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coloursflyaway · 4 months

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Won’t Fear Love (2/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.500

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment. If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him. or: Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

“A movie?”, Edwin asks, and Charles nods, almost a little too enthusiastic. He is aware that Charles enjoys movies quite a lot, and Edwin has to admit that there have been those that also captured Edwin’s imagination, but…

“Is that not quite antithetical to the idea of a date?”, he asks, slightly puzzled. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience, but it seems like a pastime that decidedly doesn’t invite conversation. “I was under the impression that dating was mainly about getting to know someone, not sitting next to them in silence while being entertained by something external from both of you.”

His confusion is obviously highly entertaining to Charles, who starts laughing even before Edwin has finished speaking. “Edwin, mate. That’s the most you thing you could have possibly said”, he explains while still chuckling, and Edwin would be miffed, if Charles didn’t sound so fond while saying it. “I’m pretty sure the point of it is to talk about the movie afterwards. And, you know. Maybe hold hands in the dark or something.”

“But I will know what you will think about the movie”, Edwin answers, still befuddled, and resolutely ignores the implication of holding hands, because even if it is, of course, impossible, he feels like he is blushing just thinking about it. On cases, they have held hands before, for spells or as not to lose each other in the dark, but that was before. Now, it would mean something, and now, he cannot even consider it without wanting it with an intensity that is almost frightening.

“Oh, I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling, still sounds fond. “That’s exactly why I want to take you to see one.”

Charles, of course, takes him to see a movie. He is excited about it, too, to the point where Edwin cannot even pretend to mind it, because his eyes are glowing with joy when Edwin eventually agrees to it, because he talks Crystal into getting them physical tickets (“So we can keep them, of course! I think that would be nice, having something to remember our second date by, don’t you, Edwin?”), because he dresses up nice again, as if his state of dress could ever matter to Edwin. And, of course, because of one very simple reason: he genuinely seems to want to take Edwin out on a date.

Although he tries his best not to take it too seriously, since Charles just gets like this sometimes, excited and almost overwhelming in his happiness, it’s difficult not to when it’s this. Because the thought that maybe, just maybe, Charles thought the first time he took Edwin out was a success (he cannot bring himself to call it a date, not now, maybe not ever), is almost too much to bear.

The thing is, Edwin never expected Charles to reciprocate his feeling.

Looking back, he isn’t even sure if it was part of his thought process, if he considered the possibility before he was standing on the steps to Hell, looking at Charles and thinking, I’m so glad he knows he’s loved.

So, the thought that Charles is considering it, giving it a chance, giving Edwin a chance, is almost unfathomable.

And yet, Charles is standing in front of him, the biggest smile on his face, because he gets to take Edwin out again. It’s very difficult not to hope at least a little.

“You alright there, mate?”, Charles asks, brows furrowed, and Edwin realises he must have spaced out for a few moments. He should say no, be honest, but instead he nods so he can watch the smile bloom again on Charles’ face. “Aces”, Charles says and he is right, it is aces, it’s magnificent, it’s brills, it’s every other positive adjective Edwin can think of, because they are on a date together and Charles is looking at him like he really wants to be here.

In the end, Edwin can’t even remember the title of the movie, nor the contents of it (there were explosions in it, he’s fairly certain, one or two scenes that made Charles chuckle), and not for not trying, either. It’s not his fault at all, in fact, that he hardly paid attention to any of it, but Charles’.

For not even five minutes into the film, Charles had taken his hand. Not to show Edwin something, not to drag him somewhere, but just sitting there, Charles had taken his hand and woven their fingers together like he didn’t mean to let go and then he just… hadn’t. Instead, he had held Edwin’s hand for the entirety of it, sometimes squeezing it, presumably if something exciting was happening on screen.

Which Edwin wouldn’t, couldn’t have noticed, because, well. Because Charles had been holding his hand. It had been the strangest thing, because it had felt so natural, like something they had been doing for decades; because it had felt like the single most thrilling thing to happen to Edwin in the entirety of his existence.

Of course, he couldn’t really feel Charles’ fingers in his, but he knew them to be there anyway, like he could feel Charles’ energy brushing up against his, and it had been… glorious. It had been warm and familiar and electrifying, and more than enough to make focussing on anything else impossible, lest he miss a second of it.

Which poses one unfortunate problem: Charles asks him about the film when they are leaving the theatre amidst the crowd, a stranger’s arm phasing through the graceful arch of his shoulder.

“Well”, Edwin starts, certain that if he had the appropriate anatomy still, he would be blushing. “I am not entirely certain, I’m afraid. It seems I was a little… compromised during it.”

He cannot say it out-loud, so instead, he just raises their hands, because their fingers are still intertwined, and Charles stops moving in the middle of the hallway to look at him. Edwin stops, too, can’t really do anything but that, unless he lets go of Charles’ hand.

“You don’t know if you liked the movie because we were holding hands during it?”, Charles asks to clarify, sounding amazed and slightly disbelieving still. And Edwin has to nod, and although it should be humiliating, it isn’t, because Charles’ fingers tighten around his reflexively, almost like he doesn’t want to let go, either. His lips part as if he wanted to say something, but then Charles just ducks his head, smiling, before he looks up at Edwin a few seconds later.

“That’s pretty cute, actually”, he states like it’s a confession of some sort, and Edwin’s very soul seizes up, curls around that word. Cute. “And, like. I enjoyed it, too. It’s nice, feeling that you’re next to me.”

And when Edwin doesn’t answer, because how could he, when he wouldn’t be able to remember how to breathe if he still had to do so, he squeezes Edwin’s hand again, deliberately this time. “But don’t worry, mate. You would have hated it anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking, maybe we should make this a more regular thing”, Charles says when they are walking home, because Charles is still insisting on this, and if Edwin is honest to himself, he finds that he doesn’t mind. It’s a nice thought that Charles might not want to let the evening end, because Edwin feels the same, and not only because they are still holding hands. “What do you mean?”

Charles grins and Edwin is so weak around him, it’s preposterous. But then again, maybe it’s not his fault, maybe it’s just Charles, maybe everyone around them feels like their knees might give out under them when Charles smiles at them like this. He’ll have to ask Crystal about that in a quiet moment.

“You know, give it some regularity. We could do every second Wednesday of the month”, Charles replies easily, “Gives me a bit of time to plan and you won’t have to look like a very frightened deer every time I bring it up.” Again, that smile, so bright it almost lets Edwin forget to be offended.

“I absolutely do not look like a deer in any way whatsoever”, he still shoots back, even if a moment too late. He has a reputation to uphold after all. “You kind of do, though”, Charles tells him, his nose scrunching up a little. “It’s cute. But I would rather have you not scared, so what do you say? Monthly date nights?”

There it is again, that word. Cute. Edwin tries his best not to think too much of it, lest he stop thinking about anything else.

“That would be agreeable”, he replies. Cute. “Is there a reason for it to be the second Wednesday?” And Charles reacts like he has been shot, putting one hand across his unbeating heart and pulling a face, eyebrows drawn together like Edwin has wounded him deeply.

“Edwin”, he all but whines, looking at him with wide brown eyes, glittering with mirth in the glow of the street lights. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our first date already! That was on the second Wednesday. As is this one, actually.”

And he’s right; it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him, and Edwin grips Charles’ hand as tightly as he can, and tries his best to think anything but please, let me have this. I’ll never ask for anything else. Just this.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #yes my plan for this whole thing #is simply to make edwin's brain leak out of his ears because charles is showing him some good old-fashioned romance #and i think i am succeeding

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x3no9 · 7 months

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Ever start a fic with the entire thing laid out and then suddenly it turns into a crazy beast and smashes everything you built to the ground?

Anyway that is what happened with my newest Call of Duty fic. It got very dark, major character death and shit. And all I wanted was married couples. Curious thing is, one my mates read it and says that the Makarov x Graves dynamic reminds him of the song, "Wrecking Ball", by Sacha Skarbec.

