#so i finished the fifth and then drew the sixth one just now

[fallow-grove]

hey guess what. its the wee hours of morning which means time for another sicko drop feat. tbh creacher

first edition sickos

also fyi feel free to tag characters / redraw / edit / whatev for personal use as long as ur cool abt it + keep the credit !!

[alicenttully]

a little spider

I will have her head.

Alicent remembers these words, infected with rage, as she awaits the arrival of Lady Talya.

Talya appears, escorted by Ser Willis Fell. Queen Alicent had commanded that she be brought to her once freedom of movement was allowed again in the Red Keep.

Talya curtsies. To her credit, only her green eyes betray her with their wary look. But there is nothing, nothing that shows she is a liar who knows that her time has come.

Of course, all the best liars appear truthful.

“Your Grace,” Talya’s voice is calm. “You have need of me?” She gives the half-smile that Alicent has become familiar with. Or was that not her true one at all, and she instead had another one hidden away, like she had another mistress?

Was it Alicent’s failing that Talya was even in alliance with this White Worm? She must have done something awful to deserve this treachery. She would almost prefer that tale, rather than the one Larys has given her – that Lady Talya of Ashdown Keep is loyal to nobody but herself, that she would have turned on Rhaenyra just as easily as if it had been the Princess she attended instead of Alicent.

She steels herself. It does not matter if she was the fault behind Talya’s doing or not. What matters is her children. From the very moment her firstborn drew breath, Alicent has stood with them.

Stood in front of death for them.

“Yes, Talya,” Queen Alicent replied. She sighs. “You may have noticed that good Ser Willis has escorted you here himself.”

Alicent continues in the deepening silence. Ser Willis is but a ghost in the room with them. Talya bites her lip. Just for a moment.

“You see, I did not want you to perhaps get lost…and find yourself in the company of your good friend.”

Talya’s face collapses under shock. She sways on the spot.

“My queen, please-,” Talya begins, speaking as if it were the first lines of a prayer.

“Be quiet,” Alicent hissed. “Until I say so, you have no tongue.”

Trembling, Talya nods.

Alicent looks down at one of her rings. Viserys had gifted it to her, for their fifth wedding anniversary. Or their sixth. She does not remember.

Viserys has only just died, but Alicent Hightower already knows that when she herself goes, she will not be buried in anything he gave her. She’ll leave instructions for his jewellery to be sold. Sold to someone rich, perhaps a magister or a lord’s proud wife who would delight in wearing something that once belonged to a queen. The gold from this exchange would then go to an alms-house.

“I wonder, how good of a friend was she?”

Talya senses the invitation to answer. “Your Grace, I-I have made a grievous mistake, and I beg your forgiveness.” She is breathing heavily.

“The Mother will forgive you,” Alicent says softly. “But my concern is not forgiveness, my lady, but trust.”

“Now, if you had broken my trust for a trivial matter, we perhaps would not be here now. But due to the… nature of what you’ve done, you must know the debt.”

Talya begins crying then.

“I had thought of taking your head. In fact, I was ready to. A war is perhaps approaching, and with it perhaps many heads. Yours would just be one of them.”

She paused, and to Talya it must have felt like a thousand years.

“But then I realized how little that would help.”

Talya’s eyes are torn between hope and disbelief.

“You will continue as you were,” Queen Alicent tells her. “Only this time, you are my eye, not this White Worm. Do this, and you may keep your worthless head.”

Talya falls to the hem of Alicent’s gown and kisses it. The sight repulses her.

“Thank you, thank you-,” She babbles.

Alicent points, and Ser Willis pulls the woman, not ungently, to her feet.

“We are not finished. You must understand that I do not just hold you in my power. I hold your family as well.”

Lady Talya was a younger daughter of a landed knight, who had been very honoured to have her serve as a lady in waiting to the queen herself. The truth was there were stronger candidates than Talya who had more to recommend them, those with both impressive lineage and whose character were unquestioned. But Talya’s father and brothers had all fought valiantly in the Stepstones. Talya’s own betrothed had not returned with them. Alicent's decision had been a kindness.

“If at any point I learn that you have turned on our deal….”

She tucks a strand of hair behind Talya’s ear.

“Prince Aemond will burn your keep.”

Talya chokes back a sob, but nods fervently.

“And remember Talya, just as you will watch your White Worm, you too will be watched,” Queen Alicent smiles.

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Circle of Khanna

Chapter 1: The Garden Party

A/N: And we are back in business! The nearly-sixth years receive their O.W.L. results, and Artemis and a friend discuss the events of the previous term. Warnings: discussions about trauma and impostor syndrome, copious amounts of exposition.

The first half of July had been wet and rainy, but as the month drew to a close the clouds had lifted, allowing scattered spots of sunlight to break through. It was during one of the brief sunny spells that two teenagers had taken to an orchard in the shadow of a tall higgledy-piggledy house, laden with a bag full of metal poles and canvas, and with a marmalade-coloured cat trotting behind them across the grass. 

It had now been almost an hour since Artemis Hexley and her friend Charlie Weasley had picked the perfect spot in Charlie’s family’s garden to pitch their tent. She had never pitched a tent or even been camping before, so she hadn’t known quite what to expect, but this definitely had not been it.

“Does it always take this long?” she asked, pushing yet another pair of poles together. “I thought camping was supposed to be an adventure, I didn’t realise that it was so much work.”

“This is the last one and then the tent is up,” replied Charlie, taking her poles off her and sliding them into the canvas. “We are almost done, I promise.”

“We’d have been done ages ago if we’d been allowed to use magic,” muttered Artemis, turning to watch her beloved cat Fergus chase a garden gnome around the honeysuckle tree. 

She and Fergus had been staying with the Weasleys since the start of the summer holidays, and the two of them were starting to feel as at home here as they did anywhere. With seven children, Mr and Mrs Weasley’s house, The Burrow, was always filled with noise, laughter, and movement - a far cry from Artemis’ mother’s house in London. 

“You know if we used magic, Percy would rat us out to Mum, and then we would never hear the end of it,” Charlie laughed. “Besides, there’s something to be said for making things from scratch.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Come and look inside.”

Charlie lifted the canvas of the two-man tent, and the pair of them stepped inside. The interior of the tent was much larger than Artemis had expected from the outside, with a living area, a kitchen, and several bunk beds. In the centre, several armchairs and a small sofa surrounded a log burner, and a raised platform housed a dining table and benches. The decor wasn’t quite to Artemis’ taste, and it smelt a little like cats, but she didn’t mind that.

“See?” said Charlie, half-smiling. “We did all of this without any magic.”

Artemis nodded, feeling distinctly proud of herself, in spite of the fact that she had only put a few poles together. She looked around at her - or rather, mainly Charlie’s - handiwork once more, and frowned.

“Charlie,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Does this tent not have an undetectable extension charm on it?”

“You’re missing the point. Let’s go and find the pegs.”

Artemis smirked as she followed Charlie out of the tent. She didn’t think she was missing the point at all. Still, it was probably a good thing that the tent had been magically extended, considering the number of people it would be housing in just a few hours’ time.

The party had originally been Artemis’ friend Penny’s idea, but it had been Charlie’s brother Bill who had suggested that they hold the party at The Burrow. After all, as Bill and Charlie’s mother had said, there was a lot to celebrate. 

Bill had recently graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with good grades in all his final exams, and had just started his new job as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Bank. As for Charlie, Artemis, and their other friends, they had all finished taking their O.W.L. exams at the end of their fifth year in June, and they had all received their results that morning. Not that any of them had opened their results yet; all the party guests had agreed to wait and open them together later.

“Who do we actually have coming?” Artemis asked Charlie, as the two of them started hanging up the party decorations that they had made with the help of Charlie and Bill’s youngest siblings. 

“Jae, Rowan, Penny, Tonks, Tulip, and Andre have all said yes,” Charlie recited. “But Chiara’s poorly again, and Merula never replied to the invitation.”

“Not much of a surprise.”

“No, but you never know, she might just turn up,” Charlie shrugged. “And Barnaby and Liz said no.”

“Right,” Artemis nodded slowly, biting her lip. She and her ex-boyfriend Barnaby had only broken up a little over a month previously. “Is that my fault?”

“Not at all. He said his dad wouldn’t be happy with him staying here, what with the fact that my parents are so pro-Muggles, and he’s… well…”

Artemis nodded again. Barnaby’s father was known to be both controlling of his son and prejudiced against non-magical people. It was even rumoured that Mr Lee had once been a Death-Eater, a supporter of the now-defeated dark wizard Voldemort, so feared that most people in the magical community refused to even speak his name.

“And Liz?” Artemis asked.

“She didn’t want to go if Barnaby wasn’t going. You know how shy she is. Then Bill’s invited some of his friends from his year, but they will all be Apparating so it’s just us lot staying in the tent.”

“Yeah. What about Ben?”

“He actually never replied either,” said Charlie, his red eyebrows furrowing slightly. Artemis frowned, too. Ben was Charlie’s best friend. It was very strange for him not to reply to an invitation to stay at Charlie’s house. “I hope he’s alright. Especially after what happened at the end of term.”

At the end of the previous year, Artemis had entered the fourth of Hogwarts’ mysterious Cursed Vaults alongside Bill, Charlie, Ben, Merula, and their then Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Madam Rakepick, a renowned Curse-Breaker. Their adventure into the Vault had been a very dramatic experience. Not only had they encountered a real dragon, but Madam Rakepick had betrayed them, attacked them, and left them for dead. That had been traumatic enough for all of them, but Ben hadn’t been the bravest person in the world to start with. It wouldn’t have surprised Artemis if he was taking it harder than the rest of them.

“Maybe he’ll turn up without responding, too,” Artemis said, though she doubted it. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go and get all the snacks ready, and then we can ask your mum if we can borrow her wireless. It won’t be a proper party if there’s no music.”

At six o’clock that evening, Bill arrived back from work. His straight red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail - something he had started doing since taking the job at Gringotts, presumably to make himself look more professional - and he was carrying a shoebox. 

“What’s in the box?” asked Artemis, following him upstairs. 

“New shoes. Bought them today. First lot of pay,” Bill replied, lifting the lid. Inside the box was a pair of smart and hardy-looking black boots. They looked almost as if they were made of leather, but had a scaly texture like snakeskin. The scales, however, were far too big to have once belonged to a snake.

“Bill, are those made of dragon hide?”

“Yes, but they were cheap. Don’t worry, I didn’t spend all of my first month’s worth of money on-”

“Are you planning on wearing them in front of Charlie?”

“They’re just work boots, Artemis,” Bill said, ignoring the look Artemis was giving him. “Dragon hide is really durable, and I’m going to need something hard-wearing for Curse-Breaking.”

Artemis pursed her lips. Charlie was passionate about dragon welfare, and she didn’t think that he would approve of Bill’s new work boots one bit, especially after what had happened inside the Cursed Vault. But Bill did look very happy with his new purchase, and with the Weasleys being as poor as Artemis knew they were, she didn’t want to berate Bill too much for buying something he liked with his hard-earned money. She said nothing, and neither did Charlie when he saw the boots, though Artemis could have sworn that his eyebrows had raised fractionally when he looked down at Bill’s feet. 

With the tent pitched, food laid out on the table, and the decorations put up, the party was ready to begin. To no one’s surprise, Artemis’ super-organised best friend Rowan Khanna was the first guest to arrive, shortly followed by their dorm-mate and Bill’s girlfriend Penny Haywood, who never missed out on the opportunity to attend a party. The fourth and final member of Artemis’ dormitory, Dora Tonks - who everyone referred to by surname only - arrived just on time alongside her mischievous friend Tulip Karasu, both giggling as if they had already been sipping something stronger than pumpkin juice. Next, Quidditch-loving Andre Egwu arrived fashionably late, shortly followed by Charlie’s friend Jae Kim, who had managed to get hold of a few bottles of Firewhiskey for the special occasion.

“Just put them in the kitchen bit, next to all the Butterbeer,” Artemis told him, pointing at the four small barrels that her friend Madam Rosmerta - landlady of The Three Broomsticks - had sent her upon hearing that she was going to be hosting a party for the first time in her life. 

Considering that it was the first party she had ever hosted, it seemed to be a great success. Artemis had managed to fiddle with Mrs Weasley’s wireless radio until she found a station playing some good Muggle music, and once everyone had drunk a little Firewhiskey, they were all up in the centre of the tent dancing, a clear sign that they were having fun. A little after midnight, Bill’s friends started to Apparate home, leaving the soon-to-be sixth years alone, ready to reveal their exam results. 

Bill, who had literally let his hair down for the party, magically lit a small fire outside the tent, and they all sat around it, toasting large marshmallows on sticks as the envelopes containing their results were passed around.

“It’s rather nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” Penny said, with a little high-pitched laugh. Her hands shook as she picked up an envelope at random.

“Are you nervous, Ro?” Artemis asked Rowan, who was sitting at her side. Rowan, who was very academically minded and ambitious, was looking much calmer than she’d expected her to.

“A little,” Rowan replied, and Artemis narrowed her eyes at her in suspicion.

“You’ve already looked at your results, haven’t you?”

“No,” said Rowan, quickly. Too quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, okay. I might have peeked quickly this morning.”

“Rowan!” Artemis hissed at her, but she smiled, too. “Were they good? I bet they were.”

“They weren’t bad,” Rowan told her, her own mouth twitching slightly. “But I’m not telling you exactly, or you’ll give me away when they’re read out.”

In turn, each of them took an envelope, ready to read out the results of whoever’s envelope they had picked.

“How do they grade the O.W.L.s again?” Jae asked through a mouthful of marshmallow, his eyes scanning the list of results in his hand.

“Same way as the N.E.W.T.s,” Bill reliably informed them all. “Top grade is O for Outstanding, then there’s E for Exceeds Expectations and A for Acceptable. Then you have Poor and Dreadful as failing grades.”

“And T for Troll, don’t forget that.”

“None of you are going to get a T for Troll, Tonks.”

“Rowan’s definitely not gotten any T for Trolls,” Jae said, still looking at the results in front of him. “You’ve passed all ten O.W.L.s, Rowan. Seven Outstandings and three Exceeds Expectations. Not bad.”

“Not bad? That’s brilliant!” Artemis linked arms with Rowan, who was smiling proudly and bashfully.

“You’ve not done badly either, Artemis,” Rowan said, opening up Artemis’ own results. “Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration; Exceeds Expectations in Ancient Runes, Charms, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures; and the rest are all Acceptable.”

“What about Arithmancy? I didn’t get a T for Troll, did I?”

“No, you passed Arithmancy. Acceptable.”

“Acceptable? Are you sure?” Artemis leant over Rowan’s shoulder to check, and surely enough, there was a large spiky letter A next to the subject. She laughed. “I can’t believe it. I am an acceptable arithmancer!”

Everyone else had done well, too. Like Artemis, Tonks had achieved an Outstanding in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Penny had Outstanding O.W.L.s in Potions, Herbology, and Muggle Studies. Andre and Tulip had passed everything except for History of Magic, and Jae had only failed Divination, whilst Charlie had achieved an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures and Exceeds Expectations in everything else. There was an extra surprise for him in his envelope.

“What’s this?” Tulip asked, holding up a red badge with engraved with the letters QC in gold, and a matching red and gold armband.

“That’s a Quidditch Captain's armband,” said Andre, holding it up. “Well done, Charlie. Though, I must say, this colour is going to clash terribly with your hair.”

Charlie shook his head at Andre, and took his Quidditch Captain’s badge from him as Bill patted him on the back.

“Prefect and Quidditch Captain,” Bill laughed. “Mum will be pleased. If you manage to make Head Boy as well, you’ll have outdone me.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” Charlie said quietly, pocketing his badge. 

“Don’t see why not. If you can keep Fred and George out of mischief this year then I’d say you’ll deserve the title.”

Artemis grinned. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were going to be starting their first year at Hogwarts in September. The twins were a human whirlwind, and more troublesome than even her friends Tonks and Tulip. She doubted that anyone would ever be able to keep them out of mischief. 

They sat toasting marshmallows for a little longer until the flames died down and even the fireflies seemed to disperse, leaving the garden in almost total darkness, the only light coming from the gibbous moon and a handful of stars that weren’t obscured by clouds. The night had turned decidedly chilly, so they returned to the warmth of the tent, and continued their discussions wearing their pyjamas and huddled in their bedding.

“I mean, they’re only children,” Andre was saying to Charlie. “The twins can’t be that much hard work, right?”

“Trust me, they could.”

“They’re animals.”

“Ah, but Charlie has an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures,” Tonks cackled. “He’s basically an animal whisperer now.”

“Just think of it as practice for working with dragons, mate.”

“Charlie’s had plenty of practice for working with dragons,” Bill smirked. “Years of it. He used to make wings to put on the cats and follow them around the house, making notes on their ‘dragon behaviour’.”

The others laughed, and Charlie’s face flushed between his freckles.

“You make it sound like it was all the time,” he muttered.

“It was pretty much all the time. And you bewitched Percy’s rat to fly that one time, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I remember when we first got to Hogwarts, you were convinced that there must be dragons hiding in the Forbidden Forest,” Jae said, raising his eyebrows wryly. “I thought you were such a weird bloke, especially when you started going out looking around the forest with Hagrid.”

“At least you discovered flying, and had Quidditch to keep you busy,” said Andre. “Otherwise you might have even started dressing like Hagrid, and that is not something any of us want to see.”

At the mention of Quidditch, the talk soon turned to the sport, what team members would be returning for the new season, and which team was most likely to win the House Cup. Considering how much Charlie enjoyed Quidditch, and his new position as Captain of the Quidditch team, he was very quiet throughout the discussion, barely speaking a word. After a while, he merely stood up and walked out of the tent in silence. The others carried on chatting, either not noticing his leaving, or just expecting him to come back. 

Artemis had noticed, however, and after ten minutes had passed without him returning, she also got up and left the tent, taking her blanket with her. 

She found Charlie sitting by the now burnt-out bonfire, poking the embers with a stick.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she approached him. He made no response, though she thought she might have seen him shrug. “You must be freezing, sitting out here by yourself. Here, I brought you a blanket.”

Artemis unwrapped her own blanket and put it over Charlie’s shoulders. 

“Thanks,” he said, after taking an audible breath. 

“You’re welcome. You know, the others weren’t trying to be mean or anything.”

“I know.”

“They were just teasing. They didn’t mean any harm.”

“I know,” Charlie said again. “I know they didn’t, I just… I dunno. I wanted a bit of peace and quiet, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, I can go, if you want?”

“No, it’s alright. You can stay.”

Artemis nodded, although she knew Charlie wouldn’t be able to see her, and sat next to him by the glowing remnants of what had been a fire. 

“Charlie, what’s the matter?” 

“It’s nothing, really, Artemis.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re upset about it,” said Artemis. “Are you worried about Ben still? Because I’m sure he’s fine. He probably was just too nervous to open his results in front of everyone, that’s all.”

“You know that’s not true,” Charlie replied. “It’ll be because of everything that happened in the Cursed Vault. It’s probably why Merula’s not here, either.”

“Merula just doesn’t like us that much.”

“I think she does, in her own way. She enjoyed staying for Christmas last year, didn’t she? No, I think that both of them are still just struggling to come to terms with it.”

“So, you’re upset because you’re worried about them?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, I am worried about them, of course I am, it’s just that I would have liked to have spoken with them about it, I guess. Because they might understand a bit, that sort of thing.”

“You could talk to me and Bill,” Artemis said, frowning deeply. “We would understand. We were there, too, remember?”

“I do remember, it’s just that you two both seem to be okay with it all,” Artemis felt Charlie shrug next to her. “Bill got his job because of Rakepick, and she went on to attack us all, and he’s still going to work there, and he’s happy about it. He’s so interested in being a Curse-Breaker, and he’s not even bothered by the fact that we almost died breaking that last curse, and part of the reason was because of Rakepick.”

“Just because Rakepick turned out to be a bad person, that doesn’t mean all Curse-Breakers are going to be the same.”

“I know, but it’s just thrown me a bit. She was our teacher, and we were supposed to be able to trust her. Bill did trust her, and then she…” Charlie’s voice tailed off, and he sighed. “I dunno. I’ve always just thought that most people are good, deep down. I know that there’s bad people out there, and that bad things happen, but they didn’t seem really real before, and now they do. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It is. I just don’t know how we are all supposed to know who we can trust after this, that’s all.”

Artemis was quiet for a few moments as Charlie’s words settled in. She had known that he had been upset by what had happened at first - they all had - but he had seemed much more like his normal self since they had arrived back home for the summer. Yes, he had been quiet sometimes, but Charlie was always fairly quiet, especially when there were lots of people around. And there were always a lot of people around at The Burrow. That was part of the reason Artemis liked it so much.

“Well, I don’t know if it helps much, but you can trust me,” she told Charlie.

“I do.”

“Good. So, why didn’t you say any of this before?”

“I guess it was because you just seemed alright about it, like Bill does, and I didn’t want to be the only person who wasn’t. Alright about it, I mean,” Charlie paused, and a burnt log turned over, revealing a bright orange underside. “Especially since I have no right to be more upset about it than you two.”

“What? Charlie, if you’re upset, you’re upset. You don’t have to-”

“I know, I know. But out of all of us, I should be the one who is okay about it, and if anything, I feel like the one who is taking it the hardest.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, Ben has always been scared of everything, especially with the Vaults, and then you, Bill and Merula knew Madam Rakepick best, and you and Merula were the ones who were attacked. And then you had to deal with what happened with your brother, as well.” 

Artemis found herself stiffening at the mention of her brother Jacob, who they had found inside the Cursed Vault alive and well, after eight years of being missing. 

“Yeah, well,” she said, quietly. “I’m not okay about that.”

“Of course not. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Charlie,” Artemis shook her head, forgetting once again that Charlie still probably couldn’t see her. “I mean I’m not really okay about any of it, but that’s the thing that really hurt, somehow. I just imagined finding Jacob so many times, and how happy he would be to see me, and… Instead, I did so much to find him, and waited so long, and then I finally found him and he just left. Again. Like he didn’t even care.”

Artemis sighed, and Charlie was silent for almost a whole minute.

“Leaving doesn’t mean not caring, Artemis,” he said, eventually.

“It might as well do,” Artemis replied. When Charlie didn’t respond, she realised that he was probably talking about his own brother, and not hers. “Obviously, it’s different with Bill. He definitely cares.”

Charlie said nothing. Artemis was starting to get cold, but she didn’t want to leave him, not when he was still clearly upset. She took out her wand and pointed it at the logs.

“Incendio,” she said, and the fire started again. In the light, she could see that Charlie’s face was drawn. How could she have not noticed that he was upset before? Feeling guilty, she got up wandered over to the other side of the fire, where the boxes of marshmallows remained closed on the ground. Opening them in turn, she found that one box was still almost entirely full. “Do you want to share these with me?”

Charlie gave her a small smile and nodded, and she carried the box back over to where he was sitting. He handed her the stick he’d been using to poke the embers, and pulled out his wand to spear a marshmallow for himself.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never done this before,” he said quietly, rotating the marshmallow slowly over a flame. 

“Camping or toasting marshmallows?”

“Both.”

“My family were kind of a bit busy dying or going missing to take me camping,” Artemis said, with a wry smile that made Charlie shake his head and almost laugh. “But I might have toasted marshmallows before, maybe. I don’t remember doing it, but they smell familiar, like the memory is there somewhere, I just have forgotten the memory, if that makes sense.”

“Not really, but I’m used to you not making sense,” Charlie smirked, and Artemis elbowed him, hard. “Ouch! Careful, your marshmallow is burning.”

