#i immediately regretted it when i realized i had to prepare spells but it's fine i have cards

[warlordfelwinter]

playing the dnd starter kit adventure so my friend can try dm’ing for the first time (she’s doing AMAZING, i can’t wait to be extremely annoying with celeste in a full campaign) and the only problem is i’m the only one who has listened to taz and the starter kit is at least the beginning of here there be gerblins and she described gundren and [checks notes] sildar walking in to the tavern and it took everything in my power not to shout “BARRY!!!”

[arcadejohn127-9]

Helloooooo I love your work so much. How would the brothers and undatables react to Micheal taking MC as a hostage because they want they want something from Diavolo.

Are you the same anon from before? 👀 People really like villian Michael and I'm here for it

Do I love the idea of a darker obey me? Yes, if the game was a higher age rating it would just be

Let's get into it

Warning: angst, kidnapping and blackmail

To see you alone was a blessing. You were normally swarmed by people all wanting your attention. How remarkable.

Michael watched you walk carefree down the streets of the Devildom, you were humming a tone he was not familiar with. Why were you alone? That was only a question you could answer but he didn't need the answer. He just saw this as an opportunity.

"it's been so long since we've seen each other."

"huh-? Who are- Michael? What are you doing here?"

You looked around, clutching the strap of your bag. You couldn't see him which only made you feel more uneasy. Your eyes scanned the street in hopes you'll find him but there wasn't a single person in sight.

It was work hour; Everyone was free off the streets meaning it was safe for you to walk outside without an escort. You're starting to now regret this freedom.

"just visiting, we've never formally met, have we? I'm not far up ahead - let's meet face to face, shall we?"

There was an alleyway up ahead. You weren't a fool - you were polite but not a fool. Human world, demon world, angel world - whatever world. There was no way you're following a voice to an alleyway when there's no one around. You could be hearing one of your friends voices and you'd still leg it the other way.

"I'm not sure about that....I should be getting back to the dorm."

"fine, but let's atleast say goodbye."

You nodded with a quick bye, believing that he would see. You quickly turned on your heel ready to run back to the dorm but you suddenly felt something wrap around your wrist.

You tried to turn. your vision went black. A hand was covering your eyes whilst you thrashed against their grasp. Your voice was lost as you the world around began to spin. The darkness only caving in quicker.

The next moment you suddenly sprung up. You tried to scream but there was something shoved in your mouth; it made your jaw ache as you tried to yank your hands away from the restraints. You were atleast thankful you could see but less thankful you couldn't remember how to escape being kidnapped. All those tutorials and videos just washed out of your brain due to pure mindless fear.

"Ah~! Diavolo it's lovely to see you! I was getting concerned this wouldn't turn on, you've stolen something that belongs me and I want it back - give me the relic in your father's tomb or-"

You stared as Michael began approaching, eyes flickering back to the screen. Michael was suddenly grasping your face, tugging it closer to him. Making sure you could be seen in the screen.

"say goodbye to your key to peace! I'm sure (Y/N) would agree their life is far more important than some relic."

You could just about make out for friends and you began screaming, shaking your head furiously.

Whatever Michael wanted you weren't going to claim it higher than your life. Is it stupid? Yes but without knowing the price of this sacrifice you didn't want to cause a doomsday. If it's worth kidnapping you for and being locked away in the old kings tomb; it wasn't going to be something simple and nice like a vase.

"As an angel I'll be merciful to you, you have until sundown in the human world, I'll be happy to keep little (Y/N) company~"

He grabbed your shoulders, grinning. You weren't sure what he was going to do to you. Was he going to hurt you? How long was it until sundown? All these questions made your head hurt, trying to hold back your tears as you kept shaking your head.

The screen suddenly turned off and you were left alone with the angel. Your body froze as you heard him laugh. You let out a whimper, crying as he circled around you.

Lucifer:

"My Lord, you can't give him that relic - it'll tear a hole into the realms-!"

But he knew apart of him wanted to say 'screw the three realms'

Mammon:

He just wanted you to be safe

Would he be safe if Michael holds the relic? No, you'd be in more danger

"It's 2 hours until sundown, his mercy is a joke, we need to do something now."

Everyone grew more restless as they tried to think of a plan

Lucifer looked back at the screen, hoping he could see what Michael was doing to you but there was nothing

He had to get you back!

"whatever he's asking for better be important or else you better hand it over, I ain't letting him keep his hands on them!"

He's furious

He didn't follow you out one time and now you've been kidnapped!

Levithan:

He wanted to desperately get you back home

Lucifer gripped his shoulder, telling him to calm down but he only frowned

"I can't- you assigned me to look after them and now they're who knows where! Do we even know where Michael took 'em?!"

Everyone froze for a moment

Realizing, there was no destination, no clues, no way to call Michael back

Their two hours needed to be spent wisely

"This is just like one of my games....BUT WORSE! what's the relic?! There's no way it could be more important than (Y/N)-"

You were the kidnapped royalty and he was going to be the determined Plummer

Satan:

Seeing how scared you look made his mind blur, just thinking of how to get you back

But Lucifer answered his question

It could rip holes into the realms

Michael was the final bad guy and he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to beat him

"What if this all a set up? What If he's already hurt them or kil- got rid of them, what are we going to do?"

"He couldn't possibly want- Prince Diavolo you're going to get (Y/N) back but if he gets that relic we're all good as dead."

He wanted nothing more to just get you back but he understood the risk

He was already planning a way to get you back

Asmodeus:

A sike on the relic - they get you back and Michael doesn't get it

But the question remained - where were you

He couldn't recognize the room but it was light up naturally

Wait-

"if it's 2 hours to sundown it would not be that bright if it's the human realm but he's basing it off one part of the planets time zone - the only other option could be the celestial realm, it's always daytime there."

The others looked at him stunned

He mewled over his thoughts, pacing back and fourth as he tried to figure out where you were

"What are we going to do?! When I said I'd love to see them tied up this isn't what I meant-! We have to get them back, can't we just get him a fake?!"

He was panicking

He could gather the relic was of high importance of Michael was going to go this far

Beezlebub:

But at the risk of you getting hurt or Michael doing something to you if they're not quick enough?!

Levi asked him to repeat himself, he immediately got grouchy and complained about his brother not listening

"we should get a fake, how is he going to know the difference unless he immediately uses it but we're faster than angels and stronger."

Belphegor piped in, reminding him angels are more advanced in weapons and magic

They all were starting to lose hope

Determined still but knowing the time limit and being unable to think of a full plan was getting to them

"You better figure out a plan or I'll go get (Y/N) myself, I'm not waiting for you to decide."

A threat to the prince?

Beezlebub knew that was risky but not getting you back was worse

Belphegor:

If he had to rely on himself to get this done then it'll be done

"That looked like Michaels training spot, if it's in the celestial realm then that's the safest space for him."

"If Michael wants to play like that I say we do the same for that relic, threaten to destroy it if he doesn't give back (Y/N)."

He was like his twin

Ready to get you by himself if he had to, no matter what

His sin wasn't going to hold him back this time

UNDATEABLES↓

He will get you back

Mammon snapped at him, reminding Michael wasn't fair and could of already done something to you

Or fake giving you back

"I'm not lazing around whilst (Y/N) could be getting tortured! Beel got an area and I say we go there and force him to give back (Y/N)."

Barbatos hummed, deciding to remain silent as he watched them think

Belphegor tried to force back a yawn but more kept coming

Diavolo:

"Please, understand this is a difficult situation - I want them back just as much as you all do but this has gotten bigger than some simple scheme."

He was devastated; you were in this situation because of him

He couldn't just let you sit there tied up with Michael

But that relic in his hands could reverse everything he's worked for

Barbatos:

What's even worse you could be hurt

"The brothers cant enter the celestial realm, that would be why he choice it - then only me and barbatos could do it."

It seems hope was completely completely lost

He had faith him and barbatos could save you but he couldn't just leave them waiting in the Devildom

He needed other people to help incase things went terrible

"If it'll put you all at ease, I have a solution but all of you need to listen closely and follow this perfectly."

The plan was to have the twins go together, have Solomon make a replica of both the key and the relic

+bonus chatacter

Diavolo face Michael 'alone' while the rest of them get ready to grab you and attack if things go south

Simeon would come with Diavolo to put the other angels at ease

"But for the brother's to enter I need to be able to use my powers properly, I'll reverse time on their body's but not their minds - it's a difficult spell but I can do it."

After all their angel forms were happily accepted and loved

But who they are currently were not

Michael:

"I'm glad you've decided to be reliable, I'm sure you're aware of the angels positioned outside, they're ready to fire as soon as you try anything."

He pointed to the openings, shining arrows aiming at the demon prince

He was prepared to stop his plan failing

But his disadvantage was undermining how much these demons needed you

Diavolo held the fake relic

You begged him not to; whilst with Michael he told you all about his plan, detailing how he was going to eliminate all humans and lesser demons

Diavolo demanded for you back but Michael just shook his head

"Relic first then the human."

and the trade was complete, Diavolo held you close to his chest

Michael twisted the egg shaped relic but screamed when he realized it was a fake

He ordered the angels to fire but they all aimed at him

He was struck down, the demon brother's replacing his archers

Diavolo handed you over to the brother's, they hugged you and fretted over your tattered state

"Take them....me and Michael have alot to talk about."

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 09 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 5.5k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Moonlight bellows in the background of the warm, golden-lit room—crashing and seceding, crashing and seceding, repeatedly colliding against the jagged rocks by the cliff like tidal waves out at sea in the deep sway of the black night. Under the hypnosis of the jet-black skies absent of the charming twinkling of the stars, you had somehow stumbled through the retreat to your room. You aren’t exactly sure what you had seen—and perhaps, out of consideration for your well-being, you simply don’t want to nor need to comprehend your sightings—but the glutinous image of the broken boy sticks to your chest akin to a dark secret weighing heavy on a sinner’s heart.

And somehow, amidst the long night looming ahead of you, the spur of emotions sweeps you before the door of his room.

Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat and whisper hesitantly next to the wooden frame, “...Hoseok?”

In the red-carpeted hall where dozens of fellow camp attendees rest until the next sunrise, you stand there wondering if Jimin had mistyped the captain’s room number on the emergency flyers. The overwhelming guilt of having pushed Hoseok to his breaking point, albeit unknowingly, had forced the heavy footsteps of yours to this very spot, but now that you’re faced with silence as an answer, you figure perhaps it isn’t in your fate to confront him tonight; it would be the easier way out, at least, for irrationality had bewitched you and plans on what to even say were the last things on your mind… until now.

Subconsciously, your knuckles meet the cold wax finish of his door once again.

One knock, two knocks, and alas, a sigh.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat, despite regretting your rash decision which had brought you here in the first place. You glimpse around to ensure that the coast was clear, and when the last sigh escapes your lips and the balls of your feet pivot to your left, only then does the door swing wide open.

“What do you want?”

Whirling around, you find Hoseok standing aside where one arm leans against the door frame and the other hides behind the door, clutching the gold handle. As you gaze at him in silence, too taken aback to make your next move, Hoseok stands there, heavy-lidded and jaws clenched, disgruntled by your late night appearance.

The uninviting glare of his elicits the uncomfortable shift in place of your footsteps. It’s a rare moment for goosebumps to rise and chest to constrict when in the presence of someone as playful and flirtatious as Hoseok, but the sudden cold mien of his persona now conveys to you that you’re not welcome here tonight.

“I… I was just…” your eyes dart to the floor as your mind crashes into auto-pilot, searching for any form of excuse other than the truth too unready to be exposed, “I couldn’t fall asleep. So—”

“—you could’ve texted me,” he refutes, brows furrowing, but all your eyes are fixated on are what appears to be beads of sweat dripping from his damp bangs. And when he notices the softening of your wandering eyes, his voice nearly drowns in the waves of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the buzz of the vending machine which shrills in your eardrums to this very second.

From the tee which drapes his upper body and his sweatpants which masks the witnessed scene weighing heavy in your heart, everything about him now would serve as the perfect facade of a normal captain disturbed from his sleep. But at least he's still up, at least he's still trying, at least he answered your call.

You want to believe he’s okay again, that everything you had seen was just a misunderstanding, but something tells you the sun won't be rising again after tonight, and that very thought plagues you of your sleep.

A few seconds pass as you scan him over in a confusing mixture of both disbelief and relief, when Hoseok half scoffs and half chuckles, frowning at your expression, “is something bothering you? You look like you're almost glad to see me for once.”

“...why are you sweating?” you blurt, his words completely missing you as your eyes fixates on the beads of liquid plastered across his temples and trapped in his brows.

“Sweat…?” Hoseok arches a concerned brow before pressing his lips into a thin line. “This isn't sweat… I just got out of the shower. What makes you think that, though?”

Your lips part, but silence ensues when you realize neither you nor him seemed prepared enough to tackle the true reason as to why you're here.

“Nothing… really. It was just the first thing which came to mind.”

Hoseok nods, eyelids weighing heavier and heavier as the conversation comes to an abrupt end. “So…” he drawls, “what do you need?”

“I didn't need anything, per se,” you emphasize, eyes averting to the side and away from his watchful gaze, “I just… wanted to talk. I didn't get to talk to you much today.”

Usually, at a point like this, Hoseok would tease you; “someone's a bit needy today, and I know you're pure and untainted and all, but shouldn't you at least know not to come begging for attention to a guy's room at midnight”—is what he would've said, but tonight, the tidal waves under the wavering moon dictates otherwise.

“Look, Y/N,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans his entire weight against the doorframe, “I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. I want to be alone.”

But does he? Because the gleam in his softened eyes, the windows to his soul, are begging you to accompany him through the long night.

“Are you… okay, Hoseok?” you ask, brows cinching in concern.

He flinches, but his brows immediately lift to mask the initial response. “...yeah,” he finally says after a long pause, taking a deep breath and sighing, eyes never budging from yours, “...I'm fine. Now go sleep if you're done badgering me.”

“Okay… you should sleep, too.”

“Yeah,” he utters under his breath, eyes glued to the ground as he mumbles, “I'll try.”

“Try…?”

“I have a lot of things on my mind and decisions to make tonight,” he explains with a final sigh, the void in his eyes lifting to meet yours once again, and you don't notice until now the purple-blue dark circles which only emphasizes the absence of his usual vigor. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

And ever so quietly, as if none of the conversation had taken place under the mist of the night perched high up on the mountains, the door closes on you, and the walls between you and Hoseok become thicker than ever.

You can't tell what's on his mind. You can't even tell what's on your own mind. All you can convey is the sheer dejection, the unusual lethargy radiating from Hoseok akin to a captain too prideful to allow his pupils to witness his own cracks and falls.

You're partially responsible for this—no, somehow your mind had convinced you that you're the one completely responsible for this. If you hadn't pushed him to return, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this far. You had reopened a wound like ripping stitches off a gash still in the process of rehabilitation.

And sometimes, wounds of seconds can inflict more pain than its first and leave deeper scars than the past itself.

You're guilty as charged, and you want to fix things now, but the unwelcoming tone of tonight's conversation tells you it might just be too late. If you've acknowledged your mistakes but the other is unwilling to receive your sympathy, what else are you supposed to do?

You had hated the new Hoseok for laying the death of the old, but now that you stand here before his guarded walls and closed door, maybe things would've been better the way they were before.

But that thought finds you as ridiculous, and the very fact that a part of you still wants to aid him in rediscovering your first love at the expense of the person he is now, finds you even more horrendous.

For now, a shower is the only concoction for such a plague.

-

Water beads drip from the ends of your hair to the cottons of the white towel hanging from your neck. A rush of goosebump inducing air envelops you the second your right foot meets the carpet beyond the bathroom tiles. Besides the remaining drip drops of the water draining in the bathtub behind you, all that is left in the sanctuary of your room is what should have been silence.

Because you can still hear the buzz of the vending machine, the familiar squeaks of sneakers, and worst of all, his wincing breaths endowed with despair still echo in the back of your mind—gradually quickening and crescendoing into a chaos of a symphony without its conductor until everything collapses, the squeaks and the huffs replaced by the ominous buzz of the machine.

As you run through your hair and turn your back on the door to further bury yourself in the depths of your sanctuary, a sudden rise of events interrupts the temporary serenity with the strike of fear into your racing heart.

A series of slurred knocks—two loud, quick knocks followed by one hesitant bump of the knuckles—elicits a ring in your ear as you cautiously turn on the balls of your feet to face the door head on.

The numbers 1:15 A.M. blink in red digital font from the desk beside your bed.

Who could possibly be visiting you at this time of the night?

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice strained with lethargy finally announces after a sigh, and as if reciting words to a spell of witch craft, your heart stills and your body freezes… because did you really just hear Hoseok? Outside your room? The one who had just turned you away without a blink of the eye?

Even with the mess of your mental state after finally digging up the answer you had been searching for all along, the only and greatest fear which plagues you now is the thought of whether the victim, Jung Hoseok, had somehow caught onto you preying upon his darkest of secrets.

After half a minute of silence, Hoseok sighs once again with a groan, “I’m not here to mess around with you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m on duty for patrolling tonight, and I noticed your light was on. Now open up, would you?”

The walk to your door seems to take you centuries, because the second your hand pushes the handle even an inch down, the door swings wide open to reveal the rather irritated, profusely impatient boy standing on the other side.

“Could you be any slower?” he remarks, eyes peering down at you, unamused. “You’re even slower than me and I worked out more than…”

His white tee shifts underneath his crossed arms as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. The intensity of his eyes with bags and dark circles drooping below elicits a shift in your own body of discomfort. Your own eyes retreat to the ground when his brows cinch and you can tell he’s scanning you over, just seconds away from catching you red-handed.

“...w-what? Can you  stop staring at me like that?” 

“What? I’m not checking you out or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoseok scoffs for a fleeting second before silence befalls his lips—and suddenly, the warmth of his hands radiate from your cheeks. A lock of your hair lies in the palms of his long, delicate fingers just barely grazing your cheeks, and it doesn’t take you very long to hastily cover your reddening ears and cheeks with your dampened towel. He frowns, not at your sheepish behavior, but for the wet strands of hair which are all that he fixates on, “did you just work out or something?”

Shouldn't you be the one asking him that? It's as if the irony of his actions is his own method of begging to be exposed without having to come out and ask for it himself.

“No,” you retort, scrunching your face at the absurdity of his suggestion.

Just as you’re about to pull away from his touch, Hoseok retracts his hands from the proximity of your cheeks before what would usually be another one of his mischievous acts; and as much as his sneaky pecks and meaningless affection had once infuriated you, it’s hard to admit how empty you now feel in the absence of its wake. His retreat made of his own will is a first for you.

“Then why are you showering at 1 A.M. in the morning?” he cocks his head with a raised brow.

“Says you—”

“—but at least I have an excuse. I was busy cleaning up after practice,” he retorts and shifts his weight to his other leg, musing, “you, on the other hand…”

“B-Because…” you cross your arms and shoot him the most annoyed glare you could muster; while meeting and comforting him were all that shrouded your mind just a few minutes ago, seeing him in a completely fine state like this is enough to put you to peace and shoo him away for now. “...I slept through the entire day and forgot to shower.”

“...okay,” his lips pressed into a frown gradually bursts into a large grin plastered with second hand embarrassment. “While you kept nagging at me to ‘attend dance camp’ and pick up dancing again, which I so dutifully obliged to tonight, you hide yourself in the corner of your room and sleep the day away?”

“Oh, shut up. It's not like I'm an actual dancer like you—” you roll your eyes before stopping mid-sentence; was that too insensitive of you to say considering the struggles Hoseok seemed to be going through? Clearing your throat, you lift your head high and sigh, “so what’re you doing here? I thought you were busy thinking the night away.”

“Like I said, I'm on patrol tonight. Are you even listening to me or are you to busy fantasizing about all the things we could've been doing in my room right now?” he teases and gently knocks his knuckles on your head.

His entire demeanor had reverted to his usual self, and as concerning as it is to wonder whether this is all an act too painful to witness yourself, you're glad to see him joking around again, even if it's forced.

“No, that's the last thing on my mind, but I guess it's not the same case for someone here,” you roll your eyes.

In retaliation to your indifferent attitude, Hoseok leans against the doorframe with a scoff, pulling you back in as you pushed him out. “Like I said, Ms. I Like To Break Rules Because I’m Dating the Captain, you’re supposed to be asleep by now.”

“I’ll turn off my lights after I blow dry my hair, Mr. Ex Dance Captain—” you bite your tongue when you notice the twitch in his darkened eyes and hardened jaw “—I mean, I'm not dating you.”

At this point, you’re not even sure how to address his relationship with dance, if you should even do so at all.

“So, if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, giving him one last pressed smile and stepping back to close the door; but before you could do so, Hoseok swiftly juts a foot out to interevene, and a simple question ensues.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

All efforts to protest dissipate when he turns his head to face you and lets out a scoff in disbelief, eyes completely empty, and you nearly have to lean in to catch his next words.

“You’re always so cold to me,” he lets out a soft laugh and cracks the most reluctant of grins. “Why do I even bother being disappointed at this point?”

A few seconds of tense silence goes by before it occurs to you what he had just said.

For once, he actually cares about what you say? He’s taking your meaningless banters to heart?

“I’m turning off my lights now,” you frown at him, but his attention remains elsewhere, “isn’t that what you came here to do?”

“You really...” he scoffs and lifts his head, eyes piercing yours and opening the window to his souls; shaky, colorless, lost and infuriated by the calamity of the world before him, in the world you present him. “...do you really think I came here just for that? I could care less what time you sleep.”

“O-Okay…” you stutter; you know there isn’t anything to be hurt over, because what he’s saying has made you believe is of the utmost truth, but the unusually blunt implications of his disingenuity comes on all too harsh.

His constant switch in demeanor is all too confusing to keep up with tonight, and quite frankly, you don't know how to read him anymore, as if you ever could.

His lips part, words of apology ready to be uttered, and his eyes soften in worry for a swift second, but when the clock ticks twice, his jaw hardens the invisible wall built between the two of you.

And for the first time in a while, he’s actually acting like the infamous reputation he had been endowed; because he doesn’t apologize, and now your guts begin to twist and turn, wondering whether you had done something wrong.

Was he in a bad mood because of what you had seen just half an hour before? Should you confront him about it? Should you comfort him? Would words of encouragement even help? Is that what he’s asking for?

Is that the true reason as to why he’s here? Is he… asking for help?

“I’m here to check up on your ankle.”

His mumbling interrupts the internal war fared between two hidden motivations; defeat is all that reigns in the realm of tonight—you, unable to decipher his code, and him, unable to send you such codes.

The mention of your momentarily forgotten injury brings a crease between your brows, “my ankles are fine.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is for me, your highness,” he refutes with a pressed, unamused smile.

“But it really is fine—” you stop mid-sentence when you notice Hoseok taking a deep breath, chest struggling to rise while constricting the impatience and whatever else remains buried from within.

Please let me in, his eyes scream.

Your feet stumbles as they shuffle backwards, and in response, he takes one swift, large stride forward. The door shuts behind him, and suddenly, the room seems significantly more lackluster than before.

“What if someone sees us?” your fear translates into words.

“Should’ve worried about that earlier, don’t you think?” he flatly remarks, cocking his head to the side.

“...but,” you frown and shake your head, “what if they spread rumors about you entering my room?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes before returning the look of impertinence to you, “haven’t they already spread rumors about us? We literally made out at the pool last night. And who cares what they say? I’m tired of giving a shit about them. All it does is burden you.”