I looked the lyrics up (I refuse to listen to Miley) and then found a gorgeous cover version sung by James Arthur. I was quite blown away. And YES, thanks, Steve it does illustrate it quite well, going with Graves' perspective, but the curious thing is--it can apply a little to both sides. Anyway they aren't broken up though as the song strongly implies. I think I need to go touch some grass, I am going way too hard on this MakaGraves ship.

Here is the fic link if ya want to go insane...

Also.... the lyrics to ponder...

We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain We jumped never asking why We kissed, I fell under your spell. A love no one could deny

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you I can't live a lie, running for my life I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you, you wreck me

I put you high up in the sky And now, you're not coming down It slowly turned, you let me burn And now, we're ashes on the ground

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you I can't live a lie, running for my life I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me

I came in like a wrecking ball Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung Left me crashing in a blazing fall All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you, you wreck me

I never meant to start a war I just wanted you to let me in And instead of using force I guess I should've let you win I never meant to start a war I just wanted you to let me in I guess I should've let you win

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me

I came in like a wrecking ball Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung Left me crashing in a blazing fall All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you, you wreck me Yeah, you, you wreck me

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peachysunrize · 4 months

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Could I be cheeky, and ask for more info on Eternal Frost, and The Lost Art Of Murder?

Nonnie, by all means, please be cheekier!!! I’m gonna put the answer under the cut because I’m so excited to talk about these fics!!!! I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR THIS AMAZING ASK!!!!

Starting with Eternal Frost!

I haven’t seen many time traveling fics, and even those that I’ve read are always about reader going to past or Aemond coming to the future. But what if Aemond goes back in time?👀👀

The story takes place in a very new settings, and since I’m obsessed with royalty core, I needed to write something that I could world build as well!! And with new settings, comes new characters!!

Naelassa Veltheon is my main OC, which is also the protagonist and the main character all in all, she is Aemond’s love interest as well! The story is about 20 long chapters with a prologue and Epilogue.

Here’s the description of the series ->

[ Meeting his uncle on the battlefield, he was promised by his witch that he would survive and win the war, he was promised glory, the Iron Throne, and the realm. But the spell did not work as he had hoped to. Certainly not when he wakes up in an unknown place with an Ice Dragon staring into his soul, lying on white sand on a beach. ]

Here is the aesthetic moodboard!

NOW, MY FAVORITE CREATION ALONGSIDE ETERNAL FROST!!!

The Lost Art Of Murder was inspired by a quote I saw on pinterest: It takes a monster to destroy a monster.

And me being super creative and giddy, came up with this true crime/thriller idea and my friends hyped me up to turn it into a fic! It’ll be around 40 long-ish chapters with heavy plot. It’s not romance focused because I truly wanted to write something different.

This story is reader insert, in modern Westeros and Targaryens are modern royalty. Vizzy Targaryen, The King, is found dead, and suddenly the speculation of murder rise and everyone starts talking about it. Rhaenyra becomes the queen and wants to start the investigation, and there comes reader!! Our detective, our main character👀👀

It’s gonna be super psychological, disgusting, scary, and so much murder and dark content because it makes it this perfect story to tell.

Here’s the description ->

[ The murder of the King leaves the realm in chaos. Politicians, journalists, and even normal citizens are left gasping at the horror they see in the news. It has been so long since a murder this complicated had taken place, but fear not, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the new Queen demands the King’s Guard to find the best detective in town. Maybe King’s Landing will fall apart, a new serial killer coming out, or maybe you will put a stop to it. After all, it takes a monster to destroy a monster. ]

Here’s the aesthetic moodboard!

#inbox open

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sybaritick · 9 months

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it's the BG3 fic writing 2023 summary meme!

just doing this for fun because I've seen a few writers taking part!

What are your Ao3 stats? How many words written, how many hits, kudos, and comments?

For 2023, words: 24608 hits: 19414 kudos: 2115 comment threads: 97

oooh, statistics!! now let's do a regression or something. ("on what"?? i don't know. could do something with the fic-by-fic data i suppose on comments vs kudos vs hits or whatnot) I'm happy with these stats, and the comments make me happiest -- I had so many great reactions to my fics that really made me smile to read. (Or laugh, in some cases, which might be even better).

Did you have a favourite canon character to write?

Gale. gotta be Gale. I love doing Astarion's dialogue too tho because he has SUCH a fun voice.

Did you have a favourite OC to write?

I’ve written very little OC stuff, only a single Tav/Gale fic. So Vierlin, the morally deficient enchantment wizard and fellow nerd to Gale, wins by default in Suggestion!

Which fic was your most popular?

That's nor heaven peep through the blanket of dark, the Astarion/Gale sussur flower fic! IMO it's only the most popular because it was posted in September.

Which fic was your personal favourite?

Hm, I think oh, rotten little thing, just because corrupting Gale makes me horny :) my upcoming gortash/gale fic will be. very much about that

Was there anything you wrote that was a surprise to you? Why?

in full honesty no I'm not surprised. I'll write anything. I did do a very overtly niche-kink-driven fic tho for us feeders/fat fetishists, catalyst!

What is your favourite piece of description you wrote? Why do you like it?

It's hard question, but one of the most fun is this section with ascended!Astarion in At Knifepoint: Astarion's face was cruel and angular in the half-light of the darkened library, stark shadows cast across his features, lips curled into a teasing smile. The Dispel Magic spell rushed over him faster than he could answer it, dark and sour like a sickening wave, and the invisibility curled away from his body like the burnt edge of a newspaper. lots of tasty sensory detail and imagery!

What was your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote? Why do you like it?

the Conversation Full Of Lying between precanon gort and durge in Grim Trigger was just fun as hell to write: "What, as an arms dealer? If I were to judge you by your victims, I would hardly be willing to set foot in the same room. But the cattle you so devoutly dismember are not me-- and the politicians and power-brokers that come under my influence are not you. Our relationship differs fundamentally." The Dark Urge was silent for a moment, but Gortash saw by the set of his jaw that he remained very much unconvinced. "What is it you imagine I would do to you?" Enver said. "You'd like to hear that, wouldn't you?" the Dark Urge answered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "With the blessings of Bane it's only become easier for you to have anything you please. An ordinary mortal falls apart underneath you so dreadfully easily-- and you wish I would go down just as soft and easily, swallowed up to satisfy your urges." “You confuse your condition for mine, Bhaalspawn.” Gortash felt the air thicken with the thoughts coalescing in the Dark Urge’s mind. "You are not as different from me as you imagine." "I'll take that in the complimentary spirit I'm sure you intended.”

What was your overall feeling about your writing in 2023? What were you proud of? What were the highlights?

I feel positive about it! The biggest highlight is just that I'm happy I started writing again-- I'm glad to be banging this stuff out instead of letting it languish in my head until I forget it.

What would you like to explore more in 2024?

A Lot. Possibilities include: - several pairings I want to write but haven't yet (or at least haven't posted yet), especially Gortash/Gale or Gortash/Durge/Astarion - a longer fic or two - more and worse kinks (things i currently have at least in the back of my mind? hypnosis, sexual coercion/blackmail, some stuff that is fetishizing the political corruption in baldur's gate lol, forced impreg and misgendering, some medical play...) - perhaps additional originals/non-bg3 works as well because i do still enjoy writing them!

i encourage anyone who sees this and feels like it to do this too! it was fun to reflect on the past year of fanficcing :D

#cal txt #fandom #bg3

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titularkilljoy · 3 years

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sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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aberfaeth · 2 years

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Okay. I have to know. What is word on the wind what is a young wizard?