Artemis turned her attention back to the bonfire, where her marshmallow had been set alight. She quickly blew out the flame, but it was too late: the marshmallow was blackened and charred.

“Oh dear,” said Artemis, wrinkling her nose as the smell of burnt sugar pierced her nostrils. 

“Serves you right for getting violent,” Charlie said, taking her marshmallow stick off her and holding his out to her in its place. “Here. You can have mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I don’t mind the burnt bits.”

Charlie handed Artemis his wand, on which the marshmallow was perfectly toasted. Artemis took it from him, feeling the strange weighty sensation that came with holding someone else’s wand in her hands. Without it, Charlie looked oddly vulnerable.

“It’s going to be weird next year, isn’t it?” Artemis said, prodding the marshmallow with her forefinger. “What with Bill not being there.”

Charlie made a non-committal noise, but the way he tensed gave away his discomfort. Artemis looked at him, and he shook his head.

“Don’t do that,” he told her.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like you’re reading my mind.”

“I’m not reading your mind, I promise,” said Artemis. “I can just see you’re not right, that’s all.”

“Right,” Charlie sighed. “It’s just hard to tell with you.”

“So, I’m right then? There is something else bothering you?”

“No. Well, not no. I mean, there is, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Obviously it does, or it wouldn’t be bothering you,” Artemis nudged Charlie’s upper arm with her right shoulder. “You can tell me, you know. I promise you I won’t laugh or think you’re being stupid.”

Charlie hesitated, before shrugging.

“It’s just Bill leaving,” he said, his eyes fixed on the bonfire, as if he were talking to the flames. “It’s complicated, I guess. I mean, as much as I would never admit it to him, he’s my big brother, and I have actually always looked up to him.”

“I won’t tell him, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” the corners of Charlie’s mouth twitched slightly, but his smile faded before it even formed. “I dunno. It’s kind of easy to blend into the background when you’re Bill Weasley’s younger brother. I’ve always liked it, because it means I get to do my own thing with no one paying me any attention. But now that he’s gone, I have to be the big brother, and I’m the one that is going to be looked up to, and I just… Honestly, I feel like I’m going to let everyone down.”

“You won’t.”

“I might. I probably will. It was bad enough when it was just Mum and Dad and Percy and the twins I had to worry about, but now I have this bloody Quidditch Captain’s badge and that means that everyone is going to be watching me even more, and I... I just know that people are either going to be expecting me to do well, and I won’t be able to live up to that, or they’ll all know that I’m not good enough, and I’m going to prove them right. I actually don’t know which of those things is worse.”

“How do you know you won’t be able to-”

“Because,” the frustration was audible in Charlie’s voice as he interrupted Artemis, “I’m taking over from Bill. Bill. He was the Head Boy, and he got twelve O.W.L.s, and he won that award at the end of last year. Then there’s the fact that he’s always been the responsible one, and he’s been the one who’s saved my skin on so many occasions, and there’s all those girls who follow him around everywhere. I’m not jealous, or anything, I’d rather be left alone, to be honest, but it means that his are pretty big shoes to fill, and I know that I can’t do it. And don’t say that I can, because I can’t.”

Artemis gnawed on her lower lip. She had in fact been about to say exactly that, but she couldn’t do that now.

“Why do you have to fill Bill’s shoes though?” she asked, after a moment’s thought. Charlie turned to look at her sceptically, and she shrugged. “I’m just saying, you have perfectly good shoes of your own.”

“Right,” Charlie scoffed, and Artemis looked at him in earnest.

“I mean it, Charlie.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” Artemis said, a mischievous smile spreading across her face as her gaze drifted to Charlie’s feet. “Maybe not those shoes, though.”

“Alright, Andre. What’s wrong with my shoes?”

“They’re slippers with dragons on.”

“Exactly. They’re my favourite pair,” Charlie grinned and raised his eyebrows at Artemis, who laughed quietly. Charlie let out a quiet chuckle, before nodding his head, the expression in his eyes sober again. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m being serious,” Artemis told him. “So what if you aren’t Bill? You don’t have to be Bill. It’s perfectly fine for you to just be Charlie.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I am. At least, I think so. I definitely wouldn’t want you to be like Bill and not like you, anyway.”

“I guess I can cope with that,” Charlie half-smiled.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled,” Artemis said, handing Charlie back his wand with a little shiver. She’d forgotten how cold it was outside. “Shall we go back into the tent?”

“You go ahead. I just want to stay out here for a bit longer.”

“In which case, so do I.”

Artemis peeled back the blanket she had draped around Charlie, and shuffled inside it, before taking back her stick and spearing another marshmallow. Charlie did the same with his wand and she rested her head against his left shoulder, feeling some of the tension leave him as she did so. Artemis smiled, watching the flames  lick at the two marshmallows being held over the bonfire.

“I like camping.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

[starry-eyed-sorcerer]

How did the Starry Eyes Trilogy come to be?

Well, to tell you that, I first have to tell you how my co-author and I became best friends.

It’s a funny story, really. Here’s my perspective on it: I was ten years old, just starting out at a new school as a fifth grader. I was an incredibly awkward, introverted kid who had no idea how to make friends. So, during an after school art class, when I heard someone talking to their friends about their “Minecraft book,” I went up to them and said “hey, I love Minecraft! Can I read your book?” They agreed and handed me the shitty little printed out book they had with them, and I read it, all twenty-five pages of it. After that, I attached myself to this Minecraft author for the rest of the art class’ duration. They must’ve though I was annoying though, because after that, we never spoke again. Or rather, not for the rest of that school year.

Fast forward to the middle of sixth grade. My co-author, Meraki, tells it like this, though I have no recollection of this part: In class, we’re talking about video games. Someone sitting at the front says “we should play Undertale!” I, sitting in the back, derisively reply “Undertale is a single player game.” The person at the front falls silent, embarrassed. This person and the Minecraft author from the art class were one in the same, and later they would come to name themself Meraki. Long before that, however, they became my best friend.

It happened in P.E. class, and, ironically, because of Undertale. We were playing a game that required going around shaking each other’s hands. When Mera and I shook hands, one of us (I don’t remember who) began reciting a popular Undertale meme, and the other swiftly and enthusiastically joined in. That exact moment was the start of a friendship that has by now lasted nearly a decade. That year, we would spend time together during lunch, sitting on the stairs outside the front of the school, discussing Undertale and Minecraft and slowly growing closer. Eventually we would abandon our individual friend groups and start spending all our time with each other. We were joined at the hip. We were a pair. When we were alone, teachers would ask us where the other was. We fell platonically in love.

On another fateful day in sixth grade, in another fateful art class, I discovered a Minecraft skin on the internet and drew it as a character who I dubbed Jaka-Shi Renn. This new character quickly made friends with a character of Mera’s: one Mika Craft, the protagonist of that Minecraft book I’d bothered them into letting me read the very first time we met. Soon, we were planning a sequel to said Minecraft book with Mika and Jaka as the protagonists, and then I was asking if I could go back and add references to Jaka into the original book, and then I was editing the first book while we simultaneously wrote the second one, and then I was making so many changes to the first book we agreed we were co-authors and we needed to rewrite the book. Mika Craft and Jaka-Shi Renn went from our own individual characters to being completely shared, along with the host of side characters we’d invented. Eventually, the second book got abandoned so we could focus on the first one, and eventually, Mika Craft became Mika Garver, and eventually, the book stopped being a Minecraft book, and eventually, it was simply The Book.

The Book was—is our passion project; it is the glue that has held our friendship so tightly together all these years. And now, after seven years of working on it, finishing it finally feels achievable. The trilogy is planned; the first draft of the first book is nearly complete. The Starry Eyes trilogy started out as a twenty-five page Minecraft fanfiction written by one ten year old with dyslexia and a questionable grasp of written grammar, and has expanded into a massive project written by two adults with competent writing abilities (although one of them still has dyslexia). That original story is practically invisible within the new one, but its bones are still there. We have it to thank for our friendship. So, thank you, The Farlands. If only our ten year old selves could see what you—and we—have become.

[anywherebuthere]

I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07​ I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her. 

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film. 

-

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice. 

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch. 

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves. 

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.” 

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument. 

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–” 

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness. 

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around. 

-

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James. 

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions. 

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever. 

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is. 

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth. 

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

-

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze. 

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?" 

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans. 

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

-

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket. 

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss. 

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him. 

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck. 

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue. 

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate. 

“No!” 

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.” 

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body. 

But she was already gone.

-

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had. 

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

[chudleycanonficfest]

Stars in the Night Sky

Day 3, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Stars in the Night Sky

Author: adenei

Pairing: Jily (James Potter x Lily Evans)

Prompt: Stargazing

Rating: PG

TW: None :)

****************

The castle is peaceful as it nears midnight, a calm surrender to the usual bustling halls during the day. Rounds ended over an hour ago, but the quick pair of footsteps was not rushing through a late shift, they were on their way to the Astronomy Tower to meet their partner and begin Professor Sinistra’s constellation project. 

Allocation of the work was all in the luck of the draw. Where one half of the class drew a name, and the other pulled the astronomical phenomenon they were to study. Lily Evans had pulled the piece of parchment on stars and constellations, and according to the project’s outline, she and her partner would be tracking Orion, Cassiopeia, Gemini, and Canis Major for the next two weeks.

The project left Lily questioning why she chose to pursue the subject after passing her O.W.L.s. Maybe it was because she has always been fascinated by the subject, or maybe it’s for the sole fact that Astronomy is one of the subjects she can discuss with her family since it relates closely to muggle sciences. Regardless, she’s not sure it’s worth the lack of sleep she’s about to endure over the next few weeks.

As Lily climbs the steps of the Astronomy Tower, her heart thunders in her chest with anticipation about who her partner will be. The class is small, with only ten students, but she didn’t bother to hang around and discuss ‘who had who’ at the end of class. She had a meeting with Professor McGonagall about her Head Girl duties and couldn’t be bothered to worry about who her partner was. 

But now, after finding out through Mary that she’s been paired with Remus and Sirius pulled Benjy Fenwick’s name, Lily is nervous. Rumblings at dinner also confirmed that Calliope Forsythe of Hufflepuff was disappointed that she chose Bridgette Marls’s name instead of James’s, leaving Lily sweating the remaining possible outcomes. She doesn’t want to jinx it by getting her hopes up that James may have pulled her name out of the cauldron, and she’s mad at herself for wanting it so desperately.

We already spend enough time together with our Head duties. Plus, we’re friends now, so we can hang out whenever we like...just not alone.

Her last thought is only a partial lie, considering they’re ‘alone’ when creating schedules for rounds, but it never fails that some fifth or sixth-year students are always barging in to use the Prefect’s lounge to study, ruining any potential chance for either to make a move. Even when they’re on rounds, their conversation is constantly interrupted by catching a couple in a broom closet or empty classroom. 

Lily lets out a huff of frustration as she recalls the last time, when she was sure he was about to ask her to Hogsmeade, but then there was a loud clatter from a room up ahead, breaking the moment. So really, it’d be ideal if James were her partner for this project. She’s sick of the song and dance they’ve been playing since the start of term and wants nothing more than to find out whether he still fancies her or not. After all, it’s only a matter of time that some other girl will swoop in, causing his devilishly handsome smile to be trained on them instead.

As Lily approaches the foot of the stairs leading up to the observation room, she checks her watch. 11:59. Right on time. She holds her breath during the entire stair climb, and only when she rounds the corner to the dimly lit area with one singular candle on the table to take notes, does she see him. He’s leaning over the table, the light illuminating his messy black hair as his glasses slip down his nose. The sleeves on the white shirt of his uniform are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles of his forearm as Lily stands there, getting lost in a daydream that finds those arms wrapped around her body.

The hoot of an owl in the distance snaps her out of her thoughts as she takes a few steps closer.

“I hope you haven’t started without me.” 

Lily’s light chiding gets James’s attention as a wide smirk dons his face. Her insides tremble as her heart pounds faster in her chest.

“How can I get started if I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking at,” he remarks, eliciting a nervous laugh from her chest.

“Yeah, sorry for not sticking around after class. I had another appointment.”

“Well, I hope my reveal isn’t too much of a shock.”

“Better you than Mulciber or Avery,” she teases. “Why didn’t you ask Professor Sinistra what topic I pulled after you gave your information and got our timetable?”

James walks around the table to join her as she pulls out the project guidelines. She assumes he would have known what they were studying, considering everyone had to check-in and get their schedules from Professor Sinistra. Depending on what the group has chosen, their research times varied.

“Because I thought we were going for the surprise factor,” his cheeky grin matches the lightness in his voice. “Besides, I figured it’d be another excuse to pore over the parchment in close proximity.”

Lily searches the space next to her to see just how close James is before meeting his gaze. She becomes dizzy from the scent of his cologne, with hints of cinnamon and sandalwood invading her sense of smell. If she gives in to temptation now, they won’t accomplish anything on their first night.

Work first, play later.

Strengthening her resolve, Lily makes a swift turn and heads for the telescope. “We’re responsible for tracking the four constellations that are listed on the first page. I’ll see which one I can find first and we’ll go from there. We can take turns tracing, and observing if that’s alright with you.”

“Sure, I’ll get the parchment set up,” James agrees.

Lily’s not sure, but she thinks she may have heard a hint of disappointment in his tone. She pushes the thoughts aside and peers into the massive telescope that’s bolted down in the center of the room. It doesn’t take long to find Jupiter, and from there, she’s able to see a handful of the stars that make up Orion. The belt is the most prevalent as she takes mental notes to transfer on the paper.

Settling into a steady hum of working together, the pair take turns between the telescope and table, making light work of the night’s observations. When Lily checks her watch again, she realizes they’ve finished with time to spare. She wanders over to the railing, and even though she’s spent the better part of the last ninety minutes studying the stars, she finds herself looking up to the sky once more. Only this time, she’s stargazing with only the naked eye. 

She feels James approaching before he arrives at her side, gazing up at the twinkling stars among the backdrop of black and midnight blue.

“We make a pretty good team.” Her voice is soft as it carries through the air between them.

Lily’s exhaustion is prevalent as her eyelids become heavier, but she can’t be bothered to move away from James’s side. Not yet, anyways.

“You haven’t gathered that from our flawless round schedules and seamless Prefect meetings we’ve run so far as Heads?”

Lily can’t help the smile that creeps across her lips. He’s playing into her words in the exact way she was hoping for. “Of course, I’ve noticed. I was just thinking out loud…” she trails off, hoping she’s got him hooked and wanting to know what else she’s about to say.

“About what?” Barely a second passes before the question leaves his mouth.

She drags her teeth over her bottom lip as she looks up at him. Here goes nothing.

“Just about how our teamwork might work in other respects, too.”

His lips part as she hears a sharp intake of breath. “Evans,” he warns as he inches ever closer to her face.

“Potter,” she challenges right back.

They are mere centimeters away from each other now, and it’d be so easy to close the gap between them. James seems to have frozen in front of her as she finds herself leaning up on her tiptoes to press a feather-light kiss to his lips. She pulls away, not wanting to push her luck.

When he doesn’t move after she pulls away, her heart sinks. Lily grabs her bag and turns to head back to the common room. Clearly, I was mistaken.

“Sorry, I just thought—” but she never finished her apology.

Her foot grazes the top step of the staircase before a warm, strong hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back, where she hits a wall of muscle. Her lips are on his again, and this time he’s kissing her back as her arms snake around his shoulders and her foot lifts off the ground of its own accord. 

James Potter is kissing me!

The moment only lasts a few moments before they pull apart, their breathing heavy under the starry night.

James breaks the silence after a minute. “So, er, Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Lily grins as she backs away slightly, leaving him standing there as she heads toward the stairs for the second time. She flashes a ‘come and get me’ look. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

📝A LITTLE REMINDER📝

Prompt: This was a request by my lovely @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan . She requested for a possessive Drew smut , so here you go. I hope you’ll like it babe.

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, rough sex, orgasm denial, dom x sub dynamic, cursing, possessiveness, jealousy.

Tags: @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @blondekel77 , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic , @yungbludjazz360 , @drew-is-boo

Notes: Sorry this took me so long Des. I’ve been having some pretty chaotic days and I can’t seem to find some time to sit down and write. But I made it! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check them out on my Masterlist. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

‘You should come along’ he said, ‘it will be fun’ he said, ‘what harm can a night out with friends do?’ he said...If I knew it would all blow up like this I would have never, ever left my house for this bullshit!

I am currently on my second dry martini (or my mad, sour bitch drink as I like to call it, since I only order it when I’m debating whether I should kill somebody or just get up and go home). I still haven’t made up my mind yet, although the first option sounds very tempting right now.

I was finishing my martini when Drew suddenly appears in front of me.

“Let’s go” He briefly said

“Where? I didn’t finished my drink”

“I think you’ve drank enough. We’re going home”

“No, thanks” I huffed at him.

Who the hell does he think he is? He ignored me all night because of Dolph’s not so subtle flirting and indecent touching, didn’t even looked or kissed me because of his stupid jealousy, didn’t even cared that I was alone and by myself the whole night and now he wants to act like the nice, caring boyfriend? I don’t think so!

“I wasn’t asking, Y/N”

“And I don’t give a fuck!” I finished my drink in one gulp and made my way to the back exit that led to an alley. Soon hearing Drew’s heavy footsteps behind me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He grabs my wrist and I pull it away from his grip

“Who the fuck do YOU think you are? You don’t tell me what to do! You’ve been treating me like shit all night just because your little friend thinks it’s funny to flirt with his friends girlfriends and now that you’ve had your fun, you want to come here and act like you own me or something? Fuck off!” I shove him away as hard as I can, but Drew didn’t even flinched.

One of his big hands closed around my neck, pressing my back against the concrete wall.

“Oh don’t get it twisted, love. I DO OWN YOU! The minute I slid my cock inside your pussy I owned you. Every night, when we get to our hotel room and I cum inside your pussy I claim it as mine. I told you that from the beginning and you accepted, that’s why you have this” Drew touched my choker.

It was a beautiful choker with sapphires and diamonds, it had little chains holding all the stones together, with a little padlock on the center.

“To remind you who you belong to. So if I’m saying we’re going home, then we’ll go home. Do you understand, Y/N?” He whispered and I just nodded

“And if I say that you’re mine for me to do whatever I want” Drew’s hand slid up, underneath my skirt and rubbed my clit through my red satin panties.

“I mean it! I’ll do whatever I want with you and whenever I want, because why, Y/N?”

“Bec-Because you own me” I murmured

“You’re forgetting something” He pinched my inner thigh making me hiss.

“Because you own me, sir” I angrily stare at him

“Oh temper, temper! Be careful with that attitude sweetheart. You might regret it” Drew coldly smiled

“Now” He slides one finger in my choker and tug on it “Let’s go, so I can show you who you’re messing with”

The car ride has the air filled with sexual tension and I don’t know whether to be excited or scared for what it’s yet to come. Once inside the bedroom, Drew commands

“Take your clothes off”

I vigorously obey.

“Do you think it’s funny to disrespect me like that? Do you think that, that’s how you’re supposed to speak to me?” He grabbed my neck forcefully, challenging me to hold his gaze.

“Answer me” He snarled

“No, sir”

“Then why do you do it, Y/N? Do you wish to be punished, is that it?”

“I was mad, sir” I sincerely responded

“Mad?” He raised his eyebrows “About?”

“You. The way you mistreated me the whole night because of dumbass Dolph”

Drew’s eyes soften “The problem with Dolph is that, he always wants what belongs to other people. And he has no problem to play as dirty as he can to reach his goal.” The pressure on my neck softened, but he continued to hold it “He has his eyes on you for quite a while now, and I don’t like that. He doesn’t realize it but he’s stepping on quicksand whenever he opens his mouth to say something about you. And as you know, my patience is very thin, I’m getting tired of hearing his charming comments about you” Drew pulls me closer to his face by my neck while he placed his free hand on the side of my face

“Someday he’s gonna push the wrong button and he’s going to understand why people call me Scottish psychopath”

Drew looks so primal whenever he talks like this and it always instantly makes my wetness drip down my legs.

“Now, about your little attitude, missy. Although understandable is unacceptable so, we’ll have to punish you” He leaned down towards my lips and I eagerly wait for his kiss. But when his lips are about to brush against mine he chuckled and stepped away, making me pout.

“Turn around, put your hands on the wall and lean forward a bit”

I did as he asked and right after felt his cock teasing my clit.

“Oh please” I whined

“Shut up. You’re only allowed to talk when I ask you a question”

I can only pant as my orgasm gets closer and closer, already knowing it, Drew stepped back. Laughing when I protested.

“I told you to shut the fuck up” He slaps my ass harshly

He steps forward and repeat the same previous actions for another five times.

Hot tears of frustration rolled down my cheeks when my fifth orgasm is denied

“Oh poor thing” Drew chuckled “You’re so desperate to come, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Ple-“

Drew’s length enter me in one harsh thrust. Making me moan loudly in relief. From behind, his arm circle around my neck, chocking me ask he sets a fast thrusting pace.

One of my hands grabs his forearm for support as I can feel my head buzzing with my sixth orgasm reaching it’s high.

I came hard, wetting Drew’s thighs and successfully making some of my release drip down on the floor.

Drew slid off me, grabbing a fistful of my hair

“We’re just getting started, princess” He whispered darkly on my ear

As he pushed me on top of the bed, placing my thighs upon his shoulders....

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

[bokettochild]

I just finished reading The Ties that Bind, and I love it! I have a small suggestion, one that you could completely ignore if you would like. Will Fable, Legend’s Zelda, meet Sky? Or Sky and the rest of the chain? I feel like that would be fun. But this is just an idea that I had, I’m not pressuring you do to anything.

I'm sorry it took so long to get to your ask, Anon! I've been thinking about this for a while, and the truth is that, while I would LOVE to have Sky meet all of his daughters at some point, I don't know if it will happen in the main plot of the story itself.

Currently in the story, they are in Legend's Hyrule, so there is a good chance of it happening, I just don't know if it will.

Considering this came along with various fic requests, I did end up writing something where they 'meet' but.. I'm terribly sorry, it's entirely crack, and I took way too many liberties with it.

I hope it will do to hold you over until Fable can make an actual appearance in the story!

“So, we finally get to meet your sister?” Hyrule asked, following as Legend led their group down the halls of Hyrule castle.

“Yes.”

“Yes!” Wind pumped his fists. “The only Zelda we haven’t met! I wonder what she’s like?”

“Kickass.” Legend smirked, stopping before one of the opulent doors and turning to face them. “I’d watch yourselves.”

There were a lot of things the Chain was expecting to see when they walked through the doors, but Warriors wasn’t expecting to see a young woman who looked quite ridiculously like Legend, if not for the haircut, spinning around to see look at them before having a wide smile break over her face.

“Z?”

“Link!” And the princess was running, running forwards with feather soft, tinkling laughter into the arms of...Wild? “Oh, Link! I haven’t seen you in ages! Why, look at you! Growing your hair out I see.” Another giggle drifted into the air as the girl brushed a hand through the Champion’s messy bangs.

Wild flushed slightly, much to the shock of all present, but especially to Legend, who stared between the two with his mouth hanging open.

“Everyone’s missed you so terribly, especially after you disappeared so suddenly! The Master was absolutely furious.” Fable added with a nervous laugh, smacking Wild’s arm lightly. “Thank goodness I can tell him all is well and you didn’t get killed or something, we thought he’d oust Robin for good when we couldn’t find you!”

Wild winced, nodding slightly. “I’m on another quest, but maybe I can send a letter? The mail system is working pretty well, for some reason.”