“Burden…” your mind subconsciously slips the words into formation when your eyes naturally trail from his gray sweatpants and up to his white tee where beads of water drip from his drenched bangs. “...hey, Hoseok, why haven't you dried your hair yet?”

He couldn't have possibly went out to practice again, could he?

“My hair…?” his brows cinch as his hands find their way to twirl the wet locks in between his fingers and his eyes light up before settling into a frown once again. “Ah… but first, why are you so concerned for me tonight?”

“Maybe because I was kind enough to let you in my room and that's the least you could do…?”

“But I’m the captain. I’m the one in charge,” he quickly quips. You can see the tip of his tongue running across the inner walls of his mouth from the protrusion of his cheeks and his hardened jaw, as if preparing for a fight. “So, technically, I do have the rights to be here, because you broke the rules. If you don’t want to see me, maybe you should turn off your lights next time.”

His sudden defense rubs you the wrong way when you scoff, “captain? Huh, funny, because I seem to recall a certain someone getting all pissed off at me because I begged them to come here in the first place.”

“What?” he asks in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Why are you being so aggravated today? Are you scared to tell me the truth? That you’re playing around and checking in on me to pretend and act like you’ve been up hard at work all day? So you can continue playing around with me without having to hear me nag at you?”

You just want him to be honest with himself, and more so with you, and maybe you aren’t approaching it the right way, but you simply don’t understand how to fix the dent in Hoseok’s enclosed heart.

“What?” he repeats, the fury in his boiling blood exuding from his step forward and your step back. “I’m doing my job here, aren’t I? I’m guiding us through the camp, I’m teaching you guys how to dance, I’m even out here past midnight patrolling as a captain should! So how am I anything but a captain?”

Buzz, sneakers, collision, and buzz—the entire sequence washes onto shore once again from the back of your mind, blaring at you as if to tell you to back down.

He continues to take steps forward, forcing you to retreat backwards into the depths of your room.

“I didn't mean it like that…” you mumble, taking another step back until your heels hit the drawer and the back of your head bumps into the TV behind you.

Hoseok steps one intimidating stride forward, arms gripping at the drawer on either side of you and entrapping you in his field of control. He gives you one long, hard stare, and as uncomfortable as it is, something tells you there would be serious repercussions if you looked away.

“No, but it sure does feel like it and it confuses me,” he retorts lowly, “so tell me, Y/N, why are you so concerned for me all of a sudden?”

His watchful eyes and parted lips pray for the hopes that you had seen him, that he had finally found someone who knew the true him, but you don't want to and you can't possibly reopen his wound. You know it would hurt him all too much.

So you keep silent, just as he has all along

“...you’ll wake them if you yell any louder,” you mumble, looking off to the side in dejection.

But his warm hands cup the cold surface of your chin damp from your shower, turning you until your gaze has returned to meet his.

“Stop making excuses. You know they can't hear us,” he lowly utters. “What did you even think I was doing anyways?”

“I-I don't know. I was just asking what you’ve been doing. It’s not that hard of a question,” you mumble. “You can lie to me, even, if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, keeping his fingertips grazing against your chin. “I want to hear your guesses.”

You gulp, diverting from his piercing gaze, “I don't know…”

“You seemed to have a pretty good guess just a minute ago,” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just say it. I dare you to.”

I dare you to say it, but I doubt you can, because I doubt you even know, his leer screams.

“...maybe you had a girl over in your room or something…”

You know that's not the case, or at least you hope, but that's the most believable guess you could muster other than outright accusing him of his late night practices sessions.

“You think that I'd let another girl other than you into my room? Who do you take me for?” he scoffs, even chuckles. “Ah, you're too cute.”

He doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, you can't believe him and you can't fall for this specific trick because you know that's exactly what he wants to distract you from the pain hidden beneath that flirtatious crooked smile of his.

You frown, “quit playing and let me go...”

“Just one more question,” he laughs for a brief second, silence failing for a tense minute before finally asking in the lowest of voices, “can I kiss you?”

“W-What?”

“I mean, last time I was so congested and upset with these dark thoughts of mine that I forgot to even ask you for permission before I forced myself on you. Two elements of a great kiss are consent and surprise, remember? I think I got the surprise part down judging by the look on your face,” he smirks, but all you can do is stare at him in silence.

It's not like you're opposed to the idea of kissing him, per se, but you're against sharing such an intimate moment when you know he would just be using you like alcohol as a way to temporarily numb the pain.

But should you go ahead and let him? If something as trifling as this could even relieve him of the pain, should you give him what he wants?

“Are you… lonely? Are you upset over something? Can't I help you?”

Several seconds of silence passes by until you hear him chortle with a sigh, his arms dripping from your sides and releasing you from his grasp as he brushes by your shoulder and heads toward your bed. “I was just joking around with you. Don't look at me like that, it hurts me too, you know? I didn’t come here to argue anyways, ” he remarks, lightening up the mood. “I just forgot to dry my hair, that’s all. Do you have any snacks in your fridge?”

Nonchalantly, Hoseok plops onto your mattress without further permission, but all you could notice is the slight limping in his walk; if anyone else had watched his strides, including you from the past, no one would have suspected a thing, but now that you’ve discovered his secret, the uneven footsteps of his are all too glaring.

With his head against his hand propped by an elbow against one of your two pillows, Hoseok grins at you with an arched brow and a hand tapping on the sweatpants concealing the swelling of his leg.

“...no,” you finally answer, walking a few steps forward into the room to lean against the corner wall next to the lower side of your bed. You cross your arms and continue, “why would I bring food for a three night trip?”

“Ah, I forgot this is only for three nights. I see,” he nods, pursing his lips and turning to lie on his back with his head nestled into your pillow. The fingers of one of his hands drum against his stomach as the other props above his shoulders and under his neck.

The buzzing of your empty fridge stimulates you to memories you don’t want to revisit, but the overwhelming silence seems to be the motif of tonight and you just don’t know how to fix it; yet the longer he stares emptily into the ceiling above, the more curious you become.

“Hoseok?”

“Hm?” he hums without budging his eyes from the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about?”

A few seconds pass by before he takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, his chest noticeably rising and sinking underneath his water-drenched tee.

“Truthfully, I actually came here after you left because I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone tonight. I was wrong to shut you out,” he confesses; but when you’re left staring at him in utter, shock, Hoseok finally breaks his gaze from the ceiling to meet your gaping expression with a chuckle. “It’s a joke, Y/N. I’m a lonely person, just like you said, remember?”

“Being lonely isn’t a joke…” you grumble, uncrossing your arms and walking over to gently seat yourself beside him in bed.

You’re expecting some teasing remark for supposedly joining him in bed, but what you don’t expect is what slips from his lips instead.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad that it’s all you come to know, but the second you get it, it turns out to be the only thing you can’t have? It just… it doesn’t love you back. I’m the only one trying at this point.”

“Like what…?” you hesitantly ask.

“Like you,” he swiftly answers, turning his head to shoot you a lopsided grin.

Everything comes crashing down into a full circle once it finally clicked for you: dance; dance is the unrequited love for Hoseok, and you were just one of the many replacements to allow him to forget what he had lost.

The thought irks you the wrong way, and as much as you want to console him, the teasing relationship you two have established does not exactly authorize for such a moment.

“But you never got me in the first place,” you snort.

Hoseok blinks blankly at your words before scoffing in disbelief, turning his head and smirking with the shake of his head, “go dry your hair before you get sick, you cold-hearted woman.”

“No, I can’t leave you unattended in my bed!”

“I won’t stay here overnight, alright,” Hoseok rolls his eyes while cracking a smile. “So stop worrying and go or you’ll get a cold.”

“Psh, fine,” you huff, getting up from your bed; but before you could depart to the bathroom, Hoseok’s hands grip onto your hands only to pull you back into bed beside him. You sigh, turning your back to glare at the blank look on his face, “do you want me to stay or not?”

“Y/N,” he ignores you and proceeds with his question, looking you straight in the eye, “what would you do if I said I still wanted to quit dance? If I said this entire trip only reminded me of why I hated it so much in the first place? What would you do?”

Your eyes grow wide; he’s practically asking you upfront about his inner true conundrums, and this time, you’re going to make things right again.

“I would support you no matter what. If dancing isn’t what you want, then I’m fine with it,” you answer. “I kissed you so you would come to camp. That’s all I bargained for, and that’s all I’m asking for.”

Hoseok stares at you for several seconds in silence before scoffing and tossing your hand to the side, “I came here for an answer, but now you’re just confusing me.”

“What?”

“Go dry your hair already. Your hands are cold,” he states, turning his head away from you. “I won’t be able to kiss you anymore if you get sick.”

Glaring at him from his back, you oblige to his demands and retreat to the safety of your washroom. While drying your hair, you spend all your time scrambling for something to say, to fill in the conversation, to keep you from the pounding white noise of sneakers and buzz, but most importantly, to keep him from the ill reminder of his downfall.

Yet, all is in vain, when you return to your room to find him asleep.

Sighing, you tiptoe your way to lie down in the bed right beside him. With your head cupped in your hands propped on the mattress by your elbow, you lean just a bit forward to catch a glimpse of his dozing expression. Only in his slumber is he relinquished of all worries. The crease between his brows has vanished, and the frown he had constantly worn in the corner of his lips had dissipated along with it. Finally, he is at peace and solace.

“You see, Hoseok, the thing about life is that it constantly challenges us to new obstacles… kind of like what you’re doing to me right now,” you chuckle to yourself and brush the fallen streaks of hair off his forehead and to his temples, “but you’re strong enough to overcome it, and as long as you have someone beside you the entire time, everything will turn out just right. You are loved, you just don’t know it.”

And with that, you lean in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

It’s the first time he ever failed to smirk after a kiss shared between the two of you.

With the official set of the sun ironically at the rise of dawn, an epiphany strikes you at 2 AM in the depths of your room where Hoseok lies asleep beside you.

Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, some wounds are never meant to be revived; and so, instead of hurting and turning him away, you’ve agreed to be his sanctuary for just tonight.

Jimin [2:23 A.M.] Hoseok? No... he’s not supposed to be on patrol. I am.

[gryffindors-weasley]

To Heal A Seeker

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When healing Draco after a quidditch accident, you find he knows more about it than you think.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mild angst, bit of jealousy, fluff, kissing

A/N: This fic is loosely inspired by one I’ve written here!

A soft huff left your lips for seemingly the millionth time in the past fifteen minutes as you pulled Draco along the darkened corridors towards the Hogwarts infirmary by the hand that night, worry on your mind and a bit of annoyance that he hadn’t done something sooner than just now. You had seen that he’d taken a hit during that evening’s quidditch match, but he hadn’t seemed all too affected by it though you should have known that he had far too much pride in him to show when he’d been hurt. He’d always been that way and probably always will be.

“If there’s anyone in here, we’re leaving, love,” he grumbles quietly behind you as he squeezes your hand to accompany his words, eliciting an eye roll from you. You pause in your stride and spin on your heel just outside the double doors, eyes narrowed at him in disapproval.

“No, we will not. Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” you quip before turning back around, pushing open the door to the infirmary with a creak. It was far louder than you’d have liked in contrast to the silence.

Much to Draco’s relief each and every bed had been empty and neatly made in preparation for any student who may need it, the large room dimly lit now that Madame Pomfrey had turned in for the night. The glowing moonlight streamed in and stretched across the floor through the latticed windows in broken beams, adding a bit more illumination to the room.

His sigh was soon to be heard upon realization that there was no way out of your scolding, though he could help the flutter in his heart over the simple thought of being cared about so much. It wasn’t something he’d been used to, not really. So when you’d motioned for him to sit on of the beds, he’d done so without much argument save for his displeasure when your hand had slipped out of his own.

His lips pursed, however, when you’d brushed the heaps of tangled platinum away from his forehead to see if there’s been anything to heal, an action he came to regret as it tugged at the split he acquired. He should know better than to let the taunts of Cormac get under his skin by now, and he would have if he’d kept his snarky remarks simply on the topic of the match at hand. But the moment he had mentioned you he knew he had been in trouble, and Cormac knew his attempt at distraction had been plenty successful then. So much so the blonde nearly fell off his broom, instead taking a scrape to the arm by a passing player and furthermore an elbow to the mouth not ten minutes later. He had been seconds from casting a spell that was sure to take McLaggen out for the rest of the match, but for his team’s sake, for your sake, he didn’t.

“I’m fine, love,” he sighs softly, looking up at you with raised brows in hopes you’d take his word for it—he knows you won’t.

“You’re not,” you counter as the corners of your mouth tug downward, eyes narrowed as your gaze focuses on the split adorning his reddened lip. You brush the pad of your thumb over it gently as your frown remains, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. “You’re a fool, Dray.”

“But I’m your fool, aren’t I?” He says, a smile forming that’s soon cut short with a wince.

It was your turn to purse your lips as you shake your head, though a grin had been fighting valiantly to appear all the same. “You make it hard to be so sure.”

As he scoffs, you grab your wand from where it sat tucked within your boot, aiming it precisely at his bottom lip. He closed his eyes with a quiet huff then, your hand that’d since been gingerly pressed under his chin a comfort as he awaited the familiar feel of the Episkey spell he’d come to know all too well. Soon enough, with a murmur of the three-syllable word, he feels a heat on his lip followed just as quickly by a feeling nearly cold as ice, your hand falling from his chin to swipe your finger over his newly healed lip as if nothing had happened to it. When he opens his eyes to look at you he finds you’re a bit more at ease, a blush staining your cheeks as your thumb lingers.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, one no longer having stinging repercussions, his hands finding yours as he looks up at you with mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Perhaps a kiss will make it all the more better?”

Your eye roll was immediate at his words, words that were so utterly cheesy and so very Draco to say. But the smile that’d been gracing his lips had been one that was near impossible to keep from kissing and soon you find yourself dipping down to press your lips on his. His hands had squeezed your own and his sigh had puffed warmly against your skin at the action, one that proved to be all too fleeting in his opinion.

“You’re already better,” you mumble, kissing the tip of his nose as you pull away. “Well, partly.”

As his shoulders slump your distracted attention returns to the task at hand, to the arm he so insistently said had been fine. You knew very well it hadn’t been judging by the fraying green yarn that dangled from his sleeve, a tear accompanying it. Without hesitation you grab a hold of the cuff and push up his sleeve carefully, your breath catching at the scrape running across the top of his arm. It was an angry scarlet around the edges, the shade a sharp contrast to the paleness of his skin. It’d been fairly superficial from the looks of it, something that wouldn’t be cause for concern, but you were unhappy nonetheless.

“Draco,” you sigh, and he’s quick to bring your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles in an attempt to lessen your worrying. “You’ve got to stop letting him get to you. It clearly isn’t doing you any good.”

You pull your hand from his and turn to make your way to the cabinet across the infirmary.

The tall cupboard housed just about every healing potion, every herb, and every bandage you could possibly think of atop its very shelves. They were all carefully and precisely crafted from ingredients hand selected from the greenhouse, made with great attention to measurements in order to be in their most effective state. It was an assortment always well stocked, especially while the quidditch season was in play for the more competitive and dare you say clumsy members of the four teams participating, your beau very much included. Only you hadn’t known such potions had been made by the very person you’d been healing, most of them residing there have been for that matter.

You scanned the shelves in search of the perfect solution for such an injury, the lighting of the room not having been helping you very much.

“It’s Essence of Dittany, darling,” he calls out behind you, his words matter of fact yet his suggestion gentle.

You smile softly as you pluck it from the shelf before dampening a towel, turning on your heel with a raised brow. You say nothing more as you return to him, setting the towel to the side and unscrewing the cap. When held up to the moonlight it’d been a shade of green that could nearly rival that of the slytherin team jersey he’d been wearing, and that’d been a clear enough indication that you’d gotten the right one. Though you must say, the handwritten label had seemed strikingly familiar to you.

With a steady hand you hold his wrist, his fingers splaying over your arm. You look at him once more, his gaze soft and encouraging that he’d be just fine. You took a deep breath then, applying a generous amount to the wound. In a matter of moments a matching green smoke had begun to billow upwards and dissipate into the room, something that had made you flinch more than it did Draco at the simple reaction of the potion.

“You don’t need that many drops, Y/n/n,” he says softly, grabbing the dropper from your hand and capping the tiny bottle. “Just three or four is plenty for something this size.”

He knew you’d probably been done so out of worry of putting enough, out of wanting it to be healed as much as possible, and the thought alone had him resisting the urge to grin. You bit the inside of your cheek to try your hardest to hide your own smile, gazing at him as he watched the scrape along his arm heal in a matter of moments. He brushed his fingers along where it’d once been before shifting his attention towards you—you and your ever curious smile that was unable to be fought any longer than a second.

“And just how do you know all these things?” You ask, your grin heard in your words as you tilt your head in display of your curiosity. He laughs softly as you wipe away the crimson smears of blood remaining on his skin, eying the area that looked as though it’d been good as new.

“I’ve done my research,” he shrugs, the scarlet that was beginning to stain his cheeks having gone unseen in the dimness of the room.

“I can see that,” you say, and it’d been very clear he’d done more than just a little research, and you felt as though maybe he’d been more interested in the art of healing than he was letting on.

You could tell that very fact just by the way he’d fumbled and twirled the little glass bottle in his hands, eying the green potion that had worked exceptionally with the softest of smiles on his face. By the way he’d been so inclined to accompany you whenever you’d made the trip to the greenhouse every other night, needing little instruction on how to care for most any of the plants. You could tell by the very way you’d found him asleep in the library far past midnight once before, a page of notes on herbology stuck to his cheek. It wasn’t very hard to see that this was far more than just a hobby, than just something to occupy his free time.

Playing quidditch was something he hadn’t anticipated doing beyond second year. It was more so a challenge, something he’d done just to rival Harry and get under his skin. He was quite skilled at it, yes, having perfected the sport in hopes to please his father though he knew his attempts were futile. He stuck with it though, one year turning to two, two to four. Now you were in your seventh and final year and he’d still been yet to stop playing. But it’d been obvious this wasn’t something he’d want to make a life out of much to Lucius’ dismay, it was more so a distraction from everything that’s been weighing heavy on his mind. It was obvious he didn’t hold a passion for it past his desire to win each match, to hold the title over Cormac. That was it—it was merely a pass time.

“I’ve made this one myself, you know,” he says after a little while, holding the little bottle up as the emerald potion swirls inside it at the sudden action. “And I see now that it’s quite satisfactory.”

“I would assume it’s from all the studying you’ve been doing, then,” you quip, your smile beaming and all-knowing when he looks up from his hands to meet your gaze.

His brows knit together ever so slightly, lips parting as his breath catches slightly and he hopes you hadn’t heard it. “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, love.”

You laugh softly as you tug down the sleeve of his quidditch sweater, enveloping his hands in your own. They were calloused and warm as you held them save for the ring he’d worn, far larger in comparison to yours. “I’ve caught you studying notes on healing and herbology in the library far too many times for me to believe that, Draco.”

“I was just—”

“I’ve seen the way you care for the plants in the greenhouse when professor sprout isn’t there to do so. Not to mention, you’re at the top of the potions class. Being a healer would be good for you—you should go for it, Dray, really. You’d be brilliant!” You say, squeezing his hand softly.

A soft laugh left his lips at the mere mention of it, one that wasn’t entirely filled with humor as he looked away from you briefly. He shook his head then, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles tenderly. “Yeah, and what would my father say about that? I don’t think he’d be too happy if his son, the only Malfoy heir, went soft and decided to use his magic for good. He’s not too fond of the idea of me pursuing a career with quidditch either.”

You sigh softly, shoulders slumping at his words as you release one of his hands to rest on his cheek. His gaze returns to you upon your touch, his jaw tense under your finger tips before he relaxed. Your thumb swipes over his chin as you mull over your next words.

“Draco, we both know what I think of your father’s opinion,” you say, pulling a small smile from him. “All I’m saying is, if you truly like it, I think you should pursue it. You seem to like it far more than chasing McLaggen around on the pitch accumulating who knows how many bumps and bruises. You’re good at it Draco, you love it, and that’s what matters. Besides, I’ve got no problem fighting your father on the subject, you know.”

His smile widens and he tugs you hand from his face, pulling you down next to him in one swift motion. In a matter of moments his lips are on yours, soft and sweet as his hand settles on your flushed cheek.

“No, you absolutely will not,” he murmurs, his laughter warm against your lips as his mouth brushed over yours. Your own bout of laughter was immediately as his nose scrunches against yours, breath mingling in the close proximity. “It would be in your best interest not to.”

Your eyes flutter closed as your forehead rests on yours, strands of platinum tickling against your skin. “Oh really?”

He wastes no time in nodding softly, humming to further answer your counter as he tucks your hair behind your ear. He pulls away from you though he doesn’t stray too far, pale blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight as his tongue swipes across his lips. His gaze is soft yet intense, the corner of his mouth quirking up. It’s fleeting as he moves to kiss your cheek, trailing to the corner of your jaw and most tenderly chastely just under your ear, the feeling of his breath over your skin making it hard to stifle your laugh.

“I love you, you know,” he whispers, kissing the spot once more. You smile, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“I love you, even when you nearly fall off your broom,” you say, and he’s quick to quiet you with a kiss, one that just about has you tumbling back on the less than comfortable hospital bed as a second bout of laughter echoes in the large room. “I love you.”

Your smile is beaming and bright, one that’s mirrored as he squeezes your hand and kisses your cheek. He knows his future is uncertain, but one thing he does know is that he’s got you.

You’ll always be there to love him, to heal a seeker.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft @lilypad-55449

[aadikted]

Winners Keepers

A/N - Ok so until now, I have mostly written on Peter Parker x Reader. But i just had to write on Nick Scratch. I know its Nabrina for life, but a girl can dream, cant she? Special thanks to @darkshadowqueensrule and @miniaturepizzadyedhairfreak​  for helping me and encouraging me! Hope you guys enjoy it! 

Pairing - Nick Scratch x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

W/C - Around 5k!!

Warnings! - Some explicit scenes (no sex) and a lot of snarky retorts!