OH ANON YOUVE DONE IT NOW <333 (made my DAY ACTUALLY. I LOVE YOU AND IF YOU READ ALL OF THIS I LOVEYOU EVEN MORE)

so word on the wind is. a novelization/dramatization of the plot of 2008 mmorpg Wizard101, a game in which you play a normal child/teen isekai-ed into a Spiral of magical worlds to learn how to do spells at the Ravenwood School of Magical Arts. along the way you have adventures such as: save the world! become increasingly estranged and isolated from your peers and teachers! Actually End A Man's Life! experience the horrors of war!

if you know me at all you know my number one passion is Making Things Way Deeper And More Narratively Coherent/Satisfying Than They Need To Be (power rangers 2017 my beloved) so while wizard101 is a fun silly game for folks of all ages i was like HEY. what if we took the Powerful Old Wizard Sends Child To Do Horrific Bidding thing really seriously (obviously i am nowhere near the first person to do this i mean i dont really read a lot of w101 fic but it does exist). anyways the Thing that sets wotw apartTM is that i picked three fellow student NPCs that exist only in the first world* and decided that they get to be the protag's friends and party for the rest of the plot! (based off the real mechanic where you can join fights with up to 3 other people bc its an mMorpg. i made sure their party build was good. i made SURE.)

so word on the wind is, in short: Madeline "Mae" Simmons/Starcatcher (the Headmaster gave her a Wizard Name) and her three friends (Duncan Grimwater, Ceren Nightchant, Regina Flametalon) go on adventures, save the worlds, bond over gained trauma, do real life murder, and fall in love (gay people<3).

fun little encapsulation of the Implications Being Taken Seriously: initially, the protag's name is coded into the dialogue, but after a little bit, i guess kingsisle got lazy? or something, because everyone gradually starts calling them Young Wizard. and thus that is how the protag is referred to in fandom. cool and useful but also super depersonalizing!

gay people snippet under the cut bc this post is so long already i am so sorry:

A girl stormed past us, red cape whipping behind her.

I watched as she paced across the length of the grass before dropping down on the ground, right behind a park bench, burying her head in her hands. Ceren’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. I tilted my head to the side, like, do you know her? But he just sort of stared at me, confused.

“Well, come on,” I said, clamoring to my feet. “Maybe we can help.”

We made our way across the court. When we got close enough, I could see the girl’s shoulders were shuddering, as if she was having trouble breathing. As we approached, she startled, jerking her head up. Her face was round, with wide, shiny eyes, and dark skin streaked with tears. Cherry red coils of hair fell down to her shoulders.

She took in a quick breath, wiping her face with the sleeves of her pumpkin orange robe. “Hi,” she said, voice wobbling. “Um—can I help you?”

I blinked. “I guess I was gonna ask you the same thing.” I knelt down on the seat of the bench, folding my arms across the backrest. “We’ll leave if you want to be alone, but… are you okay?”

The girl’s lip quivered. She let out a full-body sigh, shifting her crossed legs. “No,” she said, finally, with a small shake of the head. “I’m trying to finish this engineering assignment for Professor Baelstrom, but the golems in that tower stole my materials.” As she talked, her voice picked up, in speed, volume, and panic. “I really need those back, if he finds out I’ve lost them then I’ll fail the project, and Professor Falmea won’t let me do any more interschool studies, and I’ll flunk out of the Academy and have to live beneath the theater on Firecat Alley doing tech for those crazy elves to pay rent—”

“Woah, slow down,” I said, climbing off the bench to crouch next to her, hands held stiffly up like I was FBI Agent Dr. Spencer Reid trying to soothe a traumatized shotgun wielder. I swallowed, and tried to think of anything useful to say. What I came up with was: “Hey, at least you’ve got a backup plan.”

She laughed, but it sounded a little crazed. “Yeah. I have backup plans for everything. Except, apparently, golems stealing my steam capacitor.”

“When did they grab it from you?” Ceren asked, from behind me. His head was tilted slightly in puzzlement. “I’ve never seen them outside of the tower.”

The girl pursed her lips. “I was stupid,” she said, morose. “I thought I could grab some Enchanted Wood off of the smaller wooden golems, instead of paying Elmer for it, but they were a lot stronger than I’d imagined. They knocked me out, took my equipment.” Her breathing was becoming rapid, again, hands fiddling anxiously with the ends of her sleeves. “I don’t even like musicals! When I was ten Professor Greyrose made me play the wicked witch in a small schoolwide production and I forgot all of my lines, it was so embarrassing—”

“We’ll help you get your stuff back,” I blurted.

She looked up at me with wide, wet eyes. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Ceren chimed in, reaching a hand out. “Those golems won’t stand a chance against the three of us.”

The girl examined Ceren’s outstretched hand for a moment before grasping it, letting herself be pulled up. I scrambled to my feet, brushing the grass off of my knees. “I’m Regina,” she introduced.

“Mae,” I responded, bouncing lightly on my toes. “And this is Ceren.” Ceren gave a little half-wave. “Should we head right in, or do you need a minute?”

Regina took a deep breath in, setting her shoulders. Her expression was dead serious. “I’m ready.”

#*YES i know about duncan in arc 3. im not looking. mae fixed him #wizard101 #w101 #wizzy fandom #honestly. honestly this is the wip i have the most written for. which is. yeah.#c.ask #THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LITERALLY LOVE YOU SO MUCH WHOEVER U ARE OUT THERE <3333333 #wotw

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coalitiongirl · 3 years

Text

Fic Recs (under 300 edition)

So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁

Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.

Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.

But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.

Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn��t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)

Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.

A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.

His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.

How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.

The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*

If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.

The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.

The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.

Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.

A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.

Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*

Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?

What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.

The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen

zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill

#swan queen #fic rec #ouat

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tinyhistory · 4 years

Note

Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

#draco/harry fanfic #drarry #drarry fic recs #drarry fic #answered asks

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houseofhurricane · 3 years

Text

Rules for Spies: Chapter Eleven

Summary: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more.

Chapter Word Count: 2,178

Warnings: This chapter has references to past assault, and this fic includes mature consensual sexual situations, references to past assault, and torture.

Art & Banner: cosmikla

All chapters are available on Archive of Our Own. All previous chapters linked here.

Gwyn had fallen asleep easily, Azriel’s arm around her waist and his body warm against her back, and though she’d hoped that the exertion of the day would keep her asleep until morning, she wakes in the dead of night. His breathing is quiet and even, his arm still banded over her waist, and Gwyn tries to calm her pounding heart.

The men had loomed over her again, but this time they’d laughed with Koschei’s voice. Azriel had not appeared out of the shadows, and instead of rutting between her legs, they’d lunged for her head, cutting into her skull with daggers and their fingernails.

She was so glad to wake up but now she is stuck in his embrace. He’s never admitted it directly, but she knows how little Azriel sleeps. The fact that he hasn’t woken is probably a miracle.

While Gwyn debates whether there’s a way to slide through his arms and replace the bulk of her body with her pillow before Azriel notices, a shadow moves from the corner and directly into her field of vision.

Then, softly, the shadow begins to sing.

It’s a folk lullaby, Gwyn thinks to herself, wondering if perhaps she’s dreaming again, until another shadow joins the first, undulating across the sheets. Gradually, she is wreathed in the shadows that normally circle Azriel, who join together in a gentle chorus, and although something in her mind insists that she needs to stay awake, that there’s a revelation nearly at hand, Gwyn falls instead into a dreamless sleep.

“The House sent me with food,” Mor announces from another room, perky and cheerful as only Mor can be, even too early in the morning, and Azriel nearly crashes into Gwyn as he tries to jump out of bed at the same time she does.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he grumbles through the door, pulling on his armor. A glance through the window, at the blinding sunlight off fresh snow, tells him that he slept longer than intended, longer than he has in years. And in the flashes he’s seen of her face, he notices that the dark circles under Gwyn’s eyes have faded considerably.

