivander. I can only count on one hand the number of times I have had the pleasure of matching a wand to an older customer. It's so much more challenging; a young child isn't as set in their ways and is quite malleable, whereas an older student..."

He trailed off as he began to sort through the different boxes surrounding them. Mumbling more to himself than anything, "I need to stop trying to guess what a person is like, but...I wonder..."

"Please put out your arms, miss..."

Eloise obliged, and a tape measure came out from behind the counter to hover around her and take her measurements. It was telling the figures to Mr. Ollivander as he continued to peruse the shelves.

If the air wasn't humming with magic, Eloise rather thought that she might feel claustrophobic in such a cramped, tiny shop. Instead, she felt euphoric. Mr. Ollivander hadn't given her any time to respond and continued to talk to himself as he looked through the different wands. Although he had said that finding the correct wand for her could prove to be challenging, he appeared excited at the prospect rather than apprehensive.

Mr. Ollivander handed Eloise the first wand.

"Pear, nine and three-quarters inches," he said. "Unicorn hair, pliant. Try it out."

As soon as the wand was in her hand, it felt wrong. Ollivander immediately snatched the wand out of her hand and gave her another.

"Try this one. Cherry, phoenix feather, 9 inches."

After many failed attempts, Eloise was beginning to despair. If they couldn't find the wand for her, would she be sent back to the muggle world? Ollivander, on the other hand, was somehow getting even more excited with every wrong wand.

Finally, Ollivander hesitated before giving her the last wand. It was nondescript, very different from some of the flashier looking wands she had tried before. After so many attempts gone wrong - a notable one had filled the shop with a putrid green smoke that took a while to dissipate - she wasn't about to get her hopes up when she saw the slender wand.

When she grabbed the wand from Ollivander, however, she just knew. Feeling the thrill of energy that went through her body at the lightest touch, and seeing the beautiful silvery sparks that sprayed out of her wand when she sliced it through the air were the final confirmation she needed to know that she did actually belong in this world.

She smiled triumphantly, looking at the dark brown wand with newfound joy.

"Very curious indeed," said Mr. Ollivander, regarding Eloise with thoughtful eyes. "Walnut, ten and three-quarters inches, extremely unyielding. A bond with this wand is a bond for life. It has a dragon heartstring core, and I remember the very dragon it came from. Extremely difficult to obtain...I almost died in the process. I've always known that the person who is chosen by this wand will be a very powerful witch or wizard. For good or bad, however...that is the question."

Eloise felt rather unsettled by Mr. Ollivander's sudden change in attitude, but the feeling soon passed. The excitement of finally having a wand of her own and spending the last few hours in Hogsmeade wasn't a feeling she could get rid of that easily. She turned her wand over in her hands, starting to admire its smooth polished surface and lack of design. It was thrumming with power and she was itching to use it.

She smiled at Mr. Ollivander.

"I'll take it."

[arthenaa]

Roots - S.S & O.G

SEBASTIAN SALLOW X READER X OMINIS GAUNT

PLOT SUMMARY: After an eventful fifth year, Ominis and Sebastian seems to be the people who know the hero of Hogwarts the best. Approached by an interested third year, the two best friends seem to realize they don’t know anything at all about Y/N beyond school.

DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts Legacy Spoilers, Canon divergent, can be read as platonic or romantic, Scamander brothers and Leta Lestrange is in this, mentions of Fantastic Beast plot, (i rewatched fantastic beasts ok and i love the scamander brothers so bad and I love these boys sm so I’m putting them in one fic), setting is set on FB era but with the the same teachers in HL, mentions of bad home environment on MC’s past, MC is a half blood, MC vents her feelings, im mostly spewing shit out of my ass in this one, she/her pronouns and feminine terms are used.

Out of the trio, Y/N has always received the most attention. Due to her great efforts and contribution to the defeat of Ranrok and saving the wizarding world, eyes are constantly on her and whispers of her achievements flutter around the halls of the castle. This had never bothered Ominis and Sebastian of course. They had always seen you as the flustered and clumsy fifth year walking up to the podium to be sorted. You had always been the center of their attention. They had been with you through most of your ups and downs during your first year as a 5th year in Hogwarts. Stuck with you through various situations and had defended you from those who had tried to harm you and so they had the honorary badge of being called your “best friends.” They took pride in being the people closest to you and it would sometimes be borderline possessive according to Imelda Reyes but Sebastian simply rolls his eyes and tells her to bugger off. That was what they thought, until recently.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about her at all?” Yrma’s face forms a look of disappointment. Ominis cringes at her tone before Sebastian makes a noise of disagreement.