Enjoy!!

~~~

You and Nick had gotten off to a particularly rocky start. Anyone who knew you knew that you could hold on to a grudge. When you had first met Nick, you had to admit that he was dashing, and you may have developed the tiniest crush on him. I mean, come on, you were a witch after all! But all those admiring thoughts flew out of your head as soon as he had opened his mouth. He was probably the most arrogant and cocky bastard you had the misfortune of meeting. He hadn’t said anything to you, but the way he spoke with the others, you just knew. This was just your first day at the Academy of Unseen Arts, but everyone already knew you. It was quite inevitable, after all, you were Sabrina’s best friend and she was pretty popular here, even if it wasn’t for the right reasons. Sabrina didn’t have this class with you, but you knew you would see her later. Meanwhile, all you could do was marvel at Nick and his big head.

As if sensing that you were staring at him, he turned around and looked at you. He cocked an eyebrow, “See something you like, Y/L/N?”

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.” 

You knew you were treading dangerous waters, but you couldn’t help yourself. Both of you maintained eye contact with each other, as though you were under a spell, and suddenly the moment was broken by the entrance of Lady Blackwood. 

“Now students, I expect that you all have memorized the lyrics of the song?” 

“Good.” She exclaimed as all the students nodded.  “Miss Y/L/N, please sing the first verse.”

You could feel everyone's eyes turn towards you and you decided that it was better to die than being in the limelight. You could see the weird sisters looking at you. They looked like predators, just waiting to hound on the unassuming prey. But what really irritated you, was the way Scratch was smirking at you. Like he knew that he knew that you would fail. This ignited a fire inside you and you decided right then and there, that no matter what, you would never let that asshole have the satisfaction of seeing you fail. 

Taking a deep breath and steadying your nerves, you started singing- 

“It's time we put our love behind you 

The illusion has been just a dream 

The valley of death and I'll find you 

Now is when on a sunshine beam

So bring all the young perfection 

For there us shall surely be

No clothing, tears, or hunger 

You can see, you can see, you can be”

You gave yourself to music and the notes. You were so engrossed in your singing that you didn’t notice that Nick was staring at you. 

~

Nick was enthralled. Your voice had captured his soul and he felt...light, as though he was floating in the air. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that you were a siren, lulling unsuspecting victims into your trap. Nick, would never admit this, but when he had felt someone staring at him, he had totally expected it would either be one of the weird sisters or some guy who didn’t like him. He never expected that he would be looking at you. He was rendered speechless by you. It was not your beauty that captured his eyes, but the way you carried yourself. Your eyes looked as though they could drown someone in its depths. Your stance declared that you would not kneel to anyone and your lips looked like they could kill with just words. He was unnerved by what you made him feel, and in an effort to seem cool he opened his damned mouth and released a string of words. 

“See something you like, Y/L/N?” 

He cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. There was no way that that was playing it off cool.

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.”

Ah! He should have expected this. She had a mouth on her. This just made her seem more interesting. He was unable to take his eyes off her and their eyes met, as though in a match to see who would emerge victoriously. Before a conclusion could be reached, they were interrupted by Lady Blackwood. She asked Y/L/N to sing the first verse. 

This is going to be interesting. He thought to himself. He couldn’t help but smirk. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Guess the confidence was just in her posture. 

Suddenly, she threw a look at him, and then, it was as though another spirit had entered her body. She gathered herself and prepared to sing. She looked captivating as hell and he could only stare at her. He imagined he looked quite ridiculous then. He felt ridiculous. But it was impossible to rip his eyes away from her. She demanded attention, even if she didn’t want it. And then, she began singing.

~

You held your breath as soon as you finished the song. It felt that if you took even a single breath then everything would come crashing down on you. However, Lady Blackwood had no such trepidation.

“Oh my! That was rather...well done.”

You finally allowed yourself to sigh in relief and looked around you. Your eyes caught Nick’s, but you diverted them as soon as they met and in doing so you missed the soft, admiring smile which graced his face.

Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without an incident, and you were practically sagging with relief as you made your way to the Cafeteria where Sabrina was waiting for you. 

“Y/N/N!” She exclaimed as she waved you over. “Survived your first day I see?”

“Hardly. Most of the classes went fine, but Singing was horrible!” 

‘Lady Blackwood? She made you sing too?”

“Yeah, by myself too! As if my crippling anxiety and awkwardness weren’t apparent enough. 

Sabrina let out a laugh and just shrugged as if to say, School can be the worst. You gladly agreed with that.

You both continued to talk about your day but were then interrupted by Nick. 

“Nick!” Sabrina happily exclaimed as you made a face upon his entrance.

“Hey ‘brina.”

“Y/L/N.” he acknowledged you with a nod

“Scratch.” You replied coldly. 

Sabrina finally caught up on the tension between you. Too scared to address it, she continued to talk as though nothing had occurred. However, you were too busy staring daggers at Scratch to even listen to what she was saying. From the looks of it, Nick wasn’t paying attention to her too. 

Sabrina finally gave up and decided to address the elephant in the room. 

“I gather you have both met before?”

“It would be hard to forget that meeting” You replied from with a grimace.

 Nick just ignored her question.

“I see you are just as pleasant as ever Y/L/N.”

“Couldn’t find any other table which could accommodate your big head, could you Scratch?” You casually replied as you turned away from him.

“You know, you should come with a warning label. So that people know that you are just as snarky as you are pretty.”

There was a beat of silence. Sabrina looked like she couldn’t breathe, while Nick looked horrified when he realized what he had just spoken. You, on the other hand, were downright gleeful at this opportunity.

“You think I am pretty, lover boy?” You smirked. 

“No, I just think you are pretty dumb.” He retorts in the most flustered and juvenile manner. 

You can't help the smirk which was growing on your face. You felt evil and you liked that. 

“Are you sure, lover boy? The only one dumb around here would be you. I did beat you in singing today!” You sniggered.

Pfft, please! That was just singing. You are nowhere near as capable as I am and you never will be. 

The way he said that angered you. How dare he insinuate that you were not as capable as him.

While these thoughts raced through your mind, Nick just stared at you in awe. He knew that he was getting on your nerves, but it excited him. The way your eyes flashed, how your expressions changed just as swiftly as the conversation. If you had been any other person, he would have asked you out immediately. But you weren’t any other person, and he liked that about you. What he couldn’t seem to figure out though, was why you were so angry and annoyed with him. He hadn’t done anything when he had first met you. Sure, he had said a couple of things now, but you had been aggravated with him long before that. He knew he would never be able to get close to you the way he wanted. To get you flushed for him. To make you scream his name in pleasure and to make you hot for him. But he knew that you would never allow that. At least, not yet. So for now, he had to be content in just seeing you flush out of pure rage, to hear you scream his name from frustration and get hot and bothered by him. 

His thoughts were interrupted when you stood up and slammed your hand on the counter. Fortunately, it wasn’t loud enough for the other students to take notice. However, you couldn’t care less even if the entire world could hear your proclamation. 

“I warn you Scratch, you will be begging for mercy before the year is through and you will regret ever saying that I wasn’t as capable as you.”

“I assure you, darling, I won't be the one begging.”

If looks could kill, Nicholas Scratch would have been one very dead man. 

“Dream on, lover boy.”

“Is your drama going to have an intermission soon, darling?” Nick teased.

You just gave him an evil smile, 

Oh lover boy, the curtains haven’t even risen yet. 

~

You had meant every word you had said to Nick that day and you were adamant to prove that to him. You studied hard and practised every spell you could get your hands on, even the ones which weren’t in the syllabus. You were the youngest in the school, and Nick had been there for such a long time. You would be damned if you couldn’t beat him. 

Nick knew that you had been perfectly serious and had no intention of losing without a fair fight. He also started studying and revising. 

There was an undeniable shift in the air between the both of you. There was palpable tension and everyone could feel it. The competition between you just continued to grow and everyone was roped into it. Sabrina was shocked to see you so serious, but you were her best friend and she supported you. She became your study partner and you both tackled studies together. 

You and Nick spent most of your time in the library studying, Sabrina had other things to deal with, and you didn’t force her to join you. However, you would have preferred it, especially since lover boy had decided to torture you more by sitting next to you in the library. You never conversed with him, even if he tried to. 

One such day, you were doing your work in the library when you were interrupted by Nick.

“Your solution is wrong.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your help.” you snarked back.

“Come on Y/L/N, wouldn’t it be just easier if we tried to get along?”

“No, and you shouldn’t even be here.”

“Why not,” he asked

“Because I don’t want you here.” 

Nick gave a sigh of resignation and just left the library. He really liked Y/N, and so he couldn’t bear to see her working herself to death.

You felt a twinge of guilt as you watched him leave. Maybe you had been too harsh, but you couldn’t help it. You had to pass. Failing wasn’t an option

The next day, you went to class with a determined stance. You would prove it to him. Your hand shot up in the air to answer before the teacher had even finished asking the question.

Yes, Miss Y/L/N?

You confidently gave the correct answer and turned back to throw a victorious smile to Nick. But you were surprised to see that he had never raised his hand. Maybe he didn’t know the answer, you mused.

However, when the rest of the day passed in a similar fashion you knew that he was doing this intentionally. With each passing hour, you grew more and more frustrated until you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

It confused you, you couldn’t understand why you were so frustrated by this. You should have been happy that he had given up, cause that meant that you had won. But, this felt empty and bad. That was when you realized that it wasn’t the competition you had been craving, but him and his company. The realization that you actually liked that fucker hit you like a bolt of lightning. You suddenly couldn’t breathe and had to lean against the wall to support yourself. How could you actually like him!? He had constantly made stupid remarks and his ego was so inflated that you actually wondered whether he would burst! But, even as you thought that, you started thinking about how he was nice with everyone around him. He helped the slower students and he was always courteous with everyone. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him. Sure, he got on your nerves and constantly rubbed off your wrong side, but he hadn’t been mean to you. You took a shuddering breath as you realized how wrong you had been. You groaned as you realized that you now owed him an apology, but only for being mean to him first.  You would never apologise for trying to best him because that was something he was responsible for. Your feelings for him was something you didn’t want to address yet. It would fuck up your already fucked up life. 

As soon as the school ended you made your way towards the library and waited for Nick. When he started passing by the door you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside a secluded corner as you slammed the door shut.

The surprised expression on his face would have been rather comical, had you not been mad at him.

“What do you think you are doing!?” You practically growled at him.

“I honestly have no idea right now”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you snapped, “Why haven’t you been answering the questions?

“Because I don't care anymore!

Any thoughts you previously had about apologising to him flew out of your mind. 

“What do you mean you don't care anymore?” You inhaled sharply, “You started this entire thing!”

“I didn’t know that you were going to make yourself crazy over this!”

Why do you care whether I make myself crazy over this? You started it and you are going to finish it!

Nick just pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, “I am not doing this Y/N.”

“Why did you start this then?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to get you to talk to me!” He finally shouted.

A queer silence descended between the both of you. He looked at you as though waiting to see your reaction. That was when you noticed how close you were standing to each other. Your bodies were practically touching, and your breaths were intermingling. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting to his lips. You lashes fluttered as you looked back up to him, only to see that he was staring at your lips too. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You rose on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a moment he didn’t kiss you back, and you felt like your hopes were drowning. Maybe he didn’t like you that way. But then, you felt his lips move against yours. Your hands weaved through his hair and his encircled your waist. You jumped off the ground and wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossed to support yourself. Your mouth never left his as he turned around and you felt your back hit the wall. It didn’t hurt you, but you just held him more tightly. Your tongues clashed and you could taste him on your mouth. His lips then left your mouth even though you didn’t want it to and he placed kisses on your neck. You both were heaving from breathlessness, but you didn’t let that deter you. You placed kisses on his cheek and felt his hands travelling up and down your waist ever so slightly brushing against the underside of your breasts. You threw your head back in pleasure as you felt him getting bolder and travelling further down your neck. His hands brushed against the sleeve of your top, but before he could push it down, the door flew open and you both parted as though struck by lightning. You turned around to see Sabrina staring at you with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck happened here?”

You tried to control your breathing, and you could see that Nick was doing that too. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to explain the situation. 

Did he regret it? Did you overstep any boundaries? You had practically attacked him and did not even give him a chance to say. With every such thought, you were getting more and more horrified. Your feelings must have been written all over your face, and Nick easily read them, however, he thought that you were horrified at the thought of having kissed him. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest. In a quiet voice, he answered Sabrina’s question, 

“Nothing.”

Nothing. That word broke your heart. Nothing. That’s what you meant to him. Nothing. That’s what had happened between you two. Nothing. That’s what would ever happen between you two. That word conveyed more than enough about what you meant to him.

“I need to go.” You said, as your voice broke over the last two words.

You rushed out before anyone could see the tears streaming down your face. You could hear Sabrina following you out, asking you to stop. But you didn’t stop until you reached your home, where you finally broke down in the arms of your best friend

~ 

Nick watched in devastation as you rushed off. He thought that when you had kissed him, it was because you had actually felt something for him. But upon seeing your reaction when Sabrina stumble upon the both of you, he knew that it was pointless. With a sigh of resignation, he started making his way out of the room. Before he could do so, however, he was stopped by a hand on his chest. 

Well, well, well. Looks what the cat dragged in. Heard you and Y/N finally decided to fuck the life out of each other.

“You have the rest of your life to be a jerk, Agatha, why don’t you take the day off?”

“Ooh. Snarky! I like that.” Agatha exclaimed as she fingered the collar of his shirt. “Why don’t you forget about her and let me show you a good time?”

Nick’s patience was thinning fast. He grabbed her hands off his body. “I don't have time for this Agatha.”

“Fine,” she said as she smiled evilly. But don’t come running back to me or my sisters when that bitch leaves you.”

She turned around and left the room, leaving Nick alone to ponder about everything that had just conspired. 

~

“What happened Y/N?”

“I kissed him”

There was a beat of silence.

“And he kissed me back.”

More silence. 

“Say something.” You pleaded as you looked at Sabrina. You both were sitting on her bed. You didn’t want to be in your house with your snoopy siblings, so you had begged Sabrina to have this conversation at her home. Sabrina was naturally dying to know what had happened so she readily agreed. 

Finally, she spoke, “I thought you hated him.”

“I thought so too.” You sniffled, “but I guess I got so caught up in the stupid competition that I didn't even realize when my feelings for him started changing. But it doesn’t even matter now. He doesn’t like me back the way I do. I was nothing to him.”

Sabrina felt helpless as she looked at you. 

“You should forget about him. You deserve someone who actually likes and doesn't just use you as a pastime. You deserve more Y/N”

You knew that what Sabrina was saying was correct but you couldn’t forget about Nick so easily. You needed some time alone.

“You’re right,” you said as you stood up from the bed. “I do deserve more, I just need som-some time ’brina. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

Sabrina just nodded as she watched you leave.

Back in your home, you took a bath trying to forget about everything that had happened today. You scrubbed your body as though trying to forget about how he had touched you. How his hands had roamed on your body. How his kisses felt on your skin. The way he had kissed you, the way it felt when you touched him. Needless to say, the bath hadn’t helped at all. You came out of the bathroom more frustrated than ever and as you crossed your room something caught your eye. You turned around and saw your reflection in the full-length mirror. It wasn’t your nakedness that made you feel vulnerable, but the marks that had been left on your body. Love marks, you realized. Your neck was peppered with his love marks and it just served to make you sadder. Your fingers brushed against the marks and you thought that you could still feel the way he had touched and kissed you. You were startled out of your daze when you heard someone say your name. 

“Y/N”

You were shocked to find Nick staring at you and for a moment you were frozen. It was only when you noticed him averting his eyes, did you remember you were naked. Gasping, you quickly wrapped your towel around your body and stared at him

“Nick! What-how are you here?”

“Well, I am not really here. I’m astral projecting”

“Praise Satan! You can’t just do that. I was naked when you came into my room!” 

“I did enjoy the view though.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

You felt your blood boil. He had no right to do that. To joke as though you were the best of friends, as though nothing had happened.

“Stop!” you practically screamed, “You, you can't just do that!” 

“Sorry, I was just trying to-”

“I know what you were trying to do.” you cut him off before you could finish. “But I mean nothing to you. You don’t get to kiss me and touch me and then just leave.” 

“You were the one who left.” He retorted

“Only because you said it meant nothing to you.”

“I didn’t mean that! Sabrina just startled me with her entrance and I said the first thing that came to my mind.” 

“Go away, Nick”

Nick inhaled sharply when he heard his name on your lips for the first time. 

“Why do you care so much about what I said”

“Does it matter?” You said resignedly “Why are you here?”

“To tell you that I don’t want to leave this time. 

You froze, worried that if you moved then whatever trance this was, would break.

“I want to go out with you. I want to kiss you and touch you. And I don’t want all that while we are hiding in the darkest corner of the library.”

You could hardly breathe. He wanted the same things that you did. If this was some kind of cruel trick then you would kill whoever was responsible. As you were thinking about that you realized that he had stopped speaking, waiting for your response

“Y/N, please, say something.”

Do you really want that? you said breathlessly like you couldn’t believe it.

“All of it. And all of you.” He smiled as he continued, “From the moment I met you, I was enchanted by you. Everything you did, captivated me. I wanted to talk to you but I was rendered speechless and somehow the first things that came from my mouth, were insults. Then, I guess you hated me and I knew that you would never talk to me. So, I tried to irritate you and mock you. I never meant to start this stupid competition but it was worth it if it meant that you would at least look at me, so I went along with it. Today, when you kissed me, I was afraid that if I stopped you would leave me. And then you did leave me. But I don’t want to leave now, not unless you want me to.” 

His entire monologue felt like a breath of fresh air. You felt like you could finally breathe again. As soon as he finished, he looked at you with hopeful eyes. 

A small smile graced your face, “I owe you an apology too. I judged you way too harshly, even before I knew you. During the entire competition, my only goal was to make you lose, but I couldn’t help but see how kind you were to everyone else. How intelligent you were and how much fun I had whenever we were competing. Every time I was away from you, I was craving for your snarky remarks and when you laughed that stupid laugh of yours whenever I said something even marginally funny. I don’t want to leave, nor do I want you to leave”. 

You were smiling so much that it hurt, but it was all worth it to listen to his laugh as you talked. There was a moment of silence when you finished speaking. 

“Do you really want all that?” He asked as if he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“I do,” you confirmed. “I wish I could touch you right now.”

“Me too. Would-would you mind coming out to the academy right now?” He asked in an unsure tone, afraid that you would say no.

Your smile grew, even though you thought that wasn’t possible. 

“Race you to the tree on the boundary?”

‘You’re on!’

Nick vanished, and you gave a disbelieving sigh, still only partially convinced that all this was a real. You quickly grabbed and wore the clothes you had laid out, and rushed from the back door towards the academy. 

You hadn’t expected that you would reach the tree before him and therefore you weren’t surprised when you saw him waiting there for you. As if sensing that you were approaching, he turned around and his face broke into a smile. You rushed towards him and threw yourself on him, hugging him with all your might.

“I was half-convinced that I was dreaming.” You confessed to him.

“Dream of me a lot, do you?” He asked you in a teasing tone. 

You laughed and pulled back from the hug, and instead leaned in, joining your foreheads. “I’m glad you are still the same cocky bastard.”

He smiled at your teasing and grabbed your hand, weaving his fingers through yours.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He said bashfully.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, “You know...I can kiss better than you, lover boy...!”

You felt him silently laugh against your lips, “We’ll just see about that, darling.”

~~~

Congrats! You reached the end! I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave me comments and send some asks and love!!

[alfredosauce50]

Method to my madness [Yandere! Switzerland x reader]

Word count: 4,144 Warning: NSFW content later in the fic. There will be a warning line before it starts, and another line to indicate its conclusion. So skip it if you don’t want to read it.

Synopsis: As a stereotypical Swiss, he never did anything unplanned and worshipped punctuality. But when it comes to you, he’d throw that all away and show up to your door unannounced. In another country. And in the middle of the school term. Why? Because he can. Because he doesn’t trust your neighbors, your raunchy one in particular. He was the polar opposite to him—lazy, sloppy, and disorganized. So when he tries to invite you to a party, Basch makes it a point to stop you from going—even if that entails doing exactly what he accused him of. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Crunching numbers occurred to him like second nature. Anything that could be explained in a book, he understood like the back of his hand. In fact, he didn’t have much trouble doing anything at all, but when it came to you, every fiber of his being would clam up. His infallible logic betrayed him like he never had any in the first place. Now was one of those times as he boarded a flight bound for California. 

As he made himself comfortable in his seat, he gave the passengers around him a quick study. Already, they were stripping themselves of their outer layers. Windbreakers, jackets, coats, you name it. A middle-aged man removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt underneath, and with big, bold letters spelled ‘USA’, which popped out around his belly as if to emphasize it. A single thought occurred to him as he looked away with furrowed brows. Tourists.

They had their fun, and were on their way home, starting with preparing for the sweltering heat of Californian Summer. He folded his arms together and sank into his chair. He’d remove his knit later. At the moment, he had a more pressing issue in his hands. What was he supposed to say when he’d show up at your door without notice? 

Hi, I felt a dire need to visit you all the way in America in the middle of your semester when I heard you were living in a dorm. But that’s not all. It would’ve been fine until you sent me a selfie with a guy in the background holding a peace sign. Then that other photo showing a different guy using your toaster. Which implies that there are numerous guys living with you. In other words, people I don’t trust alone with you. 

So here I am. 

Surely, that wouldn’t fly. 

You’d known him as a man who had his whole life planned out in a diary. And this was hardly planned. It was spontaneous, even. Basch Zwingli, the stereotypical Swiss who looked at the clock for things to do, was being spontaneous? Hell may as well freeze over at this point. To say this would surprise you was given, but he didn’t see anything wrong with this, per se. He probably would’ve done this to Lilli, but the thing was, he wouldn’t have ever let her study abroad by herself in the first place. 

She was his baby sister, but you weren’t. And that was probably why he was at your doorstep. He couldn’t oppose your choice of study, but he could sure as hell be part of it. 

He knocked a few times. He could barely make out the faint ‘just a second!’, but the sound of the voice was so familiar, he froze up. But that wasn’t quite right. Hearing Lilli’s voice never made him feel this way. The door creaked open to reveal a less than presentable girl in her pajamas, an oversized shirt, and she had the messy bed hair to go with it. 

And when you saw who your visitor was, the droop in your eyes disappeared. 

“Basch!? Oh my god--what are you--” You could barely talk as disbelieving laughs fell from your lips. “I can’t believe it’s you! I almost couldn’t recognize your face because I didn’t expect you at all!” Reaching out to give him a tight embrace, he returned the gesture with a gentler hug. 

His arms were slow to wrap around your form, but to even have your affection reciprocated at all spoke volumes of how he was feeling. It had been nearly half a year since he saw you last, and to realize he was spoiling himself with an unannounced visit sent chills down his spine. He really was pushing the envelope with this one. But he had a gut feeling he wouldn’t regret this at all. 

When you pulled away, he caught you gleaming at him with the brightest of smiles. It was so infectious, he felt a light tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m here if that convinces you.”  

You grinned. “What are you even doing here? My break doesn’t start until a month later! But I can say this is a good time you caught me in. I only have one more final to pull through.” Pulling him into your humble abode, you barely made it into the hallway when you failed to hear the sound of wheels. So you paused. “... Basch, where’s your stuff?” 

Confusion contorted at your expression, but you looked more worried than anything. It would’ve made sense if he was planning to stay at a hotel, but that wasn’t possible. He’d rather sleep on the ground than spend hundreds of dollars for accommodation, and what was the point of visiting if he wasn’t under the same roof as you? He tensed up as he confronted how truly out of character he’d been acting. 

Shit. Even he was shocked that he failed to bring the most fundamental of things for this trip. When he bought his ticket, nothing went through his mind besides the need to see you. It took up so much of his brain, it managed to block out the concept of a suitcase. Packing for a trip that was to last for months. How was he supposed to explain himself? “... They lost my suitcase on the way here.” Perfect. 

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you nodded in understanding. “Ah, that’s too bad. I’m sure they’ll find it for you, though. Otherwise, they’re gonna have one hell of a lawsuit.” 

“... But where’s Lilli?”  

Why was his sister not with him when they were practically sewed together by the hip? And for such an important visit, no less. But he came prepared in case you’d ask. “Lilli’s not here because she had school. And I saw that tickets were the cheapest during this time so I decided to come early.” 

At the sound of that, any traces of worry left your face and you burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Of course you did, you cheapskate. I was always wondering which trait of yours was the strongest, but now I know.” Blood rushed up to his cheeks and he forced himself to look away. But when he felt your hands settle on his shoulders, he slowly turned to you. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to regret that action, because in that very second, he realized he was wrapped around your finger. 

“I’m just kidding, Basch. There’s nothing wrong with saving money. And if that means you get to visit early, I’ll love you for it.” You cracked a tender smile at him this time around, and seeing that look on your face while listening to you talk had him wondering if he was even breathing at that point. 

It was almost terrifying how easily he could lose his head around you. And he thought he had a good one on his shoulders. Everyone did. How come he could barely even think straight when it came to you?   