“The House and Rhys don’t agree with that,” Mor says, her footsteps approaching the bedroom door. “You know you need to eat fresh fruits and vegetables, right? Not just meat and bread.”

“The House sent us plenty of juice. And cheese.” Gwyn speaks in a sleepy voice that makes Azriel want to drag her right back to bed.

In the silence before Mor speaks, he can hear her calculating just how much she’s going to tease him about sharing a bedroom with Gwyn, but thankfully she only says, “Well, I might eat this all if you two don’t hurry.”

“Let me adjust the spell first,” Gwyn calls as she finishes adjusting her armor, and then, as soon as Azriel’s shield is in place, she lets out the commanding melody and, if he reads her lips correctly, tells them to ignore anybody in the apartment.

“I’ve been here plenty of times, you know,” Mor says as soon as he drops the shield and opens the bedroom door, only for her eyes to go wide and a little afraid. Azriel looks over his shoulder, wondering if some monster had appeared in the night.

“You come here to pick up Emerie for training, right?” Gwyn enunciates every word too clearly.

Mor sighs, shaking her head. Her shoulders tense and then relax.

“Emerie and I are involved with each other,” she says, her golden eyes intent on Azriel. “That’s why I come here. And to take her to training. I haven’t told anyone yet. Except for Gwyn.”

“And that’s only because I burst in on them,” Gwyn says, crossing the room to stand next to Mor.

A dozen things occur to Azriel at the same time. How happy Mor has been, and how often, lately, she’s been at the House of Wind. How Emerie had come to meet Anahit. Mor’s volunteering to check on the shop. And he thinks, fleetingly, of the five centuries he loved her without hope, whether they had made her afraid to reveal this new development to him. Whether she’d always preferred females but had thought the revelation would destroy him. How glad he is that she now trusts him enough with this information.

So it isn’t hard for Azriel to smile and congratulate her and pull her into a tight hug. His friend is happy, her golden eyes two suns in her lovely face, and it is easy to be delighted for her.

“Aren’t the two of them perfect together?” Gwyn prompts him from the kitchen, the smell of coffee already wafting towards him.

“I’d never thought about it,” he says, honestly, seeing how carefully Mor watches him, knowing how much each of his word means, “but I can see it now, the two of you together. And here I thought you were just glad to be back from Valhallan.”

“That court is full of pricks,” Mor responds, linking her arm with his on the way to the kitchen, where Gwyn has started in on the new food from the House. “But also I missed Emerie.”

“Have you picked out her solstice gift yet?”

Her eyes widen, and he knows the look of fear in them isn’t only for his entertainment. “You know I’ve already nightmares about that?”

“I’ll help you,” he promises.

“Well, you’ll have to get a certain solstice gift yourself, won’t you?” She nods her head toward Gwyn, who blushes, her head dipping over the cutting board that glistens with a rainbow of fruit.

He clears his throat, wanting to spare Gwyn any embarrassment.

“Do you still remember how to cook eggs, Mor?”

“I’m not entirely helpless,” she says, reaching for a bowl.

In the end, the eggs are only a little burned, and it’s the only food left unfinished, but the conversation is easy between the three of them, although he notices that Gwyn still skirts around any mention of her power.

“I didn’t know she knew about us,” Gwyn says when Mor has winnowed back to Velaris.

“I haven’t said anything,” he says, and the light in her eyes dims. “It’s just that -- if we’re together and it’s generally known, then you will be a target. There are missions I can no longer run because I’m recognized in every court and across the continent. The more anonymous a spy is, the easier it is for them to gather secrets. And if you are with me, you will never be anonymous.”

She studies him for a moment, and in that silence, he realizes the extent of what he’s saying, telling his mate that it would be best for her to leave him. How he might never be able to keep her safe.

“How have you survived all these centuries, then?”

He smiles, trying to hide his relief.

“I’m very, very good at what I do.”

She stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss on his lips, a claiming.

“Then you’re going to have to show me everything you know,” she says, smiling against his mouth, “because if Nesta and Emerie find out that Mor knew before them, it’s not going to matter who else is after me.”

“Then let’s get started,” he says, and she takes his hand, ready for anything.

At first she thinks the winged figure is Rhysand, come to train her days later than promised, and then Azriel’s bronze skin goes completely white. He reaches for her hand and they’re back in Emerie’s apartment.

He doesn’t let go of her hand, despite the dagger in her palm, and she realizes his fingers are shaking, that his whole body trembles. Already the shadows encircle him, twisting around his shoulders.

She drops her dagger to the ground and he wheels toward her at the thump. She just squeezes his fingers with her own, tightly enough to feel his racing pulse beneath her fingers.

“Who was that?”

“One of my step-brothers, coming to send a message from my father.” His jaw is clenched so tight the words can barely escape, and as soon as he says them, his teeth start to chatter. Gwyn reaches for him, watching for any sign that he doesn’t want the contact, but instead Azriel nearly falls into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder and his arms a band around her waist. Her own arms are tight around him and she murmurs whatever she thinks of, a chorus of you’re all right and I’m here and they can’t hurt you now, even though she has no idea whether any of it is true.

Little by little, he stops shaking, and she leads him to the couch, not letting go of him as they sit down.

“He’ll kill us both if he finds us,” Azriel says, finally, his face still pressed against her shoulder. “I should never have brought you here.”

“Koschei would have found us by now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you need to apologize for?”

“He’ll look for you now.”

She wants to ask how his father could possibly be more dangerous than Koschei, and then she thinks that anyone who could imprison their own son in the darkness for more than a decade, who could allow him to be harmed the way Azriel was harmed, is a monster worth running from.

Even if, from a distance, the male had looked harmless, well within her powers to command. And for the first time in her life, Gwyn has wanted to unleash her powers and ruin a life.

“If he lays a hand on you,” she says, “I’ll make him regret it.”

Azriel’s hands grip her tightly, the scars pressing against her skin.

“I’ll never let him get close to you. We should leave.”

“Where will we go? I’ll sing the command again. We’ll be safe here. He won’t be able to find us. Koschei won’t be able to find us. We’ll stay here until--”

Maybe it’s his panic that makes her think of it, or the shadows that have swarmed on him, thick as ink, but she thinks of that night three days ago, when the shadows had sung her into a perfect dreamless sleep.

“Can your shadows learn a melody?” she asks, just as a shadow separates from the rest and twists its way through her fingers.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His voice is sharp and she tries not to flinch. He’s scared and he’s angry.

“Is your shield down?”

It’s not an answer to his question, but he nods.

She calls her magic to her and sings the melody that commands his unguarded mind. Instantly she sees the shadows slow their movements, as though they’re listening. She sings the melody again, and then, note by note, they join in, forming the chorus she remembers from the other night, only this time it’s Azriel’s melody they sing, the essence of him.

Gwyn wants to savor the beauty of the moment but instead she focuses her attention on Azriel’s shield. She’s been studying it over the past few days, and the countermelody to unlock it rises quickly in her mind.

As soon as the shadows begin to sing the melody again, she joins in with the countermelody, and before she’s halfway through, she feels the shield melting before her like butter in the wake of a heated knife. Azriel’s eyes stare vaguely. She has to brace herself against the horrible sight, all the light and caution and calculation gone out of those eyes, the disappearance of the look she’s beginning to realize he reserves for her alone.

“Tell me it will be all right,” she says. At this moment, it’s the only thing that she’s certain he wouldn’t do of his own free will.

“It will be all right.”

This is probably enough but she knows he will want her to test the power a little further. No matter how much she hates seeing that blank look in his eyes.

“Stand up and balance on one foot.”

He obeys, and she counts to thirty, then drops the magic. The shadows follow her lead, falling silent even before Azriel’s foot touches the ground. She can’t help a little squeal, which makes Azriel give a little answering smile, and in the face of everything, it’s such a relief to see that expression on his face.

“You were inside my mind, nightingale,” Azriel says, still sounding dazed as he regains full control of himself.