“So?”

Yrma Greenland glances between the two as they stand in silence. The third year had been an avid fan of the Hero of Hogwarts after witnessing her magical prowess against raiders and poachers during an eventful night of trying to rescue a niffler. It almost made her cry as Y/N approaches her with an angelic smile. She had been trying to get to know more about Y/N Y/L/N and given that she was part of the Hogwarts School Journalism Club, it would be beneficial to her job as a journalist (definitely as journalist ….. and not for herself …) to know about her subject’s background.

“W-we do know stuff about her! Besides, why should we tell you? Isn’t this invasion of privacy?” Sebastian retorts as he leans against the pillar. Yrma rolls her eyes at the idiocy.

“I’m a journalist, I have to get information one way or another. What’s this stuff you know then?” She presses on.

“She likes monochromatic colors.” Ominis starts. “Quite skilled in Defence against the Dark Arts.”

“Loathes the pumpkin juice at the Great Hall. Has a specific chair in the common room that nobody dares to touch for some reason.” Sebastian adds. Ominis nods in agreement. 

“When she’s nervous, she wrings her hands to keep her grounded. Loves to twirl her wand like a pen for some odd reason. A beast magnet. She can sleep anywhere as well. Did you know she once slept standing very still—“ 

“I do not want to hear about your obsession with Y/N Y/L/N.” Yrma halts Ominis’s ramblings about the witch with a furious look. “I’m talking about her background. Where’d she come from? Is she a half-blood, pure or muggleborn. THAT’s what I’m looking for.” 

The two Slytherins look at the Ravenclaw with a baffled look. Yrma can only stare at them with an amused look.

“Seriously? Two years and you two don’t know anything?”

“I mean she hasn’t talked about it!” Sebastian tries to defend himself. He turns to Ominis who looks like Salazar Slytherin had asked him to commit crimes worthy of Azkaban. “Ominis? Did she tell you anything at all?”

“…I always assumed that she was muggleborn.”

“So I take that you know nothing at all?” Yrma sighs. A chill runs down both of their backs at the revelation. “Some best friends you two must be.”

Yrma grumbles in disappointment on not being able to get information about the Hero of Hogwarts before leaving the pair. Ominis and Sebastian only wallow in their misery in silence.

“I can’t believe this Ominis.” Sebastian’s voice is weak. Ominis nods in agreement. It was never brought up throughout your stay in Hogwarts. Everyone was also quite open with their backgrounds so it was never an option to be brought up in a conversation. Your achievements have overshadowed your personal background as a young witch. No one had even questioned your blood status or where you had come from. Sure it was discussed when you had first entered as a late student but that too had been overshadowed by the dragon attack you and Professor Fig had endured. Somehow, you had become something they knew so well and knew nothing about at the same time.

“At this point, I’m just curious about it.” Ominis breaks the silence. Sebastian glances at his friend before nodding. Why would you not bring it up though? You had experienced Sebastian’s family situation, listened to Ominis’s complaints about his crazy family. It should’ve been an opportunity to bring up but you had always listened rather than talked. Surely, you would’ve talked about it if you felt comfortable enough with them right?

Right?

_______________________________________________________________

 “Why do you two looked like someone pissed in your butterbeer and manipulated you into thinking that it’s not piss?” Imelda Reyes looks down at the two Slytherin boys lounging in the common room with frowns in their faces.

 “Gross. You needn’t be so crass on your comparisons.” Ominis groans. Imelda rolls her eyes as she sets her broom down beside the couch before sitting in front of the fireplace. 

“I hear people from the ministry are coming to visit.” Imelda starts as she looks back at the two. “Some sort of assessment, I suppose.”

“From the ministry?” This catches Sebastian’s attention. “Why?”

“Not sure.” Imelda shrugs. “I think it’s because of Professor Hecat and her assistant. What’s his name?”

“Dumbledore.” Ominis flatly replies from his seat on the couch. 