“... Right.” He tipped his head forward to let his bangs fall in front of his face. It was a gesture that was almost shy in nature, but his action revealed a small ponytail on the back of his head, which of course, stole your attention away in an instant. 

You gasped to emphasize the discovery. “Aw, did you tie your hair up? It looks so good! Everyone’s gonna be asking about you now!” Giving him a teasing elbow, you watched his expression morph into dismay. “Hey, I promise it’s a good kind of curiosity. College has us all swarmed and we’re dying for something out of the ordinary. My friends will be excited to meet you!” 

“Why, because I’m… European?” 

“Are you asking that because I complimented your hair?” He heard a soft snort from you. “I’m from the same town as you, dummy. I think I’d count as European as well. But that’s probably what they’ll be so interested about.” That was right. “If they find out about you, they won’t stop asking about if we’re… You know what.” Your voice strained a little and you looked embarrassed, even.

He blinked. For someone so high-strung about you, he could sometimes miss the key points. 

“I’m having a hard time following. About what?” 

You sighed and pushed his cheeks together to muffle his words. “Why do you always have to make me say everything, hm? They’ll obviously ask if we’re dating. You’ve never met them because they always go elsewhere during the break, but everyone will be here this time.” 

By everyone, he assumed that included peace-sign guy and toaster-leeching guy. Immediately, he frowned with the most potent kind of disdain he ever felt. To think they spent most of the year with you was almost disheartening. But he didn’t need to remind himself they were the reason he was here. Basch could admit he was an oblivious person at times, but he wasn’t ignorant to the promiscuous sex life in college. The men here were wolves, so he had to see for himself if he could really leave you alone here. 

But he had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving your side anytime soon. 

If that was going to give your friends the wrong idea, or perhaps, the right idea about you two, then so be it. He even wanted them to assume things. Even if he didn’t think much of it, flying all the way here for an impromptu visit was more than enough to get mouths moving. 

He had yet to be on the same page as them. To realize that maybe, what he was doing wasn’t because you were like a little sister to him--like Lilli--someone to be protected. Or rather, someone he had strong feelings for. But given enough time around these so-called friends of yours, he’d learn it the hard way. And who better to press his buttons than your raunchy next-door neighbor? 

The day after his unexpected arrival, he’d encounter this very neighbor who found the leisure in swinging by for a visit. Basch had his hands full with dishes in the sink when a few knocks were heard. He was generous enough to make lunch and clean up, though you had to wonder if doing chores was how he’d repay the debt from all the things you had to buy for him. 

He never moved from where he stood as he could already hear you scrambling to answer the door. When it creaked open, a low and playful laugh greeted you. “There’s my girl.” My what now? Turning his head to the newcomer, he felt a pang of annoyance when he saw a man lean in from the doorframe. Said man reached out to give your hair an affectionate ruffle, and immediately, Basch decided he didn’t like him. 

“Mornin’. Did ya eat yet? I was gonna go to a cafe for some grub. The one that has those killer vegan pancakes. Wanna come with?” 

You hummed in disappointment. “Sorry, Al. I just ate. Maybe if you came in a little earlier, I would’ve been able to come.” Placing your hands on your hips, you placed emphasis on what you later added. “It’s two.” 

No, he hated him. From that brief exchange and study of his physical appearance, he knew he was practically the polar opposite of him. A lazy,  good-for-nothing slob. He had two full sleeves of tattoos. Piercings decorated one of his eyebrows, and as he spoke, he saw a small silver ball on his tongue. His fiery red hair wasn’t even long, but it was still unkempt as if he just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother checking the mirror. But then again, he did greet you with ‘morning’. Basch tightened his ponytail and made his way over to you, disgruntled. “...”

Sensing his presence by your side, you patted him on the back. “This is Basch, by the way. The friend I told you about.” When you exchanged looks with Basch, your smile faltered when you saw his expression. He looked almost upset, though you hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

You figured you’d ask later. 

The stranger was fast to acknowledge him, and with great enthusiasm at that. “Ohh, you’re the dude who flew over from Finland or something!” His striking ruby eyes widened with fascination, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, you’re pretty high-strung bout’ her, aren’t you? Makes the two of us.”  

High-strung about you? Of course, he was--whatever the hell that meant. “... Switzerland.” The blonde clarified, to where Allen merely shrugged. “Close enough.” 

While you laughed off his playful jibes and apparent forgetfulness, Basch couldn’t humor him. Between him and your neighbor, they were probably completely serious about the high-strung bit. He could tell in that brief side-eye Allen gave him, almost as if he was trying to stir some kind of reaction. 

So be it. Two could play at this game. Unbeknownst to your raunchy friend, Basch could be just as outspoken. 

“Anyways--” Rolling his head to you, Allen shot you an expectant look. “So… What’s your answer, doll? To the party this Friday? Is it a yes or a yes?” 

“She’s not going.”

Your lips separated agape to answer, but he beat you to it. His invitation was shot down just like that. Shock widened your eyes and you gawked at Basch. You knew how protective he could get, exceedingly so, but it never got to the point of canceling plans without discussion. 

“What do you mean, I’m not going? Basch, it’s fine!” You exasperated, but his only response was to squeeze your hand. 

Something was wrong, for sure. 

“... Yeah, it’s not like anything‘s gonna happen. Not when I’m around. So what’s the big idea, man?” Allen folded his arms disapprovingly. A shrewd light glinted in his eyes when he was struck with an idea. “If you’re so worried, you can just come with. Even though you’re not her boyfriend—”

Basch felt himself go red in the face. From both anger and mortification—because Allen was right. 

“... Fine. I will go with her.” He relented, albeit reluctantly. Hardening his stare at the tanned figure, someone who sounded more persistent than he liked, he let his tongue slip. “And it doesn’t matter I’m not her boyfriend. I’m still her best friend, and I care about her more than you do.”

It was a given from how long you’ve been this close to him. But that didn’t change the fact blurting that out was unlike him. It left you in a blushing tizzy to hear him explicitly say those things, and you grew hyper-aware of his iron grip on your hand. 

Being protective was one thing. But when was he possessive? 

Allen laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You can flex that label all you want.” Making a move to leave by turning his feet, his lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t want it. Not when a better label’s up for grabs. Boyfriend. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Shooting you a wink to reduce you into a stuttering mess, he took his leave. 

And when he did, Basch lost his shit. 

“How long have you been friends with that guy? Can’t you see he’s just trying to get into your pants? He’ll probably stop being so nice to you once he does!” He fumed, taking both your hands into his as if to secure you in place. But really, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you were about to receive the biggest lecture of your life. “You can’t hang around people like that, (F/N). You can’t trust him.”

You hung your head as a frown downturned your features. There was some truth to his words, especially when the man he spoke so ill of was a fairly new friend of yours. It was a shame to say the least because you did like having him around, but that wasn’t the biggest concern of yours at the moment. “You’re right… Kinda… I just really liked him as a friend, so I didn’t wanna say no…”

That didn’t come out right.

He thinned his lips as a grim expression contorted at his face. “... Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head profusely. “No! God, no, of course not! Sorry, I put it weirdly. Nothing happened, really.”

Basch sighed, reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

His bangs fell over his eyes to hide them. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this worked up over you, over a guy at that, but then again, he was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than that. “... Okay. So are you gonna go to the party?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll probably go if you come with me, so…” With your free hand, you held onto the hem of his shirt. When he caught sight of the look you had on your face, he stopped breathing all over again. “I can tell something’s wrong with you. You looked really upset just then, and it’s not like you to just snap like that.”

He released you to dig through his hair, loosening the once tight strands pulled back in his ponytail. 

That was right. Since when was he so possessive? 

So jealous? 

He bit his lip and looked positively defeated. As he fixated on the ground to avoid your gaze, he felt your hand gently cup his cheek, forcing him to look up at you. “It’s not like you to suddenly show up out of the blue, either. So tell me, why did you actually come here?”

Basch furrowed his brows and screwed his eyes shut. “... I don’t know. I just wanted to see you. That’s all.” You softened your gaze at that, feeling your chest swell up with warmth. He was always brutally honest, but he was more ambiguous when it came to how he felt. 

So to hear him admit his troubles so easily had you almost worried about him.

As if he sensed this worry, he offered you a small smile of reassurance. 

“Don’t worry about me. I swear there’s nothing wrong.”

Or that was what he wished, at least, because he was far from okay. 

To make things worse, Allen wasn’t patient enough for today because he dropped by two more times after meeting Basch for the first time. Nearly a week had passed since then. This only proved his suspicions—that all he wanted was to get in your pants—and it left Basch positively restless. So restless that he couldn’t leave you alone.

It was finally Friday, and you were in your room browsing for outfits for the night. The man was sleeping like a log in your bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at waking him up, you decided to change with him in the room. How he ended up in your sheets wasn’t anything out of character, per se. 

In the previous few days, he followed you around everywhere you went. That, you were perfectly fine with, but sleeping in your bed? He was pushing it. Despite your valiant efforts to get him back into the guest room, it was unparalleled to his own determination. What could you say? He was as stubborn as a mule. That statement would manifest into reality as he stirred awake. 

Sitting up with the worst bed hair you’d ever seen, you found yourself covering your chest instinctively as he stared dead into your eyes with his own drooping ones. “Basch! Sorry, um, I couldn’t wake you so I decided to just…” Blood rushed up to your cheeks as he continued to stare, wordlessly. “Basch?” 

You watched him slide off the mattress and saunter over. Holding your wrists and lowering them, he exposed your bra, but he never gave you the chance to complain. Instead, he loomed his head over yours and glowered at you. “You’re not going.” 

Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when his hot breath fanned over your lips, and you were much too taken aback by his closeness to object. In fact, his face was so close, his nose was brushing against yours. “Wait, what are you--” Your whispers were cut off abruptly when he sealed your mouth with his. 

He was kissing you. Albeit innocently as he parted frequently, pecking your lips over and over again. As gentle as he was, he still left you breathless, but flustered and confused all the same. But you didn’t have the heart to push him off you as your mind raced with questions. Why was he doing this? Had he always felt this way? There was a tenderness in his touch that told you he had. 

But why didn’t he ever tell you? 

When he finally parted, he kept his forehead pressed against yours. “Just tell him you’re not interested.” He frowned. “Say you already have a boyfriend. I’ll pretend if I have to.”  

Because he’d been denying it. 

“But--” Basch kissed you again, leaving a silvery strand of saliva connecting your lips as he parted. Your chest was rising and falling in a fervent manner as you struggled to breathe--the same plight he’d been facing for a while. Frankly speaking, you were at a loss from how much control you let him have over you. But you never tried to push him away. At this point, the throbbing in your chest had completely shattered your resolve. “--why are you kissing me if we’re pretending? There’s nobody here but us.” 

His cheeks reddened before he tugged you along to your bed. Seating you on his lap, he attached his hands to your waist and squeezed it, making you yelp out in surprise. “If you’re letting me kiss you, then how are we pretending?” You blushed at that, realizing you had just as much of a part to blame. 

Leaning in at that, he fanned his breath over your lips. “It just means it’s real.” 

He still wasn’t processing the weight of his actions and just how out of line he was acting. But then again, he never did either of those things when it came to you. And it wasn’t like you were stopping him, either. So really, you were just as guilty for letting things go out of hand. Though you had to wonder if this was how things were supposed to be, especially when you continued kissing him in his lap.

*NSFW content ahead*

Said kissing escalated along with the heat of your bodies, all until he had his tongue in your mouth. 

He never realized how much he’d wanted this until he had you under him, squeezing his neck as he left lovebites all over yours. Then, he made his way down to your shoulder and collarbones, chewing on your flesh until he memorized the taste of you. But he couldn’t say he was satisfied. Not until he truly crossed your boundaries and went all the way. 

That was where this was going, after all.

Rather than going to that party Allen invited you to, you spent the whole night having sex with Basch. To say it was a psychedelic experience was an understatement.

As he held you down to make love to you, letting his arousal curve deep into your walls at every strong thrust he gave, he had you writhing in pleasure so good, the last remnants of your sound mind were completely destroyed. So while you would’ve been fussing about the fact he didn’t use any protection, you couldn’t, not when he fucked you silly.

To him, this was a culmination of everything he wanted. To have you for himself. And this rampant desire was so potent, it inundated him. Tugging apart the strands that held his self-control and reason together, he lost his head. 

You never imagined he’d be so energetic and reckless in bed, even cumming inside you, twice, on purpose, when he was always so high-strung about safety. But as you found yourself on his thighs again, trembling as you sunk down to the base of his cock, you could watch him unravel with all sorts of animated expressions you’d never seen before. 

Desperation, lust, and an aggressive infatuation as he bounced you on his imposing member. Bringing you close so he could bite your ear, you could hear the shivering in his breathing as he held back his moans. “You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes...” He whispered. 

*NSFW content ends*

That was the first time you ever heard him curse, too. So maybe, you really were driving him crazy. This would become more apparent the next morning as he slept in past noon, something he hadn’t done in years. 

And depending on if you’d remember or not, he’d buy you some morning-after pills. 

Because something happening wasn’t a big concern of his. 

In fact, it excited him.

[juliandev0rak]

Main 6 reacting to MC crashing their own funeral? Like, MC was alone in the woods and encountered a magical plant that temporarily stopped their heart for a couple days and so they passed out. When their LI finds them, they think they are dead and obviously hold a funeral service. But in the middle of it, MC wakes up in their coffin and starts knocking from the inside until someone opens it to find MC alive and well.

spooky and angsty? sign me up! ⚰️

I also used ideas from @hellodarknessmyoldfwen who had a similar request idea 💗

MC has really been through it… dying once is enough but TWICE?

warnings: mentions of death, grieving, being buried alive (not detailed, only briefly mentioned but i wanted to include a warning in case)

(also extra points to anyone who catches my What We Do In The Shadows reference)

Asra

he’s so upset when he finds you in the forest with no pulse and no sign of life, he collapses next to you and tries every spell he can think of to wake you up again

he can’t believe he’s lost you a second time and he blames himself for not saving you again

he has to be carried away from your side hours later when Muriel eventually finds him, he doesn’t want to leave you alone even though by now he’s tried every spell he can think of and it’s no use

he spends the days before your funeral in the palace library looking for anything he might’ve missed, he brought you back once and he’ll do anything to bring you back again- even if it means sacrificing himself

at first he doesn’t want to go to your funeral, it’s too painful, but he doesn’t want to regret missing it so he goes and Muriel stands with him for support

he feels like he needs to say something to honor you and all that you mean to him. but when he steps up to the front of the small crowd he’s interrupted by a loud knocking noise

his eyes fly to the coffin as he hears another noise and then he feels your aura, terrified and bright, and suddenly he’s clawing at the wooden lid 

someone comes to help him open it and there you are, sitting up and blinking into the brightness around you, incredibly confused

he shouts your name and nearly faints in surprise, not believing his eyes

after the initial surprise dies down you explain what happened, how you’d gone to find a rare herb for a spell and accidentally picked the wrong one

he’s worried that being dead, even for a few days, might’ve affected your memories again but luckily you seem just fine 

still- he isn’t letting you out of his sight, he’s watched you die twice and there’s no way he’s going to let it happen a third time

Julian

when he sees you lying in the forest his medical skills kick in and he’s immediately checking for a pulse and doing everything he can to get you breathing again

he doesn’t want to admit that you could really be gone

he blames himself for letting you die on his watch again and he goes into a deep spiral, spending all of his time between your death and funeral in the Rowdy Raven drowning his sorrows

the morning of your funeral Portia finds him passed out in his usual corner booth and drags him to Mazelinka’s to clean up, and hopefully sober up, before the funeral

when he sees your coffin he can’t help but burst into tears, hating himself for not finding you sooner or doing something more to bring you back

when he hears the first knocking sound he figures it must be his splitting headache but then he notices your other friends reacting to the sound as the knocking becomes more frequent

he watches with wide eyes as the lid to the coffin is lifted and you pop up, just as he had not long ago after his visit to the Hanged Man

”Oh, I’m way too drunk for this” is his first response, but then things shift into focus and he rushes to your side to check you over and make sure you’re really ok 

if you thought he was overprotective about your health before, he’s now extra careful and won’t leave your side for days until he’s certain the poison is out of your system

he has to hand it to you though, that was quite a dramatic reappearance and after he’s sure you’re safe both of you love to joke about crashing your own funerals

Nadia

she isn’t the one to find you and when the Chamberlain comes to tell her the news that your body’s been found at the edge of the palace gardens, she rushes to your side 

she immediately calls an investigation to determine the cause of death and brings Julian to examine you as well

when no cause of death is found she resigns herself to the fact that she’s lost you and begins to mourn

the funeral she plans for you is elaborate and half of Vesuvia is invited, there are speeches and a parade and she only just restrains herself from naming a holiday after you

halfway through one of the speeches there’s a commotion on the raised platform where your coffin is displayed and guards rush to the sound, only to realize it’s coming from inside your coffin

they look to Nadia in confusion and she steps onto the platform to press an ear to the coffin, when she hears a muffled noise she rears back in shock and immediately orders the guards to open the lid

as you sit up in the coffin, very much alive, Nadia realizes she’s never been more glad to be wrong about something

she calls the best doctors for you and insists on keeping you in bed for the next few days as she makes sure you’re really back to full health

she cancels every meeting and event to stay by your side until you’re feeling good as new and she asks you to please be more careful when picking wild plants, she has no idea what Lucio might have had planted during his time as Count 

Muriel

Inanna is the one who finds you and brings Muriel to where you’re laying, not too far from the hut and only a little ways into the wilder part of the forest

he fights back terror when he sees you lying there and can’t feel a pulse, his first thought is to run into town to get help

his second thought is to check what’s in your hand, a prickly looking green plant

he recognizes it immediately and heaves a sigh of relief, the adrenaline in his body causing him to fall to his knees next to you

he knows all of the plants that grow around here so he recognizes that you’ve accidentally eaten something poisonous, luckily for the both of you it’s only temporary

he carries you in to the hut and bundles your lifeless looking body up in the soft furs on his bed

he wishes he could get a message to Asra to see if he can help but he doesn’t want to leave your side

the effects of the poison could last for hours or days so he sits by the side of the bed holding your cold hand and hoping you’ll open your eyes again

by the second day he’s getting worried, from what he knows it should have worn off already but you could just be having a strong reaction to it

he takes to pacing around the hut, leaving only to get more firewood so he can keep your body warm, there isn’t much he can do but wait and hope

after four days he’s about to give up, maybe he’s identified the wrong plant and you really are dead, but just as he’s made up his mind to go find Asra you open your eyes and stare up at him with wide, confused eyes

he can’t restrain his excitement and relief as he pulls you into his arms and holds you close, making you promise to never eat anything you find in the woods without showing him first

Portia

when she finds you sprawled out under a big oak tree her first thought is that you’re napping but when she takes a step closer she notices you’re not breathing 

she immediately screams and draws the palace guards who help carry you inside while she runs to get Julian

despite his best efforts he simply can't find a pulse or get you to wake up so he pronounces you dead, sending Portia into a fit of hysterics

at your funeral a few days later she stands supported between Julian and Mazelinka, she’s trying to be strong for you but she can’t stop crying for long enough to say the eulogy she’s prepared

she gets ahold of her emotions eventually and launches into her memories of you, telling you how much everyone loves you and will miss you

the casket lid isn’t closed because Portia had insisted on one more look at you so it isn’t difficult for you to sit up, feeling quite well rested and very confused

as you take in your surroundings it occurs to you that you’re sitting in a coffin and that Portia is currently talking about you in the past tense, clearly there’s been a misunderstanding

”Portia” you call, trying to get out of the raised coffin, she doesn’t hear you so you call her name again and she spins around to face you

”Will you be QUIET? I’m trying to talk about MC!” She shouts, face red from tears and now anger as she tries to find the source of the rude interruption

her eyes widen as she takes you in and then she screams and runs towards you, nearly knocking you over

”You’re alive!” she says, hands reaching for your face as if to make sure you’re real. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Ilya, he doesn’t even have a medical license.” she grumbles, causing the man in question to object

after you’ve had a chance to explain what happened she says, ”Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” 

Lucio

he might not show it but he’s completely heartbroken that you’re no longer with him, he’s just too proud to cry in front of anyone (that’s reserved for behind closed doors)

he must admit, however, that he’s quite proud of the funeral he’s planned for you- it’s gaudy and extravagant and open to the public and he’s asked pretty much everyone you know to make a speech about you

he sits through all of the speeches without really paying attention, he’s thinking about the statute he wants to commission of you for the town square and how much he wishes you were here with him to get through these boring speeches (even if they are about you)

when it’s his turn to give a speech he starts to feel better, he loves an audience and he wants to make sure all of Vesuvia remembers you 

you wake up just as he takes the stage and are confused to find yourself surrounded by hundreds of white roses and laying in some sort of large gilded box, covered in what looks like precious jewels, you’ve woken up in some strange places before but this certainly takes the cake

you brush roses off of yourself and take stock of the situation, there's a lid on top of you but there are plenty of little holes which let in light and you can hear the sounds of a crowd around you

when you try the lid and it moves easily you reach up to push it off, reeling at the sunlight that floods into the space 

you take in the sight of Lucio on a stage set off to your left and the huge crowd in front of you, suddenly realizing that you’re currently attending your own funeral 

”MC was the bravest and most noble magician of all time, they were unparalleled in all of Vesuvia. NO- unparalleled in all the world!” Lucio is saying as you sit up and you hold back a laugh

”Was I?” you call over to him, swinging a leg over the edge of what you now realize is the world’s fanciest coffin, gilded even on the inside as if a dead person could appreciate the finery

”You were!” he answers, his signature smirk in place as he turns back to the crowd to continue his speech but the words die on his tongue and his head swings back to look at you in shock

”Well, I’m sorry to crash the party but it seems I’m no longer dead.” you explain, the crowd staring at you in as much awe as Lucio is

”See what I mean, people of Vesuvia? Unparalleled!” he grins as he rushes over to you and the crowd breaks into a cheer

once the chaos dies down you realize that Lucio still seems a bit upset and you realize that he’s upset that you stole the show, ”Are you really mad at me for coming back to life during my own funeral?” you ask

”My speech was going great and you ruined it! I was in the zone! Everyone was loving it.” He pouts and you shake your head in disbelief

”I loved it, I saw the end of it. It was a very lovely funeral, Lucio, I’m glad I had a chance to attend.” You smile

that seems to snap his brain back into place and he pulls you into his arms with a serious expression,  “I’m so glad you came back to me.”

[multiplefandomsblog]

Prince!Kokichi headcanons

request; may I request Kokichi as a prince and his female S/O getting engaged head-canons?<3

warnings; prince!Kokichi, female!reader, reader uses female pronouns, cussing, Kokichi is a fucking dumbass, is scrabble a thing in the royal au? well, it is now! this turned more into scenarios lmfao sorry bouT THAT ACK- unedited and all over the place, kinda passive aggressive hh

note; sorry for the long wait! I also apologize if the royal au isn’t too detailed, or if it even makes sense- I haven’t written anything like this before, so you’ll have to forgive me T_T Thank you so much for requesting tho!

◊ Prince Kokichi is a little shit, we all know that. So you need to know the disclaimers that come with loving a little shit;

◊ c h a o s

◊ Readers be warned. 

◊ Once Kokichi realized that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he becomes more clingy. He says it’s because he wants to spend more time with you, but he actually spends more time with you so he could try and study you to see if you felt the same about marriage and because he loves you, that too.

◊ He kind of acts like even more of a little shit, constantly teasing you and pretending to get on one knee, only to pick something up. 