“Not out of Hyrule unfortunately.” Fable pouted, seemingly taking no interest in noticing the rest of them for the moment, instead continuing to stand in Wild’s personal space, neither having quite let go from their unexpected and rather startling hug. “Without you, the Master has closed all contact with Hyrule; I don’t think he wanted anything else to happen, especially since Mother would have been furious if someone else had gone missing.”

“Wait,” Warriors turned to see Wind staring at the- couple? Duo? “Zelly?”

“Tune!” Fable squeaked, pulling away from Wild and darting over to hug the second smallest hero. “My goodness you’ve grown! Are the two of you on an adventure together then? Wonderful!” Ocean blue eyes trailed up to look at the rest of their gang and Fable brightened even more. “Why, all of you are here!”

“All of us?” He couldn’t keep confusion from his tone as he spoke, quirking a brow.

“Well, nearly all,” Fable frowned, setting Wind down to gently stroke her chin. “And here I hoped to see Young Link again.”

Warriors was going to lose his mind. “Young Link?” His eyes turned to Time, who smiled with a light flush, raising one hand in a nearly shy wave.

“Hey, Zelly.”

The princess gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared upwards to meet Time’s gaze. “Young Link? My. Goodness! Look- Oh my! You’re all grown up, aren’t you? I declare, you get even more terrifying than half of the others!”

“Legend,” Sky was grinning as bright and warm as the princess, eyes sparkling in the same manner and erasing any doubt that he was the young woman’s ancestor. “You didn’t tell us your sister was The Princess Zelda!”

Legend stared up at his ancestor in disbelief before shaking off Sky’s hands and throwing up his own. “That’s it,” The vet spun on his heel and turned towards the door. “I’m gonna go bang my head against the wall for an hour, toodles.”

“Well,” Fable turned to Sky with a bright grin. “It is wonderful to see you again, Link. Good heavens, how on earth do all of you handle being ‘Link’, it was bad enough having you all switch out, but now you’re all together at once! How do you handle it?”

“I go by Sky,” The Skyloftian replied with a fond smile. “He’s Wild, Wind, and Time. We use our hero titles.”

“Oh! That is clever! Sheik and I both have different names, so I suppose had it easy, I’m surprised no one thought of that before, what with how you all switched out so often- oh!” And the princess was spinning around to look up at Twi. “We’ve missed you too of course, but I must ask, since you’re all apparently time-traveling or some nonsense, could you give a message to your Zelda for me? I haven’t seen her in ever so long, and I do miss being able to talk over things with her.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“You too.” She turned to Time, brows furrowing lightly. “Sheif is so terrible about writing to me, and I’ve missed being able to ask for advice with my fighting skills.”

“Understood.” Time grinned, earning a mirror expression from the princess.

How the heck was everyone taking this all in stride? Was Legend’s sister...dating Wild or some shit? How did she know Wind and Time? How did she know Sky? How did she know any of them?

“So,” Twilight cocked a hip and stared down at the princess with a warm smile. “They let you stay around, even after switching out all of us?”

“Yep! I am, apparently, quite the favorite. As is L- I mean Wild.” She sent a warm smile towards said hero, who flushed with pleasure. Ew.

“Should’a known it, he's a good kid.”

“He says you mentored him, so I suppose that can be attributed, in part, to you!”

“Aw, thanks, Zelly.”

Warriors would like a drink now please.

“Wait,” Four stared at the princess, eyes slitted and brows furrowed in a way that revealed he was clearly having a headache as well. “You’re- good grief- you know all of us, don’t you?”

Warriors really needs a drink. Seriously? Four too?

“And who are you?” Fable cocked her head.

Four flushed, ducking his head. “Hero of the Four Sword.”

Like a switch had been flipped, recognition sparked in Fable’s gaze. “Oh! That- that makes sense! I had forgotten, I suppose, how you all- well-” She waved her hand vaguely, and while none of the others seemed to understand it (thank Hylia he wasn’t the only one), Four apparently did. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Heavens no!” Fable drew back, looking mildly offended. “Link- my Link- or rather, my brother- Good heavens, what on earth do you all call him?”

“Idiot. Pain in the ass. Veteran.” Warriors listed off, making sure his displeasure with being left out of the conversation was made very clear.

“Legend.” Hyrule answered, shooting a glare Warriors’ way.

“Legend, my, that fits,” Fable shook her head with another tinkling laugh. “Does the same thing, albeit in a different manner and without the use of the Four Sword.”

“Heard that!” Legend shouted from just outside the room. “Stop telling them things!”

“Then come in here and make me, you sissy!”

The vet stormed back in, cheeks red and brow looking considerably more bruised than it had been ten minutes previous. “Not a sissy.”

“Yet you only appear on occasion, and never fight?” The princess snarked, hands on her hips.

“Do I look like I have the time to be fighting?” Legend returned, mirroring her pose with enough attitude to match the blue flames of the princess’s gaze.

“Well, if you have time to play dress up-”

“Necessary for a mission, miss ‘I fight duels in my regalia’.”

“I win duels in my regalia, thank you very much.”

“Heck yeah you do.” And was that- pride in the vet’s voice? “You scare the shit out of all of them.”

“I always was the better of the two of us at doing that, you just spend your time talking to cuckos and wearing my clothes.” The princess smirked.

Legend didn’t even have the decency to flush, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “You have to admit, I look better in it than you do.”

“Yes.” Fable beamed. “Yes, you do, and I hate it.” Her smile said the opposite but the conversation seemed to be over at that, the princess turning to continue conversing with the other heroes only to spin around again and clap her hands. “Oh! You're off exploring and adventuring, so you drop a message for me! Tell Peach and Daisy that I’m awful sorry I missed tea last time, we’ve been trying for weeks to get around to it, but with L- Wild having disappeared, the Master simply won’t give me the free time and Mother’s been just as strict.”

Legend pouted. “Only if they’re the only ones home, if I have to see that insufferable plumber’s face again I think I might just punch him.”

“Please do.” Fable spat. “He used that stupid hat of his to mind control me and make me kick the crap out of my team.”

“He mind controlled my sister?” Legend hissed.

“Yes, that dumb hat of his is sentient now, and he can force us to do things.”

“I hate that thing.” Wild scowled.

“Same.” Several others echoed.

Sky looked between them all. “Are we talking about Mario? Because if so, Legend, I will totally join you in punching him in the face, that guy is a pain!”

“Oh, him!” Hyrule scowled. “I don’t like him; he grates on my nerves like nobody's business.”

“He’s worse than Tingle.” Wind added, face screwed up in distain.

“Seconded.” Twilight and Time called out together.

“Third, Fourth, Fifth and sixthed.” Four added.

“Just because your name is ‘Four’ doesn’t mean you get four votes.” Warriors groaned, staring at his companions in irritation. “And who the heck are you all talking about? How do all of you know him? Is he immortal?”

“Hylia, I hope not.” Nine voices groaned at once.

“Neighboring kingdom.” Legend replied. “The Mushroom kingdom’s own hero is an idiot plumber by the name of Mario. His twin isn’t bad, but he’s a piece of work. I’ve had to deal with outbreaks of monsters from their kingdom on multiple occasions because he can’t keep them contained. Add in there that their princess is captured every other Tuesday because the guy can’t up and beat her kidnapper for good, and the kingdoms a mess.” Legend paused, frowning. “Wait, I just agreed to go there, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Fable chirped. “But don’t worry, Bowser is hanging out with his kids this weekend, so he shouldn’t be causing problems while you’re all here.”

Warriors groaned, this time, loud enough that all of them heard him. “Bowser? Are you on a familiar enough standing with some villain that he tells you his weekend plans?”

“Yes.” The twin siblings answered, Fable bright and cherry while Legend deadpanned.

“We even play sports with him on occasion.” Fable added.

“And who,” Warriors tacked on, absolutely done and uncaring for the fact that apparently Legend and Fable played golf or something with their neighboring kingdoms greatest threat. “The heck! Is Mario?”

Nine pairs of eyes stared back at him for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“You know,” Twilight stated slowly. “Has anyone actually ever seen Wars at an event?”

“Come to think of it,” Fable tapped her chin. “You are the only one I’ve never seen before.”

“The only one?” Can Warriors please get a drink?

“I’ve met all of the others, be it in racing, sports, fighting matches, any number of things, but I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you, much less heard of you. Who are you?”

“That,” Legend smirked. “Is the Hero of Warriors. And I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad that he was never popular enough to get selected for the games.”

“You weren’t either.” Wind hissed.

“Mom said I was on bed rest from being struck by lightning.” Legend waved him off. “I’ve had my time in the Mushroom kingdom, and if they ever do invite me back, I’d burn that Smash invite so fast the Master would think it never arrived.”

That’s it. He’s done. “Legend, I’m stealing your thunder-”

“Please do.”

“I’m going to go bang my head against the wall until the world makes sense again, or until I black out, Bye.” And with that, Warriors left.

(This entire fic was inspired by @tortilla-of-courage, her blog had a stint of asks about the boys knowing each other from Mario Kart and whatnot and it set my brain spinning. I blame her that this was the only thing I could think of when trying to write Sky meeting Fable. Thank's Tortilla!)

[kjack89]

TimeTravel! Au where established-relationship modern Enjoltaire accidentally go back in time to barricade day and meet canon-era-reluctant-frenemies Enjoltaire with a series of awkward misunderstandings. Or include all of the Amis, or a fluffy kidfic(or not, since they're in a middle of a warzone), idk you decide.

So I really let the ‘idk you decide’ do a lot of heavy lifting here in terms of what this prompt became. Sorry Nonny!

Time Travel AU (kinda/sorta), E/R, established and also not, Modern AU and also Canon. Referenced/implied canonical major character death.

The crowd was suffocating, a mass of bodies that jostled Grantaire from every side as he tried his best to push through, but he didn’t care. He had one singular goal: he had to get to Enjolras. 

He caught flashes through the crowd of Enjolras, using the hood of a car as a makeshift stage, shouting something into a megaphone that was drowned out by the roar of people, and though Grantaire’s temper was soured by having to shoulder his way through the masses just to get to his boyfriend, as always, even the briefest sight of Enjolras in his element was enough to make him smile.

A smile that quickly faded as Grantaire finally made it to the front of the crowd, only to see a platoon of police officers in full riot gear approaching.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire shouted, but his voice was lost over the noise of the crowd, especially as others had caught sight of the approaching cops. 

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, his expression hardening as the police drew closer. “Citizens, stay calm,” he shouted through the megaphone, but the crowd was already beginning a panicked scattering.

Grantaire was knocked almost to the ground by folks trying to flee, and by the time he struggled to his feet, it was to see a police officer drawing up behind Enjolras, baton at the ready. “Enjolras!” Grantaire called, but it was too late: the police officer clubbed Enjolras in the legs, and Enjolras pitched forward, off of the hood of the car and out of Grantaire’s line of sight.

Grantaire’s blood ran cold, and he immediately started pushing back through the crowd, but he couldn’t seem to make any headway against the masses of people. His heart raced with pure terror as the cops all but surrounded the car that Enjolras had been standing on.

“No!” Grantaire screamed, clawing at the people dragging him in the opposite direction, away from where Enjolras had fallen. “No, Enjolras! Enjolras!”

He struggled in vain, wordless sobs punching from his chest as he watched a cop yank Enjolras upright by his hair, a trickle of blood running down Enjolras’s pale forehead. Somehow, Enjolras’s eyes found Grantaire in the crowd, and he mouthed something that Grantaire couldn’t quite make out. “No,” Grantaire gasped, as the cop raised his gun to Enjolras’s head.

And pulled the trigger.

“NO!”

Grantaire sat bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving, drenched in sweat. “Grantaire?” Enjolras asked sleepily. “Grantaire, what—”

He broke off when he saw the state Grantaire was in, sitting up immediately and gently touching Grantaire’s arm. “It’s ok,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, just loud enough to be heard over Grantaire’s harsh breathing. “You’re ok. It was just a nightmare.”

Grantaire swallowed, hard, and shook his head, but no words came. Instead he turned and buried his face against Enjolras’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of the man who was very clearly still alive, still here, still next to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Enjolras’s shirt.

“For what?” Enjolras asked, stroking Grantaire’s hair. “For having a nightmare? I’m not entirely sure that’s something you can really control…”

Grantaire shook his head again and pulled away from Enjolras. “No, for not getting to you in time,” he said hoarsely.

Enjolras frowned. “In your dream?” he asked, and Grantaire nodded. “What happened?” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras’s frown deepened. “You dreamed I died again.”

It wasn’t a question, and for good reason. This was the fifth or sixth time in the past few weeks that Grantaire had been besieged by nightmares of Enjolras being killed, frequently enough that it was becoming a habit. And not one of Grantaire’s fun habits.

Not that Enjolras would consider most of Grantaire’s habits fun, but that was an argument Grantaire supposed could wait for another day.

He realized a moment too late that Enjolras had asked him something, and blinked at him. “Sorry?” he said, his voice still hoarse.

“I said, who was it this time?”

Enjolras’s voice was light, almost joking, and Grantaire knew that he was trying to make him feel better, even if it didn’t actually do anything to slow his still-racing heart or calm his still-shaking hands. “Cops,” he said.

Enjolras didn’t look surprised, just nodding slowly. “EDCAB,” he said, pronouncing each letter with no small amount of venom, and Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Even Dream Cops Are Bastards.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Pretty sure dream cops are included in the ‘all cops’ part of ACAB,” he said.

“Sure, but it doesn’t hurt to specify.” Grantaire didn’t laugh and Enjolras’s forehead puckered with concern. “This is becoming a pattern,” he said. “Maybe you should talk to someone about it.”

Grantaire made a noise in the back of his throat, imagining the field day his therapist would have with this revelation. “I am talking to someone,” he said dismissively.

But Enjolras didn’t so much as a crack a smile. “You know what I mean.” He ran a hand up and down Grantaire’s arm. “There’s only so many times that I can tell you that you’re worrying for nothing, that I’m perfectly safe, that nothing’s going to happen to me. Especially since your subconscious doesn’t appear to be getting the hint.”

“In fairness, my subconscious is probably a better judge of the relative danger you put yourself in than you are,” Grantaire muttered, sliding away from Enjolras and standing up, grabbing his t-shirt from where he had shed it the night before and shrugging it on. “Between the cops, the far-right groups—”

“Which are really one and the same,” Enjolras said sourly.

“—and the regular fringe groups with an axe to grind, and just the fact that you make a pretty easy target—”

Enjolras scowled. “Are you victim-blaming?” he asked.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, heading into the kitchen to start the coffee. “No,” he said. “But that doesn’t also mean that you can’t take some reasonable precautions for your own safety.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mom,” Enjolras called, and Grantaire rolled his eyes again, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard as he waited for the coffeemaker. Enjolras padded into the kitchen a minute or two later, leaning against the fridge as he watched Grantaire. “You said that you couldn’t get to me in time.”

“Huh?” Grantaire said distractedly.

“In your dream. You apologized for not being able to get to me in time.”

Grantaire braced himself against the counter and shook his head. “Not just this dream,” he said quietly. “Every dream.”

Enjolras frowned. “So is that what this is really about?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said tiredly. “Look, just...just drop it, ok?”

“Fine,” Enjolras said, though his tone indicated that it wasn’t. Grantaire could feel his eyes on him as he poured them both cups of coffee, and when he passed him the mug, Enjolras asked, “Are you ok?”

Grantaire shrugged, resting his hip against the counter as he took a swig of too-hot coffee. “I’m fine.”

Enjolras didn’t look convinced. “Well, look at this way,” he said bracingly, the teasing tone back in his voice, “even if you had gotten to me, what would you have been able to do to stop it? Going down in a hail of bullets together is only romantic when Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid do it.”

Grantaire stared at him, his heart in his throat. He knew that Enjolras was only joking, but somehow, that made it worse, that he would dismiss this as nothing more than a joke. “Maybe there’s nothing that I can do,” he said, his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

Without another word, he went out onto the balcony, closing the sliding door after him with more force than was necessary.

This time, Enjolras didn’t follow him right away, which was probably for the best. Grantaire knew he was being ridiculous, just as he knew that Enjolras had only been trying to make him laugh. It was an effort he would normally appreciate, if the image of Enjolras with a gun to his head wasn’t seared on the inside of his eyelids. 

A few minutes later, Enjolras poked his head out from the sliding door. “Can I come out?” he asked.

“Pretty sure you didn’t ask permission to do so back in junior high, so Lord knows I’m not going to stop you now.”

Enjolras laughed lightly, stepping out onto the balcony. “Cute,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Grantaire said with a sigh, turning to rest his elbows on the balcony railing. 

Enjolras leaned on the railing next to him. “I didn’t mean—” he started, but despite his reaction earlier, Grantaire didn’t really need to hear it.

“I know,” he repeated instead, a little gentler this time, and Enjolras nodded.

“We’re ok, right?” he asked, studying Grantaire carefully.

Grantaire turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked me that.”

“No, I asked if you were ok,” Enjolras said. “Now I’m asking about us.”

Instead of answering, Grantaire snaked an arm around Enjolras’s waist, pulling him close and kissing him lightly.. “We’re—” he started, breaking off when there was a horrible sound of groaning metal. “Was that—?”

Before he could even finish the question, the railing they were both leaning against gave out with a horrible shriek, sending both men tumbling to the ground twenty feet below.

----------

Grantaire groaned, feeling like he had been hit by a semi-truck. “Enjolras?” he muttered, feeling with his hand since he wasn’t quite ready to open his eyes. “Enj—” 

His hand landed on something soft and he did finally open his eyes when he heard Enjolras groan, “You can stop molesting me at any time.”

“Oh thank God,” Grantaire said, realizing for the first time that despite the ache that seemed to permeate his body, nothing seemed broken or even bleeding. He carefully pushed against the ground to sit up, realizing for the first time that they weren’t lying on the sidewalk outside their apartment building. Instead, they were in some dark alley, lying on… “Cobblestones?” Grantaire asked, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

Enjolras sat up slowly, looking just as confused, though after a moment he froze, staring at Grantaire’s chest. “I think the better question is when are we,” he said, nodding towards Grantaire’s shirt.

Grantaire glanced down and let out a yelp. He was not dressed in the t-shirt and boxers he had previously had on. Instead, he was wearing a loose linen shirt with a green vest and matching cravat. He looked quickly at Enjolras, who was similarly dressed, though his vest was red. “What the fuck is going on?”

Enjolras braced himself against the wall as he stood, wincing the entire time. “If I had to guess,” he said, glancing around them, “we’re both hallucinating from our fall.”

Grantaire scowled and leaned forward, pinching Enjolras’s thigh. Enjolras let out a high-pitched noise and glared down at him. “What was that for?!”

“Proof we’re not dreaming,” Grantaire said. “Help me up, would you?”

Enjolras glowered at him but nonetheless helped him to his feet. “I didn’t say we were dreaming, I said we were hallucinating. There’s a difference.”

“Potato, po-tah-to.”

Grantaire winced as he brushed his pants off and Enjolras frowned. “Are you ok?”

“I’ve had hangovers worse than this, don’t worry,” Grantaire assured him, glancing around them as well. “So when do you think we are?”

“Judging by the clothes, sometime in the first half of the 19th century,” Enjolras said with a shrug.

“Care to narrow it down any?” Grantaire asked dryly. “Other than night time in what I’m guessing is Paris?” Enjolras ignored him, instead snagging a discarded pamphlet from where someone had tossed it. “What’s that?”

Enjolras shrugged, not looking up from the pamphlet. “Some kind of pamphlet,” he said vaguely.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Well no shit, I can see that. But a pamphlet for what?”

“For General Lamarque’s funeral.” Realization flashed across Enjolras’s face. “I know what date it is,” he said, his eyes wide. “It’s June 5th. Or early in the morning June 6th.”

Grantaire stared at him. “You got that from some random dude’s funeral?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Sure, when the ‘random dude’s funeral was the major catalyst of the June Rebellion?”

“The June Rebellion?” Grantaire asked tiredly, certain he was in for a lecture on how those who don’t remember history were doomed to repeat it.

But Enjolras seemed willing to save the lecture for a different time. “Short rebellion that took place in Paris at the beginning of June, 1832. An unsuccessful uprising, obviously.” He squinted at the street name written on the edge of the building at the end of the alley. “And if I’m right, we should head in this direction so that we don’t get stuck in the crossfire.”

They set off slowly down the alley and turned right onto a deserted street. Grantaire glanced over at him before remarking, half-fond and half-exasperated, “You and your knowledge of every obscure uprising in western civilization’s long and sordid history…”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Hey, I’m not the only one who remembers it,” he said. “I heard a rumor that someone was going to make a musical out of it.”

“Out of the June Rebellion?” Grantaire asked, incredulous. “Bit dark for a musical, don’t you think?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Well, after the success of Hamilton, I think we’re going to see a lot more musicals based on historical events,” he reasoned.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, but the June Rebellion? What are they gonna sing about, cholera? Deplorable working conditions? The prison-industrial complex in early 19th century France?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Enjolras said good-naturedly. “There’s a reason I’m a political organizer and not a musical writer—”

He broke off and Grantaire snorted. “Sure, including the fact that you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but—”

Enjolras caught his arm. “Grantaire, shut up,” he ordered quietly. “Someone’s coming.”

Sure enough, out of nowhere, a figure popped up, holding a rifle aimed at them. “Identify yourselves as friend or foe of the Revolution,” the person called, and Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged startled glances.

Because it sounded like…

But it couldn’t be…

“Courfeyrac?” Enjolras managed as the figure approached. 

Sure enough, as the figure approached, they were able to make out his features, which matched Courfeyrac’s almost identically. Even stranger than that, when he saw them, the man who looked like Courfeyrac immediately relaxed. “Ah, Enjolras, Grantaire,” he said, lowering his rifle. “What are you doing this far from the barricade? When last I saw you, Enjolras, you were planning for tomorrow with Combeferre, and of course, Grantaire, you’ve been sleeping off the drink for hours now in the Corinthe.”

“And it was time that I got back to it,” Grantaire said quickly, glancing up at Enjolras. “Come find me when you can get away,” he said, his voice low, and for a moment, it looked like Enjolras would argue, probably to tell him that it was better that they stuck together.

But Grantaire suspected that it would be easier to figure what the hell was going on if they split up, or at least less obvious that both of them had no clue what was happening.

Enjolras hesitated but then nodded. “Be safe,” he said, leaning in automatically to kiss Grantaire’s forehead like he had hundreds of times before.

“I doubt that even in 1832 I’m the one who needs that reminder,” Grantaire said with a small smile, and he squeezed Enjolras’s hand before heading off to the building that Courfeyrac – or the man who looked exactly like him – had indicated.

Enjolras fell in step next to Courfeyrac, following him in what he could only assume was the direction of the barricade. But if this was Courfeyrac, he was unusually quiet for the man that Enjolras knew. Then, abruptly, Courfeyrac said, “I did not realize that you and Grantaire…”

He trailed off, but his meaning – and the reason for his unusual quiet – was clear. Enjolras realized that in this time, he and Grantaire must not be together. “It is...not something we’ve been, uh, public about,” Enjolras said carefully, watching Courfeyrac closely.

To his surprise, Courfeyrac laughed lightly. “Well, perhaps you’ve not been,” he said with a grin that was eerily familiar, “but there is none who could doubt the depth of Grantaire’s feelings for you.”

Enjolras was uncomfortably reminded of those first few years of barely managed friendship between him and Grantaire, when Grantaire had gone out of his way to get under Enjolras’s skin and how it had taken him forever to realize that it was because Grantaire liked him. “Apparently I’m not a quick study,” he muttered, and Courfeyrac laughed again, though he broke off quickly, growing more somber as they approached the barricade.