“To be fair, your shadows helped. I should have thought of it earlier, after they sang me back to sleep.”

“They really like you.”

They’ll have to go back and face Merrill, and then Koschei, and they’ll have to navigate this mess of history and hatred and trauma that resides in Illyria, but Gwyn forces them out of her thoughts as she beams at Azriel, trying to convince them both that he wasn’t lying, that he wasn’t compelled, when he said that everything would be all right.

Notes: With this chapter, we're officially halfway through Rules for Spies! I apologize for it being so short, but I promise there is a lot more to come 🧡

For more theories, thoughts, and occasional sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram at house.of.hurricane or TikTok at houseofhurricane.

Taglist: @almosttenaciousmoon, @azrielbedara, @azrielsdarling13, @books0lover, @brown-and-weird, @camreadsum, @cozycomfyliving08, @girlbossenergy, @gwynrielsupremacy, @hlizr50, @imsointobooks, @katekatpattywack, @lightwood-bane13, @livelyblu, @lola-lightwood, @meher-sumedha, @mystical-blaise, @nervousninjasuit, @onemorenightdreamer, @rubyriveraqueen, @ruthieluvsbooks, @sanniegirl1214, @saramoonbeam, @secretlovelybeauty, @shisingh, @soffiiione, @thenerdywriter, @the-stars-eternal, @trashforazriel, @valkyriesbooks, @vassien-supremacy6, @vikingmagic33, @whoever-you-choose-to-love, @witching-by-the-willow

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

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restlessfandoming · 4 years

Text

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!”

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt.

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air.

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked.

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze.

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.”

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.”

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering.

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it?

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed.

Of course.

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon.

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak.

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him.

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more.

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow.

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose.

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up!

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed.

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically.

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin.

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist.

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing.

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there.

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response.

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity.

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her.

An Abyss Mage!

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it.

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us.

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably.

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake.

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground.

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body.

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!”

Lumine looked past the mage.

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief.

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe.

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm.

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle.

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully.

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage.

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling.

“Childe!” Lumine screamed.

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion.

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air.

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered.

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured.

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod.

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest.

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier.

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface.

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained.

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.”

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.”

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.”

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world.

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand.

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them.

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth.

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking.

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe x lumine #chilumi #childe #lumine #tartaglia #lumine x childe #fanfic #sickfic #me

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes, and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

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Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader angst #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #james phelps #george weasley #oliver phelps #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter imagines

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fanfics4all · 3 years

Text

Malfoy Manor

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Diggory!Reader

Word count: 3024

Warnings: Being torchered, brother dying, I believe that’s all

Y/N: Your Name

A/N: Bingo card made by @slyttherins

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

“The Hogwarts champion…” Dumbledore called and a piece of parchment flew from the flame.

“Cedric Diggory!” He said and everyone cheered. I was cheering the loudest, I was so proud of my older brother.

“Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory the Tri-Wizard cup!” Once again people cheered, but the goblet glowed red once again and another singed parchment flew out. Everyone quieted down as Dumbledore grabbed the parchment and read it.

“Harry Potter.” He said in a hushed tone, but everyone could hear because of how silent the room was.

“Harry Potter?” He called louder.

“No...no!” Hagrid expressed.

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore shouted. Everyone watched in shock as Harry slowly walked up to the front. Dumbledore gave him the parchment and people started shouting in anger.

“He’s a cheat! He’s not even seventeen yet!” Someone shouted. My boyfriend Draco was very upset by this. He couldn’t believe Harry was once again being the center of attention. However, he wasn’t the only one. Everyone seemed to be upset that Harry was also a champion. This obviously pleased Draco.

As much as I liked Harry and he was my friend, Cedric was my brother and I was going to fully cheer for him. The first challenge was to retrieve a golden egg from a dragon. Each competitor was getting a different dragon and I hoped with all my heart that Cedric would be alright. I watched as they brought out a Swedish Short-Snout with the golden egg in place. A cannon went off and everyone watched to see who was first. Cedric walked out and everyone from Hogwarts cheered, just about the whole school was cheering for him. I watched my brother take in his surroundings and he smiled at me. The dragon screamed which brought his attention back to it. He thought quickly and used a Transfiguration spell to change one of the rocks into a dog. The dog barked and brought the dragon’s attention away from my brother. Cedric went for the egg, but the dragon was smart and moved his attention back to him. The dragon shot fire towards him and it hit him in the face.

“Cedric!” I shouted, fear clear in my voice. Draco pulled me towards him and held me tightly. Cedric didn’t let that stop him and he retrieved the egg. Everyone cheered and they got the dragon under control. Cedric was taken to the hospital wing and Draco and pulled me along to see him.

The second task was after the Yule Ball, which was a break my brother needed after being burned. Luckily he was alright, but I realized how dangerous these tasks really were. All four of the champions stood at the edge of the platform on the Black Lake. They were told they had to retrieve something that was stolen from them. All four of them jumped into the lake and none of us could really see what was happening beneath the surface. Cedric returned first with his girlfriend Cho. Hogwarts students erupted in cheers when he raised above the water. The two swam to the platform and were pulled up onto it. I hugged Draco and rushed down to my brother. He was first and safe!

Like the second task, no one knew what was happening during the final task. All four champions had to go into a maze and one would return as the Champion. Cedric and Harry both got a head start since they tied for first last task. The cannon rang and they were off into the maze.

“Go Cedric!” I cheered as he jogged inside. He turned back to me with a smile as the bushes closed behind him. It wasn’t long before the other two champions joined them in the maze. However it felt like forever until someone returned with the cup. It turned out to be Harry and people cheered. I also cheered for my friend, but my cheers died in my throat as I noticed what he was hunched over.

“Cedric?” I whispered, catching Draco’s attention. Tears formed in my eyes and I ran down to see my brother. Our Father pushed his way through and he cried, falling to his knees beside him.

“Cedric?” I asked, also dropping down next to him. I gently shook him, denying that he was dead.

“Ced? Come on, this isn’t funny!” I cried and shook him a little rough.

“Y/N, love, he’s not asleep…” Draco said quietly, trying to pull me away.

“N-No… No! He can’t be!” I cried.

“How did this happen?” I asked, turning to Harry.

“Voldemort, he’s back. He killed him.” Harry cried and my eyes widened. That monster killed my brother… Draco pulled me to him as I cried harder.

I knew that was the start of the war. That wasn’t the year it really started, but that was the year people’s fear really set in. The real start of the war started the summer before year seven. After Cedric died Harry made sure to watch after me. He told me it was my brother’s wish to watch after me. The first few months I didn’t want to be near Harry, but I realized it wasn’t his fault. That’s why when I found out Draco had taken his mark, I ran right to Harry. He became very protective of me after that, but I never actually broke things off with Draco. I still loved him, despite the choice he made.

Harry took me with Hermione and Ron on his quest to find all the horcruxes. A task given to him before Dumbledore was killed by Snape. Harry told me about how Draco was meant to do it, but couldn’t. I wanted to send him a letter, but that would put us all in jeopardy. However, after a scary meeting with Luna’s Father we apparated somewhere safer.

“They’ve kidnapped Luna because he supported me. He was just desperate.” Harry reasoned. No one said anything as we all got off the ground.

“I’ll do the enchantments.” Ron said, taking his wand out. Hermione stopped him, her eyes glanced at the trees and her breathing stopped. The three of us looked the same way she was and our eyes widened. Snatchers came from behind the trees and had smirks on their faces. One of them had Hermione’s scarf around his neck and smelled it.