◊ “Hey, S/o, there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while…” He fidgeted, faking an expression of nervousness. “Will you…” Your eyes widened, ‘is he going to propose??’ Answer in mind, you started nodding immediately, “Check out my horse’s butt? Mmm, I think he has some sort of anal fizzure, or something, but I can’t be certain-” He watched as your face dropped, a hint of a smirk on his faux-innocent face. 

◊ You cut him off, “No.” Kokichi looked at you in betrayal, “Ehhh? But s/o, you already agreed to it!” Gulping nervously, “I thought you said something else..!” Your suddenly timid voice, barely audible. Kokichi had to move his face closer to yours sneaky hoe,suddenly his voice dropped low, “Hm? What did you think I said?” His chuckled mischievously, laugh sending shivers down your spine. “I am going to throw my shoe at your face.” Kokichi’s earlier teasing demeanour seemingly disappeared after you threatened him, “Aw, S/o-chan is getting feisty- S/O WAIT-”

◊ Once you’ve unknowingly confirmed that you’re as whipped as he is for you(?), he starts his evil plan.

◊ He really wants to wow his future wife with his proposal, he wants all the other kingdoms to fucking wail because they’ll know they won’t ever be able to top his proposal off. 

◊ Although he’s almost 100% confident you’ll say yes, he still has some doubts. He is human after all, he’s bound to feel human emotions like fear of rejection. Though, as a master liar, he lies to himself, “She’ll 100% say yes, I am amazing after all, why wouldn’t she? H a h a h a-” making him feel waaay better about his doubts.

◊ It’s not healthy, but hey! It works!

◊ He lied to himself so much that he didn’t even think about the part where your dad would kill him- He forgot to ask for his permission beforehand, and he was going to regret it(whooops).

◊ He does months of preparing before his final plan. I don’t want to give it away but… It has something to do with animals. And uh, paint.

◊ Whenever you spotted Kokichi being suspicious, he somehow always successfully lies his way out of your accusations. Mostly charming you and diverting your attention from his sus-ness. 

◊ Kokichi does many, many foolish things to try and catch your attention, and almost never gets caught for it because of his amazing skills at lying. But this time, oh ho ho.

◊ The man had spray painted all the horses, animal-safe paint… I think, spelling out, “will you marry me?” Turns out, horses don’t like spray paint(who knew?), and so they made loud neigh noises while Kokichi painted their huge chests, unwantingly attracting the squire because of the noise.

◊ Once he was caught by the squire, his finger ‘accidentally’ slipped and he fired a gun in the air to scare the horses- Don’t worry! The horses knew where they were going. Prior to spray painting them, he had trained them to go to your kingdom every time they hear gunfire. Which explains why horses always come running to you whenever someone goes hunting-

◊ Luckily for him, the question mark horse waited for Kokichi to hop on before it had run away with the others, leaving enough time for Kokichi to escape and nearly trample the squire- 

◊ When you saw the jumble of horses and letters outside your window, your mind immediately thought of Kokichi. Oh wait, there he was! Your knight in shining armour, riding a distraught horse with a question mark on it’s back. You find yourself wondering, why did you find him attractive?

◊ Though, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t do flips when you saw his purple head in the crowd of horses.

◊ You rolled your eyes playfully as you saw Kokichi beckoning you down with his hands, smiling when you saw how silly he looked. He was covered in dirt yet you’ve never seen someone so excited.

◊ Trotting down the stairs, your eyes caught sight of Kokichi’s stained back as he desperately tried to get the horses in order. “Kokichi?” Feeling your face heat up as you saw the way he turned and looked at you, he’s unsure how but, you always make him go speechless when he sees you. Maybe you’re a witch? “S/ooooo, why are you so fast?” He snapped out of his daze as he puffed, turning back around to move the horses in order. 

◊ Seeing as how you’re not stupid(and you play a lot of scrabble), one look at all the horse letters and you already knew what was happening. Kokichi peaked back behind him, sneakily glancing at your face that seemed to be… constipated? Wait no, you were holding in a laugh. “... You know don’t you?” He glared at your trembling form, your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to hide your giggles. “N-no, no! Go on, continue and uh, arrange that horse! Pfft-”, you said as you raised your fist in the air enthusiastically. He pouted, taking a couple steps towards you, “You didn’t even try to lie. This is offensive to me, you know?” He said in a faux-disappointed tone, only making you laugh harder. 

◊ He lightly pushed your arm, “S/o, why are you so overly intelligent? All those word games make you seem like a nerd.” You gasped dramatically, “I’m a nerd? Look behind you!” Frustrated(bc bitch knew he lost-), he quickly pecked you with his dirt-covered lips. Once he pulled away, he was granted with your beautiful, flustered expression he had grown to love.

◊ “Just answer the question already S/oooo!” He whined, pulling at your sleeves like a child. “F-fine, fine, I do. I will marry you.” He felt his whole body shiver with relief, face suddenly lighting up and giving you whiplash at the change in his mood.

◊ “Yay! S/o-chan looooves me~!” He leaped into your arms, covering your nightgown with dirt. Though neither of you seemed to care about how dirty and un-noblelike you both acted, as you were both too invested in the other to even think about anything else. Including the horses that were now running away. 

◊ Though he lies about many many things, he is never lying when he says he wants to court you. He’ll say it a million times until you believe him, he doesn’t care, he just loves you so much.

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 17: wanting

All chapters

chapter 16

Potions seemed to drag on forever, Snape was just teaching a lesson, his velvety monotone voice going on and on about a potion we were gonna brew soon. I was trying my best to stay awake, I was still very exhausted and his voice was slowly lulling me to sleep. My eyelids felt heavy and I let them close for one second, or so I thought. I began drifting off and it was too difficult to open them again. I could hear his voice get quieter as I slipped into unconsciousness. I should have known better, I saw a kid fall asleep in his class once and he practically hexed them, he took away house points and yelled at the boy, which ensured he never made that mistake again. 

I jumped awake to a tap on my shoulders. My head was now on the table on my arms and I opened my eyes to see Draco staring at me. "Y/n, come on class is over." he said, collecting his books. "What?" I looked around and saw most of the kids had already left and Snape wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Where's Professor Snape? Why didn't he wake me up? Why didn't you wake me up!" I said lightly shoving his shoulder as we headed out of the classroom. "He left as soon as the bell rang, and I didnt think I needed to, I mean I tried and you didn't move so I figured you needed the sleep." He said smiling. "How odd that he did not get angry with me, did he even say anything?" I asked as we went to the Slytherin common room. "No, when he looked and saw you asleep he just rolled his eyes and kept teaching, I guess he figured if you have the time to sleep, then you don't need to learn haha" I thought over what he was saying, that's not like Snape at all why would he do that? And he knows I'm bad at potions so you would think he'd want me to pay attention.

We went to our rooms for our free period and I said I'd see him at dinner. I was alone in my room and decided to get the book out I had stolen from Snape's room earlier. I began from the start and read the first few chapters, I noticed it began getting dark out and looked at the clock, "Great I missed dinner." I realized I had gotten through almost half of the book, it was very informational, and sadly to say, was giving me some ideas. I mean there's no way I could earn Severus' affections but a girl can dream right? I got my bag and quickly headed out to make it to Snapes lessons. "Draco! So sorry I missed Dinner I got caught up reading!" I said seeing him in the common room, "Oh that's ok I actually saved you this dinner" he said handing me a dinner roll. I smiled taking it from him, "thanks so much I'll catch you later!" I took a bite of the roll not realizing how hungry I was and headed to the potions classroom. The door was closed so I stood there and knocked on it. Recalling when Severus rescued me from the weird encounter with Lockhart that one day, I smiled to myself thinking about how he's always been there in my times of need, so conveniently.

"Come in" I heard him say from the other side and I walked in smiling, taking another bite of my roll. "Evening Professor," I said, sitting down in Dracos seat. It was closer to Snape's desk, easier to hear him from here of course, no other reason. "Today I figured we would look over the Amortentia potion" he said looking up at me, I dropped my smile, that was the potion he was teaching earlier that I so happened to have fallen asleep during the lesson. "About that," I said, getting up and walking over to his desk, "I wanted to know why you didn't wake me up during class." I said fiddling with my fingers. He looked down at his papers thinking for a moment. "I figured you deserved it after last night, although you should have indeed been awoken, I didn't want to disturb the lesson either." He said not looking up at me. "About last night.." I began "No need to discuss the matter Ms.L/n, It was wrong of me to have not sent you back to your dormitory immediately." He interrupted. "What? No..I wanted to thank you once more, It was almost a miracle you showed up when you did, and not punishing me, it helped a lot, I've been having a rough time and i'm glad you were there." I said within a small smile, I hoped this wasnt to far a reach and he didn't find it weird, I mean he was just comforting a student, nothing more. He didn't say anything he just stared down at his papers, I had said too much. I turned and sat back down. "We should get started." he said, stacking his papers. "Right." I said not looking up at him. It fell silent and I needed to break the silence, "Professor how well do you know Professor Lockhart?" I said looking up at him. "As well as any teacher I suppose why?" he asked furrowing his brows. "If I tell you something will you promise not to get angry and get me in trouble?" I said looking around and then pulling my chair up to his desk. He straightened up and looked at me with worried eyes.

"I might regret it, but sure." he said with a sarcastic tone. "Um, well... During Defense Against the Dark Arts today, we were practicing the protection spell, and I didnt have a partner again, and so Lockhart made me practice with him. He said to do easy spells to practice against. And at the end of class I was arguing with him because he used a dueling spell and he proceeded to say it was because he knew I could 'handle' it," he continued listening to me closely growing more and more confused and concerned as I went on. "And he was like 'watch' and raising his wand, and I wasn't prepared and I didnt know what he was going to do.." I looked down at my hands scared to let out the last part, "And so out of defense I hit him with Expelliarmus and he flew across his desk." I said breathing out the last part. Snape's eyes went wide for a moment and then his mouth grew into a small smile. I let my shoulders relax at his response and let out a light chuckle. "Wow Y/n you really like to test this mans limits." he said back in his normal tone. "He just makes me so furious, and I was so shocked he pulled his wand on me without a heads up so I got afraid." I added. "Are you gonna tell Dumbledore?" I asked with furrowed brows. "Well what did Lockhart do about it?" he asked looking in my eyes, I shifted in my seat, he had such an intense stare and his dark eyes looked so strong. "You see, that's the weird part, he didn't do anything," at this he returned his face to its normal stern look and looked a tad shocked, "All he said was 'be careful, you never know the consequences of your actions' and then let me leave." I said using air quotes and mocking his voice.

But Snape did not seem amused, he just looked away and dropped his gaze on my eyes and looked at the wall in thought I presumed. He didn't say anything or the next minute and I grew worried, "What?" he didn't respond. "Severus what is it?!" I said raising my voice a tad looking in his eyes. He snapped his gaze to me and opened his mouth to speak, "Dont scold me for using your name, what are you thinking about." "Nothing Ms. L/n, it's fine I just wonder why he did not assign you a detention. And I told you not to call me Severus'' Wow. The way he said his own name was beautiful, but now's not the time for this. "Well we are friends now, and friends don't use formalities such as Ms. L/n and Mr. Snape" I said jokingly but he didn't seem amused, "Definitely do not call me Mr. Snape" he said in a cold tone, I guess I hit a soft spot, I mean it makes sense, he didn't like his father and I'm guessing that was what he would hear a lot. "We are friends though, I mean at least here in our lessons, I won't do it during school.." I said reassuring him. "If it will make you focus then fine, now let's get started we have wasted enough time."

Hours had passed and I suggested he teach me how to brew the potion now for practice, and to prevent me from any mishaps in class. But he refused and said to just wait until we did it as a class since it was already so late. I was sitting next to him at his desk since we were going over stuff in the textbook. I went to close it and my arm brushed against his, I paused for a moment and let the feeling linger on my arm, I looked over at him and made eye contact with him, I got up and walked over to my table putting my book down. "I uh was organizing the books today but didn't get to finish, I can do that quickly if you'd like?" I asked, looking at the last bookshelf. "No that's alright" he said, not looking at me. "I-I should probably go now anyways heh '' I said awkwardly collecting my things, "Yes that is probably best" he said shuffling random papers around. "Ok um I will see you in class tomorrow, Goodnight Severus." I said walking to leave, "Goodnight Y/n" I smiled and walked out down the hall. I got to my room and one of my roommates was still awake, I smiled at her as I sat my bags down and sighed, "Y/n you like to read right?" my roommate asked, her name was Ruth and she was pretty popular, she had long dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Lots of the boys liked her, but we never became friends, but she was nice. "Yeah I do" I said looking up at her. "Good here, my muggle friend had this sent to me, but I'm not gonna touch it so you can have it." she said, extending the book to me. "Oh t-thank you! Are you sure?" I asked looking up at her hesitantly taking it from her hand, "Yeah at least i'll get some use if you have it." she said smiling, "Well ok thanks" She just nodded and said goodnight turning out her lamp and going to bed. I laid it on my bed and went to get ready to go to sleep.

When I finished I sat on my bed picking up the book, "Lolita" hmm I said reading the title to myself. I put it in my bag and told myself i'd read it once I was done with the one I stole from Severus, I grabbed the small book and continued to read through it, it was actually very helpful, except for the fact I wasn't going to get to try any of these things with him. "If the one your heart desires, does not at first glance your way, find someone to make them envy and draw attention to thine self." Merlin this translation was kind of hard to interpret, unless it was really suggesting to make them jealous, my only issue was no matter who I dated, Severus still wouldn't look at me the way I want him to. I needed to get this idea of him eventually falling for me out of my head. I looked in the margin at at a note that was scribbled in, 'she has found someone' I frowned reading it. This poor person, they must have really wanted things to work with this other girl. I flipped to the beginning to where I left the flower. It was a little white one flattened from the pages. I grabbed my wand and murmured a small "Appare Vestigium" A swirl of gold went over the pages and the flower and a few small fingerprints appeared on the flower. This would show me any magic that was lingering but it was not helpful in finding out where the flower came from and who wrote in this book. I guess I was just gonna have to tell Severus I took it and ask him whose it was, that was going to be fun.

[nonsensical-twistedriddles]

Hello hello~ I see that you decide to write yandere request! So, for a nice start, maybe some hcs for yandere!Octavinelle boys ( yes I know I'm obsessed with them– ) that has a crush on fem!reader? If my request are too much you could reduce the characters down too, thank you in advance!! *send tons of ❤*

hello hello ! i also love the octavinelle boys but i have to admit that it physically hurt me to write all this octavinelle babies my heart ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ salute to all of the yandere writers out there, my admiration to you after writing this knows no bounds. this was fun though so thank you for this ! i also want to thank @beheadedruler for helping me out when i was stuck with writing about jade ! listened to kk bubblegum all throughout the writing process to calm my weak rabbit heart

【yandere octavinelle headcanons ; warnings : abuse, non-consensual, self-harm, you may hear remnants of me sobbing in the background】

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew that he liked you the moment you turned down his contract.

He had politely offered you one after seeing you in such “desperate need of his assistance”. When you declined, the way you flitted away the contract in his hands and looked at him in pure disgust sent sparks all throughout his body until the tips of his very fingers tingled with an electrifying excitement.

Since then, he’s thought of nothing but you and how he wanted you to become his.

He tries to make himself look more and more “irresistible” as days pass on, to the point of unnatural perfection. Nothing but the best if he’s going to be your future partner (which he believes is an irrefutable fact).

He’s no Pomefiore student but he does what he can; scrubbing down his body with a special foam that leaves him swollen and raw for a couple of hours but keeps his skin clear and polished, putting on cream to his face that burns but makes it seem as if he were glowing and bringing out the warmth in his natural flush, applying a putrid oil into his scalp and combing his hair until the strands turn silky and styled, and even touching his eyelids and lashes with a charm-spelled shimmering powder that for a while irritates his eyes but leaves a lasting allure effect for good measure.

He goes to great lengths just to get your approval.  If you didn’t like anything about him, his dorm or his business, he’d get an answer out of you in the most roundabout manner and fix it immediately.

He’d easily get a hold of your schedule every week. The tricky part is to constantly have to convince anyone who has plans with you to “suddenly cancel on the last second”. Sure, it was nothing a good old deal could fix but the Monstrolounge can only handle so many injured unpaid workers. 

Almost magically, he’ll be there to substitute, deliberately putting on a show just to make it seem like a coincidence. Say you’d be walking out of your classroom, disappointed at one of your friends who had left you alone and excused themselves from hanging out with you. He’d be there passing by, claiming to be doing his “dorm leader rounds” and casually asking you about your day or the troubled look in your eyes. You’d let yourself be brought about by his caring nature and soon, he gets you to invite him to hang out with you.

He likes to help you out whenever he can, though of course, everything has a price. He’ll offer you a deal for anything you want in exchange for something simple like working at the Montrolounge for a few hours or a study session with him, Floyd and Jade. If you had your doubts, he’d read to you every bit of the information written on the contract. He’d even point out all the fine prints and let you negotiate on a few terms. None of it really mattered so long as he gets to see you sign it, willingly.

Somehow, he ropes you into having lunch with him at the cafeteria every Monday. The Leech twins always escort you to his table, like a meal prepared especially for him. He finds your discomfort delectable but tries to hold back whenever he notices you getting too worked up.

floyd leech

You were someone he thought was interesting enough to keep an eye on.

When he realizes you’ve managed to worm your way into his heart, he’ll explode into boisterous laughter thinking, “How fun~! How fun this is going to be~!” He hadn’t exactly expected it, thinking of you as a mere plaything he could mess around with from time to time.

Now, everyday is a game to him. 

Whenever he sees you near, he’ll come up to you and give you a hug! For every time he sees you in a day, the tighter his hugs get. It takes a great deal for him to not gobble you up after seeing you so uncomfortable in his arms, squirming to be released from his hold like a little worm caught on a hook. This is a game after all and he’s gotta play fair or else you won’t have any fun.

Usually, you’re an instant cure to one of his moods but when he’s really not feeling it, he gets a little clingy. He’ll snuggle up to you quietly and force you to take care of him. Not with words, oh no, but by following you around all day and moping until he gets what he wants; getting in your way whenever you trying to speak to anyone about important matters, constantly sighing and whining loudly whenever you’re doing your schoolwork or wanted to have some peace and quiet and leaving his weight on you so that you’ll be forced to either drag him around or fall under the pressure of his heaviness. He’ll do all this and more until you’re forced to pull him aside and angrily ask him what he needed you to do to get him to stop.

He’d always ask you for things he knows will make you feel uncomfortable like giving him a kiss on the cheek or walking down to the Monstrolounge with him everyday while holding hands or making you feed to him his lunch or letting him watch you sleep or take a nap on your lap (y’all get the gist). There are rare times where his requests get a little strange (though pray that you don’t experience this a lot). He’ll ask you to cut your hair into weird jagged styles or write/ draw something embarrassing on your face with a permanent marker or ask you to do a bird’s mating dance at History class or pull a prank on the infamous Malleus Draconia.

Seeing your face transform from annoyance to an expression of sheer horror and regret always makes him laugh and give you a sharp toothy grin. Losers always have to suck it up! You’d be reluctant but do it anyways so long as he leaves you alone for the rest of the day. 

Anyone who he catches trying to look at you for longer than a second gets to play with him too but instead of the game that you two always play, they’ll have something a little different that involves a lot of crunching bones and screaming. They’ll be too scared to even approach you after he’s done with them. Toys like them break too easily anyways!

He likes seeing you get hurt and will sometimes try to get you into small accidents like jinxing your broom or hexing you with clumsiness or making you use the wrong vial while brewing up potions.

jade leech

When compared to Azul and Floyd, Jade is a lot subtler.

Unlike the raging storms they carried with them, he was a light drizzle— his approach unnoticeable and quiet that you won’t even realize he’s etching his way into your very heart.

You came into his life as a pleasant surprise, much like the feelings he held for you now. He’s cautious around you, making sure that everything he does and says is nothing out of the norm since the last thing he wants is to give away his feelings to you and ruin his plan of making you fall for him.

He’ll gradually try to get closer to you until he’s able to excuse his actions as what “friends normally do” like hanging out after school or walking together to class or eating lunch at the same table.

Most of the time, he’s too friendly and polite for you to argue with him on anything. If you had even the slightest bit of uncertainty, he’d already be by your side reassuring you. He’ll whisk your thoughts away with sweet undertones and saccharine smiles, leaving you completely unaware of the mischief glinting in his eyes.

He doesn’t mind it when you spend time with your other friends, he encourages you to do so! Your social life is important and he somewhat enjoys keeping good relationships with them but when he grows to dislike one of them or sees them becoming a negative influence to you, he’ll immediately cut them out of your life. Friends are expendable. Why bother keeping them around if they’re no longer assets to the system.

[acnelli]

The Speech

Hermione becomes the first female Minister Of Magic, so Ron has to hold a speech about it. 

Just in case you’re wondering...I was never very interested in Pottermore or anything that got published after DH, so there might have been a female MoM before Hermione but I think this little detail is not important to enjoy the story ;-) I also don’t really see Hermione as a MoM. For me Hermione works at the Ministry, creating and pushing for laws to protect and improve the life of those oppressed and fighting for equality. But I liked the idea of a very nervous Ron talking about his wife in front of a huge crowd.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3.

I'm so screwed.

This sentence was stuck like a mantra in his head ever since Kingsley talked him into this nonsense.

Who in his right mind would want him, Ron Weasley, to hold a speech? Sure, it was his wife that becomes the next Minister of Magic and she also will be the first female one. Which makes him the first husband to hold a speech about the new Minister.

But why couldn't they just skip this stupid tradition?

Not that he wasn't able to talk a lifetime about Hermione. But he sure wasn't ready to talk about her in front of half the Ministry, his entire family, a bunch of friends and not to forget these annoying press people.

Ron was fairly confident that he would say something stupid. He was Ron bloody Weasley after all and if anyone would describe him to a stranger this would be in his character description: Saying and doing stupid and/or inappropriate things.

Kingsley was about to end his speech and Ron knew that it will be mere seconds before he was called up to the stage.

Oh Godric, please don't make me embarrass myself in front of my children.

He thought back to this morning when his fifteen-year-old daughter made him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry, Dad. You will do just fine. And please eat something." Hugo said, as he shoved a slice of toast at him. He picked his breakfast up and even took a bite, mainly to appease his son.

 Hugo stared at him, determination and worry on his face. It never failed to amaze Ron, how much his son was like Hermione, both in looks and character.

 Ron sighed and took another bite before shoving the plate away from him. "I' m sorry, buddy. Might eat this backwards if I'm having one more bite."

 He sipped his sweet tea and wondered why the hell he was such a nervous wrack. It was the Quidditch games at Hogwarts all over again.

  Ron thought he was over his insecurities, but old habits die hard, right? Looking at his two children made him feel a tiny bit lighter though. They both got his ginger hair and freckled skin with the tendency to get burned easily when out in the sun. Hugo got the warm brown eyes of his mother, Rose Ron's blue orbs. Rose sat beside Ron on the kitchen table, sipping her own tea. She was already in her dress for the ceremony, her long wild locks pinned up at the nape of her neck. She rarely touched her breakfast. Ron knew she was feeling the same anxiety he felt. Two years ago, during summer break, Hugo told Ron that Rose never eats breakfast before a Quidditch match and would sometimes spend the better part of these mornings in the bathroom. Rose was in many ways like him. She was funny, loved Quidditch, normally eats on behalf of a whole Quidditch team and had a temper similar to Ron's. Thank Godric, she got the brains of her mother.