“Combeferre was just up there when last I saw him,” he said, pointing toward the barricade. “I must return to the watch lest we lose any others.”

The heaviness of his words hit Enjolras hard, and he wordlessly gripped his shoulder before letting him go. He wondered who they had lost, if it had been any of their friends who also existed in his own time.

It was a chilling thought.

He clambered up the back of the barricade to the small enclave Courfeyrac had pointed out and peered down, less surprised to see a tall man who looked just like the Combeferre from his own time.

But what he didn’t expect to see was that Combeferre was not alone.

And as both men turned to frown at him, he definitely did not expect to see that the man crouched next to Combeferre was...himself.

----------

“Uncanny,” Grantaire breathed, watching his own shoulders rise and fall lightly as he – the other he, the one clearly from this time, this universe, whatever it was – snored softly from where he was slumped over the table in the Corinthe.

The man had the same messy dark curls, the same bump in his nose from when he had broken it – though Grantaire doubted very strongly that this version had broken it falling off his skateboard in elementary school – even the same crooked fingers wrapped loosely around a green glass bottle.

It was like looking at a mirror image, and was one of the strangest things Grantaire had ever seen.

And he had once taken LSD with Bahorel.

The man shifted slightly in his sleep and Grantaire hesitated. He knew that he himself would hate being waken, but at the same time, there really wasn’t any other option.

So after another long moment, he leaned in and poked himself – the other himself – in the side. “Grantaire?” he half-whispered. “Grantaire, wake up.”

The man opened one eye. “Go ‘way,” he mumbled.

“Grantaire, wake up,” Grantaire said, louder this time, and it was enough to make the man open both his eyes.

“Enjolras?” the other Grantaire slurred before blinking and focusing on Grantaire. “Oh,” he said stupidly. “It’s you.”

----------

Enjolras stared dumbly down at the copy of himself, who frowned slightly. “Citizen,” the other Enjolras said. “Have you come to join our Cause?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Enjolras managed, wondering how in the hell he was going to possibly explain this.

Not that it mattered – at his words, the other Enjolras jumped down from the barricade, gun at the ready. “Then speak plainly,” he growled, grabbing Enjolras by the lapels with his free hand. “We have had our fill our spies and—”

He broke off when he finally saw Enjolras’s face, surprise followed by confusion crossing his own. Combeferre followed him down, his weapon also in hand, though he stopped in his tracks, his own eyes widening when he saw Enjolras. “What is this?” he asked, looked at the other Enjolras for explanation.

An explanation that either Enjolras was very clearly lacking.

To Enjolras’s surprise, the other Enjolras recovered first. “My cousin,” he said, a smoother lie than Enjolras would have managed. “From the country.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, nodding quickly. “His cousin, uh, Maximilien.” It was the first name that popped into his head and both Combeferre and the other Enjolras arched identical eyebrows. “I, uh, I was afeared that too late I might have been to attend to the barricade.”

He flushed when he realized he was talking like Yoda mixed with some kind of medieval knight, but thankfully, neither Combeferre nor the other Enjolras appeared to have noticed, or else were too caught up with confusion over what exactly was happening to care.

“Give us a moment,” the other Enjolras ordered quietly, and Combeferre hesitated.

“Are you certain?” he asked, eyeing Enjolras warily.

The other Enjolras nodded. “This man is no traitor or spy,” he said. “On that, I would stake my life.”

Combeferre hesitated for a moment longer before bowing his head and nodding. “Be quick,” he told the other Enjolras. “We have much to discuss before dawn.”

The other Enjolras nodded again and Combeferre left, though not until after one last furtive glance at Enjolras. The other Enjolras finally released Enjolras and set his gun down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Who are you and why do you bear my face?” he asked bluntly.

Enjolras licked his lips before asking, a little desperately, “Would you believe me if I told you that I was you from the future?”

The other Enjolras considered him for a long moment, his brow drawn and his expression impassive. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “I would not.”

----------

“So I am you,” the other Grantaire said slowly. “Or, more accurately perhaps, you are me.”

Grantaire nodded. “Right.”

The other Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I would believe that I had drunk too much absinthe,” he said, squinting at Grantaire, “save that I know not why my drink-addled brain would supply this particular vision.”

He raised the bottle in his hand to his lips, letting out a small noise of disappointment when he realized it was empty. “Just like that?” Grantaire asked skeptically. “You believe me without any explanation?”

“What other explanation is there?” the other Grantaire grumbled, tossing the empty bottle aside. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Grantaire gaped at him. “And now you’re somehow quoting Star Trek?” he spluttered.

The other Grantaire leaned back in his chair. “I do not know what trek through the stars you reference,” he said, scratching his chest and yawning, “but do you suppose the stars you see in your time are the same as in mine?”

Grantaire resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and made a mental note to rein in the philosophizing the next time he, Joly and Bossuet got drunk. How neither of them had hauled off and decked him yet… “I guess so,” he said with a sigh.

“In your time, is there also…” Grantaire braced himself for what many questions the other Grantaire inevitably had for him, but to his surprise, all the other Grantaire asked was, “Is there an Enjolras?”

“Oh, yes.” 

Grantaire didn’t hesitate in his answer, but something in the two words had the other Grantaire leaning forward again, his expression unreadable. “And you and he are friends?”

The other Grantaire sounded slightly surprised, but Grantaire just shrugged, a little helplessly. “Friends, lovers, partners...Enjolras is my everything.”

He knew he sounded like a lovesick idiot, but he learned long ago not to bother trying to hide it. The other Grantaire looked even more surprised by this. “Lovers,” he repeated, shaking his head slowly, before peering at Grantaire closely. “But you are not his everything.”

Grantaire blinked, surprised (though he supposed he probably shouldn’t be) by how perspective the other Grantaire was, even three sheets to the wind. “No,” he said. “But he and I understand that. He has the Cause, and everything that comes with it, and he would not be the Enjolras that I fell in love with without it.”

The other Grantaire shook his head again, something like awe creeping into his tone and across his expression. “So you have found a way to be together in spite of – or perhaps because of – who he is.”

The other Grantaire didn’t word it as a question, but Grantaire nodded nonetheless. “Yes,” he said. “It took a lot of work – I mean, it still does – but we have found a way to work it out and be together.” He paused, his heart sinking just slightly at the look on the other Grantaire’s face. “I’ll take it you and your Enjolras…”

“He despises me.”

The other Grantaire said it so plainly that Grantaire flinched at the starkness of the words. “I’m sure he doesn’t.”

But the other Grantaire didn’t appear to have heard him. “Maybe it’s enough,” he murmured. “Enough to know that in another lifetime, we found a way…”

He trailed off again and looked up at Grantaire. “Do we die here?”

The abruptness of the question took Grantaire aback. He didn’t know if he was referring to we as in him and the other Grantaire, or the other Grantaire and his Enjolras, but it didn’t really matter since he didn’t know the answer either way. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. 

The other Grantaire nodded heavily. Then, abruptly, he muttered, “If Enjolras’s time is come, let us hope mine is as well. There is no life worth living without him in it.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. As much as he wanted to tell the other Grantaire that he was wrong, hadn’t he had a similar thought just that morning? “I don’t think your Enjolras would be pleased to hear you say that,” he said instead.

To his surprise, the other Grantaire managed a ghost of a smile. “Nor yours, I’d imagine,” he agreed before looking at Grantaire plainly. “But you understand, do you not?”

The breath seemed to catch in Grantaire’s throat, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I understand.”

For one long moment, the other Grantaire studied him closely before his shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. “Well, it has been strange and yet surprisingly pleasant to meet such an apparition as yourself,” he said, already leaning forward to again rest his head against the wood of the table. “Now you should leave me to my slumber.”

Grantaire stood, before hesitating. “Will you promise me something before I go?”

The other Grantaire cracked one eye open. “What would you ask of me?”

“If the worst that both you and I fear comes to pass, if you are to lose Enjolras on this barricade, will you go to him in the end, and die with him?”

He honestly didn’t know what made him ask it, other than the lingering memory of his dream from what seemed like so long ago and yet like no time had passed either. That and what the other Grantaire had said, lingering just the same: Maybe it’s enough to know that in another lifetime...

“I do not think he would want me there,” the other Grantaire said, lifting his head off the table.

Grantaire shook his head. “I think you might be surprised.”

A small, sad smile lifted the corners of the other Grantaire’s mouth. “Forgive me, but your Enjolras seems much gentler than mine. And while he might want you by his side when the end comes, I do not know if I can believe the same for my own.”

“Then don’t do it for him,” Grantaire said bluntly. :Go to him for yourself. Because you deserve to know that he dies knowing that you loved him enough to die by his side”.

“Perhaps I will,” the other Grantaire murmured, closing his eyes again. “But only with his permission. I owe him that much, after all the ways I have failed him.”

Grantaire opened his mouth to argue more, but closed it again when he heard a soft snore coming from the other Grantaire, and he shook his head again. “Good luck,” he whispered before turning to leave the other Grantaire to sleep off the alcohol.

He had no idea if the other Grantaire would even remember the conversation when he woke up.

But he hoped he would.

And regardless, he knew he would never forget it.

----------

He had barely taken two steps from the Corinthe when he almost ran smack into Enjolras. “Enjolras,” he gasped, before hesitating. “It is you, isn’t it? Not, uh, some other Enjolras?”

“Considering it’ll be well over a century before cloning is invented…” Enjolras said with a tired smile, and Grantaire sighed in relief. “I’ll take it you also met your doppelgänger?”

“If that’s what you want to call him,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “What would you call him?”

Grantaire considered the question for a minute. “Weird as fuck,” he said finally.

Enjolras laughed before glancing over his shoulder, his smile fading. “C’mon,” he said, taking Grantaire’s hand. “We need to get out of here. The National Guard will be attacking soon.” 

They walked together in silence for a good distance until Enjolras judged them relatively safe. “Here,” he said, shouldering a door open. “We should be safe in here.”

“You can’t just break into someone’s house!” Grantaire hissed, even as he followed Enjolras inside.

“I’m not,” Enjolras told him. “Didn’t you see the sign outside? This building is abandoned. Now c’mon, if we can get up to the roof, we should have a pretty good view.”

Together, they headed up the stairs; from there it was a quick scramble up to the roof, Enjolras pulling Grantaire up after him, and they sat down together. “So, what, we’re just going to watch ourselves get killed?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras sighed. “Believe me, if I could think of an alternative…”

He trailed off and Grantaire sighed, resting his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “It was weird, wasn’t it?” he asked softly. “Meeting different versions of ourselves. Seeing what we could have been like.”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “My other self didn’t believe me, at least not at first.”

Grantaire laughed lightly. “Strangely enough, the other Grantaire believed it immediately.” He nudged Enjolras gently. “Who’d’ve thought that I’d be the believer and you’d be the cynic.”

Enjolras half- smiled. “Certainly not me,” he agreed. “Speaking of, what did you and the other Grantaire talk about?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “Not much,” he said. “A little bit about what’s going to happen. A little bit about what he should do if it does happen.”

He didn’t specify what the ‘it’ was that he was referring to, but Enjolras seemed to understand, since he nodded slowly. “And what did you tell him?”

“That even if there is nothing that he can do to stop it, being with you in the end is enough.”

“Grantaire…” 

Enjolras’s voice was pained, but Grantaire just shook his head. “Don’t,” he said.

“But there is so much in your life worth living for—” Enjolras started, his voice heated.

“Of course there is,” Grantaire said easily. “A million things to live for. But the only thing in my life worth dying for is you.”

Enjolras ducked his head but didn’t try to argue further. After a long moment, he turned to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Grantaire tilted his head back to kiss Enjolras properly before asking, “What about the other Enjolras? Did you tell him that he would, y’know, fail?”

Enjolras squinted toward the horizon and the sun that was slowly starting to break over the buildings. “No.”

Grantaire lifted his head off of Enjolras’s shoulder so that he could look at him. “So you lied to him?”

“No,” Enjolras repeated. “I told him the truth. Just...not all of it.” He sighed, glancing back over at Grantaire. “I told him that no matter what happens on the barricade, he will have done his part in changing the world.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “I’m not sure I would call that the truth.”

Enjolras gave him a ghost of his usual smile. “Yeah, well, as already discussed, you always were a cynic.”

“In all other lives besides this one, anyway,” Grantaire said, setting his head back on Enjolras’s shoulder. “So now what?”

Enjolras sighed, wrapping an arm around Grantaire’s shoulders. “Now we wait, I guess.”

It was over almost as quickly as it began, and even though they were shielded from witnessing the worst of it, Grantaire still shuddered at every cannon blast or gunshot they could hear. When it finally died down, Grantaire glanced up at Enjolras. “Is it finished?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Enjolras just shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure.”

Suddenly, there was one final barrage of gunshots that sounded through the stillness of the early morning, and then…

They woke up.

----------

It somehow hurt even worse than before, though Grantaire wasn’t sure that was physically possible. “Ow,” he croaked as a bunch of EMTs loaded him onto a stretcher.

“He’s awake!” one of them called before leaning down to tell him, “Sir, there’s been an accident. Your balcony collapsed. We’re taking you and your friend to the hospital.”

“Don’t—” Grantaire started, though his voice was muffled by some kind of mask over his mouth.

The EMT shook her head. “Don’t try to talk,” she told him. 

But Grantaire reached up with a shaking hand to pull the mask off just enough to tell her, “Just...keep us together.”

She replaced the mask and squeezed his hand. “I promise,” she told him. 

Grantaire nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he passed out again.

----------

When he woke up the next time, Grantaire was in a hospital room, feeling a lot less like he’d been hit by a semi-truck. A quick glance at his hand told him it was likely whatever was in his IV that was doing the heavy lifting. “Oh good,” a familiar voice said, and Grantaire turned his head to see Enjolras in the hospital bed next to him. “You’re finally awake.”

Grantaire smiled slightly at him. “Mmm,” he agreed. “And they gave us the good stuff.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Enjolras warned, wincing slightly as he readjusted to lie on his side so that he could see him. “You broke your arm and fractured your ankle, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, is that what those casts are for?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “How can you possibly manage to be sarcastic while on morphine?”

Grantaire shrugged, wincing as he did. “Experience,” he said dryly. “What about you?”

His eyes flickered over Enjolras’s body, but he didn’t see any obvious injuries besides some bruises and scrapes. “Cracked a few ribs,” Enjolras said. “You apparently broke my fall.”

“Figures,” Grantaire muttered. “Well, at least you’ve had broken ribs before.”

Enjolras snorted. “Yeah, I think there’s a punch card I can get. Ten broken ribs and the eleventh one they’ll set for free.”

Grantaire laughed, though he stopped when it made his own ribs ache. Enjolras half-smiled. “Thanks for catching me, though.”

“Anytime,” Grantaire said with a wink that too quickly turned into a wince.

Something shifted in Enjolras’s expression, and he hesitated before asking cautiously, “Did you, um, did you have a dream while you were...out?”

Grantaire blinked, sluggish memories slowly coming back to him, images from a dream he couldn’t quite remember, like they were just out of reach. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yeah, I did. Something about…” He thought about it for a long moment before snorting a laugh. “Something about the June Rebellion, of all asinine things. Clearly I’ve been spending too much time with you.” He looked over at Enjolras, tracing his features with his eyes. “You were there, I think.”

Enjolras managed a smile. “You were in my dream, too.” He paused before asking, “Was yours a happy dream?”

Grantaire shrugged and winced. “We were together,” he said simply. “That’s enough to make any dream happy.”

“Good,” Enjolras said. “I just...I didn’t want you to have another nightmare.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “I think…” He frowned slightly. “Don’t ask me how, but I think I’m done with those dreams now. Like something happened in my dream that made it….I dunno, ok somehow.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asked, watching him closely.

“Or maybe I’m just high as balls on morphine.”

Enjolras laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably more like it,” he said. “You should get some rest.”

“So should you,” Grantaire said with a yawn. “Besides, there’s something I gotta do first.” He stretched his hand out from his hospital bed toward Enjolras.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked.

“Trying to hold your hand, you dolt,” Grantaire said sleepily. “Since I can’t hold all of you right now.” Enjolras hesitated and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Do you permit it?” he asked sarcastically.

Enjolras scowled but nonetheless took his hand, lacing their fingers together, and they stayed that way until both of them fell asleep again.

Together.

[meliorist-midoriya]

doki doki todoroki

synopsis: where todoroki’s first love blindsides him and he feels like the whole class is leaving him out of the loop. 

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff 

warnings: just todoroki being a clueless baby 

a/n: hello! aaaa this is entirely self-indulgent, but it’s my first post! i saw “doki doki todoroki” float around here somewhere and then this happened hjsdhjdhj. anyway, hope you enjoy!

He brushes it off the first time it happens, wrote it off as adrenaline from today’s sparring.

He brushes it off the second time. It was just a harmless scare after all, no shame in that.

He brushes it off the third time, the odd timing soon forgotten in favor of resuming his studies.

Todoroki doesn’t see the correlation for a while. How it was after seeing your exhilarated smile in the middle of a hard fight, after hearing you laugh once Mina startled him, after watching the triumphant smile on your face grow once he explained the problem to you.

He notices it the fourth, fifth, sixth time. Understandably, he’s confused. No amount of education or training would’ve prepared him for this. Nothing would’ve, other than hard-earned experience that he never got. Looking it up (as he found himself doing a lot these days the more he socialized) only earned him the definition of tachycardia and a grocery list of possible diagnoses ranging from anxiety to heart disease.

So much for the internet.

The ringing of the lunch bell pulled him out of his “research”, and he filed the thought away for later as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Later becomes three weeks.

Todoroki’s lost count at this point of how many times his heart suddenly went haywire, thudding against his ribs and sending blood rushing through his ears. How is world suddenly narrowed to just you whenever you spoke to him, and how he wanted to hear your voice again even though you had just stopped speaking. He finally drew the line once Midoriya pointed out his state of disarray at lunch.

“Todoroki-kun, are you sick? Your face is really red,” Midoriya had his chopsticks halfway to his mouth when he paused at the sight of Todoroki staring listlessly at his soba. Unbeknownst to him, Todoroki was too busy listening to you laugh at whatever Uraraka and Iida were talking about to focus on his soba. Hell, he couldn’t focus on anything lately and he had no idea why.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No. He doesn’t voice this, and instead lets his Quirk pull the heat away from his cheeks for him as the air chills around him. Midoriya keeps watching him like he doesn’t believe him, but returns to his own lunch anyway.

“Hey, Todoroki, pfft- you have to listen to this. Iida just-” You don’t wait for his answer. You don’t have to. Todoroki finds himself hanging on to your every word anyway, smiling to himself (oh, the tiniest smile compared to yours. He doesn’t think anything will compare) as you struggle to recount your conversation without dissolving into giggles, Iida admonishing you for your loud laughter with an embarrassed flush.

Whatever this feeling is, he doesn’t mind, but he would like to know. He doesn’t notice Uraraka and Midoriya curiously watching the exchange, food forgotten. Nor does he notice Mina giggling with Hagakure as they nudged each other over the seats, dragging any of the class they could into their little whisper circle. The bell rings, and he already wishes you could’ve continued the story.

Later, you promise. He holds you to that.

Kaminari slings an arm over his shoulders in the locker room as they change into their hero costumes for afternoon classes, with Sero on his other side, and he stumbles from both shock and the added weight on him, his boot half-dangling from his foot.

“So, Todoroki-kun~” Kaminari’s lilting tone floating in from his right immediately sends his guard up, and he stared at him warily.

“How’s spring feeling for ya?” Sero continued from his left.

“…Isn’t it autumn right now?” Why were they talking about spring in the middle of October? Todoroki was too busy staring at Sero like he’d grown a second head to notice the collective silent groan ripple through the locker room.

“Oh my god, he really is clueless,” Kaminari whispers, Sero nodding along with a dumbstruck expression. He side-eyes them as he tugs his boot on the rest of the way, unamused. Clueless about what?

“Will he be okay?” It was Sero who spoke this time, completely ignoring the fact that they were having a conversation right over his head.

“I don’t know, man, he should be, right?”

“I’m literally right here. Did something happen?”

“A-Ah, nothing, nothing, just… checking up on you, you know?” As socially inept as he was, even he could recognize from a mile away that Kaminari was a terrible liar.

“…Why?” Okay, now he was really confused. He looked around the room to see if anyone could give him any hints, to no avail. Kirishima was too busy facepalming to notice his confusion, Ojiro was suddenly very interested in tying off his gi, and both Tokoyami and Bakugou were completely ignoring their antics. In a last attempt to figure out what the hell was even going on, he turned to Midoriya… who was trying to desperately look anywhere else other than at him. Something was up, and if Kaminari was involved, he didn’t have a good feeling about it.

“Y-You know, uh…” Kaminari was floundering for an answer, and sighed in relief once Iida came in to announce that they had five minutes to be ready. The pressure disappeared off his shoulders and Todoroki finished putting on the rest of his costume, the deep sense of unease tugging at the corner of his mind. There was something he wasn’t picking up on, and it felt like everyone but him knew.

He brushed it off to focus on class. Today was sparring day, after all, and Todoroki was partnered up with you. Maybe he’d see that smile again. The thought of it made fire lick at his fingers during the spar much quicker than usual.

He wasn’t disappointed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears even as the adrenaline fizzled out.

Tomorrow morning finds him face-to-face with a grinning Mina and an overexcited Hagakure outside the classroom before class starts, along with the answers to his plight way sooner than he expected. They had called out to him and, before he knew it, he was cornered against the window with their too-wide smiles beaming up at him, hungry for the romance gossip they had been chasing after all year. Or, well, he was pretty sure Hagakure was smiling, at least. Mina, on the other hand, resembled the Cheshire Cat too closely for his liking.

“You like Y/N, don’t you, Todoroki-kun?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t?” To say he was confused was an understatement, but there’d been a lot of that lately so he just came to accept it. “Y/N is a good person with an impressive Quirk, so-”

“No, not like thaaat!” Mina wailed, and Todoroki blinked owlishly at the two girls as they both lamented the “densest pretty boy of UA”. Their words, not his. Did… did he say something wrong?

“Like what, then?”

“Ro-man-tic-al-ly!”

Todoroki bluescreened.

“Ro…man…?”

“Like, do you always end up looking at her whenever you’re in the same room?” Hagakure was practically vibrating from excitement, “Do you always want to listen to her or be near her? Or does your heart go ‘doki doki’ whenever you’re with her?!”

“Doki…doki?” Todoroki‘s brain, still rebooting from earlier, struggled to process the onslaught of information Hagakure was slamming him with. So far, however, all the answers he came up with were ‘Yes. Yes. A million times, yes’. “I… guess something’s been wrong with my heart lately? I looked it up and it said it was nothing to worry about, so-”

“Something’s not wrong, dummy! It’s love! And Y/N likes you back!” Mina exclaimed, and both her and Hagakure squealed as they celebrated finally having their first taste of high school romance, clasping hands and cheering.

“Doki doki Todoroki!” Hagakure cheered, Mina parroting her as they rode the high of their excitement. Meanwhile, Todoroki stared dumbly at the two girls in front of him, the dots slowly connecting in his mind. Everything was happening way too quick. And you liked him back? Wait, is that-

“Is that why Kaminari and Sero asked me how I was yesterday?”

“Ugh, that Kaminari~! He can’t even be subtle!” Todoroki could hear the pout in Hagakure’s voice, and Mina sighed and nodded in agreement. Well that answers that, at least. Now for the other million and one questions he had...

“So… what am I supposed to do now?”

“Confess!” Came Hagakure’s immediate response.

Well, that makes sense. Now that he has a grasp on what he’s feeling and he knows that you feel the same, it’s only logical that he should make them known.

“Okay, where is she?”