“Hello, beautiful.” He said, it was Scabior. All four of us started running, splitting off from one another hoping we wouldn’t get caught. I was unfortunately clumsy and tripped on a tree root, which led to me being caught. The man roughly pulled me to my feet, took my wand, and dragged me with him. We entered a clearing and I was shoved to the ground. Ron was pulled along and also shoved to the ground by another snatcher. Hermione and a messed up looking Harry were already there, now surrounded by snatchers. Scabior took their wands.

“Don’t touch her!” Ron shouted and Grayback punched him.

“Stop it!” Hermione begged.

“Your boyfriend’ll get worse than that if he doesn't behave, lovely.” Scabior said, painting her face with the light from his wand. He turned it towards Harry, it made it really clear how messed up his face actually was.

“What happened to you, ugly?” He asked. Harry felt his face and now realized what happened.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Dudely. Vernon Dudley.” Harry answered.

“Check the list. And you, ginger?” He asked Ron.

“Stan Shunpile.” Ron lied.

“Like ‘ell you are. We know skinny Stan. Try again.” He said and Grayback, who was holding Ron down pressed his boot into his neck.

“Weasley… Barney Weasley.” He strained out.

“Weasley, eh? Wouldn’t be related to that blood traitor Arthur Weasley, would you?” He asked.

“Piss off! Arthur Weasley’s ten times the wizard you are!” Ron growled.

“Worth ten times you if I can find him. Wasn’t you that tipped him off, was it?” He asked. Ron said nothing and the man turned his attention to me.

“How ‘bout you? What’s your name?” He asked.

“June Hazel.” I lied.

“Pretty name, but don’t fit your face.” He said and turned to Hermione.

“Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.” She answered. He took her hair in his hand and sniffed it.

“You smell like vanilla, Penelope. I think you’re going to be my favorite.” He said.

“I call this one. She smells like strawberries.” The man that grabbed me pulled me up and sniffed my hair. I gulped and held my breath, tears brimming my eyes.

“There’s no Vernon Dudley on ‘ere.” Another snatcher said. Scabior turned his attention to Harry.

“Hear that, ugly? The list says you’re lying. How come you don’t want us to know who you are? Hm?” He asked.

“The list is wrong. I told you who I am-” Scabior put his finger to Harry’s lips, stopping Harry from continuing. His want was probing Harry’s face.

“Change of plans, boy. We won’t be taking this lot to the Ministry.” He said after a moment. Each one grabbed us, taking out stuff from us as well. They apperated us and suddenly we were at Malfoy Manor…

Scabior and the others took us past the yew hedges. All of us were scared about what was waiting for us inside the dark looking house. We started slowing down as we neared the gate. Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa Malfoy were on the other side. Scabior grabbed Harry by the arm and pushed his face up against the iron bars. Bellatrix stepped closer.

“Show me.” She said. Scabior reached up and pushed Harry’s hair off his forehead. Bellatrix pointed her wand, illuminating his face. Slowly a creepy smile appeared on her face. The four of us were taken inside and Bellatrix took Harry. She pushed him down to his knees and waited for Narcissa to return with Draco. He walked into the room with his Mother and my heart clenched. His eyes widened when he saw me.

“Draco!” His Aunt called, snapping both of us out of our haze. Draco walked towards his Aunt and she pulled Harry up by his hair.

“Well?” She asked with a hopeful smile.

“I can’t be sure.” Draco answered after a moment.

“Look closely son, if we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything would be forgiven, all would be as it was, understand?” Lucius said and you could tell they were all scared, but especially Draco.

“Now we won’t be forgettin who actually caught him. I hope, Mr. Malfoy.” Scabior said.

“You dare to talk to me like that in my own house!” Lucius shouted.

“Lucius!” Narcissa scolded him in a whisper and pulled him away from Draco.

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Come over.” His Aunt grabbed his hand and pulled him towards Harry. Draco kneeled in front of him and I bit my lip. Please don’t give him up Draco…

“Now, if this isn’t who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he’ll kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure.” Bellatrix said.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Draco asked after a moment of studying Harry.

“Yes, what is wrong with his face?” Bellatrix asked Scabior.

“He came to us like that. Somethin’ he picked up in the forest I reckon.” Scabior answered.

“Or ran into a stinging jinx. Was it you dearie?” Bellatrix asked Hermione, walking over to us.

“Give me her wand, we’ll see what her last spell was.” She said. The three of us looked worried and Bellatrix laughed.

“Got you.” She said and turned her attention to the snatcher with our wands.

“What is that?” She asked when she looked at him.

“Where’d you get that from?” She asked him, referring to the sword.

“It was in that one’s bag when we searched her, reckon it’s mine now.” He said pointing at me with a smirk. Bellatrix went crazy and started choking the snatchers, making them let go of us. She took the sword as everyone looked on confused and scared.

“Out! Go!” She shouted at them letting her spells fall. The snatchers ran out, fearing for their lives.

“Sissy, put the boys and this one in the cellar! I want to have a conversation with this one! Girl to girl!” She shouted and grabbed me. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were dragged down to the cellar by Narcissa and Wormtail. She pushed me onto the floor and got on top of me.

“That sword is meant to be in my vault in Gringotts. How did you get it?” She hissed.

“What else did you and your friends take from my vault!?” She shouted.

“We didn’t take anything! Please! We didn’t take anything!” I begged, crying.

“I don’t believe you.” She said and moved to my arm, carving something into it with her sharp knife.

“No! Please! We didn’t take anything!” I screamed in pain.

“Stop it!” Draco shouted and they turned to me.

“She said she didn’t take anything, leave her alone!” He said.

“Draco?” His Mother questioned with a kind, yet waring tone.

“You care for this one, don’t you?” Bellatrix asked with a smirk.

“Please, just stop.” Draco begged, his eyes never leaving me.

“Who is she?” His Aunt asked.

“She’s my girlfriend…” He admitted.

“Is she-”

“Yes, she’s a Pure-blood, please let her go.” He begged, cutting his Father off.

“What’s her family name?” Lucius asked.

“Diggory.” He answered.

“A Hufflepuff? Are you Mad? She-”

“Let her go Bellatrix.” Narcissa said, cutting her husband off.

“But they were in my vault!” She shouted.

“Question the goblin then, let her go.” She said, standing her ground. Bellatrix got off me and Draco rushed to help me up. He pulled me off to the side with his parents and sat me in one of the chairs.

“You’re alright, love.” He whispered as he held me. Ron, Hermione, and Harry suddenly came up the stairs and got Bellatrix’s wand from her. The three of them started fighting with the Malfoys. Bellatrix grabbed me and held her knife to my throat.

“Stop!” She shouted and everyone looked our way.

“Drop your wands. I said drop em!” She shouted. The three dropped their wands and everyone was still staring at us.

“Draco, grab em.” She said and he did as he was told.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” She said, walking closer with her knife still at my throat.

“It’s Harry Potter.” She said in my ear, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s all bright, and shiny, and new again.” She said as Harry’s face turned back to normal.

“Just in time for the Dark Lord.” She said.

“Call him.” She said, but no one moved.

“Call him!” She said again, but louder. Draco stayed in his place, so his Father stepped up and revealed his dark mark. He went to call him, but an odd squeaking started happening. Everyone looked up and Dobby was sitting atop the chandelier undoing a screw or something. It suddenly dropped and she pushed me as she ran back to avoid getting hit. I fell to the ground as Ron grabbed Hermione and Harry went to get their wands. Once Draco lost the small battle with Harry he rushed over to me.

“Are you alright?” He asked as Lucius was shot back by Harry.

“I’m fine…” I whispered.

“Stupid elf, you could have killed me!” Bellatrix shouted.

“Dobby never meant to kill. He only meant to maim or seriously injure.” He said. Narcissa went to shoot a spell at them, but Dobby snapped his fingers and her wand was then in his hands. While everyone was distracted by what Dobby did, Draco pulled me up and out of the room. He took me up to his room and sat me on his bed.