None the less, she could easily comprehend what Ron was going through.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ronald Weasley.", Kingsley announced and stepped back for Ron.

He took a deep breath before he finally entered the stage and went to the podium. His family clapped excitedly in the front row, even cheering for him. He looked over to Hermione, who smiled and winked at him. Of course, the whole Weasley family joined the festivities today to celebrate with Hermione. They were all sitting in the second and third row along with his parents-in-law, who looked both proud and just the tiniest bit nervous.

For a short second he feared, that his impulsive decision from this morning. to ditch his sorry attempts of the prepared speech, was probably the worst decision of his life, but when the applause died down, he hadn't much time to panic over it. So, with a final deep breath and a look into Hermione's eyes, he started to speak.

“Th- thank you”, he said after the applause died down and tried not to flinch about the noticeable tremble in his voice.

“Well, as tradition demands, I'm expected to hold a speech about our new Minister of Magic. Speeches are not exactly my strong point and, in all honesty, I dreaded this moment ever since Kingsley asked me to hold it.” Ron threw a pointed look at the former Minister who just gave him an innocent smile.

Over the soft laughter of the audience, Ron heard a snort and quickly located the source. Harry was smirking at him and Ron supressed the urge to flip the tosser off. He hated The Daily Prophet with a passion, but for this headline he might forget about his principles for a day and actually buy this piece of garbage. Nevertheless, he decided against it, mostly because he didn’t fancy to be on the receiving end of some rather nasty hexes performed by his wife and mother.

“Some of you might be surprised to learn that I haven’t prepared this speech during todays breakfast, but for the better part of the last weeks evenings. Though certainly not perfect, I thought the outcome was quite passable. But last night I went over my words and realized that I would tell you things about Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley that all of you already know. Actually, you could have found the better part of my words on a chocolate frog card. Instead, I would rather tell you about the first day Hermione and I met.”

As Ron let his gaze wander over to his family, he saw a smiling but slightly puzzled Hermione looking at him. “The day I met Hermione was, of course, the very first day at Hogwarts. On the train ride I already met Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard about him at some point, saved the world or something like that. Anyway, in that train compartment Harry and I immediately became best friends and while we stuffed ourselves with a ton of sweets, a girl opened the door to our compartment, asking us about the lost toad of a fellow student. I was showing Harry some useless spell my dear brothers told me about, that of course, did not work. This girl though, performed an actual spell just perfect and informed us that she read every first years school book over the summer as preparation for our upcoming classes. Sure enough, she outshined everyone in every class and there wasn’t a teachers question she had no answer to. Back then and especially on that first day, I could never imagine to be friends with Hermione Granger. I thought that she’s a bossy know-it-all and on Halloween, two months after our first day at Hogwarts, she heard me calling her just that. As an eleven-year-old boy, it never seemed possible to me that Hermione could be sincerely hurt by my words. But of course, it upset her. Very much.

That being said, I’ll never regret these nasty words, because this Halloween night was the beginning of a life-long friendship between me, Hermione and Harry. If I hadn’t said that in front of her, she would have never locked herself up in the bathroom to cry and Harry and I would have never ran to this said bathroom, because a mountain troll was wandering the halls of Hogwarts and Hermione was the only one who hasn’t been warned about it. Ever since the three of us beat that troll, I could not imagine a good day without Hermione as a friend by my side. She still nagged us about doing our homework and scolding me for swearing too much and said things like ‘Ron, it’s Hermione, Harry and I’, but when I look back, the unhappiest times were when we didn’t speak to each other or when I wasn’t able to talk to her.”

He paused for a brief moment as surely the darkest time of his life came to mind, when he abandoned Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, his heart full of pure fear and hopelessness when he thought he would never see them again. Or the weeks of Hermione being petrified, as he could still see this young red headed boy talking to her in the hospital wing, desperately wanting her to tell him off for staying out after curfew.

“Hermione did and achieved a lot of great things in her life. Most of these things you might already know, like her helping to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters or her success in freeing the House Elves. Although these are amazing and exceptionally brilliant achievements, Hermione is so much more than the brightest witch of our age and a war heroine. Did you know that the beginnings of her efforts to free House Elves lay in our Hogwarts years? Back then, she started a campaign to free them and it didn’t stop her, that for a very long time, it had been a one-woman-movement. Her courage and ambition to help the defenceless and her undying sense of justice are exceptional and even more admirable, if you consider, that as a Muggleborn, Hermione had been in great danger herself, being the main target of Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Regardless what she went through herself, she never stopped to look out for others, especially her family and friends. And this is what she’ll continue to do as the leader of Wizarding Britain. Hermione will fight for a better life for everyone, for all of you and for those, whose suffering is still invisible to us.

I once read an article about Hermione inheriting the title of the brightest with of our age. It said, that she sure is intelligent, but mainly book smart. If you ask me, a person, who is simply book smart could never use the knowledge in real life, right? Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hermione’s quick thinking and brilliance at everything she does, saved Harry’s and my life more times than I care to admit. Even in the most dangerous and horrible situations she was in, her highest priority had been to keep us safe.”

I was wrong. These were the darkest hours of my life., Ron thought and Hermione’s screams echoed through his mind.

“Hermione saved me in more than one way. She taught me self-worth and confidence, which, especially as a teenager, I hadn’t much of. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was there for me when I needed her the most. And the best thing of all: for some unbeknown reason, she loves me. And in the end, this makes me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

For the next words Ron looked only at Hermione, who gave up to hold back her tears for quite some time now. “Befriending you had been the best thing I had ever done. I heard a lot of people say that they married their best friend. Well, I certainly did. We went through so many adventures -good and bad- together and I`m happy to say, that the good ones outweigh the bad ones big time. I love you, Hermione and I`m ready for this next adventure to come our way.”

[pineapple-lover-boy]

I love your headcanon about Dudley having magical kids!! I was wondering if you could elaborate a little more on you writing him w Cho?

Absolutely! When I first heard of this head canon I couldn’t believe it but now I love it.

First part:

Cho is confirmed to have a muggle husband after the series so that definitely helps with this:

I imagine that they meet while doing normal errands

It’s not too long after the war and Cho is trying to escape the Wizarding World for just a little bit

It’s been too traumatizing for her

When they meet I feel like they would immediately hit it off

We only see Dudley from Harry’s point of view but I believe he could be pretty suave with the ladies

He’s also got a lot of pride which can come off as confidence at first

What draws in Cho, though, is that he’s so muggle

Just by talking to him she can tell that he can’t be affiliated with the Wizarding World in any way (or at least she thinks)

Dudley by this point has changed since the books

Ever since the dementor attack he tries to be a better person so he never has people seeing him as what he saw that night

He’ll do little acts of kindness like buying some sweets for a child that couldn’t afford it, helping someone who’s fallen get up, and just genuine things that have Cho falling for him

Cho in no way endorses his eating habits but doesn’t discourage it

If they have a date where she’s the one cooking she’ll include many healthy foods cleverly hidden behind a tasty and appetizing look

Because of Cho’s past relationships I believe it would take a year for the relationship to at least be considered serious

Although she isn’t a blood supremacist, she still believes muggles are much more fragile than wizards

And in some ways they are

When Dudley comes back from a friendly boxing tournament she always fuses over his bruises and gets frantic when she sees some blood

Dudley never thought to ask why and Cho was glad for that, she wasn’t ready to tell

When meeting the parents…. oh boy

She appreciates how doting on Dudley they are and never gets tired of hearing his achievements that they are always boasting about

I do believe the Dursley’s are somewhat racist so they don’t warm up to Cho right away

But once they see her calm, polite, sweet, and generally well mannered nature they quickly decide that she is the best Dudley will ever get

Cho never suspects that Harry is related to them as there are no pictures around the house

Dudley will sometimes try to include mentions of a cousin in conversations of his childhood but Vernon and Petunia always brush him off by saying that his cousin was a “troubled boy”

Cho never questions this as she feels it must be a sensitive part of the family

By year two of their relationship they would be married

Dudley hasn’t learned of Cho’s magical nature yet

Much like any other half blood baring couple, Cho has to do magic in secret so her body doesn’t become overwhelmed with magic

It starts getting on her nerves as she’s afraid Dudley will walk in on her one day casting some type of spell or charm

She’ll start hinting at marriage but Dudley never gets it

She sometimes curses his pig headedness

She flat out asks him about it one day and Dudley is so surprised he starts choking on whatever pastry he was eating that day

No less than a week later are they engaged

Cho isn’t one for big crowds so Dudley agrees to have a small wedding with close relatives

He had been talking to Harry for a while but not enough to consider inviting him

He just felt too awkward

(When talking about it later though, Harry agreed and said it was fine)

After the wedding, their honeymoon was spent at their new home

It was then when he saw her PTSD nightmares

He held her close each night and asked if she wanted to talk

Each night she said no

It irritated Dudley to no end but he didn’t want to risk Cho feeling worse

Only a few months later was the announcement of their first daughter made

Cho had yet to tell Dudley that she was a witch and desperately hoped their child was a squib

She loved the Wizarding World but the trauma she got from seeing Cedric’s dead body and then seeing several children her age and even younger dying right in front of her-

It was too much for her to want to immediately go back to it

Once Daisy is born Cho regretted her hopes of the girl being a squib

She wanted to see her early forms of magic, her joy at being accepted to Hogwarts, she wanted her child to grow up a witch

Still, she didn’t tell Dudley

Although she loved him, she was afraid he wouldn’t accept her

When Daisy started showing signs of magic she tried to hide it as long as she could but Dudley eventually noticed

By this time baby Petunia was a toddler and although she showed no signs, it was bound to happen eventually

Without telling her, Dudley went and called his cousin, Harry

He told him of everything that was going on and Harry, whose children were only a year or two away from going to Hogwarts themselves, recognized what was going on and told he and his family to come over and visit so he could see it for himself

Not wanting to scare Cho, who he still thought was a muggle at this point, he told her that they were all going to take a trip to his cousins house

Cho knew something was up but she stayed quiet

During the car ride all she could muster up to say during her nervousness was a simple, “What’s your cousin’s name?”

“Harry.” He replied.

“I knew a Harry once.” She said quietly, not even realizing what she had spoken until it was too late.

There was too much tension in the car, so they stayed silent

When they pulled up to the house they could see dozens of children running around

“Thought he only had three.” Dudley lamented to himself.

When they got to the door, Ginny opened it

Her eyes widened immediately

“Cho Chang?” She said in disbelief.

“Come in, come in!” She shone her head and beckoned them inside, “Sorry for the mess. Harry and I are in charge of our nieces and nephews today.”

“Wait, are- are you saying we’re in Harry Potter’s house?”

Ginny laughed. “Who else would I have married? Besides we invited you to the wedding.”

Cho remembered, it was one year before she met Dudley

Dudley was beyond confused but when Harry walked in he was even more confused

Soon enough, everything settled down and was explained

Dudley was a bit irked that Cho had never told him of her magic ness but he wasn’t mad, much to Cho’s relief

It was then that he was told everything

When they were back at home, and the children were put to sleep, Cho told him everything

Of the Triwizard Tournament, of Cedric’s death, of all the deaths she’d witnessed during the Battle of Hogwarts

After years of holding in her years and trying to act like everything was fine, she finally started crying

She didn’t miss they crying from her Hogwarts days and she suddenly felt like that little girl who’s friends all walked away during her time of need

The girl who could barely focus on work to the point were she was let off for a few weeks

The girl who looked at the death of someone she loved too early

The next few days were hard on them

Whenever Cho apologized for crying out of nowhere Dudley would shut her down and said it was only natural

She’d bottled up so many feelings after the war in fear of people leaving her again

Now she felt like she didn’t have to worry

As the years go by, Daisy finally goes to Hogwarts and everyone is preparing for Petunia to be next

Cho is at home when she gets a call from Dudley

As much as he didn’t want to tell her this on a call, he couldn’t keep it in

“Cho, darling, I’m so sorry. I’m not completely sure of the word but Harry and I think that Petunia might be a squid- What? Oh! Sorry, a squib.”

Cho stops whatever she’s doing and feels her emotions take hold of her again

She remembered all those years ago when she wished her daughter to be a squib

That was for Daisy though

This couldn’t of happened because of her, right?

She becomes saddened at the sight of Petunia

For three years, she looks at her daughter with pity

She still as loving before, in fact even more

She wants to make her daughter feel as happy as she can before she realizes that she can’t be like her sister

When the letter is expected to arrive and it doesn’t, she’s fully prepared to coddle her crying child

But nothing changes

Petunia goes to muggle school, she keeps in touch with Daisy and Lily Luna, and is perfectly happy

She sighs in relief when she’s sure that it doesn’t affect Petunia in any way

Cho silently praises her daughter for being stronger than her

As more years go by and their girls grow up, the couple couldn’t be more than happier

Dudley loves when Cho does magic, staring at her in amazement despite living with magic when he was younger and having bad experiences with it

Cho loves how doting he is, whether it’s their children or her

There are some problems that they needed to fix but that doesn’t matter now as they grow old with each other

Such an unlikely couple that were surprisingly perfect for each other

[books-of-cherry]

What do you think will happen if Langris and Finral had switched places?Like Langris is the failure and finral is the special one?

This is what my head is telling me. Let’s start, shall we?

Their parents treated them both equally until Langris almost killed a royal. Knowing the Vaudes, they cared for their public image. They let them do whatever with Langris, just to regain their image and trust. Of course, Langris felt betrayed because his parents nor his brother didn’t defend him. He did expect Finral to stand up for him since he knew that Finral is that kind of person. He looked up to Finral because of how social and kind he is, unlike Langris, who didn’t talk to anyone inside at the manor. Both of them were like a package.

This even hurt Langris even more. What Finral did was hide behind his parents and look at Langris one more time. They’re taking Langris away. Finral wanted to help his brother, he heard Langris’ voice one more time and he said.

“I hate you, my dear brother”

...

As time passes, Finral had become the heir to the Vaude household and Finesse’s fiance. He joined the Golden Dawn. His technique on his magic was very helpful and useful to the squad. Even though, he didn’t learn any attack spells, he still showed impressive results.

As for Langris, things aren’t going that well. He was sent into a place where he will be educated. He was a child at that time and he can’t be sent to the prison straight away. His personality changed drastically, he was a quiet and calm person and now, he became aggressive and arrogant. He hated this. He didn’t expect for his magic to manifest at that time. He regretted a lot of stuff but won’t admit to it. He wanted to forget the Vaude family. His stay at this so called “prison” didn’t help. He was angry at his parents especially at his brother. Finral didn’t do anything. He knows that he can’t put all the blame on him because he thinks it’s a bit childish.

They finally set Langris out of this “hell” and Langris proceeded to the Grimoire Tower. He received his grimoire and went to travel or some sort.

Finral was patrolling around the Royal Capital while patrolling, he saw Langris. It made him remember what happened that day. He felt guilty. If only, he defended Langris that day, he wouldn’t be taken away.

It was good that Langris didn’t noticed him. It relieved Finral but the guilt is still there.

Langris is still walking. for. hours. It didn’t bother him one bit. He was used to it. Not long after, he bumped into somebody. And that is Yami Sukehiro. The tall man looked at Langris and said.

“I never saw someone as short as you”,this irritated Langris, he hated when people insulted him for his height.

“Old man, I can get rid of you if you want to.”

“Chill brat”

“Aren’t you that person who tried to kill a royal back then?”

“So,what if I am? It’s not like you give a f*ck or something”

“Kid, do you want to change?”

“...”

“Leave me alone old man”,Langris tried to leave but failed.

“Geez, I’m giving you an offer to join my squad and yet, you don’t want it?”

“Whatever,fine.”

After that conversation, the man threw Langris a robe and went ahead. Langris decided it was best to follow him.

•••

Years have passed..and these two brothers have met once again.

There was tension between the two. They were given looks by nearby people.

“Brother, why must show up infront of me after all these years?”

True, it’s been so long..

“It would be better if you ignore me for the time being”

After hearing that, the guilt inside Finral built up. He didn’t want his little brother to suffer that much. If only he wasn’t a coward. a loser. or a. failed big brother.

...

They met again in the Royal Knights Exam. Finral is proud at Langris for finishing the first round fast. He was impressed. This time, both of them are against each other.

“Good Luck Langris!”

“Don’t blame me if you lose any of your body parts.”

...

The fight continued and Finral felt a shiver. He looked at Langris and he released such an ominous aura. He thought of the Third Eye.

“No no Finral, he isn’t like them. That’s Langris, my little brother,” Finral said while preparing his new spell. Finral was surprised that their spells are similar in a way.

Then Finral realized he had lost this battle ever since the beginning.

•••

Langris was in a mysterious place.

“Is this a void or something?”,Langris asked himself.

“No, it isn’t.”

Langris looked for the voice and it seems like it belonged to boy who had similar features as Langris.

“Y’know..you’re pathetic”, the boy said to Langris.

“Why is that?”

“Blaming everything on your brother,that is”

There was silence for a moment.

“You care for your brother,don’t you?”,the boy broke the silence by taunting Langris.

“Brother this,brother that.Who cares for that traitor!”

“Ehh?Are you really that mad at your brother?”,the boy continued with his taunting.

“It’ll be better if he disappeared.Am I right?”

“Shut up.”

“What did you say?”

“I SAID SHUT THE F*CK UP”

“Geez, you have anger issues and you obviously care for him to begin with”

“You know nothing about me”

“I know plenty of things since we share the same body for many years already.”

“As I said before, you’re pathetic and you keep on denying that you care for your brother”

“HE LEFT YOU ALL ALONE!HE GAVE UP ON YOU ALREADY.YOU SHOULD TOO”

Those words are enough to break Langris down. The boy was right.

...

Langris looked at Finral’s limped body. It was a terrible sight. He didn’t want to do this to his brother. He felt guilty. No, he shouldn’t feel guilty. He did want all the pain disappear,right? Well, Finral was his source of pain. Killing him using his magic. As simple as that.

“But why does it even hurt than before”

•••

Finral woke up to the news of Langris being possessed by an elf. He wanted to help him immediately. He knew this is the time to save him. He wanted to save Langris that badly. He already failed as his brother. To be someone to looked up. To be someone to be trusted. He wanted to prove Langris that he didn’t give up on him.

He was being dragged by the captains of the Black Bulls and Green Praying Mantis.

“Keke, I can’t believe we’re working with this weakling”

Okay, that hurts. Finral thought to himself.

They went inside the castle and saw Langris destroying everything. The battle was crazy and insane since the way the elf used Langris’ spatial magic was incredible.

It’s impossible to win when he’s in the air. He still has that defenses on.

Finral is preparing for his attack. Both captains looked at him confused.

“It’s not like he’s gonna notice my magic when he’s far gone and this is my last chance”, Finral whispered.

“COME HERE LANGRIS”

••••

“Langris! Langris! Langris!”

“You know.. for someone talented like you.. You’re very hard to handle.”

“I’m sorry if I didn’t save you back then. This time, I’ll be a better big brother than before”

...

“Langris, finally got you.”

A/N: I didn’t thought of something like this tbh so it’s a bit weird? Anyways, thanks for the request Anon! I had fun writing this!

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.6k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"You've got to be joking…" Robin groaned to herself more than to either of them and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Right… this still was a public place, even at night. After a second of collecting herself, she put on her game face and continued her way towards Snape's desk, where he mentioned for her to sit down as well. Honestly, she was only glad that she didn't have to sit at her own desk like some idiot in detention, and that probably was the exact reason why Snape made her sit up front with him now. At least Robin chose to read that intention into his actions now.

"Hey, why doesn't she have to write a stupid three page essay on valerian root?!" David complained a second later, with clearly more of a pout to his tone than would leave any room for dignity.

"Because unlike someone I'm not in detention." Robin replied neutrally but with a deathly glare. "Now shut up and do your work."

Surprisingly enough, David actually looked quite intimidated in return, but Robin had the faint idea that this might be more due to Snape's glare than her own. Huh, maybe she should have let him handle this… with him being… the professor… and all that… Robin looked down at the book in her hands and took a deep breath to counteract the heat burning on her cheeks.

"McGonagall found him sneaking around the hallways with one of her own students. A second year girl, who should be serving her own detention with Minerva right at this moment." Snape said, much to Robin's surprise. She hadn't expected an explanation for the ongoings, and certainly not coming from him on his own account. But she also couldn't help the barest hint of a smirk that came to her lips.

"So that should be the infamous tall-and-older girlfriend he keeps bragging about? I must say I'm disappointed… Is she tall at least?" Robin mumbled, hiding her smirk by looking down as she placed her book on the desk between herself and Snape.

"No." He replied in perfect indifference and Robin had to snort, however very quietly and very shortly.

"Pity…" She brought out in almost the same level of indifference that for her as well as for him was but a mere charade at this point.

"I can hear you, you know that?!" David complained, and this time Robin remembered her place for once and kept quiet.

"You already have two weekends worth of detention, should we make that three, Mister Thompson?" Snape asked with that particular expression that literally gave every student the jitters in utter terror. Well, every student but Robin, but he hadn't used it in her in a long time, so who knew how she'd react… Robin wasn't too keen on finding out. David looked back down to his work, probably intimidated just as much as angry, but at least he seemed to stay quiet this time.

"So, uh, yes…" Robin started to get back into work mode and effectively stop herself from getting tempted into sassing Snape. With David around, he surely would scold her rather than smirk, and she didn't have the nerve for that tonight. So back to the facts it was. "As I was saying earlier, I haven't memorized the entire book. But while flipping through the pages on my way back down here, I came across something interesting on page 132."

Without a word, Snape moved to flip to the mentioned page, and his frown melted away as he read over the text. However it returned once he reached the next page, and Robin hoped she hadn't suggested something entirely stupid and unrelated. Only once he'd read all three pages of related information, he finally looked back up at Robin. "Have you read the entire instructions?"

"Well, I hardly had enough time for that on my jog back here." She shrugged. "I read the description of the functionality, not the instructions or additional information."

He looked minorly surprised at that. "And that sufficed for you to believe that it might be of use?"

"I suggested it because it looked promising." She corrected. "One has to start somewhere. If it's rubbish, we at least know what we're NOT looking for."

"Interesting approach." He mused, and Robin felt momentarily stunned by how close that comment had gotten to an actual compliment. "I believe you discovered something that might very well be worth a try."

"But… maybe we should look through the rest of the book as well? Maybe there's another spell that fits even better?"

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes without any annoyance in them, and went to flip to about the middle of the book. "Up to which point do you sincerely remember the contents?"

"The last page I can remember for sure was about… repairing broken spines… it had a very peculiar picture in the top right corner. Somewhere in the 70s or 80s…" She sighed and gave him an apologetic half smile. "I always remember the contents and the layout better than the page numbers."

After a few seconds of flipping through pages, Snape pointed to the page Robin had described. "This one?"

"Yes! Page 78… I wasn't too far off then." She smiled to herself for a moment. "Up to that one I remember what every spell was about."

"Good." He merely said and started scanning every page from that point on. Seems like Snape put an odd lot of confidence in Robin's memory… but she really was certain about the contents up to that point. It was all very basic, short-term restoration and spells for every-day practical use. The one about broken spines on page 78 was the first one that was a bit more complicated and unusual in its use, and that is the only reason why Robin had remembered it. It was the first one she didn't care to remember.

For a moment Robin watched Snape reading, but then she felt stupid looking over his shoulder, even if only figuratively. He could assess these spells way better than she could, and if he found something suitable for the occasion he would probably show it to her. Maybe.