Imelda furrows her eyebrows as she stares back and forth between the two. “Seriously? What is the problem with you both?” 

Ominis sighs before properly sitting up. Sebastian on the other hand continues to flail in his seat. The young Gaunt feels his wand as he contemplates his thoughts before asking Imelda a question.

“Do you know anything about Y/N?”

Imelda tilts her head in confusion. “She’s a Slytherin and gifted with the broom—Wait, why are you asking me that question? Shouldn’t you two know the answer?”

“Not that, Imelda.” Sebastian chimes in as he sits up, elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I meant about her as a person.”

Imelda falls silent for a few moments before she lets out a huff of amusement. “Merlin.”

“Right?!” Sebastian whines before slumping back on the couch. “I don’t understand how we both barely know anything about her despite knowing her for 2 years. I mean, I knew Ominis wet his bed when he was 9 within the first 3 months of my first year!”

“Sebastian!” Ominis flushes in embarrassment. Imelda chuckles at the information.

“Well, I mean. The gal’s a powerhouse. I doubt people would be focused about her roots rather than her achievements.” Imelda replies. “I thought you two would know more about her considering you two hover like a hawk.”

“I do not do that.” Ominis retorts. Imelda nudges his knee before laughing.

“Yeah, didn’t know you were quite humorous, Ominis.” Imelda teases. Ominis turns his head towards her, sending a glare to her direction.

“I’m just kind of concerned why she hasn’t told us anything…” Sebastian quietly responds as he watches the fire flicker in front of him.

“Well, guess you’ll just have to find out then.” Imelda grins as she notices a familiar figure walking over to them. The two sulking wizards were too busy with sulking, not noticing the subject of the conversation standing in front of them. Y/N looks at Imelda for context and the Quidditch player only shrugs before standing up and grabbing her broom. She pats Y/N’s shoulder as she passes by her before whispering a “good luck” as she’ll definitely need it. Y/N only looks at Imelda’s disappearing figure in confusion before turning to her dearest friends.

“Ominis? Sebastian?” Her voice shocks both boys as they flail around to sit properly.

“Merlin’s beard. You scared us.” Sebastian massages his pounding chest as you only chuckle in amusement. Sebastian’s not sure if it’s because you scared them with your arrival or it’s because seeing you that his heart seems to pound out of his chest. You sat in between them, squeezing Ominis’s arm to acknowledge his presence.

“Where were you? We didn’t see you at DADA.” Ominis says as he feels for your hand, grasping it in his palm before interlocking your fingers together. You can only lean your head back, eyes closing due to exhaustion.

“I was with Professor Black. Got called up for something important.” You sigh as you squeeze Ominis’s palm. A hand begins to pet your hair causing you to open your eyes and look at the culprit. The Sallow boy only smiles as he presses a soft kiss against your temple. 

“The headmaster himself, huh? That’s the hero of Hogwarts for you. Always in for something important.” Sebastian teases. Y/N rolls her eyes, shoving him lightly.

“Stairs are a crime. If only I could just travel the castle on a broom.” You complain.

“Imelda’s been there, done that. Detention for a month, I recall.” Ominis leans his head on your shoulder, basking in your lovable scent.

“You battle trolls for breakfast and all it takes is a bit of stairs to rough you up?” Sebastian laughs as he continues to play with your hair.

“Oh, shut it, Sallow.” Soft laughter, escape your lips before a comfortable silence engulfs the three of you. It would’ve been comfortable had there not been a nudging thought banging against the heads of both boys. Sebastian feels a soft nudge against his shoulder, causing him to look over at the Slytherin descendant. An encouraging look is plastered on his face, and Sebastian internally groans at it. 

“Hey, Y/N. We have something to ask you abou—“

“Is Y/N Y/L/N here? You’re needed by Professor Weasley!” A student had shouted out in the common room. The young witch groans before sitting up. The opportunity of asking leaves before Sebastian can even grasp it.

“I’ll see you both later in the Undercroft, okay?” Y/N smiles before placing a kiss on both of their foreheads. She then dashes off to Professor Weasley, leaving the two in silence.

“You should’ve asked faster.”

“How should I know?!” 

______________________________________________________________

 “She should be here by now.” Sebastian taps his foot against the marbled floor. Ominis can only lean against the pillar. The two had been out of their minds ever since the incident with Yrma Greenland. At this point, they just want to spend time with you. Having finally decided that you would eventually tell them on your own terms as they had done with theirs.