“In the classr-”

“Nuh-uh, hold it,” Mina stopped Todoroki from barging into the classroom, and he stared down at her, confusion mounting. Wasn’t she super excited just two seconds ago? What happened now?

“Minaaaa!” She ignored Hagakure’s impatient wail and poked him in the chest.

“You can’t just go in there and confess in the classroom in front of everybody!”

“…Why not?” He just had to tell you, so better sooner than later, right?

“Oh jeez, okay, um,” Mina pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think of a way to explain this to easily the densest person she had the pleasure of knowing. And she knew Kaminari, for Christ’s sake, “It isn’t as romantic if you just go in there and blurt it out in front of everybody, and it puts her on the spot too, would you want that?”

No, you hated being put on the spot. He shook his head and Mina sighed in relief.

“Okay, so, what you’re gonna do is…”

“Did you need to talk to me about something, Todoroki?”

Ah, there it was again. Could you hear his heart beating out of his chest from where you stood?

Classes had ended for the day and Mina had instructed him to confess after school at a specific spot (much to Hagakure’s chagrin, but she eventually agreed that it would be more romantic this way. Not like he knew what romantic looked like.) So, here he was, veering off your usual course from the dorms to this spot Mina had pointed out to him. It was where the trees broke just enough so the sunset could peek through the leaves. As inexperienced in, well, everything as he was, Todoroki had to admit Mina knew what she was talking about.

“Todoroki?”

The words he was told to recite sailed out the window the moment the time came, the light of the sunset casting you in a warm glow and God this wasn’t fair-

“…I like you.”

Oh, shit. Did he say that? Okay, yeah, he did. Oops.

He almost regrets it, but then he sees your lips bloom with a smile and the world goes quiet.

“I like you too, Todoroki.”

You crushed him in a hug and Todoroki wrapped his arms around you, smiling as he felt your own heart racing against his. His heart beating a mile a minute didn’t sound too bad anymore.

As long as it beat for you.

[theawkwardterrier]

and the last age should show your heart

Summary: In which a recovered Kate is ready to settle into normal married life; her husband makes things difficult; and challenging each other does not stop with the wedding.

Read on AO3

Although he could clearly see the progress of her recovery himself, Anthony insisted on having her examined several times over by the most reputable medical men in London in order to ascertain that she was truly through with her convalescence. Kate bore this first with amusement, then with impatience, and finally with distinct ill humor.

“I do it only out of concern for you,” he emphasized the afternoon he informed her that he had made another appointment (the fifth) for tomorrow. “It’s clear that your leg can bear weight well enough, but always best to be thorough. Were we to have an incomplete understanding of the healing process and thus allow further injury, I should never forgive myself.”

Once, some version of herself would have softened at such an expression of attentiveness from him. An even earlier one than that would have been astonished that anyone except Mary or Edwina would ever have so concerned themself with her at all. Those versions, however, had been allowed the freedom not only of all the floors of the house but of the glorious outdoors as well without an overly bothersome husband admonishing at every turn to take care.

This Kate, a veteran now after months of marriage - too much of that time spent indoors if not in bed - said testily, “Then it sounds as if your concern is truly for yourself, although it is I who has found herself most inconvenienced. In fact, as you have barely believed me able to leave this bed, it strikes me that these last few months have been startlingly advantageous when it comes to indulging your more wicked tendencies - and you have little anxiety over my injured state then.”

She did not gesture to the rumpled sheets among which she sat, but he took her meaning well enough, fingers stilling on the cravat he had been retying after their (not quite) brief midday interlude together. “That is unfair, Kate,” he said, ironclad voice masking what she suspected to be actual hurt, although she did not know whether it stemmed from the insinuation that he preferred her without independence, kept captive to his whims, or that he cared little for her comfort or enjoyment when in their bed.

Neither was true, so she allowed herself only another moment of stewing before she forced her eyes to his and said, “I know. I apologize.”

“Excellent.” He finished the knot and turned to check it in the glass, face smoothed cheerful once again. “Then Mr. Josephs and I shall see you tomorrow at half three.”

She cut her growl short, merely seething as he placed a kiss on her forehead and took his leave. (Even as she fumed, she could appreciate that he held back the urge to whistle as he did so. Just as she could appreciate that whichever tailor had cut his breeches was most certainly not paid handsomely enough for it.)

They had a perfectly civil meal together that evening, and a night which one would not precisely call civil but which was certainly enjoyable all the same, and when they laughed together over breakfast, Kate felt them thawing back to their particular normalcy. However, when Mr. Josephs failed to impress as he allowed himself to be forced to stay a mere hour before declaring Kate fully healed and Anthony tried to insist on a sixth visit, she put her foot down, literally and hard and atop his. He was quite lucky that she no longer had need of a walking stick or he would have had that to contend with as well.

“No!” The word came out nearly as a snarl. “I am sorry, but regardless of your misplaced concerns, regardless of your overprotective nature, regardless of whether I fall down a dozen times in the doing of it, tomorrow I am going to put on a dress and style my hair and take tea with your mother.”

“You could—”

“At her home,” she said, and this time, even spacing and perfectly bitten off enunciation and all, it was most definitely a snarl.

All of the Bridgertons had been excellent company during her recuperation - despite his considerable efforts, Anthony could not keep her confined entirely to bed, and she was able to venture downstairs to host various pairs and groups of them over the past months even when she was not receiving most callers. Their frequent visits provided significant entertainment and what Kate only half jestingly referred to as “dispatches from the outside world.” As such, she was comfortable in the drawing room at Bridgerton House even as tea with her mother-in-law expanded to include all three of her older sisters-in-law and Daphne’s infant daughter Amelia.

In fact, she was feeling more than comfortable, she was feeling rather splendid, having the chance to be out somewhere, stretching her limbs and speaking with people, even in such a small and familiar setting. While she was aware that one day this would be her home rather than Violet’s, an idea which still intimidated her, right now it was simply somewhere different from the house where she had been trapped for months and wonderful for it.

A good quarter hour had been spent admiring each facet of Amelia as she slept in her mother’s arms, and even that was wonderful. Kate could not keep her eyes from the baby’s fingers. How tiny they were! She could hardly understand how Daphne could sit so serenely when they looked delicate enough to break at a touch. It struck her that sometime soon she might have her own child with infinitely breakable fingers for whom she would have to care; even with her injury, she and Anthony had not been doing very much to prevent such an occurrence. One might say the opposite, in fact…

She drew her mind quickly from thoughts of her husband before a blush could overcome her face, and listened instead to Violet recounting the latest trials through which Hyacinth was putting her governess. The dowager viscountess sighed at the appropriate places and her tone was all motherly despair, but Kate detected a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. Kate herself was attempting to cover a laugh by holding her cup to her mouth, hoping that none of the others would notice that she had allegedly been sipping tea for nearly a full minute.

“Would you like some more, Kate? Or perhaps a biscuit to accompany? You seem to have quite the craving for tea today.” Eloise was unfortunately too astute for either her own good or Kate’s.

“Oh, I really—”

“I would quite enjoy tea and biscuits. Thank you for offering.”

Kate’s cup came down hard onto her saucer, mirth transformed into confused suspicion. “Anthony? I had thought you were spending the day on some business with Lord Ellsworth.”

“Ah yes,” he said, literally waving a hand through the air as he walked further into the room toward them all, his brother Benedict following behind. “We concluded earlier than expected, but he mentioned something which put me in mind of some papers which I realized are in the desk in my study here.”

“Where they remain even now, despite how imperative it was that we come find them at once,” Benedict murmured. Kate had noticed that while he did not quite have Anthony’s ready control of a room or Colin’s easy charm, he was still as witty as the rest of his family, simply a bit less loud about it, particularly in company. Although not, she thought, quiet enough, based on the glare his older brother cut his way; Benedict ignored it easily, placing both hands on his mother’s shoulders from behind and bending to kiss her cheek.

Anthony, meanwhile, gave up on his brother and moved onto pestering his sister. Well, not pestering, precisely. He merely hovered implacably over the place where Francesca sat beside Kate, and his patience was rewarded when she sighed and stood so he could take her seat.

“Don’t let him bully you so,” cried Eloise.

Francesca shrugged her slim shoulders as she moved to sit at the pianoforte instead. “I don’t mind. He wants to sit beside his wife. I think it’s quite sweet, actually. Very romantic.”

“See, I’m romantic,” Anthony said, leaning over to speak softly to Kate, although he barely needed to move to do so. By her measurement, if he intended to sit this close, Francesca could well have stayed put.

“Romantic is not precisely how I would put it.”

“How would you prefer to phrase it? Charming? Besotted? A steadfast and wonderful husband?”

“Trying,” she offered through gritted teeth. “Difficult. Unnecessarily meddlesome.” She considered moving into the bit of empty space remaining on her other side, but she knew that he would only move closer, and besides, it was actually quite comfortable to feel him pressed warmly against her. Still, she gathered her irritation as she added, “I truly don’t know what you expected us to be doing in your mother’s drawing room in the middle of the afternoon which would necessitate you coming to inspect—Anthony, are you listening to me?”

“Are you certain you would not like a footstool?” he asked, ignoring her entirely in favor of frowning down at her leg, covered as it was by the fabric of her dress. “No one would object if you needed to prop your leg. It’s only family after all, and everyone wishes you to be comfortable.”

Despite it all she felt herself softening at that. “My leg is fine,” she said, tone easing like a kite when the wind slows. “But thank you for being so considerate.” And then, because she truly could not resist, she added, “In fact, it seems that all the recommendations regarding moderate activity and returning to a regular routine are doing me a world of good.”

And likely because he could not resist either, he responded, “What seems good today might turn regrettable tomorrow. Only remember then that there is no shame in admitting that you have overexerted yourself and will be more comfortable at home.” A look of nobility which undoubtedly hid a smirk came across his face. “I shall certainly not preen about it should I turn out to be right.”

She spluttered, then glared, forgetting that they were visiting, that they were surrounded by other people. Anthony had always been able to vex her into forgetting herself. “You will not be right, but for taking that tone, I am going to have Cook prepare tripe and boiled turnips every day for the next week.”

“She was my cook first,” Anthony protested, likely turned a bit childish by the thought of such fare. Kate didn’t disagree; she would need to have an alternative menu prepared for herself if she indeed made good on her threat.

“Yes, well, she likes me better.”

“She does n—”

“Your tea, Anthony.”

Violet’s pointed voice startled Kate back to awareness. Judging from the looks the rest of the Bridgertons were giving them, ranging from Benedict’s vague amusement to Eloise’s relish to Francesca’s sympathy, Kate guessed that it was not the first time her mother-in-law had attempted to draw her husband’s attention to the cup she was extending to him. Anthony, clearly better practiced at glossing over such moments, merely took his tea and sipped at it politely.

“Delicious as always, Mother,” he said, all correctness. “I’m so very glad we were both able to join you this afternoon.”

Kate narrowed her eyes, and she would have kicked him would it not have been too obvious. As it was, she simply said, “Oh, yes, it has been absolutely lovely,” and decided that she would take him further to task when they returned home.

“Well, marriage does seem to have some practicalities to recommend it if nothing else,” Penelope commented as she and Kate walked down the street to the subscription library of which they were both members. The weather had shifted from a damp gloom to an unseasonable brightness, and Kate took in the air, refreshingly cool but not chill, with relish. “Had we needed to wait for my mama or one of the maids, busy as they were assisting my sisters, we might have been forced to postpone our outing for another week at least.”

It did still surprise Kate that she was now considered a suitable chaperone - at this time last year, she would have expected herself quite a bit more likely to reach such a position simply due to age rather than via marriage. However, she knew well the desire to make one’s unwedded state a casual fact so as not to cause awkwardness for others, and she suspected that Penelope was attempting the same now.

Studiously not thinking of her argument and subsequent reconciliation with Anthony the previous night, Kate said lightly, “Yes, not needing to be accompanied everywhere is one aspect which I have found to be worthwhile,” but did not dwell further on the topic.

Nevertheless, it was clear that her marriage was on the minds of others. As Kate and Penelope entered the library, several of the other ladies inside glanced at them and then immediately began whispering to their companions. Kate was not conceited, but she had little hope that anything other than her arrival had caused the reaction: Penelope, already sliding away to examine the shelves, had managed to leave the house in a day dress of pretty pale blue muslin rather than one of her mother’s more noteworthy choices, and the tongues had scarcely ceased wagging over Kate’s hasty wedding to the very eligible Viscount Bridgerton before she had quite publicly broken her leg and all but disappeared for months.

She had some friends, and her family of course, but never having been among the fashionable set nor a particular standout in any way other than her plainness and relationship to Edwina, she was not exactly a known quantity among the ton. In a strange way, her unremarkableness had made her even more an object of fascination.

I am going to have to entertain sometime soon, she thought with dismay. Else I will never have anyone used to me.

But that would come sometime later. For now, she could simply browse the shelves in the hope of finding something new and diverting. She had already devoured Miss Austen’s latest, of course, and Mrs. Gorley’s work was not precisely to her tastes, but she did think she spied a copy of Walter Scott’s Waverley just there - it had been published months ago, but had been so popular that she hadn’t a chance to read it before now.

Elevating slightly up onto her toes, Kate reached for it, fingers grasping the spine and just beginning to pull the volume down when an altogether too familiar voice said, “Ah, I thought that was you, Kate. Here, allow me.”

Her husband’s hand, warm and broad, brushed beside hers and removed the book, bringing it down to a more comfortable height with a bow. She accepted the volume with a brief “Thank you,” glancing sharply around at everyone watching before she ground out in low tones, “You just happened to be passing, I assume?”

“Of course.” He was all innocence. “Quite the lucky coincidence, I would say.”

“Quite.” Her teeth were going to crumble in her mouth at this rate. She forced her jaw to relax and painted on a cheerful expression. “Well, thank you for the assistance. I shall see you this evening.”

“You are most welcome.” Tilting his head with the smile she was certain had charmed altogether too many women, he added, “But must I truly wait until this evening? Surely I could accompany you for the rest of your afternoon - I am already here after all, and have little else to occupy myself.”

Hitching up her own smile even as she knew that it would do nothing to deter the gossip she could fairly see floating around the two of them, she said, “I am afraid that I am already accompanied. See, Miss Featherington and I were so enjoying our time together.”

Penelope had been standing silently beside the adjoining bookshelf, clearly relying on the wisdom of animals and small children that if you stayed entirely still and quiet perhaps you would not be noticed. Her eyes widened fractionally as she realized that it had not worked and that she was in fact going to need to step over and be polite, but she did it anyway, curtsying to Anthony and greeting him. (Kate had noticed that for all of Penelope’s wallflower ways, that manner in which she, by preference or fate, tended to fade into the background, she had little trouble speaking with Anthony, intimidating as he was.)

“Wonderful to see you, Miss Featherington, as always,” he said, bowing in return. “How fortunate my wife is to have your company. I wonder if you would not mind allowing me to share in that pleasure as well?”

Had the situation been different, perhaps Kate would have sympathized with the way Penelope glanced hastily between the two of them, trying to conceal the vague panic on her face. She might have even found it amusing. As it was, she tried to communicate without words precisely how much she had been looking forward to some time without the presence of her intrusive husband.

“Well, this is meant to be the ladies’ library,” Penelope finally ventured and Kate fairly beamed.

Too soon, however. Anthony waved a hand. “Ah, do not concern yourself. I shall step out as you finish your browsing, and then we can all ride together in the park. After all, being in the barouche might offer a respite for my wife, given her injury. What a splendid idea, Miss Featherington.”

“Oh, but I—”

Penelope’s words seemed to dissolve in the air as Anthony gave another one of his charming smiles, bowed, and left, the door clicking quietly closed behind him.

“It is no matter,” Kate said before Penelope could add any sort of apology. “You did wonderfully - it is no fault of yours that he is so persistent.” She sighed. “The park will be lovely, I am sure. And I did manage to find a book before he arrived.” Turning her back on the onlookers still gawking at them, she added even more quietly, “Next time I shall simply neglect to share with him my plans for the day. He will not find me so easily then.”

Beginning to look just the slightest bit mischievous, Penelope asked, “Oh, but will he not simply begin to have you followed?”

Kate set her shoulders. “Then I shall at least lead him on a merry chase about London, and see how he enjoys that.”

“It was lovely of you to accompany me today, but may I say, Kate, how unkind you are to allow your sister to learn of your recent exploits only through Lady Whistledown.”

Edwina turned slowly on the spot to face Kate as the modiste pinned expertly at her hem. Her expression, once fully revealed, was far more playful than her disapproving tone had indicated. Kate wrinkled her nose at her, but her sister only laughed.

“The latest issue had much to say regarding the ongoing tension between yourself and your husband. The two of you are apparently engaged in ‘a battle of wits and wills.’”

“Wills and whims is perhaps more accurate.”

“Regardless, she seemed to find the affair most entertaining. Her description of the way you tried to ensure that he had an engagement for fencing with his brother while you paid calls, only to have him bring two brothers along to join you - the whole thing was quite amusing.” It truly was unfair how Edwina only looked lovelier when she put on that impish smile to tease Kate. “Considering how sharp her pen can be, it is remarkable how affectionate she remains toward the pair of you. I believe she is quite taken with you!”

“Yes, her devotion to the idea of our love match is quite remarkable.” Kate turned away to examine some ribbons, although she knew that it would not dissuade Edwina from continuing the conversation.

And indeed: “The idea of your love match?” She could practically hear the appearance of the frown. “Perhaps it was not immediate, but now...Kate, the two of you are quite mad for each other and I know you too well to be convinced otherwise.”

Kate thought of Anthony offering a dowry for Edwina, the comfort of his voice, his reliable presence during storms, the way he always made certain that his family and duties were entirely taken care of. She thought of him with his hair rumpled and boyish in the privacy of their home, how with a few words, a simple stroke of the hand, he could make her feel utterly beautiful, actually cherished in a way she never could have imagined for herself. She thought of all the times over the months of their marriage when they simply sat together, talking of events both large and inconsequential, how he listened to her opinions and how she liked to listen to his (even when they were quite clearly flawed), how she appreciated making him laugh such that the burden of his responsibilities weighed less if only for a short while. She pictured the glint in his eye as he tried to verbally best her and the one when he had decided that there had been enough words between them for the evening and he would prefer instead to rob her of the ability to speak.

She sighed. “You are not incorrect,” she said, twisting the end of a white satin ribbon so that it curled around the tip of her finger. “It is only that—I have found it surprisingly simple to be married to him, but there has been little chance for me to truly learn how to act in this new time of my life. I am a viscountess now, a wife, and I can scarcely settle into either role when I am constantly wondering when he will arrive to try to distract me from my tasks.”

“One might think that it would be easiest to learn how to be a wife when your husband is constantly beside you,” Edwina noted, although her voice was kind if not entirely filled with understanding. “However, of a more pressing nature: it seems that you need not wonder long today.”

Puzzled, Kate turned, the question of precisely what her sister was talking about already on her lips, but found that she did not need to give it voice. Through the large window in the front of the shop, it was easy to spot Anthony striding up the street, eyes fixed and grin wide.

“Allow me to guess,” Kate said as the door to the shop opened to admit him. She placed one hand on her hip, tapping her chin with the other in mock thought. “You bribed my maid into telling you where we had gone and then simply happened to be in the area?”

“Your mother told me where you were with no bribery involved,” he said cheerfully. “And it did in fact so happen that I too had business only on the next street. Now—” He glanced around at the modiste’s assistant, who had remained ducked into a curtsy at the sight of him. “Please fetch the viscountess a seat.”

“I have no need of a seat,” Kate protested.

“As we shall be going soon,” he nodded. “Very sensible of you. Once Edwina has finished, there is a new cake shop I am eager to try. I believe that they have a confection made with lemon syrup which will be much to your liking, Kate.”

His outward manner was one of simple, practiced courteousness. In reality, she knew that he was attempting once more to win his way, but she also saw the smile, which was honest and directed only at her.

“I suppose we may add such a venture to our plans,” she agreed with a sigh. If nothing else, she would at least get some cake from the arrangement.

“Not to credit myself exceedingly,” Colin said as he and Kate walked together from the drawing room at Bridgerton House. “But I daresay none of my siblings would have made quite so good a partner, so it really was a good showing on my part to introduce you to Anthony and facilitate your joining the family.” The two of them had been paired together during charades following supper, and it was no boast to say that they had absolutely trounced the others.

“Not to credit yourself exceedingly, of course,” Kate said dryly. “Particularly as that introduction was made more in the spirit of your own entertainment than it was in hopes of our future together.”

“Ah, Kate, what a blow.” He pressed a hand to his chest.

Her mouth twitched uncontrollably into a smile. “You do not deny it. I judge my aim to be true.”

“Well, I shall take the acclaim for your wedded bliss, regardless of my original intentions.”

“Yes,” she said. “Our bliss.” But her smile faded a bit and she knew that she saw.

“My brother continues to exasperate, I gather.”

“He would certainly say the same of you,” Kate said, trying to tease. It was true, but she also found that she did not particularly care for others speaking against her husband, even if they might be correct.

“Oh, he has called me much worse than exasperating. Indeed, I recall—”

“You recall what?”

Kate turned just in time to see Violet fall into step with them, smiling briefly at her daughter-in-law before she turned to her son and said keenly, “Well, what is it that you were speaking of?”

“Only the tendency of your eldest son to irritate those around him,” Colin replied smoothly. “Tell us, Mother, did his nature show while he was still in his swaddling clothes, or did it only reveal itself once he began speaking?”

“Oh, hush. He was perfect, as all my children were, you know that.” She swatted lightly at his arm, before dropping her voice and adding, “Although there are perhaps some stories I could tell…”

“I for one would enjoy hearing them,” Kate said.

“Of course you would.” Violet’s light tone shifted just the slightest bit as she added, “You know, I can certainly have a word with him if he truly is causing you trouble. A reminder of one of those stories might serve well as a warning.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder at where Anthony was coming down the hall behind them, listening intently to something that Gregory was saying even as Hyacinth bobbed at his elbow and tried to interrupt. He really would make a wonderful father someday; in certain ways, he had already been playing the part for years now. She sighed, her heart softening a bit once again, and turned back to her companions.

“Please, do not worry yourself. Truly, all is well between the two of us, and I can certainly manage the situation if need be.” She linked her arm through Violet’s, a devilish little smile touching at her lips. “However, knowing one or two of these famous stories of yours might not go amiss. They sound ever so fascinating, after all.”

“How kind of you to allow me the pleasure of a dance,” Anthony said as they waltzed together a week later at Lady Vincent’s. “I have noticed you are less than satisfied to see me of late.”

“I would be perfectly happy to see you if only you did not force me to do so quite as constantly,” Kate reminded him. “And if you continue chasing me down and making a nuisance of yourself, perhaps in future I shall dance with your brother instead. If he is not much more accomplished than you in that area, these days he at least strikes me as less vexatious.”

“Who, Benedict?” He snorted, looking to the edge of the floor where his brother was sipping extremely slowly from a glass of punch, likely to avoid his mother’s latest attempts at matchmaking. “You are misled.”

“A pity. Luckily, I was referring to Gregory.”

“I had not realized they allowed waltzing in the schoolroom.”

“Ah, well, I suppose I shall have to make do with you. Only pray remember even as I grant you that, it makes you not a jot less maddening.”

Her coiffeur for the evening involved cascading curls; they fluttered with his breath as he bent toward her and said very softly against her ear, “After this insufferable affair has come to its end and I have taken you home, I shall remind you precisely how I can madden you, and how very much you can enjoy it.”