With a silent sigh she let her eyes travel over the almost empty room. It was an odd perspective to be looking out over the class from this side of his desk… but one could really see almost everything from here. Everything, happening in front of you. Nothing in your back. Yeah, Robin felt comfortable sitting here. Then she studied the desk itself, along with the few things on it. Perfectly organized chaos, as always… but for once she actually understood the system behind it, which pleased her quite a bit. She'd happily trade desks with him any day, and that even though she couldn't even imagine switching seats with someone in class. She'd been sitting in the same spots in each of the classrooms for over two years now… and she doubted that she'd ever willingly sit elsewhere. The great hall however was a different issue, she'd never had a specific seat there, so she was fine with switching tables in there. But this was a classroom, and she felt oddly comfortable in a space that wasn't her own. Huh…

Her eyes then fell upon the mysterious tome this entire fuss was about in the first place, and she was grabbed by curiosity. "May I… take a look at the book we aren't currently working with?" She inquired carefully, prepared to be right about being denied but equally prepared to be surprised.

"Be careful, it is… delicate." While delicate didn't seem like the word he had wanted to say, and she got a decent idea about why he didn't speak his mind once she heard David quietly groaning over his essay, Robin still understood the sentiment. This book was important, somehow. So she gave him a small nod with a sincere and serious expression, before she carefully moved the heavy thing over to her end of the desk.

The first few pages looked decent enough; there were handwritten descriptions of spells, some strange symbols and drawings… nothing that stood out in particular. But once Robin had actually read a few pages, she couldn't help the deep frown that creased her forehead. "This is absolute gibberish! It may look valid, but anyone who spends at least a little time studying this book would realize that these aren't even workable spells."

Now that got Snape's attention immediately, and seeing as he had finished skimming over Robin's book anyway, he turned his attention towards her entirety. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"You see… for once, the actual words for the spells aren't even given. Not one single time! I mean alright, one could argue that the book is meant for wizards so advanced that they don't need words. You know… people like you." She regretted saying that the moment it was out. But maybe he would overlook the accidental compliment if she just continued. "However, what definitely strikes me as odd and leads me to the conclusion that this isn't even meant as a proper spell book is the technical terms used throughout the descriptions, as well as the names of the people mentioned."

Now he definitely looked curious, deeply intrigued to be exact, and even people who weren't practiced in reading his microexpressions would be able to see that. "What, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

"I'll gladly tell you in a moment, but just answer me one question first, please… because otherwise I'll feel really stupid in my assumption." Robin said quietly, not because she felt insecure, but because she couldn't have David hear this in case she made a fool out of herself. "When do you think this book was written?"

"I assume the manuscript itself is from the second half of the 16th century, but it was obviously rebound several times up to this point, which makes the binding by far younger."

"Okay. Okay…" Robin nodded to herself for a few seconds as her brain tried to make a coherent line out of the many different strings of thought in her mind. Then her eyes lit up as she started to explain. "So, the thing is: most of the terms, all the ones I know at least, are directly taken out of Renaissance culture. It's a colorful mixture of philosophy, architecture, literature, music… And the names, I recognize them from this time period as well. But they all have nothing to do with magic, not even the slightest bit. It's like… putting numbers into the alphabet!"

Snape seemed genuinely interested in what Robin was saying, and he looked up from the book to meet her eyes. "How exactly did you come to know Renaissance culture?"

"I had a lot of time two summers ago and attended some classes. At a muggle university. I know, not very appropriate for a Slytherin, but oh well… I was horribly bored. To be honest, I had already forgotten most of the things I learned, but reading these names and terms now definitely brings back a lot of it. I mean, I at least know that they're things from the Renaissance." She shrugged with one shoulder, as she felt like the biggest nerd in history and yet the biggest failure for having forgotten most of those classes already. "Anyway, if the manuscript was written in the 16th century, that would explain the Renaissance influence. Now, I do have some more… theories, about the book. But I wouldn't want to bore you, sir, I'm sure you already know all of this and I'm just… babbling. Sorry."

"In fact, I was previously unaware of this connection to muggle history and culture, and I dare say I would not have learned about it without your babbling. So please, do enlighten me about your theories." He said calmly, giving her one of those still entirely unreadable looks. "You have my fullest attention."

"Well…" Heat rose to Robin's cheeks once again, and she couldn't quite believe that she had discovered something he hadn't yet noticed. "The book is basically a spell book written with muggle terms… and it surely requires extensive knowledge of both worlds to write something like this. So my first assumption is that the author was a half blood… or a muggle born. But it doesn't matter, actually. The thing about knowing both worlds really leads me to believe that the author knew what they were talking about, and thus the gibberish was intentional gibberish. And if the gibberish is intentional, it makes me wonder what the intention of this book is in the first place. You say a page is missing… What if the entire book was merely created to hide that one page?"

Going by the look Snape was giving her once she had finished her sentence, Robin had just said the dumbest thing in the existence of nonsense. Great. Insecurity finally showed on her face as she still held his gaze. She just wanted to help him, to solve this mystery…

"I agree." That was what he finally replied, before briefly gazing at the still working David and then looking back at Robin. "Your theses… will serve as a decent basis for any further efforts."

What?! He thought she was right?! Robin's lips curved up into a small smile. "Uh, if I may ask, sir… did you find a spell for restoring the page? If it really is the sole purpose of the book to hide whatever is written on it, I'm actually even more curious to know what its secret is."

"Likewise." He mused, quietly enough so that Robin could barely pick up on it, but then he spoke up in a normal voice. "I still consider the method you suggested the most suitable." Upon Robin's frown, he added, "Page 132."

"Ah… Maybe I should consider reading the entire thing then." She smiled and carefully closed his book, while switching its place with her own book on the desk. Only then a thought caused her heart to sink in an instant. "I mean… you surely only asked for my assistance in this because I have literature spells in my possession. I… could lend the book to you, if you'd like that."

"Indeed, my intention was to borrow this particular book from you." He said with the gravest expression he had worn all night, and Robin found her heart hollowing out even more. Of course he wouldn't want her to actually partake in any of this… she'd merely been lucky to be included up to this point. But… it was hard to let go of such a great mystery. Of the illusion to be useful, the illusion to do something important for once. That was until he spoke on. "However I cannot deny the fact that you improved my understanding of this book immensely. And… neither can I deny that you are the most reliable assistance I have. Could you imagine yourself to-..."

"Yes." Robin cut in before he could even finish his sentence. "I… sorry for interrupting, but I would very much like to keep assisting you."

She actually got a not-smirk in return. "In that case, I suggest you to read those three pages now."

With a nod, Robin picked up the book and leaned back in her chair while flipping to the correct page. She wouldn't allow herself to get all too excited about this… she was, but this situation required a certain professionalism, and she would do her best to display that now. It didn't take her long to read the three pages, twice even.

"It's… a potion?!" She finally stated with an incredulous expression. "That's weird…"

"Why do you think it is a potion instead of a spell?" He asked then, but this was a professor-question, not a Snape-question.

"Well, seeing as you said a simple restoration spell wouldn't work, it certainly has something to do with the fact that spells aren't strong enough to counter or reverse the magic used to remove the page in the first place. The magical properties of various ingredients combined in a potion however should be strong enough for that." Robin replied without thinking much about it, and placed the book back on the desk with a shrug.

"Good." He looked fairly pleased with her reply, which pleased Robin in return. "You have studied the list of ingredients required for this task, yes?"

"Yeah, I've studied the entire procedure. Twice."

"There are… a few required ingredients I currently do not have in my possession." He kept it vague, eyes flicking to David for a second before returning to Robin. She understood. "We have to get our hands on those first, before we can start on the potion. You are aware of the time it will take to prepare the procedure?"

"Yes. I am." She stated in determination. "No problem with that." The potion would take two months to make… honestly, if anything, she was sad that it wouldn't take longer. Who knew if Snape would ever allow her to help with something again once this was over?

Before either of them could continue, they heard a quiet snoring coming from the Slytherin boy, who had literally fallen asleep over his essay. Robin snorted, and Snape rolled his eyes in return.

"I truly cannot say Minerva could have picked a worse time to drop him off with me." He muttered, grabbed a random journal off the stack at his end of the desk, and then rose to his feet to walk over to the sleeping David. With an unforgiving glare, he smacked the boy in the head with the journal. "This is detention and not your bedroom, Mister Thompson."

"I-I'm sorry, sir…" David immediately brought out as he startled awake, frightened eyes looking up at his professor.

"Seeing as it is well after midnight, you may leave for now. However I expect you to return right to this spot after breakfast."

"Yes, sir…" David sighed in defeat as he rose to his feet, and jumped once Snape snatched the essay from his hands. "Goodnight, sir…" With that, he shot one quick look at Robin before scurrying out of the classroom.

"I hate that child." Snape muttered as he returned to his desk, and Robin couldn't help laughing at the dry honesty. She really couldn't agree more… but she knew it wasn't her place to comment on it.

"So, where will you get the missing ingredients?" Robin asked instead, while he sat back down. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Seeing as I will be stuck with Mister Thompson for the entire weekend, I would highly appreciate if you could indeed… run a few errands."

"Yes, of course! What do you need me to do?"

"Tomorrow is the fourth Saturday of the term, correct?"

"Yes?"

"That means you will get to go to Hogsmeade for the first time, and I ask of you to go indeed. There is a small shop that sells various ingredients for rare potions to anyone who pays enough, off high street obviously. A black building with a golden inscription over the door. I would like you to go there tomorrow. Follow the second alley going to the right off high street to its end, then turn left and you should come across the shop after a minute's walk." With that he turned to face the desk rather than Robin and got out a snippet of parchment to scribble a quick list on it. Then he handed the paper to Robin. "If I'm not mistaken, you should be able to get all of this in Hogsmeade. Tell the man in the shop that I sent you, and you shouldn't be refused nor expected to pay straight up."

"I will do my best, sir." She answered with what she hoped was a positive expression of professionalism and not an overly excited smile. Going to Hogsmeade hadn't really been on her agenda up until this point, but it also wasn't like she had any other plans for tomorrow. After all, she still was only too glad to get to help with this entire mystery. Surely running errands for him would be better than whatever she would've come up with, for nothing that had to do with the potions professor was ever short of interesting in the first place.

"Certainly I do not have to tell you that this entire endeavour is to be kept between you and me. Furthermore I expect you to take your involvement in this as seriously as I do."

"Of course I take this seriously!" Robin gave him an incredulous look that probably let on a bit too much of her hurt expression along with it. "Have I ever given you a reason to doubt that I'm absolutely serious about my work and studies?"

"No." His reply came fast and with certainty. "I am well aware of your dedication for all matters you concern yourself with. However you ought to know that in my terms there is no casual participation. I take your involvement as seriously as my own, and I expect you to do the same."

"You're my professor, of course I take you seriously!" Robin still didn't quite get what he was aiming at. Maybe she should consider going to bed soon… her brain was getting slow.

"Not me, Mitchell!" He rolled his eyes in that exaggerated annoyance once more. "You have to take yourself seriously! I do not have the time or nerve to listen to a self-deprecating speech every time before you voice a thought of yours. Speak your mind and I… will refrain from scolding you, should your comment be redundant."

"Promise you won't yell at me when I say something stupid?" Robin inquired carefully, even though she finally grasped where he was coming from with that statement. Actually, it was rather nice what he was saying. He took her seriously, and demanded for her to be in this completely or not at all. That's really all Robin could've hoped for.

"I do not make promises." Snape answered with a frown as he leaned back in his chair. "But I tell you now that I will not yell at you unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Good enough for me." Robin smiled ever so slightly, feeling both incredibly excited for this private project but also incredibly worried that she will somehow screw it up and make him regret that he put enough trust in her to allow her to assist in the first place. Well, she would just have to be better. Better than she was now, and better than he expected her to be. Just… what did he expect of her to do, exactly? For now, running errands. She wouldn't let him down right on the very first task (nor on any other, actually).

"You look exhausted." He stated then, perfect indifference with a hint of a sigh. "You should go to bed. There isn't any more to be done until tomorrow anyway."

"Yes, sir." With a small sigh she got up and made her way over to her backpack on her own desk, grabbing it on the go as she continued towards the door. Really, she was indeed exhausted and doing herself a favor rather than following his order by heading to bed now…

"Your book, Miss Mitchell." His voice stopped her a few steps away from the door, and Robin turned around to him once again.

"You should keep it for now… with the other book I mean. Isn't that what you would prefer anyway?"

"It is indeed." The not-smirk was back, and so was the lifted eyebrow. "I should assume this is more than fair after lending books to you for two years."

"It surely is." Robin smiled, tiredly, but sincerely nonetheless. "Goodnight, professor."

"Miss Mitchell?" Again, his voice stopped her just before she could open the door, making her turn to him yet again with a question on her face. He spoke on before she could voice it. "Hogsmeade certainly isn't a dangerous place by any means, but since students are rarely seen venturing off high street, I would still advise you to be careful when going to that shop tomorrow."

While he looked perfectly indifferent in that statement, rising to his feet and gathering up the two books from his desk with an expression of utter boredom, the very attempt to hide anything from his face that could have given off the impression of concern or care actually was what gave him away. Just having noticed that made Robin's smile brighten inevitably.

"I will be careful. No need to worry about your precious ingredients." She couldn't help adding that second sentence with a small smirk, and upon receiving a small glare and a not-smirk in return, Robin finally made her way back to her dorm.

… … …

If Robin had felt like she was anything more than just a third year student last night, Saturday morning definitely had every intention to put her back into her place.

First, she had decided to actually make somewhat of an effort in terms of dressing for being errand-girl today (seeing as she hadn't forgotten what Snape had said about her representing the Slytherin house and his own person), and thus she'd ended up with the same old, large and black turtleneck jumper she fancied, tugged into some blackish drainpipe jeans and kept in place by a black belt with an admittedly very scratched silver buckle. Oh well… concessions had to be made. Her mom always said black was classy and staid… and while Robin didn't agree on the 'staid' part, she still wanted to appear classy today.

Her choice of wardrobe however led to the first instance that tried to put her back into her place, namely her fellow students, who didn't cease to make comments from joking to mocking to insulting during breakfast. Well, in comparison to the other third years, with their colorful shirts, patterned dresses and generally average thirteen-year-old style of clothing, she did stand out a lot. Robin looked quite a lot more like some of the sixth or seventh years, if anything… But she suffered through the comments in silence on the outside, and just a hint of doubt and shame on the inside. Maybe she should make an effort to fit in more… but then she looked at everyone again, seriously, and the thought flew out of her mind to never be considered again. Nope, not gonna happen.

After breakfast, the real issues began. Equipped with her trusty leather backpack that was (as always) stuffed with anything she could possibly need, ranging from parchment and books over snacks to a rain jacket, and of course the list of ingredients she was to acquire, Robin stepped out into the courtyard in sincere appreciation of the dark grey clouds in the sky. Way better than sunshine… that only ever made her eyes hurt.

"And where's your permission slip, Miss Mitchell?" McGonagall asked then, eyebrows risen and clearly expecting something Robin wasn't sure about.

"My… what?" Thus came her very eloquent reply.

"The permission slip signed by your parents for this instance? Allowing you to leave the castle grounds in groups of at least three students to go to Hogsmeade?" McGonagall prompted again, and a new existential dread overcame Robin upon the professor's words. Fuck.

"I… I didn't think to let them sign it. I… thought it was more one of those 'for your notice' kind of things." She replied in a faintest hope to somehow fix this situation. "I mean, I traveled the entire country of England by myself over summer! Well, not the entire country, obviously, but I traveled by myself, alone, WITH their explicit permission. They would probably laugh at me if I asked them for permission to go on a fifteen minute walk away from home now!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Mitchell, but rules are rules."

"But that's ridiculous!" Robin couldn't help the exasperated sigh, nor the inevitable rolling of her eyes, as she threw her head into her neck to angrily glare at the sky.

"I do not make the rules, but I'm still obliged to follow them. As are you." The professor pointed out, then added a bit more kindly, "If you are so certain that they will allow you to venture out on your own, you can always send them a letter before the next Hogsmeade Saturday in two weeks and have them sign their permission."

An idea sprung to Robin's mind immediately, born both of McGonagall's words and her own refusal to accept her fate. "So it does not have to be the specific slip given to us before term, but a handwritten approval would suffice?"

"In my eyes, yes." The professor frowned. "However I…" Her voice trailed off as she watched how Robin took off her backpack and dug her arm into it to the shoulder.

Upon seeing the professor's astonishment, Robin merely said, "Extension charm… helps with carrying the books." Then she took out a piece of parchment and a ballpoint pen she usually didn't use for Hogwarts business, and wrote a quick note. It read: 'Hereby we allow our daughter Robin Mitchell to leave the castle grounds in groups OR by herself at any time not officially prohibited by the school rules.' Then Robin handed the paper to McGonagall.

"If my parents sign this, would it suffice for me to be allowed to leave the school grounds also by myself whenever we are officially allowed to go to Hogsmeade?" She asked the still astonished professor, and put her stationery back into the bag while waiting for an answer.

"Usually students simply break this rule instead of asking for permission. It merely applies to third years anyway, to ensure they get used to the new freedom before abusing it." McGonagall finally replied with a doubtful expression.

"Well, I'd rather change the rules to fit my needs than break them, to be honest." Robin shrugged. "That's usually less stressful for everyone."

Now McGonagall straight out looked incredulous and yet undoubtedly humored. "In that case, if you get your parents to sign this piece of writing, then yes, you may go on your own this year as well."

A smile spread on Robin's lips. Part one of her plan had worked, at least. "Great. Where can I find you in approximately twenty minutes, professor?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you are plotting, Miss Mitchell, but I can assure you no owl will be that quick."

"I'm not planning on using an owl, professor… I'm planning on bribing a house elf." Robin replied with a hint of mischief in her tone that even she could hear herself. "They are very nice, actually, if one is respectful and kind. And as far as I know, there is no rule against asking them for a favor."

"Indeed there isn't… However they are not a replacement for owls in any way."

"I have no intention to make them do anything they don't want to, which is not to say that I could in the first place. But I think I can offer them something in return that may convince them to do me this one favor." After a few seconds of silence, Robin added, "Please, professor… I really need to go to Hogsmeade today. And seeing as the only thing holding me back currently is a missing signature from my dad, I have come up with a perfectly by-the-rules plan to get you just that. Just because it's not commonly done this way doesn't mean it's any less legitimate."

"You certainly are creative in your sheer determination to make it to Hogsmeade today." McGonagall sighed. "I'm heading to the teacher's lounge now, should your efforts lead to the desired result."

"Thank you." Robin gave the professor a bright smile, then made her way towards the kitchens as fast as she could without running. This had to work… she would not stop even one second before those damned ingredients were on Snape's desk.

It took Robin a good ten minutes to convince her favorite house elf, who she had gone to for chocolate cake in the middle of the night more often than she liked to admit, to do her this favor. Not because the female elf (whose name Robin had learned to be Buttercup) would've refused Robin, she'd never do that, but because Robin had to convince her to accept a bar of Twirls in return. Finally, after explaining the advantages and necessity of fair trading to the entirety of the kitchen staff, Robin could get the young elf to accept the trade. Five minutes later, after apparating from the Hogwarts kitchens to Robin's family home in Oxford and back again, Buttercup happily exchanged the now signed permission slip for the chocolate bars Robin was handing her. Really, bless the house elves for being able to apparate in and out of Hogwarts, and bless Robin's brain for remembering that at such a convenient time.

After saying thank you and making sure Buttercup actually liked Twirls, Robin was on her way to the teacher's lounge in an instant. For once a plan of hers was actually working out the way it was supposed to, and honestly the feeling of success sufficed to gather up enough confidence to knock on the door and ask for McGonagall. The professor didn't actually seem all too surprised anymore when Robin handed her the now signed note, and without further ado she allowed Robin to head to Hogsmeade at last. If Robin wasn't mistaken, she even saw McGonagall smile in amusement for a brief moment when she finally turned to leave.

______________________________

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[managingmymuse]

Plotting

for writer's month

day 24: fake dating

(original fiction | ???)

I read and reread the King's declarations more times than I could count. Soon the words grew blurred from my fingertips, and the paper threatened to peel apart at the folds. Still, I kept pulling it out, picking at it like one picks a scab.

I forced myself to wait a week before sending a reply. Before I made any answer to the message at all. I needed that time to compose myself, to ensure that I could write without a shaking hand or tears dripped onto the page. It was terribly rude, of course, but at the moment, I was quite over politeness. If Timothe had an issue with it, he could consult my father, seeing as everything I'd told Timothe so far had been ignored.

The betrayal hung on the back of my tongue like acid. It made me short with my mother when she came to discuss gowns, and shorter still with Marcel Imons who was still pestering Abigail Lyon. When he approached her near the lake by the girls' dormitory one afternoon, I dispensed with my usual diplomacy and used a burst of magic to fling him in it.

Abigail's roommates laughed themselves sick.

By the end of the week, I'd calmed down enough to write with a clear hand. My missive was short, and to the point.

What possessed you to do this without asking me?

The reply came quickly. Mail between Yarrow and Imena didn't often take long.

My dearest Desdemona,

I must beg your forgiveness. When I returned from Imena, I was in deep pain at the loss of your company. My suffering was so great that my magic diminished as well. When my father discovered this lack, he dispatched his orders immediately, and without consulting me.

I regret that I have not had the opportunity to ask you properly. I promise, upon my next visit, I will make it up to you in full.

Ever yours,

Timothe

I'd frowned at the letter. And then, in a fit of pique, I'd burned it, using my rage to fuel the flames.

It was only later that the mistrust began to settle over me. When we'd been together, Timothe had always seemed self-possessed. Confident. Unlikely to wallow in supposed heartbreak. And when we'd parted, he'd seemed resigned to our future relationship as companions, if not outright friends. But by the time he got to Yarrow, he was disturbed to the point of magic disruption? After a mere day's drive?

Something did not tally. Not at all.

Timothe's triumphant return, presumably with a real proposal and a ring, was scheduled for the next school break, only a week away. Many of our classmates were returning to Yarrow for the solstice, but I would stay here with my family. And Timothee, apparently, would be visiting us.

My mother went into a flurry of preparations. She just about cleaned out every larder in the county searching for chocolate jellies and lemon drops. The staff was given a verbal thrashing every time she saw a button loose or a shoe unpolished. Every room on the main floors was laden with pine boughs until the whole house smelled-- and looked-- like it would belonged in a forest.

While my mother obsessed, I made my own preparations. I borrowed a particular spell from Lady Rathburn's extensive library.

She grasped my arm when I turned to leave her. "Think very carefully before you use this," she said, grey eyes bright. "The truth is not always kind."

I knew that already. Perhaps better than I should. "Don't worry about me," I said. "I shall be the very soul of discretion."

And I was. Rather than send servants for my supplies, I shopped for them myself, trailing along Spill Street like a lady at leisure rather than on a mission. I purchased the ingredients I needed in three separate shops, mixed in with a dozen more items that I never intended to use. Anyone who recovered my shopping list wouldn't know what I was shopping for.

I brewed the potion and let it steep two nights beneath the moon's rays. When it was done, I had a thin vial of a brownish liquid that would make any man, woman, or child, spill their secrets they'd much rather take to the grave.

Arranging a meeting in private was a much more difficult task to manage. My mother wanted to lavish the precious prince with hospitality, and even my father thought it would be impolite not to greet him upon arrival in our city. In the end, I had to do my very best impression of a lovesick girl to get them to consent to allow me to have tea with him in private so that he might propose properly.

It worked, I'm ashamed to say. Very ashamed indeed.