Humming distracts Ominis as he hears the tune from the DADA classroom. Leaving Sebastian grumbling on his own, he lets his wand guide him to the sound. The humming grows louder as he softly pushes the door open. He senses a person inside, unfamiliar to that of Professor Hecat and the new assistant. A gasp signals Ominis that the person has acknowledged his presence.

“The classrooms are restricted at this hour. You’d have to go to the Faculty area to talk to Professor Hecat.” He calmly talks as he senses his the person’s figure in front of him.

“I-I don’t mean to intrude. I was just looking around.”

“As I said, these rooms are restricted at this h—“

“It’s alright, she’s with me.” A new person enters the room. A man, Ominis thinks. 

“Apologies for being rude, but who are you?” Ominis sighs. The man chuckles as he feels him walk towards the other person, a woman. About to introduce himself, another presence enters the room.

“Ominis! You left again without saying anything.” Sebastian grumbles annoyed. Ominis looks away from the direction of his voice, not responding to his sudden disappearance. The Sallow boy then glances to the other two people in the room. A man and a woman stood in the classroom, casually staring at the interaction between the two of them. They were dressed formally and seemed far different from how their teachers normally dressed. This must be the ministry visit Imelda was talking about, Sebastian thinks.

“I take that you’re from the ministry?” Ominis reads Sebastians' thoughts. The Sallow turns to him in amusement. “I notice that your presence is unfamiliar.”

“You’re correct.” The man answers. “We’re here for an important matter. We were once students like you and my fiancé wanted to roam the halls in nostalgia.”

The woman smiles at him. “I was also Slytherin, like you two.”

The man steps forward, moving closer to the two boys. “I assume Ominis here is a Gaunt? I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your father from time to time. It’s nice to see his son growing well here in Hogwarts.”

At the mention of his father, Ominis cringes to which Sebastian nudges his side. The man laughs at the look. “Understandable.”

Before the conversation could escalate further, two new voices were heard nearing towards the classroom.

“I’ve told you multiple times. We could’ve done this visit on a free day! Not during a day of classes, Newt!”

“You tell me as if I planned this whole thing.”

“Even if you didn’t, you probably instigated it. Everyone knows Theseus has a brother complex.”

“You know we can hear you right?” The man in the room yells before silence engulfs the halls. The door to the classroom opens and Sebastian looks back in shock to see Y/N with another man.

“Sebastian? Ominis? What are you two doing here?” You rush over to them. Ominis relaxes at your voice. You look back at the two other figures in the room. “This is an awkward sight.”

“Awkward? Really? We’re your family.”

“Soon to be. My sister still hasn’t married you.” You snorted. The two turn their heads fast as a Thestral towards you.

“Sister?!” The Slytherin boys exclaimed. The woman smiles at the interaction. You smile sheepishly before looking at the three other people in the room.

“I suppose introductions are in order.” You start as you stand in between the two. You point your hand towards the taller of the two. “The man you first met is Theseus Scamander, Head Auror of the British Ministry of Magic.”

Theseus waves his hand before saying a quick hello. Your hand then points to the shy male standing near them. “This is Newt Scamander. Magizoologist. The Scamander Wrote our material for Beasts class.”

Ominis gasps in recognition before bowing in respect. The magizoologist reaches over to pat his shoulder.

“This is Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt, my best friends.” 

“And my sister, Leta Lestrange. Theseus’s fiancée. Works in the ministry as well.” Your eyes lock with Leta, who smiles proudly. You return an awkward smile.

"You're a Lestrange?" Sebastian whispers in shock.

"Well, half. We have different mothers. Mine's a muggle. Hence my different last name— but yes, essentially, I am a Lestrange." You reply quietly. Ominis and Sebastian acknowledge the new information in silence. You then turn towards the three and motion your hands to your friends.

“I-It’s nice to meet you all.” Sebastian smiles. The three smile at them.

“I suppose Y/N’s taken care of well then.” Leta moves closer to the two. Grasping both of their hands. “I’m grateful that my sister is in good hands.”

“Leta…” You flush at your sister’s words. Leta only pinches your cheeks.