The flush which crept from cheeks to throat to collarbone and down along her décolletage felt apparent even to her, and she could tell from the gleam in his eye that he well enjoyed watching it spread. That look of superiority could not stand, so she mastered herself, leaning in to give a whisper of her own. “Perhaps I shall deny you such an opportunity and madden you in my stead. Turnabout being fair play, after all.”

“I should like to see you try,” he said, voice still low. “It has not escaped my notice that I am not the only one in our marriage with...robust appetites.”

The music was coming to a close; there was only a moment more for them to speak this way. She had the chance for the last word, and she seized it.

“Ah, Lord Bridgerton. You should have known better than to challenge me.”

Kate surveyed herself one final time with a surprising degree of satisfaction. Although Lady Bridgerton had insisted on expanding her wardrobe considerably before the wedding, there had been little opportunity to show off the modiste’s fine work; sitting in bed or around the house with her leg thrust awkwardly forward called more often for clothing in the category of old and comfortable rather than fashionable. Although Kate had never cared overmuch about how she dressed, wearing something new which suited her was a bit of a treat.

She was taking her enjoyment where she could these days. Anthony had become, if anything, more persistent in his intentions to find her wherever she went, leading her to make good on her threat not to allow him to pay her interest in a more private setting.

(Although she had obeyed only the letter rather than the spirit of his condition of faithfulness so long as she did not bar him from the bed, she had no worries on that score. He loved her, she knew that, and besides, between his usual responsibilities and his determination to chase her down at every opportunity during the day, and his attempts to seduce her all night, where would he find the time to stray?)

While her prohibition clearly seemed to have an effect on him, given the time he was investing in attempting to convince her to give over to him and the snappish manner he had taken on over the last several days when she had not, she was not finding the situation precisely easy either. As Anthony had pointed out, since their marriage, she had become accustomed to having certain needs met, and now that she was aware of those needs, it was most displeasing to have them remain unsatisfied.

“Excellent.” She jumped a bit at hearing Anthony’s voice in the doorway of their bedchamber, pretending to herself that it was merely because she had expected to have a bit more time to depart considering the appointments she knew he had scheduled today. It had nothing to do, of course, with the fact of him here in the flesh after she had been recalling that flesh so vividly to mind. “Are we going out, then?”

She ignored him, picking up the lead from the side table as she called Newton’s name sharply. Unfortunately, he simply continued to doze on the floor beside the bed. Holding back a sigh, she went over and attached him to it, which did manage to wake him. Instead of stretching and standing with any degree of dignity, however, he immediately leaped up, panting, and attempted to pull her from the room. It was only her preemptively planted feet which kept her from being towed gracelessly behind.

Although she had purposefully avoided eye contact with him, Anthony, still lounging in the doorway, said blithely, “I had been hoping to have an opportunity to take some air. A walk with the creature will be perfect.”

And that, for some reason, was it. Perhaps because it had been going on so long, or perhaps because she had spent the past several nights lying inches away but not touching him even as her fingers fairly itched to do so, or perhaps it was because Newton was behaving ridiculously, or because Anthony was insisting on joining them only to spite her (he did not even like her dog enough to use his name), or some combination of all of those factors and more, but her voice went quite deadly, coldly dignified, as she said, “My apologies, but you shall not be joining us, my lord. You shall stay here, and I will speak to you upon my return. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Luckily, his spine had gone straight with shock at hearing her tone, entirely devoid of teasing or requisite argument or begrudging capitulation; she did not think he would have moved over on his own enough for her to pass. As it was, even as she and Newton descended the stairs and departed the house, she nearly expected to be followed.

She did not expect the small pang which struck her when she realized she had not been. After all this time, she had managed to push him away and she was unsure what it might cost her.

Newton’s energy had flagged after less than an hour - the consequences of short legs, she supposed, and perhaps the interrupted nap - but she forced the two of them to stay out for a respectable interval. It had been hard-won, after all.

When she finally returned, she removed her bonnet, saw Newton settled and lapping noisily at a bowl of water, and spoke briefly to the butler and the housekeeper before she asked where her husband was and braced her feet toward his study.

She was somewhat surprised that he was still in the house, although it was entirely expected that he would withdraw from their bedroom rather than remaining there at her order like a caught child. The way he moved his pen across the page, all tightly wound fury, his choice not to look up although he surely heard her tread or her light knock - all just as she predicted. Even the way he spoke when he finally chose to wipe his pen, set his papers aside, and look at her, the ringing command of, “I will not be addressed in such a way, Kate,” was the voice of the viscount, precisely as she had known that it would be.

But she had not known she could respond similarly until she did. “Then do not require it of me, Anthony,” she said: the voice of the viscountess, although she had never before heard it from her own mouth.

He looked for a moment just as taken aback as she felt, the mask dropping briefly. It was enough to soften her, making her sigh and walk in toward him, closing the door behind herself. She leaned on the corner of his desk nearest him, hands clasped and resting against her skirts.

“Anthony,” she said, gazing down at him. “Anthony, this is becoming absurd. Will you please tell me what on earth you have been thinking of?”

He said nothing, mouth pressed mulishly inward, but he turned just the slightest bit toward her, angled his legs so that they were nearer hers, and she recognized the space he was opening. She reached down to take his hand, pressing it to her lips.

“Please.” Her words were becoming ever softer. “Please, I must know what is going through your mind. Will you tell me?”

Although she had heard him speak clearly mere moments before, when he finally began to talk, his voice was hoarse enough that he had to clear his throat once, twice, before he was finally able to be understood.

“It was your injury at first. Needing to stay close to you to reassure myself that you truly were well and would not be overcome, yes, but…” He inhaled slowly and deeply before he continued. “I am certain that no matter how long my life, I shall never forget the sight of you beneath that carriage, so still and silent.” His gaze met hers, and she saw the shine of tears there. “If such an accident could happen once, it could happen again, and I would—I could not have borne it had anything else occurred, but more than that, I could not take the chance that I might be away from you when it did. What if you needed me and I was off looking at accounts, or taking care of some foolish errand, or sitting about playing cards, or doing anything but all that I could to help you? So I made certain that I would be near you as often as I could.”

“Anthony—” she started, but now that he had begun speaking he could not seem to stop himself.

“I know the extreme unlikeliness of you breaking another limb while trying on gloves or sitting taking tea or what have you, but I could not take the chance. And beyond that...I know you have doubts regarding my foreshortened life. Nevertheless, your advice was to ensure that whenever my time comes, I would be without regret. And aside from neglecting the continued well-being of my family and tenants, the thing I would regret the most is not spending enough time with you.”

His hand, which lay so naturally in hers that she had nearly forgotten she was holding it, tightened as he faced her. “It took me too long to understand that I loved you, and longer still to realize that you have become my favorite person to spend time with. Having you at home for all of those months made it terribly easy for me to become accustomed to being around you for hours or days at a time, and even that might not have satisfied me. Truly, I am not certain that ninety years beside you would be enough.”

Emotion seemed, for a moment, to eclipse her ability to speak. She had the feeling that anyone might have reacted thus to such a declaration of love, but she was only just finding out what it was to be loved, that it was possible for her to be desired. She had spent her life up until the last months believing that if she did not remain a spinster altogether, her prospects were limited to those desperate for any sort of wife. Hearing these words from someone who loved her truly and especially was quite overwhelming.

Even knowing that it would not be truly comfortable for either of them, she could not help herself: she relinquished his hand and settled herself in his lap, pressing her forehead into the space between his jaw and throat as they both breathed together. He did not seem to mind the discomfort, holding her tightly.

When she had finally mastered herself, she said, still a bit shakily but making the best of it, “I must say that I don’t know that spending every moment of the next ninety years together is truly practical.”

She seemed to be able to nearly feel his answering smile. “Perhaps not, but one cannot make such a statement before making the attempt.” And then the smile was gone again from his voice, although she hoped not far. “I know that my mother wishes often that my father could be there to experience life beside her. For the larger moments, of course - when Hyacinth was born, and seeing my brothers off to school and to university, and for all the courtships and marriages and births to come - but for all the little in-betweens as well. I never—” He cleared his throat once again. “I do not want to reach the end of my life, whenever that may be, without knowing that I experienced you smiling at me, or handing me cups of tea just the way I like them, or telling me about whatever you have read lately absolutely as many times as I could.”

“What about hearing me play the flute as many times as you could?” she asked, holding back a sniffle. He really was quite sweet sometimes - as sweet as he was irritating, which meant abominably so.

Close as she was, she felt the wince even as he checked it a second later. “And hearing you play the flute, of course.”

“Then I shall be certain to play for you this very evening.” He did not respond but she resisted prodding him into agreement, choosing instead to say gently, “You know, I’m quite honored that you took my advice with such seriousness, but I wonder if you have forgotten the other part of it. Spending all this time worrying over regrets rather than settling into the wonder of each day...We are trying to build a life, and I want you to have a chance to revel in the array of it rather than attempting to hoard memories by volume."

“You think perhaps that I shall miss the forest for the trees? That in turning greedy for as many tiny moments as I can have, I shall forget to enjoy our life together as a whole?”

“Just so,” she said, relaxing further against him. "Not to mention the practicality of it all. Even if you were with me all day long from the time that you awoke - and I fear I would turn murderess in such a circumstance - but even so, there would be some second that your back was turned, some word or gesture that you missed. And besides, one day there might be more than us two in our family and I should hope that you would want to collect some fatherly experiences as well. Considering how much time you have spent only trying to follow me about…”

“How I should manage with a child or more I cannot think." Resting his cheek on the crown of her head, he sighed against her. "Must you be so impossibly sensible all the time?"

"Yes, I absolutely must," she said solemnly, although she was quite glad to hear his own good sense finally reasserting itself. "However, indulgent wife that I am, I shall make you a bargain: you might not be able to see me all the time, but we may arrange some—" She held up a finger for emphasis before he could get any ideas. "Some outings together during the day, and perhaps find some mutual activity to partake in. And we shall spend every evening that we are able together."

"I still will not have my fill of you."

"Perhaps. And perhaps I never would of you. But whether ten years or thirty or ninety together, we can make each day have been enough."

He groaned, leaning back as much as he was able. The chair at his desk truly was not intended to hold two fully grown adults. "Some healthy debate is one thing, but I dislike truly arguing with you: today was more than enough."

"Really?" She had begun tracing the buttons of his waistcoat, just lightly. "It is only afternoon. I can think of certain activities to occupy us for some time yet."

Before she truly registered the motion, she had been lifted into the air, his stride easy and purposeful as he carried her across the room.

"Have I told you lately how much I appreciate your mind? You really do have some marvelous ideas."

"And what if I had meant we should spend the rest of the day playing chess? Or visiting your mother?" she said, although she knew he could hear the joy in her voice.

"I could convince you otherwise," he said. "Believe me."

She did. Not that it would do to tell him, but she would not have taken very much convincing at all.

No one was overly surprised when Kate delivered a baby midway through the next year. In fact, if she heard Simon correctly as she passed his study at Hastings House before they announced her condition, there had been some playful questioning over whether Anthony understood the precise mechanics of things.

“Considering the amount of time you spend together, one would think the newest Bridgerton would have appeared already,” her brother-in-law had laughed.

If it had been one of his own brothers speaking, Kate suspected that the remark would have earned a swift smack upside the head, but as it was, her husband only replied, his voice like a hand on the hilt of a sword, “Remember that is my wife you are speaking of. And I’ll have you know that I could easily spend quite a bit more time with her, new Bridgerton or no.”

“Well.” Kate could not see past the cracked door into the room proper, but there was enough surprise in his voice to picture the Duke of Hastings with his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Apparently that is your wife we are speaking of.”

And despite the foolish masculinity of their conversation, it had made her smile.

She smiled quite a lot these days. Not so much when Edmund was being born, painful as it was, but in the months afterward, even with the baby so very small and fretful, she could not help herself as they settled into being a family.

In the past, she had considered the idea of waking with a smile to be the stuff of daydreams and silly novels, but no longer, and as she typically greeted the day wrapped in her husband’s embrace, she felt that she could be forgiven for the sentimentality. They always managed to have at least a few moments speaking together in the mornings before Anthony had to be up for some appointment or Kate needed to be off to meet her mother or sister, or her mother- or sisters-in-law. (Sometimes it was more than a few moments filled not precisely with speaking, which Kate found to be a rather delightful way to start a day.)

Afternoons found them often apart, although not as often as most married couples: few wives had promises of the favor of their company for a midday walk solicited so frequently, and most husbands avoided tea with the ladies like the plague rather than arranging to be welcomed to it. Seeing him appear in the doorway was always cause for a smile - although she did admit that it turned devious on the occasions that he realized too late that she was entertaining certain members of the ton who he typically preferred to avoid. It always suited her to have an ally, and as he was the one insisting on being present, he would have to take the bad along with the good.

In the evenings, so long as they had no other engagements, they would sit together after eating and share tales of what they had seen and done while apart during the day. He was well known for a most impertinent and absolutely entertaining impersonation of Lord Liverpool, but refused to allow her to show off to his family her impressions of the ladies of society - apparently it would give Eloise and Hyacinth ideas.

As if those two could not come up with ideas perfectly well on their own, and would regardless of any influence, but she let him have his fantasies.

Eloise herself took a seat between Anthony and Kate one morning as some of the family sat together in the drawing room at Violet’s new home. Kate, although she was now capably assuming the role of viscountess in true, had been a bit relieved that when her mother-in-law left Bridgerton House, the center of the family had shifted with her; she did love them all, but she was fairly unaccustomed to people turning up and going in and out at all hours. Violet was not even currently at home - she had gone calling and left her children with the run of the place. Not, in Kate’s opinion, a completely sound decision, considering the particular children involved.

Eloise, for example, had not actually sat between her brother and sister-in-law, but had more accurately placed herself practically atop the two of them: had Anthony not begrudgingly shifted over, Kate might have had to balance a grown woman in her lap along with her baby son. Leaning over, Eloise cooed at Edmund, who only smacked his lips together and yawned before dozing off again.

“How lucky you are, Kate, that he is still so small and sweet.”

Kate recalled how three nights past he had kept the house up until the wee hours and nearly had the nurse in tears. “Oh, I believe he is on his company behavior for you.”

“There will come a time where he has no company behavior,” Eloise predicted, nodding sagely. “He will forget all of your good instruction and simply stomp about. Or perhaps mope. He might take after Benedict - he was a mopey sort.”

At the sound of his name, the brother in question looked over from where he had been gazing absently through the window and pulled a face at his sister, although he ended up grinning a bit when she gave one right back to him. Kate was glad to see it; he had been unusually quiet over the past month or two.

“Luckily,” Eloise continued, “he will be at school by then, for the most part, and scolding him will be someone else’s concern.” Turning toward Anthony, she asked, “I wonder, however, how you plan to keep yourself occupied for the foreseeable future.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anthony said, in that familiar ‘your mind is completely confounding, Eloise’ voice.

“Well, Kate will be spending the next years child-rearing, and running Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall, and playing hostess, and—” She waved a hand. “Viscountessing. So will you be taking up a hobby to occupy yourself until your children are grown? Fishing, perhaps, or gambling on horse races? Oh, I have it: you shall write poetry.”

Kate suppressed a snort while Anthony visibly gathered himself. “If you will recall,” he started with stiff patience, “I have my own responsibilities as well. And there is no reason for Kate to raise the children by herself - Mother and Father were partners in that as in everything, and we shall be as well.”

They had spoken of this before, but Kate could not help but bend her face toward the baby and pretend to adjust his cap. Each time she had heard him mention this, the delight of the thought nearly overwhelmed her.

When she looked up, Anthony was staring past Eloise and right at her. “And besides,” he said, barely for anyone but Kate. “I believe my time will be quite consumed otherwise, and well spent for it.”

“I would tend to concur,” she said, knowing that he was not referring to the music lessons he had recently begun, or even activities of a more personal sort. But before he could crow the victory for having gained her agreement, she smiled at him and waited, knowing that he would be unable to keep himself from smiling back.

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 6, Ch. 3

PART 6: THE YEAR WHEN EVERYTHING FALLS INTO PLACE Chapter 3 - The Sneaking Stories

Charlie

I was enjoying my Sixth Year a lot more than my Fifth. I finally felt like I had more time to do the things I wanted even though we had a lot of school work. The thing was, I think we got so used to the amount of work the professors were giving us that we managed to learn how to find free time.

I was spending quite a lot of my time with Hagrid. He finally deemed me old enough so I could go into the Forest with him. We met Torvus a couple of times and I can't even begin to explain how awkward it was the first time, even though Hagrid knew Nova and I snuck into the Forest and met Aragog.

We managed to save a Unicorn, who got its leg stuck in a tree vine, and brought Fairy eggs to a Bowtruckle family. It was so fun that I would do it every day if Hagrid would have the time.

Nova also snuck me in a few times to see her Salamander. Kettleburn gave her access to the Creature Reserve and she brought me along even though she made a promise to him that she wouldn't sneak in any students. Now, that's a true friend! We even took Pip once with us so he could meet Pyro. At first, he wasn't amused at all but when the Salamander indicated that he wanted to play, he was up for it immediately.

Nova took the opportunity to sit down and draw them both together. She knew it would make Pip happy if she drew him again, even though she had a whole notebook filled with drawings of him. He just really liked her attention and we had that in common.

I was having so much fun with her. I could hang out with her 24 hours a day for a week and couldn't get enough of her. If we weren't in the Reserve, we were down by the Lake.

We loved going to Hogsmeade and not just for Butterbeer, sometimes we just strolled around and reminisced on our Third Year when we first visited the village and how much fun it was to have Bill around even though we swore we would never admit to him that we miss him at Hogwarts.

—

There was a moment before Christmas when we took a trip to Hogsmeade and Nova wanted to go for a walk. I wanted to get her opinion on my motivational speech for my Quidditch Team. I knew I was good at catching the Snitch but I was not a smooth talker. The Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor game was approaching after the Holidays and I wanted to impress them for the first time.

We were coming up with all sorts of things to say and then we started to create really funny ones, where I would throw Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans at them or the one where I would threaten them with Tonks' Dungbomb if we would lose. Nova was laughing so much that I never wanted to stop creating these silly speeches just so I could admire how beautiful she is when she laughs.

And there was this moment when she laughed so hard that she buried her head in my shoulder, grabbing my elbow with one hand and my hand with her other one. I tried to act as unphased about it as I could even though I was quite sure she could hear how fast my heart was beating. At that moment I didn't know what to think of it. For a few seconds we were practically holding hands and I know it doesn't sound as exciting but it was a rather big deal to me.

It made me realize that I would have to tell her sooner or later about fancying her but I couldn't gather the courage to say anything as she still seemed not to notice that there is something between us.

—

Nova also attended every single one of my Quidditch practices just to support me being Captain. Which reminds me that she was right when she said that I will find someone great to be Keeper for my Team. His name is Oliver Wood and he is brilliant!

He is a big Quidditch enthusiast and attended every Quidditch World Cup with his dad since he could remember. As a Captain, I was proud of my Team and I really don't want to brag but we destroyed Hufflepuffs this year. Only Slytherin and Ravenclaw to go. I fully supported Nova to quit Quidditch even though I can't help admit I will miss fighting for the Snitch with her.

One downside about spending so much time with her, was that my feelings for her are growing stronger and if I think about it, perhaps it was for the best that we didn't play against each other because I knew I wouldn't be able to leave these feelings off the Pitch anymore.

Nova

I woke up to a sunny Sunday morning. I made my way down to the Common Room alone because Tulip was already gone. I opened the door, ready to go down for breakfast as I yawned.

“Wotcher, Blackwood!” I jumped into the air and if I wasn't completely awake before, I definitely was now.

“Tonks! Merlin's beard, you scared the living ghost out of me!” I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm down.

“You called?” I jumped into the air again as I heard a voice right behind my ear.

“Peeves?!” I exclaimed. Too much was happening for someone that hasn't eaten breakfast yet.

“Tonks, what is going on?” I narrowed my eyes at her. She wanted something, I knew it.

“I need your help.” She grinned. I did not like the look on her face or the sound of her voice.

“What with?” I asked.

“Listen, Blackwood! We are in our Sixth Year, we have to focus!” Her grin was getting bigger and she began to terrify me.

“What on? Studying?” I asked, perplexed as I knew that was the last thing on her mind, giving that it was only the beginning of our second term.

“Mischief!” She rolled her eyes as if she was completely disappointed that I didn't guess that. I knew I didn't like the expression on her face!

Tonks has always liked to wreak havoc but she usually did it with Tulip or Jae. Penny didn't want to participate after they placed the Dungbomb in Filch's office. I was, like today, usually dragged into it against my will and Charlie was too busy sneaking into the Forbidden Forest so Tonks rarely found him. Otherwise, I am sure, she would drag him along.

“Tonks, I really...”

“Yeah, yeah. You can tell me on the way.” She grabbed my hand and started dragging me down the corridor.

“But-”

“We can stop in the Great Hall so you can grab a sandwich.” How did she know I wanted to say that?

“But-”

“I already told your Dragon Boy that you will meet him later.” Was she reading my mind?

“But-”

“I know. I know, you're a Prefect and you have responsibilities, blah blah blah.” She mimicked with her hand. At this point, I was sure something was wrong with her.

She was always full of energy and ready to mess stuff up but this mood she was in right now was unusual, even for her.

“Where are you taking me?” I finally gave up as I knew I couldn't get out of it anymore. At least I got my sandwich.

“You'll see.” That wasn't exactly the answer I was expecting.

“And why is Peeves here?” I looked up. Peeves was floating just above our heads and humming something to himself. I never knew what to make of him. If I could, I avoided him. I had no idea that he actually listened to Tonks.

“You'll get your answers later, Blackwood!” And why was she calling me by my last name?

“Tonks?”

“Yes?” She kept looking straight ahead, her eyes sparkling like those of Charlie's when someone told him they liked animals or wanted to talk about Dragons.

“Did Penny experiment on you with her potions again?” I couldn't help but be a bit worried.

In our Fourth Year Penny gained access to Snape's potion ingredients and his classroom. The Calming Draught for Tonks was the only normal potion she made so far. She wanted to create her own potions for every occasion and when she asked us if anyone would volunteer Tonks was the only one with her hand up. We were grateful for it and said nothing as the rest of us didn't want to get even close to Penny's little experiments.

So far she had more failures than successes as she made Tonks' teeth grow so large that she looked like a beaver and Madam Pomfrey had to sort her out. She made a potion that made Tonks lose all her hair and then made the antidote that made Tonks look like a Yeti.

This time, I was sure she gave her an energy potion, as I was already tired next to her and it wasn't even 10 o'clock. I just wanted to go with Charlie to the Forest to read this book we got in the Library about unregistered beast species. He found a nice spot going to the Forest with Hagrid. It wasn't too deep in and it didn't look like anyone would be bothered by us being there and it had just enough sunlight so we could read.

“No, Blackwood. I'm sober as a pickle!” She snapped me out with her answer.

We didn't speak until we reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where Tulip was waiting for us.

“Hi, Nova.” She grinned. What was happening? Is every day with them like this?

“Tulip, what is going on?” I was hoping she wasn't on some kind of a potion too, so somebody could explain to me why I am here.

“Peeves, go check if the coast is clear.” All hope was lost for me to get any information, when Tulip whispered to Peeves, ignoring my question and he entered the classroom.

“Nobooooody insiiiiiide.” Peeves sang as he came back. Tonks gave him something that looked like a Fanged Frisbee and he flew away.

“Blackwood, you're up!” Tonks pushed me towards the door.

“I don't even know what we're doing!” I turned to both of them, more confused than I have ever been before.

“I reckon you didn't tell her about our plan?” Tulip rubbed her chin, looking at Tonks.