“Let me see your arm, love.” He whispered. I showed him and saw she had carved ‘Blood Traitor’ into my arm. Tears welled in my eyes as I noticed the blood still falling from my fresh mark.

“Hey, look at me, it’s not true.” He said, gently caressing my face.

“But it is though, you know it is.” I whispered.

“No, not here it isn’t. You can’t let them see that side of you. If I want to keep you safe I either have to let you go or ask you to do something you might never forgive yourself, or me for that matter, for.” He said, his voice breaking.

“B-But I can’t bear to let you go again. I thought I lost you when I told you the truth…” He whispered.

“W-What do I have to do to stay?” I whispered. He looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’d have to take his mark…” He whispered. My heart stopped, but I didn’t know where Harry and the others were. It was either stay with Draco or go out alone…

“If it means I get to stay with you then I will…” I answered.

“Love, this is serious. I can get you out of here without anyone knowing all you have to do-” I cut him off with a kiss.

“I can’t lose you again either. I thought you were dead this whole time, I can’t go through that again.” I said, resting my forehead on his.

“You’ll never forgive me…” He said, letting his tears fall.

“I’ll always forgive you. I love you Draco Malfoy.” I said. Draco pulled me in for a gentle and loving kiss. Something we both desperately needed.

“I promise, when all this is over I’m going to get you a ring and give you the perfect life you deserve.” He said and I smiled.

“As long as you’re in my life, it is perfect.” I said and pecked his lips again. No matter what happens, as long as I still have Draco still in my life everything will be alright. He was the only thing I had left. He was the only one I really needed.

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Text

A Reading: Part 3 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter. Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, threats, manipulation

Word Count: 3257

Y'know how I said I would update this fic and then I never did? Well, come get y'all juice

Still. They were all perfectly still after you explained everything that you'd seen. None of the boys moved, but none of them were looking at you. They were processing your words, with some of them having already asked a multitude of questions as you tried to explain. You'd told them that this path, the path they'd set themselves on, would only lead to death. Their deaths. But that, as you'd seen, it wasn't either of the brothers that fired the first shot. Well, it wasn't their hand on the trigger- stake- whatever. It was two boys you hadn't seen even in your vision. They were with the youngest brother, but the thing that you stressed was that he wasn't the one that staked him. Staked Marko. You didn't even know the kid, but you were trying to make sure he didn't end up on a missing poster.

You'd described the images in as much detail as you could. From the cards, you guessed it would be Paul and then Dwayne next simply from their placement on the death card. David would be last, but, again, you guessed that that battle would be between him and the brunette. From the way he'd held the antlers, the way he'd stared directly at the platinum blonde. A shiver ran down your back, and you reached for your cat. You tugged him close to your chest, and glanced at the four vampires. You'd tried to be as helpful as you could, keeping in mind the disadvantage that you were at. The silence was starting to thicken the air, make the hairs on your arms stand up. Salisbury meowed, as if sensing your discomfort. That little noise broke them out of whatever haze they'd been under, and it was Marko that asked,

"Is it- Is this it? There's nothing we can do?" He asked, and, even if they were vampires, your heart broke for him for a moment. The way he looked at you, how big his eyes were. The rest had lifted their eyes as well. Paul's eyes were eager, pleading. As if you could stop this. Dwaynes were intense, staring into you. As if there were more answers written into the creases of your face that he could see if he just looked a little harder. And David? David's face was unreadable, but his eyes were alight with anger. You gulped, and quickly shook your head.

"No- no. This is just the current path you're on. You make decisions every day, ones that keep you or push you off of a path. You just have to find a way off of it, and onto a better one." You told them. There was hope for them, even if you knew part of you shouldn't have been encouraging that. They were vampires. Killers. You should be happy to find that the creatures plaguing Santa Carla were going to end up dead in a matter of weeks. But, you couldn't bring yourself to be. Not when they were right in front of you and some of them seemed to be fighting tears. Fighting hopelessness.

"We could kill them." Paul suggested with a shrug, and you were quick to send him a glare. But, to your surprise, David shook his head. Perhaps it was just because he knew you'd argue, or maybe it was because David knew that wouldn't take care of all of them. Or some of them might die in the process. David was staring to the side, and you could practically see the way the gears were working. He was trying to figure this out, figure a way out of it. You pet Salisbury absently, feeling awkward in your own home. There wasn't like there was much you could do now-

"Why are you traveling alone anyways?" David asked suddenly, and the question nearly made you flinch. Your eyes flicked to him, and, without meaning to, your thoughts gave him your answer. Witch hunters flashed through your mind. Your most recent encounter giving him a crystal clear image of what you faced. Of your predicament. You were running, trying to escape the hunters that pursued you. He stared, and then he nodded. "Our problems are the same then." He said, and your eyebrows furrowed. You stared at him, wondering what he meant. Where he was taking this. To answer him, you said a small,

"I suppose." It was barely a mumble. You didn't know if you would call them the same. Vampire hunters and witch hunters were both hunters at the end of the day, but you were sure you didn't deserve the prosecution. Them on the other hand…

"This could work. You protect us, we'll protect you." He said, and his voice sounded as if he already decided it. You opened your mouth to protest, or maybe just question, but David interrupted you. "Or, we could just eat you." And you shut your mouth just as quickly as you'd opened it. They watched you, waiting to see what you'd decide, and you finally let out a sigh.

"What do you want me to do?" And David grinned. Some of their requests you could've guessed. Protection spells and wards, and Paul had even asked if you'd bless a few of his jewelry items. You'd replied to that with a simple,

"Won't that burn you though?" And he shrugged and replied,

"Why, are you a priest?" And you did your best not to let him make you smile. You really did. But it still lead to you saying,

"These are gonna take time, especially the spells. I won't- I won't be able to complete them all tonight." You said, especially with how exhausted you were. The sun was coming up soon anyways, and it wasn't like they'd be able to avoid the rays completely in your little caravan. Plus, you weren't sure your nerves would be able to tolerate staying in such close quarters with them for an entire day if they did get stuck with you. Luckily, they could take a hint and they all finally headed towards the door, and Marko called to you with a wave of his fingers,

"Don't go anywhere." He said teasingly, but part of you knew the threat that lied underneath. Paul winked at you and said a quick,

"Check you later, chica." Before Dwayne sent you a pair of finger guns and headed out the door with the rest of them. David was last, and he hung around for a moment. He looked around your little home, at all your trinkets and things. And then his eyes settled on you. You could feel the suggestion in his tone as he said,

"Don't even think about leaving." He told you, and you felt your necklace pang. Deflect any of the mental games he was trying to play. You nearly wanted to glare at him for trying to use his mind control on you, but you bit your tongue. You were so close to getting off scot-free. You wouldn't mess it up with a harsh word. Instead, you just nodded, and you watched as he left the room and you locked the door behind him.

You fell in a heap into your bed, staring at the roof of your caravan. It had been a normal town, just trying to make a buck. Now, you were involved with vampires. Vampires. You ran a hand over your face and groaned. As you tried to get ready and settle into bed, you ran the events over and over in your mind. Perhaps you should've just kept driving, or stopped in the next town over. Anything to have avoided the predicament you were in now. You sighed and tried to fluff your pillow, Salisbury at your side as the sun peeked above the horizon. As you tried to fall asleep, you decided that this seemed to be a never-ending nightmare

You were quickly proven right when a loud knock came at your door. You'd been up for a few hours, but you'd been too shaken to really explore Santa Carla. Or to try to make any money. The night had been slow, with you working on a few spells that you thought could help your reluctantly made allies. The knock had startled you, and you went to the door to peer outside. You left the chain on just in case. Standing there was Paul, a wide grin on his face. You hadn't even realized it'd gotten dark yet.