“I suppose the two of you can join us tomorrow!” Leta turns to the Scamander brothers who nod in agreement. “We’ll be roaming around in Hogsmeade with Y/N. We’re hoping the two of you could join us. I want to learn more about you.”

Before the two could agree, Y/N intercepted the conversation. “I can talk to them about it. Don’t worry. Don’t you three have more important matters to discuss with Dumbledore and Hecat?”

She glances at Newt for help who moves quickly to grab his brother out of the room. The older protests but lets his brother drag him out. Leta laughs softly at the sight before walking over to Y/N and pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod in agreement before watching her leave the room. Once their footsteps fade away, you turn towards the two who stare at you for explanation.

“I know I haven’t talked much about my family—“

“You haven’t talked about it at all actually.” Ominis retorts. He sighs before moving close to you. “I didn’t mean to come off rude but I suppose we were kind of in the dumps earlier after realizing we knew nothing about who you were. It never even crossed our minds and I feel like we’re kind of bad friends because of that.”

“No! what are you talking about? You two are the greatest friends I’ve ever had.” You cup one side of their cheeks with your palms. “The fact that you two stuck beside me and treated me equally despite not knowing a thing is one of the many reasons why I hold you two dearly in my heart. It never really crossed my mind before about family because I had only just recently found out about Leta.”

Your hands slowly drop from their cheeks to hold their hands. You take a deep breath before looking up at them. You suppose after all that they’ve gone through and the fact that they fully confided themselves in you, the least you could do is tell them the truth.

“What do you mean?” Sebastian rubs his thumb against your knuckles. They comfort you in small gestures. Ominis in interlocking his fingers with you and Sebastian with his concerned gaze. They listen but don’t pry. It makes tears well in your eyes with how understanding they are.

“Before the start of my first year as a 5th year, before I met Fig. I originally lived in an orphanage. In the care of a muggle. I lived most of my life there, not caring where I had come from or who I was. People there said and did bad things.” You bit your lip as you recall the memories. Living there had been so bad. No one cared about you or the other children. The adults there only did their job and never took care of you. “Leta had been trying to find me for years with the help of Theseus and Newt. Luckily enough, an Auror who had been stationed near the orphanage had seen traces of magic. When Leta found me, I had been close to becoming an obscurial.”

Ominis and Sebastian huddle closer to you as you look down to the floor. “They had immediately taught me how to hone and express my magic despite being a late bloomer. Then they contacted Hogwarts and with the guidance of Professor Fig, I was agreed to be accepted as a 5th year.”

You look up at them with teary eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted to start anew. I still had time processing everything and what happened during my 5th year didn’t really help either but I had you two.”

You hugged them tightly. “You two became a foundation that helped me become who I am today. So, I think that you two are the best people I could ever ask for.”

Sebastian laughs softly before hugging you back. Ominis leans his head towards yours before rubbing your back softly. “Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us this.”

You press a soft kiss to their cheeks as you pull back enough to look at them but still stay in their embrace. The two of you hug in comfortable silence before pulling back.

“Now that that’s out of the way. Why don’t we head to the Undercroft to hangout?” You smile mischievously. A bottle of fire whiskey appears on your hands. “I got this bad boy from Theseus.”

“I suppose having connections to the Head Auror has its perks huh?” Sebastian teases. Ominis shakes his head as he follows the two out of the room.

“Might as well go all out.”     

________________________________________________________________

A/N: I hadn’t posted in a while so forgive any mistakes. I had just started playing HL (pirated it ofc) and had rewatched Fantastic Beasts so why not mush them all together HAHAHA. lmk your thoughts!

[im-immortal]

Small Miracles

Beth Greene is not dead. Though it is not for a lack of trying.

After eight long years spent in the CRM's grasp, struggling to find reasons to continue surviving, Beth finally finds her reason: Rick and Daryl are alive, and they are closer than she ever could've guessed. Now she must take advantage of her only opportunity to escape and track them down.

Along the way, she revisits all of the places that changed her into who she has become. And she is forced to remember who she truly is at heart despite how unrecognizable she finds herself.

But she has an unexpected ally along for the journey. Just the same as her, he is somewhat of a living miracle. Except he's no longer living... he's a walker.

[Moonshine Awards 2023 Third Place Winner for Best WIP ZA, and Second Place Winner for Best WIP Reunion/Fix It!]