“Alright, listen carefully, Blackwood!” She pulled both Tulip and me in a half hug and stuck our heads together.

“We are sneaking into Rakepick's office.” She started.

“Rakepick's office!” I knew that her office was part of the classroom and it did make more sense that they would want to get in there rather than the classroom alone, but I failed to understand what they wanted from her office.

“Blackwood, focus!” She pointed two fingers to my eyes, almost poking me in the process, and then pointed them at hers.

“We are going to steal something from her!” She said proudly as if she just finished telling me a mastermind plan.

“What are we going to...” But before I could ask the question, I already knew the answer. “Her Niffler!” I gasped. “Are you mental? Rakepick is crazy, she will find out it was us sooner or later.”

“It depends how good you are at lying, Blackwood.” She slammed my back, making me stand straight.

“Why do you need me for this job?” I asked as I still didn't know why wasn't I with Charlie in the Forest instead of here being confused.

“I thought Ravenclaws were smart.” Tonks frowned at me as if it had to be clear as a Sunny day as to what my part in all of this was.

“We can't smuggle a Niffler without being too obvious.” Tulip finally started to explain. “So we need your Transfiguration talent.” She pointed her wand to the door and cast Alohamora. The door unlocked and creaked when she pushed it open.

“Transfigure it?” I whispered when we closed the door behind us. “Are you mad!”

“Perhaps, Blackwood. But that's a topic for another day.” Tonks answered. She ran upstairs where the bookshelves were, opened the doors to Rakepick's office, and brought down her Niffler.

“How did you know he was going to be in there?” I was impressed just how fast we were able to find him.

“You underestimate us, Blackwood. We were planning this for weeks.” Tonks beamed at me, handing me the Niffler.

“Yeah, thank's for filling me in!” I said, sarcastically.

“No problem.” I frowned at her as she made me sit down.

“So...” She put her hand on her chin, looking like she was deep in thought. “What do you reckon he looks like?” She asked. At this point, I honestly gave up on questioning her.

“A turtle? A snake? An owl perhaps?” I stared at her, my eyes as wide as they possibly could be.

“A turtle?” I turned to Tulip. “What did Penny give her?”

“She's always like this when we're up to no good.” Tulip swung her hand like Tonks' behavior was completely normal. If this was Tonks every time they went to cause mischief, I needed a new strategy to hide from her.

“C'mon, Blackwood! You're supposed to be good at this. Which spell that we did in class would, you reckon, be the best to Transfigure this Niffler?” I finally understood what she meant when she was listing animals. She was trying to remember all the animals we transfigured in our class.

“I could try turning him into a pincushion without pins...” At this point, I just gave in and I knew the faster I would do my part, the faster I could get out of here. “Or he is rather small, perhaps he would do as a Goblet?” I took out my wand.

“Ericius Languo.” As soon as I tapped on the Niffler, he turned into an empty pincushion.

“Blimey.” Tulip whispered in awe.

“Bloody Hell, Blackwood! I knew you were the right person for the job!” She tapped my back, gentler this time.

“What are you going to do with it?” I forgot that I didn't even know why we were doing this.

“We wanted to see how long will it take for Rakepick to figure out her Niffler is gone.” Explained Tulip, now holding the pincushion and observing my work.

“We reckon she is mistreating him.” Added Tonks.

“And if she notices he is gone at once?” I narrowed my eyes. It was a nice gesture for the Niffler but still, I believe we could find a way where he wouldn't be stuck like a pincushion for like a week.

“Then we will need your help transfiguring it back and we would return it.” Tonks said most casually as if what we were doing was just another Sunday.

We snuck back out of the classroom, Tonks gently holding the pincushion Niffler and they finally let me go. I ran down to the Forbidden Forest to meet Charlie, hoping he didn't already finish the book.

—

We had Defense Against the Dark Arts the first thing the next morning. I thought that we got away with it as we didn't leave any traces behind. I didn't even tell Charlie about what we did, not to drag him into the whole thing. The second Professor Rakepick stepped from her office, I saw on her face that she was missing a Niffler.

“Before we start today's lesson, I have a question for you.” She leaned on her desk and looked at every single one of us, narrow-eyed. Her gaze stopped at me and I gulped.

“Miss Blackwood!” She pushed herself away from the desk and slowly made her way to me in the third row.

“Where were you yesterday morning?” She stopped at my desk and crossed her arms on her chest, waiting for my answer.

“I was snogging Charlie by the Lake.” For the life of me, I couldn't understand why I said that. Charlie, who was snoozing on my shoulder and failed to wake up when Rakepick started the class, rose his head up at once, his eyes wide open.

“Mr. Weasley, nice of you to join us.” Rakepick's eyes moved to him.

“You did what?” He turned to me, completely ignoring our Professor.

“I'll explain later, just follow my lead.” I whispered, still looking at Rakepick. I glanced at Tulip and she winked at me. I swear I will murder them both!

“Did you, or did you not snog Miss Blackwood down by the Lake yesterday morning?” Rakepick leaned towards Charlie who was just as red in the face as I was and repeated the question.

“Yes, ma'am. That was me.” He replied, awkwardly. Apparently, the answer worked, as it left Rakepick with no further questions.

She then took a step backward and stopped at the desk in front of us, where Jae and Tulip were sitting.

“Did you snog and then Obliviate me?” Charlie whispered as Rakepick was trying to have a stare-off with Tulip.

“Char, later.” I replied, my cheeks still burning.

“You know, if you want to snog me, all you have to do is ask.” At these words, I turned to him and he winked at me. He was so smooth lately that I couldn't believe half the words that came out of his mouth.

“Miss Karasu.” Rakepick's voice saved me as I didn't really know what to reply to Charlie's offer.

“And what were you doing yesterday morning? Were you snogging too?” She leaned on her elbows, inches away from Tulip's nose. She was on to us.

“As a matter of fact, I was.” She said casually, leaned towards Jae, and kissed his cheek. Charlie and I exchanged looks and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him as I have never seen him so confused in his life.

Rakepick didn't quite know how to react to this, so she glared at both of us angrily and started the class.

As we made our way down to the Great Hall after the class was over, Tulip was still laughing despite being quite proud of my answer.

“You should have seen your face Charlie when Nova said she snogged you.” She was holding her stomach, laughing so hard. Charlie's cheeks turned pink again and he rolled his eyes at her.

“She did what?!” Charlie, Jae, Tulip, and I all turned around to see Tonks winking at me and Penny holding her hands over her mouth.

“Nice catch, Nova!” Tonks tapped my shoulder.

“You two are finally together?” Penny's voice was higher than Flitwick's.

“What?” Was all I managed to say. What did she mean finally?

“We are not together Penny, I don't know what's going on either.” Charlie explained, completely calm.

“But you snogged?” Penny looked rather disappointed.

“In Nova's story, we did, yes.” Charlie pointed at me. Tulip was so busy laughing that I didn't have the time to explain to Charlie what was going on.

“Did you dream you were snogging him?” Penny beamed at me.

“Oh, for Merlin's sake!” I rolled my eyes and pushed them all into the Great Hall. We finally told them what we did and why we had to lie.

“Nice one, Nova! Making her uncomfortable.” Tonks gave me a thumbs up. “We are definitely bringing you along next time.” She grinned.

“Help me.” I whispered to Charlie, who chuckled in reply.

I couldn't believe that Rakepick didn't catch us. That same Monday, the second Peeves annoyed Rakepick so much that she chased him out of her classroom, we sneaked inside, I transfigured the Niffler back to his original state and we ran as far away from the door as we possibly could. I couldn't help but wonder if this is how our entire term will be like.

The next day Tulip, Tonks, and I were having breakfast together and Pip came to greet us during Owl Post and gave me a letter. It was from Penny and she asked for the three of us to meet her in the Dungeons. I was hesitant to go as this year Penny experimented with her potions more than last year. She used so many of Snape's ingredients that one potion got her detention for 2 weeks! I never thought that I would say the words detention and Penny in the same sentence but here we are!

We ate quickly and made our way through to the Dungeons and entered the Potions classroom with our eyes closed. Tonks was the only one excited, while Tulip and I were hoping she wouldn't give us anything to drink or test for her.

“What do you have for us today, Penny?” Tonks grinned while rubbed her hands together.

“Ladies, you might wonder why I only invited you and there are no boys here today.” She was ecstatic.

“Not really.” Tulip answered, still worried about what she will show us.

“Yeah, we don't hang out that often, just the four of us, so it was quite a pleasant surprise.” I said.

“Oh, I know!” Penny exclaimed. “What do you girls say about having a slumber party!” She clapped her hands.

“That is not a bad idea.” Tulip rubbed her chin, thinking about it.

“Oh, we could talk about all sort of things and we could play Truth or Wand!” Tonks grinned. Penny, Tulip, and I stared at her.

“Play what?” I asked, puzzled.

“Haven't you ever heard of Truth or Wand?” Tonks rolled her eyes as if we were playing the game every day.

“It's this game where you enchant a wand to hover in the air and the one who asks a question uses another wand to spin the one in the air. Whoever the spinning wand stops on they either have to answer a question they are asked and tell the truth or they get hexed or jinxed, all minor spells of course.” Tonks explained.

“That sounds...” Penny started, stunned.

“BRILLIANT!” Tulip and I shouted together.

“When are we doing it?” Penny asked, excitedly.

“First of all, if we want to stay out after curfew we will have to bend some rules.” Tonks thought about it.

“We can ask our Heads of House if they would make an exception so we could enter each other's Common Rooms.” I suggested.

“That's not a bad idea.” Penny thought out loud.

“We're not allowed to enter each other's dorms?” Tulip asked and when we looked at her she was flushed.

“You didn't know that?” Penny asked puzzled.

“A better question to ask is, WHICH Common Room did you breach, Tulip?” Tonks asked, wanting to know how she got away with it.

“You can ask me when we play Truth or Wand!” Tulip said quickly.

“Oh, this is going to be so good!” Penny clapped again, already making a mental note to ask Tulip the question.

“So, we ask Flitwick and Sprout tomorrow, and if everything goes well have the slumber party in the Ravenclaw Tower on Saturday?” I asked.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Tonks and Tulip said in unison.

“Penny, we completely forgot why you brought us here!” I suddenly remembered that the sleepover wasn't the reason we were in the Potions classroom.

“Oh, right! I got so excited by Tonks' idea that I almost forgot!” She grinned.

“You're welcome!” Tonks winked at her.

“Come here I want you to see something.” She gestured for us to sit down in front of a cauldron that had something brewing inside.

“Be careful around it, you DO NOT want to drink this.” She said and smacked Tonks' fingers, who was already reaching for it.

“What did you make, Penny?” I got worried again.

“It's my first ever brew of Amortentia!” She exclaimed.

“Amortentia? I thought Andre likes you?” Tulip chuckled.

“It's not for Andre!” She rolled her eyes. “It's not for anyone actually. It's just an advanced potion and I wanted to perfect it!”

“And why did you invite us here?” I agreed with Tulip, I didn't see the point if we won't be using the potion.

“Amortentia is one of the most powerful love potions ever made. Something, none of us needs.” She winked at me. Why me? “However, it does smell differently to every person based on what they are attracted to and if they happen to have feelings for someone it can smell like that person.” She beamed, proud to know all about it.

“It's different for everyone and I thought since I brewed it and I will have to throw it away anyway or Snape will give me a month's worth of detention, I thought it would be fun to see what we find attractive.” She was so happy about it that I got excited too, even though I had no idea what to expect.

“I will go first so that you know I didn't trick you into something.” Tulip narrowed her eyes at Penny, watching her carefully leaning over the cauldron. She didn't trust her one bit.

“I smell...” She closed her eyes and took a whiff of the potion. “I smell old books, butterbeer, and...” She had to think about the third one. “A very gentle male perfume.” Her cheeks turned pink.

“So...” I started, trying hard not to giggle.

“You basically described Andre?” Tulip was thinking the exact same thing I was.

“He wears cologne?” Tonks asked, surprised.

“He is a man of fashion and Quidditch, of course, he wears cologne.” Tulip chuckled.

“So, ahem...” Penny cleared her throat, now even more red in the face. She was adorable. “Who's next?”

“I'll try!” Tonks said and she switched places with Penny.

“Hmm...” Tonks took some time to think. “I smell fresh laundry and a hint of sandalwood.”

“Tonks, do you even fancy anyone?” I asked as I don't think we ever asked her about her crush. That day on the train when we found out that Penny had a crush on Andre, she was the only one who said that she doesn't fancy anyone. Tulip fancies Jae and me, well I don't know what is going on with me.

“I dunno. Don't think so?” Tonks answered and I believed her. She was too busy to think of these things. Something I thought for myself not so long ago.

“Perhaps we can ask her again on Saturday.” Penny winked as apparently, she didn't find Tonks' answer as sincere as I did.

“Okay, Tulip you're next!” Penny pulled her in front of the cauldron.

“Does it smell like Jae?” Penny teased and Tonks and I laughed. Tulip showed us her tongue and we laughed even harder.

“I smell candy canes and cupcakes.” She said and took another whiff just to be sure she didn't miss anything.

“So, basically the Kitchens?” Tonks giggled.

“So, basically Jae?” I added.

“How sweet!” Penny clapped.

“Oh, shut it, will you!” She swung her hand at us, red in the face and we started laughing. I was having so much fun and I was now even more excited about Saturday. I missed just the four of us hanging out.

“Nova, you're the last one.” Penny jumped from excitement. I couldn't help but be nervous.

I stepped in front of the cauldron and inhaled deeply. I felt my cheeks turn red at once.

“Nova, what are you smelling?” Penny asked suspiciously.

“Yes, tell us, we can see you blush!” Added Tulip.

“Does it smell like Quidditch?” Tonks asked and they all started laughing.

“I smell grass and honeysuckle.” I finally answered in a whisper.

“Honeysuckle?” Asked Tonks surprised.

“Murphy smells like grass and honeysuckle?” Tulip couldn't believe it either.

“I wouldn't know, I never got a chance to get so close to him.” I lied. I knew Murphy's scent and what I smelled in that potion, smelled nothing like him.

[sergeanttpoliteness]

are requests open 🥺 apparantly in the 20s it was slang to call someone's bf daddy, given that can we get a reader who's from another dimension getting all blushy when noir mentions it given the context of it now?

hello, nonnie! so sorry it took me almost a week to get to this! thank you for the request, love :) you have no idea how much writing that sentence made me squirm from embarrassment

——-

➹jealousy➹(spider-noir x reader)

Peter isn’t one to get jealous, or at least that’s what he tries to tell himself. He doesn’t mind your ex who doesn’t seem to get ‘no’ for an answer. It’s the truth, he swears… right?

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this isn’t sponsored by starburst ™, lmao. anyway, y’all really like spider-noir, huh. i kinda played myself when i included both peter’s in this, ahaa, i tried my best to make it as least confusing as possible. i’m sorry, ily.

warnings: annoying ex, mild jealousy (i mean, it’s the title lol)

——-

You slowly drew the blinds of the window, and in spite of your speculations which you were nearly a hundred percent confident in, your eyes grew bigger as soon as you got a glimpse of the scene unfolding outside of Aunt May’s house. Shortly after, Miles and Peter B. Parker (you had to admit, the amount of Peter’s in your life truly scrambled your brain sometimes) joined you, and the three of you squeezed close together, attempting to look through the small slit without attracting much attention.

You had the urge to take your phone out of your pocket and start recording a video to send all your friends, for this was a spectacle that you weren’t sure you’d ever have the pleasure of witnessing ever again in your lifetime: a drunk man standing in the front yard, passionately belting out the lyrics of a song to the closed door of the house. “Did he, like, get the wrong house?” Miles muttered, his heart thumping fast as the young man noticed all three of you and pointed directly at you. 

“Please! Don’t leave me!” He cried out.

You took one last look at him before you retreated from the window, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No. That’s my ex.” You sighed, questioning why you ever were attracted to the boy as his tragic performance continued. Peter B. laughed and you closed your eyes, ashamed.

“That’s your ex?! The ex?” Yes, this was, in fact, not the first time they heard about your ex-boyfriend. The number of stories you had was inevitable since the train wreck of a relationship lasted two years, after all. Whilst he now went on to voice the instruments of the song, worry began to seep within everyone when you all simultaneously came upon the realization that somehow the jerk had discovered where you were staying during the weekend. Although you’d been like a daughter to May since you were a kid, you were aware she would not be content with you once she returned from her trip and heard that you failed in your basic task of taking care of her home and her address now belonged as part of a stalker’s knowledge.

Peter B. glanced at you, frowning. “You want me to go and talk to him?”

You appreciated his offer, and your inner voice urged you to cave into the most effortless way out of the situation; however, your eyes moved to the hallway, and another concern, more potent and persuasive, drowned it out. “Thanks, dude, but don’t worry, I’ve got it,” You smiled at him, albeit you weren’t entirely certain about that statement. “Just… you guys go and distract Peter and make sure he doesn’t find out my ex is here, or else…”

Eight months. From December up till August, you’d known the third Peter Parker in your life for eight months. In the fourth month, April, you recognized your true intentions and feelings. In the fifth month, you finally acted upon them, and made the first move. At last, June, the sixth month, rolled in, and Peter built up the courage to make things official. All those months possessed two constant factors: your ever-growing connection and… your ex.

One of the many characteristics you were thankful for and adored in Peter was his control over his jealousy. No fingerprints of possessiveness nor suffocating authority smeared your relationship, regardless of your distance, Peter’s background, the exasperating cameos of your ex-boyfriend, or that you’d expressed to him you didn’t want anyone other than the “spider-gang” (as Peter B. had named it) to know about you two being together since— well, how in the world were you supposed to explain where he came from?

You felt irrational and absurd once the thought passed through your head, but sometimes you wondered if Peter worried too little. The origin of said thought could be traced back to when you weren’t quite dating yet, and your ex booty-called you in the midst of your first date. Peter’s amused expression at your own embarrassed one puzzled you, yet you chose not to think much about it and instead were glad it didn’t send the evening down the wrong trail. The thought reappeared a second instant one month into your relationship, though, after you showed him a large bouquet of flowers, a poem attached to it that could be offensive to those who practiced the art and with your ex’s handwriting. Again, nothing; later, you two found yourselves mocking the failed poetry and the odd comparison of your adorableness to that of E.T.’s (you really had no explanation for that one).

However, the suspicion that perhaps he was too good at hiding his feelings arose when a week earlier, you got a phone call from your ex begging you to escape with him to Iceland. That was the first time you saw it: the hint of irritation in Peter’s stiff body and tense jaw. Minutes later, you blocked the phone number— an action way too long overdue, before things became strained.

You closed the front door behind you and approached the drunk man, resolute on preventing the two men from meeting each other and getting under each other’s skin as you clenched your fists closed. “I forgot to say out loud, how beautiful you really are to me!” Your ex sang, a smirk breaking out on his face when he saw your clear annoyance. “I can’t be without! You’re my perfect little punching bag—”

“Matt, what the hell are you doing?”

He quirked a brow, giving you a once-over. “Serenading you?” Matt said as if it were obvious. You rolled your eyes and scowled at him, keeping a significant distance between the two of you.

“No, I mean, how did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

Fear and disgust crawled all over your skin. You took a step back, narrowing your eyes. “Listen, I really don’t want to get in trouble, okay? So for the last time, please stop calling me—”

“But this isn’t a phone call.”

“Or following me.” You finished. He stumbled forward, shaking his head vigorously.

“But I love you,” He sniffed, wiping the one mediocre tear making its way down his cheek. You could feel a groan forming in your throat from his idiocy and child-like attitude; you couldn’t believe he was fucking crying.

You crossed your arms across your chest, unimpressed. “Well, I don’t.” His shift from sadness to anger caught you off guard.

“Bullshit, I know you still love me. I know you miss me,” Matt pointed an accusing finger at you, advancing closer. “Stop playing hard to get and let’s just, l-let’s just go back to normal—”

You laughed in disbelief, your mouth ajar. “Playing hard to get? How is this playing hard to get?!”

Meanwhile, Miles and Peter B. stood in front of Peter, blocking him from leaving the hallway as he remained in between the two and the bathroom door. “So, whatcha think?” Miles asked him, ogling the man. Peter bit again the yellow Starburst and chewed for a while, eyes squinted while he analyzed the flavor. He swallowed and looked down at the wrapper in the palm of his hand, nodding.

“I like it. I think it may be my favorite.”

“What? No way, try the pink flavor again,” Miles took out a pink squared candy from the bag and held it up to Peter’s face. “It’s the best.”

Peter B. shook his head in disagreement and stared down at Miles, scrunching his brows together. “What do you mean? Red is the best.” Miles, now distracted, dropped his arm by his side and showed him a face of utter disgust.

“Do your taste buds even work? Everyone I know says pink is best.”

“Do your dimension’s taste buds work? You’re totally wrong, bud.”

Peter pocketed the wrapper, shrugging. “Personally, I enjoyed all of them—”

“Try red.”

“No, pink.”

Peter B. groaned. “Pink is overrated.” Miles looked at him straight in the eye, expressionless.

“Your opinion is irrelevant.”

Peter B. Parker had never felt more hurt by a teenager.

“I’m the oldest one here! I think I know better.”

Peter was growing impatient. He cleared his throat and gently moved Miles aside. “All right, while you fellas discuss�� this, I’m gonna go—”

“No!” Miles placed the pink Starburst in Peter’s hand, frantic. “Eat the pink one.”

“Eat them all!” Peter B. chuckled nervously, shrugging with his hands raised, palms facing upwards. Miles nodded as if it were the best idea of the century.

“Yeah, I don’t want them anymore, here—” He slammed the bag of candy onto Peter’s chest. Peter hesitantly took ahold of it, visibly perplexed. He opened his mouth to question their strange behavior and if they thought he had been born yesterday, until a distant singing voice interrupted him. 

“And I need you! I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry! I love you, fuck!”

“What’s that?” 

‘The neighbors’, ‘The TV’, Peter B. and Miles said at the same time. 

This plan was doomed from the beginning.

“Da da da da! Da da da da!” 

Peter took off his glasses, guarding them inside his pocket and his brows knitted together before he pushed the two aside and took off, putting on his mask.

“Quiet down!” You hissed at Matt, glancing back at May’s house. His hands landed on your shoulders, but you immediately pushed him off you. “Fuck off, Matt! We’ve been broken up for seven months already! I moved on, and so should you!” He cocked his head to the side, his face twisted in confusion as if you’d just spoken in a foreign language.

“Broken up?” He repeated your words, voice small. “It was just a break.”

It was your turn to be confused. “What? …No. It’s over. It was over a long time ago.” 

His face fell as a realization dawned upon him and his gaze burned into yours, emotionless, making you more uncomfortable. “You’re seeing someone else, aren’t you?”

Your heartbeat sped up. “No, I said I moved on, not that I was seeing someone else—”

“You’re cheating on me?”

You took in a deep breath, close to tipping to the edge. “Again, we’re broken up.” You reiterated harshly. “As in we’re not a relationship anymore.” But Matt’s dense self wouldn’t give up just yet.

“It was just a break.” 

You’ve had it.

“It’s not a fucking break!” You shouted, making him jump. You heard the front door open and you both whipped around, your heart dropping. As soon as your sight landed on Peter going down the stairs, you gulped. Peter B. and Miles’ plan wasn’t the only one that failed that night.

“What’s going on here?” Peter’s voice was hard, bitter. You speed-walked closer to him before he could reach Matt.

“Peter—” You stopped him in his tracks, your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him out of here, okay? I got it.” No, you didn’t, most definitely not. And you could tell he knew.

He looked at Matt, and although his face remained covered, chills ran down the latter’s spine. “Are you Matt?” Peter asked loudly. Matt narrowed his eyes, puffing out his chest.