"Evening, sweet-cheeks. Miss me?" He asked, and you sighed. You undid the chain and pulled the door open another inch. You were surprised to see that it was just him, and a part of you eased. One vampire you could handle. "Now, did you have a dream about me too or was that just me?" When you stared at him and didn't reply, he sighed and shook his head. He pushed himself up from where he'd been leaning and said, "David told me to come check on you. Make sure you were still here." He said, almost sounding upset that you weren't willing to play along. But you were sure that he must've been used to his fair share of rejection by now.

"Well, I am." You told him, standing in the doorway and staring at the blonde. He arched a brow, surprised by your coldness. "Anything else?" You asked, trying to speed this up. The quicker you could finish their spells, the quicker you could leave Santa Carla. Paul sucked his teeth and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nah, not really. You finish my ring?" He asked, keeping his tone cool. Even if you could tell he didn't enjoy how quickly you were trying to get rid of him.

"Yeah, a little while ago." You told him. He glanced at the opening in the door, not so subtly asking. You sighed and pushed the door open. He grinned at the silent invitation, and followed you into the trailer. He closed the door behind him as you went to your bed, picking the piece of jewelry off of your makeshift work table. You'd meant to just turn around and give it to him, but Paul passed you to lay on the bed just next to the slab of wood you were using to place all of your things. He grinned up at you, staring at you from where you stood. You stared back, not looking half as amused as he did. His hair had splayed out behind him, and his mesh shirt had risen a bit. Showing off a sliver of skin. He grinned when he saw your eyes follow the movement of him pulling it down. You quickly looked away and went to sit on the bed on the other side of your table as Paul pushed himself up onto his elbows.

The boys had made you nervous yesterday, but now? You were tired, grumpy, and just wanted to be left alone. But Paul was the least intimidating of the bunch, even if you knew you shouldn't underestimate him, and he was insistent on staying and amusing himself by touching all your things. He reached out to touch the herbs and jars you had on your table, and you lightly shooed away his hand. The gesture only earned a grin from him and he teased you by reaching out again. When you sent him a glare, he responded with,

"You're really cute when you're angry." And you rolled your eyes. You tried not to let it chip at your resolve, but you could feel your cheeks heating up. You handed him his ring, a silver one with an eyeball on it, and you watched as he slipped it on. No burns. He grinned, playing with it and examining it. "So, what will it do?" He asked, and you waved your hand lightly as you spoke, calling a cup of tea towards you.

"It's just got some light protection on it. It'll warn off bad entities and help keep you safe." You said as you paged through your book, taking the cup from the open air and taking a sip. You didn't see how Paul watched the action, and you flipped the page. You were trying to find a spell that could protect all of them, or their space. You'd been consider the idea of warding wherever they slept during the day, but you were hesitant to suggest that. You didn't necessarily want to walk in a vampire den, allies or not.

Paul didn't move to stand, even after he had his ring. He hung around, even if he was just watching you read. He played with his ring, turning it on his finger, and the pair of you chatted here or there. Finally, he said,

"Did you- Did you do the dream thing?" He asked, and you looked up and responded with a confused hum. He looked surprised by your confusion, and quickly looked back down at your ring. "Oh, just- I really did dream about you and we don't usually…" He trailed off, and this time your eyes didn't leave his face. He'd looked away, and you could tell he was trying to figure something out. In fact, you thought he almost looked embarrassed. You tilted your head, the edge of your lips tilting up as you watched him. "Nevermind. How does your floaty thing work?" He asked, and you laughed and nearly choked on your drink from his description.

"My telekinesis?" You clarified, and he nodded. He was smiling, and it lit up his entire face. He was quick to reply,

"Yeah, that." And you found yourself staring for a moment. You knew vampires were supposed to be attractive. Most supernatural creatures were. It was a part of their appeal, like a venus fly trap. They pulled you in with their beauty and their charm, just to snap around you and eat you while you were still alive. But the way Paul's smile lit up his face? How easily he laughed and, while you could blame this on herbal substances, how he just seemed the slightest bit slow? It all made it seem as if he wouldn't hurt a fly. You smiled to yourself and said,

"Uh, what do you mean?" You asked, and Paul was leaning in, nearly making your work table tip over.

"Like, you can move things with your mind, right? So, is there anything you can't move or like- y'know?" He asked, and you swirled the spoon in your tea. You thought about it, and then shook your head.

"I mean, I don't use it all the time. I don't really think there's a limit it's just, like, how concentrated I am. But, I guess, I get tired when I use it too much." You told him. You didn't know why you were telling him these things, but you supposed he was good company. Better than you talking to Salisbury. If you were honest, it was probably the fact that it'd been a long time since you'd talked to anyone. And anyone that was as attractive as the blonde.

"Could you use it on me?" He asked, and you saw the glint of mischief in his eyes. You let out a scoff when he lifted his eyebrows suggestively, and you waved him away.

"In theory, yes." You told him, and he rested his head on his hand then. He gestured to you, as if encouraging you to do it. You gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on. If I knew witches were as uptight as you, I-" And you flicked your wrist. He was pushed back and his wrists were pinned on either side of his head. A surprise noise left his mouth, and you watched as he struggled. You pushed your work table out of the way, moved to sit besides him, and looked down at him. Your face was only a few inches away from his, and you watched the way he tried to pull against the hold. But, the grip was solid and his wrists didn't move an inch. Gently, you grazed your fingertips against his jaw to gather his attention,

"Happy?" You asked, and you watched as his gaze lifted up to you. He was watching you carefully, but, as the grin grew on your face, a smirk grew on his. You watched as a fire in his eyes grew, and the heat of it threatened to burn you.

"Extremely." He said, biting his lip and raking his gaze over you in a way that didn't hide at all what he was thinking. You didn't need to be able to read his mind to tell. You laughed, tugging yourself away from him just when he started to lean up, and you flicked your wrist to let him go. As you sat back, he followed you. One of his hands went down to yours, his cool fingertips reaching to hold your hand. "Is there anything else you can do?" He asked, tilting his face close to yours. Your breath hitched and you leaned back, and you tried to find a way to make your mouth move. To ignore the flirting in his tone. To ignore the way that, if you didn't know what he was, you would've already pulled him in. You tried to remind yourself. Vampire. Not to be trusted. Not to be underestimated. You'd forgotten that Paul could hear you, and the next moment Paul was tsking and saying, "You think too much." Just before he leaned in to close the gap.

***

When Paul approached the boys with a pep in his step and reeking of the witch, David arched a brow at him and asked,

"Well?" And Paul gave him a lazy grin.

"She won't be a threat." Paul said easily, and Dwayne lifted his eyes to give him a glare. Paul lifted his hands up, giving the brunette a look back. "What? I did what I was supposed to. Her telekinesis is strong, but she gets tired if she uses it too much and she didn't do the dreams. There, happy? And," He said. He went to sit on the railing, just next to where Dwayne was standing. He was slipping the ring off of his finger to give himself something to play with as he continued, "I figured she wouldn't be a problem if she actually liked us." He said, and David watched him for a moment. For how dumb the blonde usually played, sometimes he wasn't dumb at all.

He'd sent Paul to scope her out, to figure out how strong she was, and to more so see how she'd react to just one of them. If she'd try to make a break for it or surrender herself to the situation. It seemed she'd picked the latter. And the blonde was right. It would help if she liked them, even if Paul had a specific type of like in mind. Marko landed a soft punch on Paul's arm, and affectionately said,

"You're such a dog, man. We sent you to get information, you ass." But it seemed nothing was going to dim Paul's mood. He shrugged and said,

"I did. I just answered a few of my own questions." He said nonchalantly. Star and Laddie were off somewhere, so it was just the four of them on the boardwalk that evening. They watched the crowd for a moment, before Marko finally asked,

"How far did you get anyways?"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 3 years

Text

Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later.

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics. .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown.

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else.

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left.

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time.

******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark.

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak.

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying.

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan.

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to.

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU.

******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael.

******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #pining #mutual pining #first half of the list #to be updated

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