Chapter 21 // Part 13: The Car

Beth presses her foot on the gas pedal and drives out of the garage, watching in the rearview mirror as Yesenia and Elba wave goodbye. She feels tears pooling in her eyes and quickly blinks them back. It never ceases to amaze her how, in this new world, such strong and meaningful bonds can be formed in such short amounts of time. As she drives down the road and toward the gate, which is slowly sliding open, Mae leans out the passenger window and waves to Yesenia, Elba, and Guillermo. And then they are pulling out of the gate and onto the cracked street outside of Nuevo Atlanta.  The morning sun is slowly rising higher into the sky, casting a stark brightness across everything. Beth speeds through the streets until they reach the city limits and a sign that says they are leaving Atlanta. Even as she knows they are entering unknown territory and even more unknown dangers, she can’t help feeling as though a weight has been lifted from her shoulders: she has her weapons back, a car, and a refreshed store of supplies. Not to mention, she’s had two whole days of good food and real rest. She leaves both Grady and Nuevo Atlanta in the rearview mirror. The wind rushes in through the open windows, and as they reach the open, desolate freeway, Mae lets out a wild laugh. She turns to Beth with a grin that is slowly fading and turning to a frown of worry with every mile they put between themselves and the sight of the Atlanta skyline. “Beth.” “Yeah?” “Do you… do you think we’ll make it? Like, really make it?” Beth glances in the rearview mirror to catch Gale’s milky white eyes. They exchange a discreet smirk. “We already did.”

[theladyofshalott1989]

Queer Hogwarts: Legacy Fanfic Masterlist

Hogwarts: Legacy fans, whether you be a creative yourself or a content consumer, send me your queer content and recs! I will update this list regularly. LGBTQIA+ inclusive Guidelines for Submission: - The main pairing should be on the LGBTQIA+ Spectrum - If the main pairing isn't queer, then the author should be - Self-recs are welcome and strongly encouraged! - Please include the author's username, a link to the fic or series, any pertinent categories, and specify any possible triggers and/or warnings (same as you would do for AO3). Note: I will do my best to double-check for triggers and warnings as well.

List of fics after the cut:

Sebastian Sallow x Male MC (m/m) fics:

Angst, happy ending, post-canon, multi-chapter, Transmasc main character x Sebastian Sallow, werewolves as queer allegory, trans and gay author (@heyitszev on Tumblr):

✪ To be Loved is to be Changed series by Unreliablenarrator on AO3

The events of Hogwarts: Legacy through post-canon, multi-chapter, Sebastian Sallow POV, bisexual Sebastian Sallow, friends to lovers, banter, Ravenclaw Male main character x Sebastian Sallow, relic possession (@theladyofshalott1989 on Tumblr) *Content warnings: The second multi-chapter fic ("Burning Bright") is underage explicit.

✪ The Like Moths to a Flame Series by TheLadyofShalott1989 on AO3

Coming of age, post-canon, multi-chapter, Multiracial Slytherin Male main character x Sebastian Sallow (@dom1re on Tumblr):

✪ The Keepers by domire on AO3

Imelda Reyes x Nerida Roberts (f/f) fics:

Fluffy romance, broken friendship, found love, love confessions, first kiss, one-shot (@amberlide on Tumblr):

✪ Reflection by Amberlide on AO3

Imelda Reyes x Female MC (f/f) fics:

Romantic gesture, Quidditch team spirit, banter, post-canon, one-shot, Gryffindor Female main character x Imelda Reyes (@ellivenollivander on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Explicit:

✪ My Colours by Ellivenollivander on AO3

Mirabel Garlick x Female OC (f/f) fics:

Muggle/witch relationship, fluff, introspection, declaration of love, one-shot (@libellule-ao3 on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Mature rating, implied sexual content:

✪ Late Bloom by Libellule_Sulfureuse on AO3

Natsai Onai x Female OC (f/f) fics:

Established relationship, fluff, introspection, one-shot, werewolf Female OC (@boxdstars on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Nondescript gore mentioned in passing:

✪ Cold Mornings by boxdstars on Tumblr

Poppy Sweeting x Female MC (f/f) fics:

Developing relationship, post-canon, multi-chapter, Slytherin Female main character x Poppy Sweeting (@celestial--sapphic on Tumblr):