Timothe's carriage rolled up one wintery morning. I watched from the window as he strode up the stairs of our home and knocked precisely once before our butler greeted him. I rang for tea while the butler helped Timothe off with his coat and gloves and settled myself in a rather demure position on the sofa a mere moment before the door swung open.

"His Highness Prince Timothe," the butler said.

I nodded and stood to offer a curtsy. Timothe strode into the room in grand spirits, crossing the distance between us in a matter of seconds. "Darling," he said. He seized both of my hands in his, bringing them up between us to press a kiss to each.

The back of my neck prickled with unease. "Pet names now?"

"You're unhappy with me," Timothe said. "I understand."

"Do you?" I glanced at the butler. "You may go."

With a swift nod, he withdrew.

A heavy silence fell about the room. Embers crackled and burned in the fireplace.

I motioned toward the high-backed chair in the center of the room and allowed Timothe to be seated before I resumed my own position. A knock sounded on the rear door to the room, and a maid entered, bearing the tea service I'd summoned just moments before.

"I've had tea prepared," I said, motioning the maid to set it on the table nearest us. "It's just the thing to warm you after such a cold journey."

"My dear, the only thing I need to warm me is your kind regard."

Ugh. I nodded to the maid, indicating that she could leave before reaching forward to pour the tea.

Timothe's gaze was a hot brand on my neck as I carefully added liquid to his cup and dropped in a single sugar cube. "You're angry with me."

"I'm furious," I said. I offered him the cup and saucer, and he took it. "We discussed this the last time you were here. I said I don't wish to marry."

"Yes, and I tried to respect your wishes," he said. "But once I got home, I realized how much I missed you. My magic suffered. I'm ashamed to say I moped."

"You might have written me before you told your father we were to be married."

"Would it have changed your position?" he asked. "Knowing of my heartbreak?"

My lips firmed into a thin line as I poured my own tea. "You ask too much."

"On the contrary. I think I ask just enough."

He took a cautious sip of his tea, and a bolt of triumph flared through me, lighting me from within.

"Think of how happy we'll be," he said. "How powerful. Between the two of us we'll have the political capital and brute strength to rule this bloody empire, my brothers be damned."

I just stared at him. I watched the color drain from his face. I watched dawning horror pull at his lips.

"Why-- why did I say that? Did I--" His gaze dropped to his tea, and his lip curled. "How did you get this recipe?"

"I am a witch," I said. "You seem to forget it."

"On the contrary. It's the only reason I'm interested in you at all."

I expected that, but it still stung. I took a delicate sip of my own tea before I set the cup down.

A range of emotions was flashing across Timothe's face. Rage and confusion and fear. "Sweetroot tea is illegal."

I lifted a shoulder. "Then have me arrested."

His lip curled. "You know I won't do that."

"Because you love me?"

He outright snarled. "You know I don't love you. Or you wouldn't have fed me this this brew."

That one didn't sting nearly as much. Not with the victory of tricking him dancing in my veins. "If you don't love me, why force me to marry you?"

"Why does anyone marry?" he said.

"That's not an answer."

I have to give him credit, he fought it. But the recipe I'd used for the Sweetroot potion had an extra kicker of joja berries mixed with acanthus oil. In precisely the right quantities, it was formulated to make the reluctant more forthcoming.

"You saved my life," he said. "I need you to do it again."

"Are you in some sort of danger?"

"My brothers. They're trying to kill me."

He stood up at that. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and the cold shadow of fear passed over me.

"How-- that is, I-- how dare you," he said.

I affected nonchalance and drank some more tea. "If beating me into a pulp will make you feel better, then by all means, try it. But I warn you-- I fight back."

He snarled at me. Outright snarled. And for some reason, it filled me with more pleasure than I can even describe.

"Leave if you want," I said. "Storm down the streets in a rage if that would make you feel better. But I think it would be more productive if you would just tell me the truth."

"The truth." He sneered. "Why would I tell you anything?"

"You're trying to force me into a marriage with you," I said. "A marriage that I don't want or even particularly need."

"Honesty is not necessary for a marriage."

"It's a rather good start, though."

He scowled again. From the expressions on his face, I could tell he was fighting the sweetroot once again.

Finally, he dropped into his chair. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the air in front of him. "Fine. You want the truth? I'll give you the truth. My father has designated no heir. All three of us are eligible to assume his throne. My brothers have been trying to kill me for years. Last summer, one of them nearly succeeded."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're the one who saved me from his curse."

I sat back in my chair, startled. "That was only a falling branch."

"It was an ill luck spell," Timothe said. "I'm a magnet for danger. Literally wherever I go. I've been thrown from three horses, nearly run over by multiple carriages, and been injured by my sparring partner twice already."

I took a delicate sip of my tea. "I'm surprised you haven't been poisoned."

Timothe leaned forward, an odd glint in his eyes. "You have the distinction of being the first to attempt it, my love."

"Don't call me that."

"I don't see why I shouldn't."

"Because I'm not your love. I'm not your anything."

"But you will be."

The strength of that conviction, under the influence of sweetroot, was horrifying. Nevertheless, I forced myself to set my cup down gently on its saucer. "I'm not marrying you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't wish to marry," I said. "You in particular."

"Charming."

"I figured I might as well trade your honesty for some of my own."

I gave him a demure smile, and Timothe bared his teeth at me in a shark's grin.

"I don't need your agreement to force you into a marriage," he said. "I can have the papers filed with or without your consent."

"That's true enough," I said. "Heaven knows I can't stop you from filing paperwork with the courts."

"So you see that resisting this is idiotic."

"On the contrary," I said. "Resisting this is the only option I have left."

He stood up at at that, rolling his eyes. I half expected him to storm out, but instead he began to pace. He moved up and down the length of the room, cracking his knuckles as he muttered to himself.

I could see the wheels turning in his head. My calmness, such as it was, was getting to him. Good. It was bloody hard to hold onto my cool head.

It was time to push him over the edge. "What's to stop me from just letting you die?"

He turned to me. "What?"

"You heard me," I said. "If your plan is to have a bodyguard in the form of a wife-- well. An unwilling wife is irritating. An unwilling bodyguard is a legitimate problem."

"You would let me die?" he said. "Your own husband?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Quite a few women adore widowhood. It's not what I imagined for myself, naturally, but it's not the worst state one can find one's self in."

I thought he'd scowl at me. Rage and threaten, stomp and storm. But instead, a sort of calm passed over his face. He strode back to his chair, seating himself upright with the kind of courtly bearing that made me want to throw him across the room. "What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone."

"That's not what I meant," he said. The glint was back in his eyes, and it sent a shiver rolling down my spine. "What do you want to act as my bodyguard?"

"You would hire me as a bodyguard?"

He laughed, and it sounded as if it rippled up from the core of his cold, dark heart. "I can't have a bodyguard. Not in truth. That would be a display of weakness."

"And moping and pretending to lose your magic isn't?"

"Sentimentality is not weakness," he said. "Was our country not founded by warrior-poets?"

"Our country was founded by pompous windbags."

"Those are my ancestors."

"They are, aren't they?"

Timothe's smile was broader this time. There was still an edge to it, but it seemed-- genuine?

"This is going to be fun," he said.

"It's going to be your death sentence."

"You asked me to hire you, which means that your services can be bought," he said. "How much?"

I scowled at him. "I don't need money."

"Everyone needs something."

I kept the scowl firmly in place. "There's nothing I need that would make marrying you worth it."

Timothe chuckled. The sound was deep and resonant, and it sent alarm bells pealing in my head. "Am I really so bad?" he asked.

"Not everything is about you."

He smiled at that before standing again. He paced to the window, looking down into the street. The snow-bright light from outside washed onto his face, making him look like a figure from one of my sister's fairytales.

Not a handsome prince, I thought darkly. Or, well, not just one, anyway.

"I'm willing to compromise," he said. "I'd like to maintain the fiction of an engagement between us for the time being. But in exchange for you ensuring that I don't die an untimely death, I'll break it off long before we ever near the altar."

"That's not much of a compromise," I said. "What's in it for me?"

"Is it not enough to assist your sovereign in his time of need?"

"You're not my sovereign," I said. "And at this rate, you'll never be."

"But you can change that," Timothe said. "Help me reach the throne, and I will grant you anything your heart desires. One royal favor. How about that, my sweet?"

A favor. With a favor from the king I-- well, I could do anything. Possibilities spun in my head. A school in the north. A girls school where they were allowed to study more than dance and flower arranging.

"Never call me that again," I said, "and you have yourself a deal."

He swung around then. The grin on his face was almost impish. "I knew I could get through to you."

"Don't look so happy," I said.

He practically bounced across the room. "Why wouldn't I look happy? I've just secured a wonderful new fiancee."

"Spare me."

Instead of returning to his chair, this time he settled himself on the sofa next to me. It was a flagrant breach of propriety, and I suspected that he did it just to make me uncomfortable.

My suspicions were concerned when he took my hand in his and slowly brought it to his lips. "Come now. When we're in public, you'll have to pretend to be madly in love with me. You might as well start now."

"If this is your attempt at charm, it's failing," I said. I extracted my hand and reached for the bell to summon the butler. "It's been enlightening as always, your majesty."

He only smiled. "It has, hasn't it? It really has."

***

@saltnpepapig You asked to be tagged if there was more. This got out of hand, so let me know if you changed your mind.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 9

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3168

Author’s Note: Coming up on the end. Hope you guys have enjoyed this ride as much as I did. One chapter to go after this. All my thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for all your magnificent help. Also, random, the theme song for this chapter is “These Dreams,” by Heart. Just for fun.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 9

Kimber’s hands fly up, clenching on the wrist in front of her throat, and the blade twitches in warning. Pain stings the side of her neck, her fingers contract, and a trickle of warmth drips down to her shoulder.

Before she can speak, Dean is in front of them, gun drawn and face murderous. 

“Let her go.”

Laughter, broken and mocking, shakes against her back. Kimber’s vision grays at the edges, and she forces herself to slow her breathing. She focuses on the sting of the cut, slamming her eyes shut to block out the fear she can read in Dean’s eyes. 

“She’s mine, can’t let her go. Just got her. Been lookin’ for so long. Her blood is mine, that’s the rule.” The witch’s voice goes from rough to reedy and back, pitch wobbling all over the place. “Gonna spill this pretty blood. You’re a hunter, you can help. Like she helped the other hunter. Spilled our blood. Took...took...”

Kimber shudders unconsciously, and the witch yanks her left arm back, fingernails digging into the flesh just above her elbow. A strangled yelp escapes her throat, and Kimber bites down on her lip. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Back up,” the witch barks suddenly. Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t move.

“Ain’t happening, asshole. Let her go. I’m not sayin’ it again.” The hammer clicks on Dean’s gun, and the witch adjusts his grip, pulling her more firmly in front of him. The knife presses again, slicing deeper this time, and Kimber‘s focus slips. The trickle becomes a steadier stream, and she opens her eyes to see Dean’s cheek twinge above his clenched jaw. 

He never lowers his aim as he steps carefully back. Kimber is shoved forward, knuckles white on the man’s wrist. Her heart thumps painfully against her ribs as she racks her brain.

I know this, I know what to do, I can get out of this, I can, I just-

“Good boy,” the witch says. The manic glee in his voice sets Kimber’s nerves on edge, clearing a little of the panic from her thoughts. “So good at taking directions. Much better than her. Shoulda taken you up on the roof, she coulda watched you jump. Would’ve been fun. So...fun.”

White-hot fury lances through her fear, burning the last traces of it from her mind, and she remembers exactly how to get out of this hold. She widens her eyes, mouth tight, staring a hole at Dean. It takes a second for him to turn his glaring attention from the witch, but he finally meets Kimber’s gaze.

She has never wished so hard in her life to be a telepath as she does right now.

Please understand, Dean, she thinks with all her might, her eyes flicking down and to the side before meeting his again. Please be ready. 

She can distract the witch, can get out of the way, but she can’t kill him, and she has no idea if he has another spell ready. They’ve got one chance.

“Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun. Had fun with her friends, so many stairs, so many staples.” He holds the last word out, elongating it, and the hairs on Kimber’s neck stand on end. “Make you have fun with each other, gonna get messy. Don’t need a hex bag this time, can just-”

Kimber jerks down on the knife-wielding hand, pulling it towards her left hip. She ducks her head back and shoves her shoulder into the witch’s chest, knocking him off kilter. Her right hand arcs back, completing the circle and shoving the witch’s hand, knife and all, straight into his side. He throws his head back, howling, and a deafening bang fills the room. Pain explodes in Kimber’s ears, and the witch drops, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Kimber blinks, her head spinning, and then Dean is in front of her, his hands holding the sides of her face steady. His mouth opens, he’s speaking, but she can’t hear anything over the clanging in her ears. 

Her eyes stray down to the body on the floor, waiting for it to move. They need to leave, need to get away while they can, but she can’t make her legs work right. Her knees are locked, and the room is swaying. 

No, that’s not right. She’s swaying. She should probably sit.

Then she’s on the bed, and Dean kneels down in front of her, pressing a cloth to the side of her neck. She sucks in a breath, and the pain shocks her brain back into focus. He speaks again, but she can’t understand him. 

“We have to go, he’s going to get back up-” But Dean holds up a hand, shaking his head and frowning. He opens his mouth again, sucking in a breath like he’s going to shout, but then stops. He lifts her hand to the cloth on her neck, indicating for her to hold pressure while he rises. 

He glances around and snatches a pad of paper and pen from the bedside table. He scribbles quickly and holds the pad up in front of her. Her eyebrows lift in amazement as she reads “witch killing bullets.” 

“Seriously?” He nods, then flips the paper and scribbles again.

“Not used to gunfire?” the pad says. She shakes her head, then immediately regrets the action. The room spins, and then Dean is supporting her, steadying her before she hits the floor. He holds her upright for a few moments until she regains her balance, then he waves to get her attention.

He tilts his head towards the door, eyebrows lifted. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and forces her legs to cooperate, pushing up until she’s able to walk unsteadily, leaning hard against Dean. She feels colder than the seasonal temperature calls for, and she shivers hard against him.

Shock, she realizes. Yeah, I’m pretty sure…

The next thing she knows, they’re in Dean’s car, and she’s leaning against the window, her cheek chilled and damp on the glass. Dean’s jacket is draped over her, and she can make out the rumble of the engine and Dean’s voice, responding to someone she can’t hear.

Phone? her worn out brain offers. She yawns, and a dull throb ripples through her ears instead of the usual popping. She winces, and a warm hand slides over hers. 

“Can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” she says slowly, working her jaw carefully against the ache in her ear canals. “But it’s kind of muffled. Am I gonna need a hearing aid now?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, his relief mixed with exasperation. “One gunshot near your head, you’ll be fine. Wasn’t even a high enough caliber for concussive damage.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute, her brain still a little sluggish. “Can I go home, now, though? Because I’d really like to change clothes.” To her growing dismay, she realizes that one side of her is splattered with blood and...something else.

Not to mention her own blood staining her shoulder. Her shirt is definitely beyond saving.

“Sam, check out the motel, see if you can find a car or anything. Maybe we’ll get a clue about who this asshole actually was. I’ll check back in with you.” He disconnects the call and glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Think maybe we should get you some stitches for that cut.”

“I have butterfly bandages and pajamas at home,” she counters, feeling mulish. It has been a hell of a night, a hell of a week, and a hell of a month. Her stalker is dead, she’s feeling more disgusting by the second, and she wants to sleep for a year, at least. After the world’s hottest, longest shower, that is.

Dean frowns, his eyebrows drawing down as he prepares to dig his heels in. That’s when Kimber pulls out her trump card.

“I’ve got a Sara Lee deep dish apple pie in the freezer. Can have it hot out of the oven in about an hour.” She wants to laugh as Dean’s foot presses down on the accelerator, but she settles instead for leaning her leaden head on his shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. The last thing she feels is his arm pulling her just a little closer.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

…

When they arrive at Kimber’s house, the first order of business is a shower (after putting the pie in the oven, of course). True to her earlier promise, Kimber scrubs every inch of Dean’s back, wishing distantly that she was in a better frame of mind to enjoy the experience. Really, though, neither of them are up for any more than tired smiles and rinsing of suds. 

She throws on the jeans and tshirt that are lying on top of her hamper, too thrashed to search for anything else. When they reconvene in the kitchen, the oven still shows eighteen minutes left on the timer. Though Dean took pains during their shower to carefully clean the cut on her neck, he insists on fully inspecting it in better lighting. She’s too worn out to argue, so she drags out her first aid kit and drops into a chair.

She’s surprised at how comfortable the silence between them is. He cleans the cut again with peroxide this time before smearing a thin line of antibiotic ointment. She thinks he mutters something about “dirty witches,” but she’s so tired at this point she doesn’t completely catch it. Her hearing is more or less back to normal, although she keeps having to shake off the sensation that there’s water in her ears.

“Sam’s back at the motel, checking to see if the guy had a car, anything to give us an idea of what his damage was.”

She nods slowly, thoughts swirling in one too many directions. “He said...something about another hunter, me helping another hunter. I checked my notes, though, I don’t…”

“He said a lot of crazy shit, guy was unhinged.” Dean’s voice is hard, his eyes tight as he places butterfly strips along the side of her neck. “Probably not the best idea to revisit all of it just now.”

Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun.

Kimber’s stomach lurches, and saliva pools in the back of her mouth.

“Don’t you throw up on me, I just got clean. I’m not missing out on pie just ‘cause you can’t keep the contents of your stomach to yourself.”

She laughs, just as he intended, broken out of her toxic train of thought. 

“You’re right, I know you’re right. There’s much better things to think about tonight. We can go over all the gory details in the morning.” She raises her hand to stifle a yawn, and Dean catches her wrist, pulling her arm out straight to examine it. His eyebrows lower as he frowns at the line of crescent-shaped gouges on her arm just above her elbow.

“That was where he grabbed my arm. I guess his nails dug in?”

Dean actually clicks his tongue against his teeth and reaches for the peroxide again. When he glances up at her, she can’t hide her amusement from his observant eyes.

“What?” he asks, indignant. “Human fingernails are some of the filthiest things on the planet. And that guy was a witch, no telling what kinds of nasty he’s been diggin’ in. Now hush.”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer for the pie goes off a few minutes later, and Kimber makes the executive decision that a huge slice of shared apple pie with ice cream is more than enough of a balanced dinner for the two of them. She rinses off the plate in the sink while Dean cleans up the scraps from their impromptu doctoring. She sets the plate in the drying rack and turns to find him watching her, one corner of his mouth curled fondly.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

She excuses herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and slip into something a little more comfortable. She finishes by wrapping her bathrobe around her middle and tying the belt. When she enters the bedroom, she finds her comforter in a discreet pile on the far side of the room, and Dean reclining on the sheets, clad in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She opens her closet and pulls a spare blanket down from the top shelf. Dean slides off the bed, reaching out to take the blanket when his phone rings from the bedside table. She nods at the phone and shakes the blanket out while he answers.

“Sam found the guy’s car. Wants to know if you want to come check it out.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Kimber. She straightens and looks him dead in the eyes, then unties her robe and lets it drop from her shoulders to puddle around her feet.

His eyes widen, and his voice turns distracted. “Gonna pass tonight, Sam, but you save some of those juicy clues for us tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He hangs up, sets his phone on the bedside table, and turns the covers down. Then he throws himself onto the bed and holds his arms out to Kimber, his eyes sparkling.

“I have to say, Dr. Harper, I never imagined a distinguished college professor would own a set of pajamas like that.”

She switches off the light and slides into bed, her back fitting to his front, the last piece of a puzzle locking into place. His hands begin to roam over her fleece pants, exploring the soft material. She yawns again, letting her head loll back to rest against his collarbone.

“Gotta tell me where you managed to find Sasquatch pajamas; I know exactly what I need to get Sam for Christmas.”

She giggles through another yawn, then turns in his embrace. In the dim light of her room, the green of his eyes is lost to the darkness, but the faint smile on his lips...that she can see just fine. 

Their kiss is slow, soft, and sleepy, and she allows herself two more before settling into the crook of his neck. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm.” His voice is just as gone as hers. His fingers, having found their way under the edge of her pajama top, are stroking over the small of her back as he drifts off.

“Is this what it’s always like for you and Sam? For hunters?”

The quiet stretches on long enough that she thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he shifts and clears his throat.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better; easier cases, less gun shots, maybe a spell or two thrown around. But you know the lore, you work with hunters. It’s usually a lot worse.” He leaves his sentence there, obviously not willing to elaborate at the moment. 

“On the other hand,” he adds a minute later, his voice thick with fatigue and another emotion she’s sure she’d be able to place if she were properly awake, “I don’t get to end every hunt like this, so that definitely counts for something.”

It definitely does, she thinks. 

…

“You gotta pull the knife-hand towards your outside hip, then swing your head and shoulder at the same time, hit me hard as you can,” Dean coaxed patiently. They had spent most of sixth period study hall actually studying today, so Dean decided they needed to work on something else after school. 

During their second tutoring session, Kimber learned that despite his willingness to be tutored by a girl, he chafed a little at the concept of receiving said tutoring without offering anything in return, so he suggested showing her some self-defense moves.

“In case the star quarterback ever gets any ideas that you’re not cool with,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes but accepted his proposition anyway. It meant coming into close, physical contact with Dean, for one. And it never hurt to be prepared, after all.

They went through the move again, Dean holding a stick to her neck in place of the knife. He made her work through it until she could pull off the maneuver without the sting of bark on her skin, until she managed to jab the stick hard enough against his side for him to wince in real discomfort.

The pleased smile he turned on her as he clutched his ribs made her toes tingle.

“I don’t see me using this kind of a move anytime soon, but it’s definitely good to know,” she admitted, picking up her denim jacket. The days had begun cooling off lately, fall making its presence abundantly known, and she shivered in the breeze as she zipped all the way up to her collar.

“You never know,” he agreed. He picked up her backpack, hanging it over his shoulder. “You could be set upon by anything: a pickpocket, a bank robber, a lone vampire looking for a snack. There’s no telling when that move could help you.”

“I doubt the vampire part, or even the bank robber, but yeah. I know a couple of people who’ve been mugged who could’ve used your expert training.” He slung his free arm around her shoulder, and they headed across the park.

“There are all sorts of critters out there that could creep up on you,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Vamps are just one of a hundred, and one of the ones most likely to go for the neck.”

“One of a hundred,” she repeated. She was intrigued by the mention of monsters, had always loved reading old ghost stories and legends, but surely there couldn’t be that many monster stories in the world.

“I’ll trade you stories for pie,” he said. She shot him a skeptical glance, and he gave her an exaggerated, stern face. “I never joke about pie, and I know stories that would make your hair curl. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But we’re talking at least three stories for one piece of pie.”

“Two stories and another self-defense lesson.”

Later on, as they stood outside her front door, she smiled shyly up at him, her cheeks warm despite the drop in temperature.

“I would have gotten you the pie just for another self-defense lesson,” she admitted, marveling at how he made her feel timid and brave all at once. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair out of his way. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, not even long enough for her eyes to flutter shut. His smile, when he straightened, was soft and genuine.

“I would have traded the stories for the same.”

…

Kimber wakes, turning in Dean’s arms. It’s still dark out, nothing is out of place. She settles against him, her lips pressing against his collar bone.

“‘S’matter?” His words are slurred, muffled by her hair, and his arms tighten for a moment. She can feel the stretch rippling down the length of him, and that hidden spot in her chest spreads out, sending tendrils of soothing warmth through every part of her.

“Not a thing. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

…

Chapter 10