“Who are you?” He nodded at Peter, trying to sound intimidating, but the other didn’t move a muscle.

“I asked you a question.”

Matt studied Peter’s dark outfit, wondering if he was so drunk he was imagining the man. “Y-Yeah, that’s me. I’m Matt.”

“All right. Look at me, Matt.” Matt did as he said. “Good. Now, listen very closely.”

“What are you doing?” You whisper-screamed at Peter, giving him a warning with your eyes. “I said I got this.”

Peter stared at you, considering letting you handle it by yourself as you wished. But the flare, the ire at your ex had been fortifying, expanding slowly since the beginning; and now that he was there, just a few feet away— a drunken moron who relentlessly peeved you and riled him up— ultimately, impatience engulfed him and he shook his head. “You clearly don’t.”

Once Peter reached Matt, he towered over him. Matt blinked up at him, feeling smaller than ever. “Y/N’s with me now. If I hear from you one more darn time, then the coppers will be the least of your worries. Trust me. Got it?” Peter said lowly, and Matt solely nodded. “Got it?” He repeated through clenched teeth.

Matt put his hands in the air in defeat, backing away. “Heard you, man. Fuckin’ weirdo.” He muttered before he turned around and sat down on the sidewalk. You grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him back inside, where Peter B. and Miles sat on the couch and flashed you apologetic smiles after you barged in. 

“Sorry. I’ll call a cab for him,” Peter said behind you. You waved your hand at him, shrugging and mumbling ‘it’s okay’.

“Is it over?” Miles asked, trying to look out the window from the sofa. You nodded. “Okay, can we finally go over the plan—”

Peter took off his mask, disheveling his dark hair. “Why did you try to keep this from me?” You turned around and rubbed your face, slightly frustrated.

“Because I didn’t want what just happened to happen.”

“What? Me telling him to scram off since you wouldn’t?” 

“Peter, I told you: I don’t want anyone to know about this.” You gestured between you two. You’d had this conversation before, and he understood your reasoning. He truly did. His appearance, it screamed at the top of its lungs the truth that he did not belong there. It simply was obvious, unmistakable. However, now that he’d curbed the restraint he’d created for himself once, his authentic feelings and mouth were loose, completely out of his control.

“He wasn’t going to stop bugging you!” He pointed out the window. “What if he did something worse in the future?”

“But now he’s gonna tell other people that I’m seeing someone!”

“And so what?”

You laughed, your brows furrowed. “They’re gonna want to meet you! What am I gonna do, then? ‘Ah, yes, meet my boyfriend from the 1930s!’”

Again, you noticed that irritation in his features. But all of a sudden, it was clear that it was more than just annoyance.

Jealousy. He was jealous.

“All right, then! I want other people to know who your real daddy is!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows lifted and his hands on his waist.

You heard Peter B. and Miles explode, both shouting ‘whoa!’ while you sputtered and sensed your cheeks blazing. 

“Yo, gross! Keep it in the bedroom!”

“We have a minor in here, please!”

Peter’s sight jumped between the three of you, his expression the definition of puzzlement as you covered your face with your hands and Peter B. and Miles continued feeding your embarrassment with their comments. “W-what? What did I say?” He stuttered, looking at you helplessly.

You peeked one eye up at him, laughing. “Pete, baby…”

Needless to say, after you updated Peter on slang, his flushed self couldn’t quite concentrate as Miles went over the plan.

[eldamaranquendi]

SILMARILLION by  ArlenianChronicles (full project)

1.  I've started a new project, as you can see! I was inspired by my Beren and Luthien project to illustrate the whole Silmarillion XD It's going to be a heck of a while before it's done, but I hope you guys enjoy following along on the journey! So here we have part 1 of my Silmarillion project. First is the Ainulindale, featuring Eru Iluvatar, the Ainur, the creation of Arda, and the standoff between Manwe and Melkor for the dominion of Arda.

2.  The second part of my Silmarillion project, Valaquenta. Here are the top three Valar, Manwe, Ulmo, and Aule; the top three Valier, Varda, Yavanna, and Nienna; their Maiar, Eonwe, Ilmare, and Olorin; and the Enemies, Melkor and Sauron.

3.  The third part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 1 to 4! I'll be posting one part each instead of two at a time from now on XD This part features the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion; Aule and Yavanna creating the Dwarves and Ents; five of the first Elves, Elwe (Thingol), Olwe, Finwe, Ingwe, and Nowe (Cirdan); and the lovers, Thingol and Melian. Phew, lots of Elves to draw! Also, some Tolkien fans might notice that Elmo and Lenwe are missing from the drawing of the Elves that awoke at Cuivienen. That's because I forgot, and then there wasn't enough space!

4.  The fourth part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 5 to 8, featuring King Finwe of the Noldor, High King Ingwe of the Vanyar (and all Elves in Valinor, and King Olwe of the Teleri; Feanor and Melkor, representing two events of the chapter; Feanor and the Silmarils, and the destruction of the Two Trees by Ungoliant and Melkor.

5.  The fifth part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 9 to 12, featuring a bloody Fëanor after having fought the Teleri Elves; Melian creating the Girdle (magical barrier) around the realm of Doriath; the Maiar Arien and Tilion holding the last fruit and flower Laurelin and Telperion (all respectively lol); and a family of the first Edain (mortal men).

6.  MASSIVE CREDITS TO CHRISTOPHER TOLKIEN FOR THE ILLUSTRATION OF THE MAP OF BELERIAND. My copy of the Silmarillion has a map, which I scanned and traced over in Paint Tool SAI so that it'd be high res. Tracing all those words was what took me so long! The sixth part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 13 to 16, featuring Feanor fighting balrogs (not shown lol), and Fingolfin crossing the Grinding Ice; the Map of Beleriand; Melian attempting to learn more from Galadriel about why the Noldor left Aman; and Maeglin and Aredhel escaping Nan Elmoth (his birth home). On the map, the words in red are the names of the lands, and the pale words are the Elven lords (and lady) ruling over hose lands. So for example, Thingol and Melian are presiding over Doriath, and Caranthir is presiding over Thargelion.

7.  The seventh part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 17 to 20, featuring Finrod's meeting with the Edain; Fingolfin and Morgoth during the Dagor Bragollach; Beren, Luthien, and Huan, with Beren's severed hand holding a Silmaril; and Fingon surrounded by balrog whips during the Fifth Battle. Originally, the Silmaril in Beren and Luthien's illustration was supposed to have a horizontal line to complete the geometric effect, but since it cut across their faces, I had to take it out. Also, I know that Finrod's meeting with the Edain technically took place in the middle of the night, but I have a lot of nighttime backgrounds in these illustrations already, so I wanted to do a dawn-like background!

8.  The eighth part of my Silmarillion project, chapters 21 to 24, featuring Turin, Nienor, and Beleg, with the sword Anglachel; Melian and the death of Thingol, along with the Feanorian banner (to represent the Second Kinslaying); Tuor, Idril, and Earendil, along with a dragon climbing the King's Tower in Gondolin; and Earendil and Elwing with the Silmaril, while their sons Elrond and Elros are taken by Maedhros and Maglor in the Third Kinslaying. The stories of Turin Turambar and the Fall of Gondolin are large stories, so I decided to go with portraits of the main characters, especially with Turin's chapter. I feel like I could've done something a bit more creative with the Fall of Gondolin, but I'm pleased with this one nevertheless XD Also, I'm really happy I managed to squeeze in my favourite Tolkien family -- Maedhros and Maglor with Elrond and Elros hahahahaa (If only showing their hands lol) This part concludes the Quenta Silmarillion, which I forgot to mention began at chapter 1. There are now two parts left in the Silmarillion to illustrate!

9.  The ninth part of my Silmarillion project, Akallabeth, featuring the Door of Night through which Morgoth is banished; Elrond Halfelven, his twin Elros Tar-Minyatur -- who is crowned the first king of Numenor -- and Nimloth, the White Tree of Numenor; Sauron in the guise of Tar-Mairon, councillor to the last king of Numenor, Ar-Pharazon; and Manwe with Iluvatar, the latter of which sends great waves to destroy Numenor. So I was looking back at part 8 of my project, and I have to say that the illustrations for Turin Turambar and the Fall of Gondolin are the ones that I am least satisfied with. I mean, I wish I had added a few more beakers around the King's Chemistry Beaker of Gondolin (cuz it looks like one, the way I drew it lol), to make it look more like a city XD So I hope this part makes up for that, at least with regards to visual interest Just one more part left to go!!

10.  The tenth and final part of my Silmarillion project, Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age, featuring Celebrimbor and Annatar (another of Sauron's forms) crafting the rings of power; two of the Istari, Saruman and Gandalf (there are three others, not just these two lol), and the Eye of Sauron; Samwise Gamgee carrying Frodo Baggins up Mt. Doom to destroy the One Ring; and the last (but not really the last XD) white ship sailing into the West. So we've finally come to the end! I want to thank all of you for sticking with me and supporting me through this big project! It took two months -- from June 10 to August 12 -- to finish! I'm very proud of my work, and also relieved that I was able to finish it, in a way XD I'm so happy that I was able to share this project with you all! I learned quite a bit about composition and lightning and shading in this project. For any who were wondering, I think my favourite illustrations out of them all are parts 4 and 7. I especially like how I drew the light of the Silmarils in those ones XD I feel like I could've done better on part 8, but I still like that one  If you like, let me know which ones you liked the most! I would love to hear your feedback!   Now is the time for a little break, in which I will finish up some other things. Then I can announce the next project that I've planned (which will hopefully be soon lol)!

[rarely-conscious]

Wrote some smut for a friend, coz what else are friends for?

Posting it under a cut coz it’s long (for a tumblr post at least) will hopefully get it uploaded to literotica soon.

Constructive feedback is always appreciated. Oh, and it’s got Thor in it xD

Ride the Lightning

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. His long golden hair fell across his face as he massaged his temples, he felt completely drained from the day’s events. The god of thunder sat there for several minutes, perched on the purple silk covers of his bed. The bedroom itself was lavish, like most of Asgard the walls were adorned with gold. Several doors led off the main chamber, one to the en-suite bathroom, another to a walk-in wardrobe larger than most people’s living rooms.

Thor was so busy lamenting the long day that he’d had, that he didn’t notice her come in. He was reflecting on the plethora of meetings and various other political obligations he’d had to deal with that day. It wasn’t until the sound of clothing dropping to the floor that he finally looked up. His chiselled jaw dropped as he took in the sight of his paramour. Nic stood about 5 feet in front of him, a cloak lying at her feet. She posed seductively, hands on corset-clad hips. Her electric blue hair fell to just below her shoulders, and she wore black lipstick that contrasted starkly against her ivory skin. As Thor’s gaze traversed its way down her frame he took in the sight of her ample cleavage, ready to burst out of her cobalt corset. Her lower half was covered with black lace panties and a pair of fishnet tights. A pair of knee-high boots completed the look.

By the simple act of gazing upon the face of his lover, Thor felt his fatigue melt away almost instantly. His hands fell to his side as he stood, covering the distance between them in several quick strides. Despite the fact Nic stood at nearly six feet tall in her heels, he still had to lower his face to meet hers. Their lips met with a literal spark from the god, causing a high pitched squeak to escape from Nic. Her hands came to rest around his neck, whilst his gripped around each side of her waist. They continued to kiss passionately, tongues dancing in each other’s mouths as Nic moved her hands up, gripping his long golden hair between her pale fingertips.

Thor was the one to break the kiss, lowering his lips down to her neck, sucking gently on the skin at regular intervals while moving towards her ear. She bit her lip as he made it to her right ear, and he started gently nibbling on her ear lobe. Nic shut her eyes and tightened her grip, now pulling tightly on his hair. He let out a low thunderous growl at the light twinge of pain, and she felt herself melt in his arms.

Several moments later, Nic’s pale hands had found their way underneath the cloth of Thor’s shirt. Her fingers began tracing her way up the grooves of his chiseled abdominal muscles. Thor continued to elicit breathy moans from her in response as he gently nibbled on her ear. As her breathing became quickly more laboured, Nic decided to start moving her right hand in the opposite direction quite abruptly, tracing back down his skin, past his waist and down to the front of his trousers. She felt a thick bulge rapidly growing beneath her hand.

The low growling from Thor once again reverberated around the room like thunder as he felt his lover’s hand rubbing up and down over his crotch. He quickly pulled himself back up to his full height, grabbing Nic by the waist. His strong arms lifted her briefly into the air before throwing her forcefully onto the bed. She bounced nearly a foot in the air after landing.

Taken aback by the sudden change of position, she lifted her head off the pillows, straining to see what had become of Thor. He was already half-way out of his shirt. She continued to watch as he pulled it over his head and cast it aside. Thor’s muscles, now exposed to the light of the bedroom rippled with the occasional spark of electricity. Nic bit her lip in anticipation, her heart racing.

Taking several steps forward, Thor mounted the bed, crawling towards his lover. Their eyes locked briefly before their lips followed suit. The kissing continued for several minutes, muffled grunts and moans almost continuously escaping from both pairs of lips as the intensity increased. Nic’s long black fingernails drew thin red lines down Thor’s chiseled back, raking against his bare skin. Thor felt the sharp pressure making grooves in his back and moaned loudly into Nic’s mouth. He bit her bottom lip, lightly tugging on it as she continued to rake her nails across his back, over and over again until there were dozens of criss-crossing lines marking his sculpted torso.

“Careful”, he breathed into her ear “I’ll have to tie you down if you can’t be more careful with those claws”. She let out an involuntary moan in response, and almost unconsciously drew her nails down his back one last time. Thor grinned wryly at her response. “That’s what I thought”. As he finished speaking, he lifted himself up off of the bed, his strong arms easily breaking her grip on his torso. He stood by the head of the four-poster, reaching for the nearest post. A faint glow emanated from the point of contact as his fingers brushed against the twisted gold of the bedpost. Nic wasn’t quite able to make out the words he whispered in a low breath, but she was sure that they weren’t from a language she recognised.

The moment Thor finished speaking, thick grey chains sprung from the top of the four bedposts. They snaked their way down towards the bed, slithering along the covers until they reached Nic’s pale skin. The chains from the foot of the bed slid their way underneath her body, forming a makeshift hammock beneath her as they lifted her entire body gently into the air. Meanwhile the remaining pair of chains began to slowly turn her over until she was face-down, hanging about a foot off the bed. The chains then slowly lowered her back down onto the bed, but they didn’t relinquish their hold on her. Instead each one wrapped itself around a different limb, coiling multiple times until she was ensnared up to her knees and elbows respectively.

Nic was now hanging face-down above the silk sheets, with each of her four limbs attached to a different bedpost. The metal of the chains was cold, but not uncomfortably so, and she was surprised in the lack of pressure on her torso. Here she was suspended by her arms and legs, but could not feel her own body pulling down against the chains. Instead she felt like a cushion of air was supporting the rest of her body. She felt somehow completely exposed, and entirely safe at the same time. She knew her lover would not let any harm befall her, whether she was bound and helpless in their bedroom or standing by his side in battle.

“Now then” said Thor, abruptly pulling Nic out of her train of thought, “are you going to behave?” he asked in a low voice.

“Y-yes sir” Nic said meekly, her voice barely above a whisper. Thor moved slowly around the head of the bed until he was level with Nic. As she raised her head to face him, her eyes were met with the sight of Thor’s smooth stomach. The urge to sink her teeth into his skin was only overcome by the restraints that kept her suspended in place.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Thor, with just a hint of menace in his voice.

“Yes sir, I will behave” her response was more resolved than before, but still quiet.

“How can I believe you?” asked Thor “when you already disobeyed me by continuing to use those talons of yours.” Various noises of discomfort came out of Nic’s mouth, none of them quite resembling words. “Save your tongue my love, it was rhetorical” he smirked, amused at how easily he could fluster her into such a mess that she was no longer coherent. “I think we shall make it ten strikes as punishment today, five on each side - what say you?” He knelt down so that his face was level with hers.

Her nods came as an unconscious reaction, “yes sir” she repeated for the third time. She became filled with a strange mixture of trepidation and excitement, as she knew first hand just how hard the god of thunder could smack her round arse. Thor reached one hand forward, lifting her chin towards him and gave her a soft, firm kiss. “Good girl” he growled. Nic could feel her cheeks reddening while her panties grew damp just from hearing those two magic words.

Quite abruptly he broke the kiss and stood up. As he vanished from her view Nic could feel him climb back onto the bed next to her. She tried not to tense up, knowing how much more it would hurt if she did.

*SMACK*

The loud sound lightly echoed around the large room, followed quickly by the sound of Thor’s voice “one.”

*SMACK*

“Two” he continued, as he spanked her again. The third and fourth blows came quickly, one after the other. While there was a longer pause between the fifth and sixth. The god continued his counting out loud as each blow landed, smiling to himself as he watched his bound beauty squirm beneath his touch. Finally the ninth and tenth blows came, and while Thor had definitely reigned in the force he was using by this point, Nic still felt each stinging blow more intensely than the last.

As her punishment ended, she once again heard a low whisper from Thor in the form of several strange words she could not quite make out. She felt herself lowering towards the bed as the chains extended. Expecting to be freed she attempted to turn around to face Thor, but could not. The thick metal chains were still wrapped tightly around her limbs, but now she was laid flat on the bed instead of being suspended above it. Before she could convey her confusion she felt a finger slide up the length of her slit. An involuntary shudder came over her while a loud moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

“You’re mine” came the deep voice of Thor, now directly behind her as he lifted her hips from the bed. Her legs had been moved into a kneeling position, while her face still laid sideways on the crisp silk sheets. Nic felt her panties being pulled to one side and Thor pressing the tip of his cock against her pussy. He entered her slowly, savouring the sensation while moving a hand to each of her hips. Nic let out a gasp as she felt the warmth of his cock filling her up. His strong fingers dug into her skin as he gripped her hips tightly, gradually easing his cock in all the way to the base. He pulled about half way out before pushing himself in again all the way to the base. It wasn’t long before Thor had built up a rhythm, the light sound of skin slapping against skin as the bed shook beneath them from the force of his thrusting. This continued on for several minutes before Thor’s pace began to slow, beads of sweat now appearing at his forehead.

One final thrust came before a quick slap to Nic’s still reddening behind. She let out a strange sound that was half-way between a yelp and a moan. She barely had time to recover before she felt the heavy metal of her chains unwinding, pulling away from her skin. Despite the imprints on her arms and legs, she felt no residual soreness from her bondage, only the hot stinging on her still sensitive backside. Seconds later she felt herself once again being flipped over, landing softly on her back. Her eyes were quickly greeted to the sight of the now naked Thor kneeling above her, his expression one of pure lust. His arms reached out towards the top of her corset, caressing the exposed skin of her pale breasts before ripping the garment clean in two. A brief feeling of sadness on Nic’s part as she watched the two halves of the shredded corset cast aside. They were quickly forgotten as Thor dove onto her breasts. She began to moan again in earnest as he sucked on each of her nipples in turn, his fingers playfully pinching and twisting the one not currently between his lips and teeth. As he continued to alternate between sucking on each breast, Nic reached out with her right hand until she found Thor’s stomach. She traced her way down his abdomen with her index finger until reaching his crotch before grasping his rock hard cock in her hand.

Nic wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly massaging her way up and down while Thor sucked hungrily away at her nipples. The urge to pleasure her partner in return had been building up in her for a while at this point, and moments later she used the brief pause in Thor’s sucking to push him off her. Grabbing his back, she pulled him down next to her before sitting up. She continued stroking his cock, steadily increasing the pace before lowering her head. Nic’s blue hair, now somewhat dishevelled covered most of her face as her lips parted. She gently licked and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of her own juices lingered on him, causing her to let out a deep ‘mmmh’ at the same time as her lips enveloped his cock.

Thor for his part was also moaning gently, closing his eyes in elation as he gripped a handful of purple bed sheets either side of him. Spurred on by her lover’s reactions, she began to bob up and down, her right hand continuing to massage his shaft and balls as her lips and tongue worked furiously. She teased him every now and then, releasing his length from her mouth and then ever so slowly sliding her tongue from base to tip.

After the third time she ran her tongue all the way up the underside of his cock, Thor grew tired of the teasing. Without so much as looking down he grabbed two handfuls of her disheveled blue hair and pushed her entire face back down on his cock. She gagged and spluttered as he reached the back of her throat. There was only a couple of seconds for her to gasp for air before he used the grip he had on the back of her head to vigorously fuck her face.

Just as suddenly as he had started, Thor stopped. Pulling Nic off of his cock and letting her catch her breath for several seconds before pushing her back down on the bed. He treated her panties with the same disregard he had her corset, tearing them off her in one swift motion. This in turn created a large hole in her fishnets, leaving her beautiful pale form completely exposed, save for the remainder of the tights. Thor beheld the wonderful sight of his now naked lover for several seconds before diving back down towards her. This time his face went straight towards her pussy, pushing her legs apart with his hands and licking away enthusiastically.

Nic’s moans once again echoed throughout the room as he widened his tongue, running it all the way up and down her slit. He quickly switched to putting pressure on her clit with his tongue, increasing the volume of her outbursts. She could feel him alternating between licking in circular motions and gently sucking on her clit. Not satisfied, he moved his right hand toward her, sliding a finger inside. Her intense arousal allowed him to easily slide his index finger in, so he quickly added his middle finger, turning his palm face-up and motioning the ‘come hither’ gesture. Thor continued to lap at her pussy in earnest, attempting to respond to her reactions by changing movement or pressure when she got quieter, and doubling down when a particularly loud moan escaped her lips.

A number of minutes passed before Nic felt a familiar tingling sensation building up. She gripped handfuls of Thor’s hair, pushing his face into her crotch. She let out a moan that was almost a scream as her whole body convulsed, shaking as the orgasm overtook her. Thor did not relent, moving his tongue quickly over her clit along with his fingers continuing their beckoning motion inside her. Together they rode out her climax, Thor only relenting when she had completely stopped shaking.

Just when she thought she had a moment of respite, she once again felt strong hands maneuvering her body. Thor had picked her up off the bed once again, this time he was sitting upright on the edge of the bed. He lowered her down, his cock entering her pussy for a second time. Still sensitive from her recent orgasm, Nic shuddered as she was slowly lowered onto Thor’s cock. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he began bouncing her up and down, his hands firmly grasping the soft skin of her hips. Low grunts escaped Thor’s lips as he picked up the pace, eager for release after the slow build-up. Nic felt the urgency emanating from her lover and used her loose grip to bounce herself faster and faster up and down on his cock. Then, without warning, she lowered her head and sank her sharp teeth into his shoulder. He let out a roar, his eyes glowing with power as he re-doubled his efforts, Nic’s teeth still firmly planted in his shoulder. Moments later he stopped bouncing, the sound of skin slapping now replaced with a guttural moan from the god as he climaxed. Nic moaned into his shoulder, slowly releasing her grip as she felt his warm load filling her up.

After a few seconds to get their breath back they collapsed sideways onto the bed. Thor spooning Nic from behind as they continued to lay naked, both simply grateful for the company of the other as they came down from their post-orgasm high. Thor kissed her multiple times on the shoulder, pulling her closer. She wriggled in next to him, enjoying the sensation of their bare skin touching.

Several hours later they could both be found in the throne room of Asgard, surrounded by golden pillars. They were alone save for the guards who stood sentry at the entrance, awaiting the attendees of various politicians and other so-called important people. Thor was clad in his finest armour, Mjolnir resting on the right arm of the throne. Nic on the other hand was once again adorned with a beautiful silk navy dress lined with silver roses, and knelt by the god’s feet, her head resting in his lap.