✪ Kiss me (like you wanna be loved) by Celestial__sapphic on AO3

Friends to lovers, idiots in love, slow-burn, post-canon, multi-chapter, Hufflepuff Female main character x Poppy Sweeting (@espressoristretto-patronum on Tumblr):

✪ To me, she is the sun by espressoristrettopatronum on AO3

Poppy Sweeting x Female Reader (f/f) fics:

Friends to lovers, fluff, minor queer angst, post-canon, one-shot, second-person POV (@crushribbons on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Explicit:

✪ honeysuckle by crushribbons on Tumblr

Prewlow (Leander Prewett x Sebastian Sallow) (m/m) fics:

Trans male character, bi male characters, friends to lovers, Leander Prewett x Sebastian Sallow (@rypnami on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Implied/mild transphobia:

✪ more than anything by starryflight on AO3

Sebinis (Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt) (m/m) fics:

Pining, banter, chess, post-canon, one-shot, Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow (@the-invisibility-bloke, @kis0_0kis on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Explicit:

✪ The Last Gambit, written by the_invisibility_bloke, illustrated by kis0_0kis on AO3

Garreth Weasley x Male MC (m/m) fics:

Multiple Player Characters, Canon divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slow-burn, Mutual Pining (@saibugslegacy on Tumblr)

✪ A Mourning Warning, written by saibugfics on AO3

Bisexual Garreth Weasley, POV Garreth Weasley, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Loss of Virginity, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Dark Garreth Weasley (@pheexblack on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Explicit

✪ Snake in the Lion's Den, written by PheexBlack (Shanza_Bonanza) &  OmbeodBlack on AO3

Poly fics:

Modern Day AU, F/M/M, one-shot, smut, Female MC x Sebastian Sallow x Garreth Weasley (@pheexblack on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Explicit:

✪ Dare-aoke Night by Shanza_Bonanza on AO3

Morally gray MC, post-canon, dark content, Anne & Solomon bashing, dubious happy ending, multi-chapter, Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x Gender Neutral MC *Content warnings: Explicit:

✪ Everybody Wants To Rule THEIR World by Jazlyn_Riddle on AO3

Multi-ship fics:

Fix-it, found family, multi-chapter, Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt, Anne Sallow x Female main character, eventual Anne Sallow x Female MC x Poppy Sweeting (@gothic-lottie on Tumblr) *Content warnings: Major and minor character death:

✪ The Tales of Isobel Morgana series by Gothic_Lottie on AO3

AroAce fics:

Trans Male main character, adoption, coming out (@endeavour12345 on Tumblr):

✪ First Encounters by Endeavour12345 on AO3

Let's goooooooooo! Send me ALL THE QUEER CONTENT (please and thank you) <3333333

Also, authors, if you see your content here and are not happy with how it is categorized, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE reach out to me and I will happily change anything and everything (even remove you from the list if you don't want to be on it!). THANK YOU, LOVELIES. You are loved and appreciated <333333 I should also note I've never done a masterlist before, so please bear with me as I'm learning. Phew. 😅😅😅

[hiramaris]

Welcome

Hi! You can call me Hira! To be honest, I'm not even sure why I'm even bothering to put something like this since I'll probably be busy for the next months or so but yeah, I'll just put it right here in case I'll ever accept any future requests or something.

Characters I write for:

So far I can probably write for any characters in Duskwood and Stardew Valley. Preferably for female characters 😉

This could change tho in the future if I ever decide to expand my writing for other fandoms (believe me, I read a lot of fics of other fandoms but that doesn't mean I'll be good at writing the characters. I prefer knowing how to write them first before starting any fic)

What Genre, Troupe, and Type of Fiction do I write, and plan on writing?

I'm open to all genres (fluff, angst, hurt and/or comfort, etc.) aside from any Dark themes, sorry.

Open to any available troupe out there except for cheating and anything that surrounds it.

I can do AUs, canon divergence, and canon compliance.

I just don't really do smut or any NSFW but anything above can be doable if I try.

Things I have written so far:

Dusk til Dawn (Jessy x Gender Neutral MC) - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 — COMPLETE

Dusk Fragments (Jessy x Gender Neutral MC) - #1, #2, #3

Kiss It Off Me (Haley x Fem!farmer) - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8— ONGOING