#wizard side please explain

[fex-the-infernal]

Hay can someone tell me what the tumblr spells are?

Like I know loss. But that’s more of a gliph rather then a spell

And the Consering spell to summon sciences side of tumblr, which is scicens side of tumblr please explain, but that spell is no use for this inquiry.

[thecharacterchronicler]

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

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Next in this series;

[bluekidchaos]

Holding you again

here's to hoping i write a bit more this year!!

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, post-second wizarding war, severus snape lives, mostly suggestive smut, fluffy smut, some angst

Words: 1,3k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

I had accepted my death from the very beginning -knowing it was inevitable- and I had made my peace with it, mostly. Many regrets haunt me but the biggest one is leaving her behind with my timely demise. Those regrets hit me as that damned snake lunged at me, as I gave Potter my tears, as I could feel my life slip from me. One final thought before I disappear, forgive me.

-

My lungs are on fire, no, I think I'm drowning? Maybe it's both. My whole body aches, my ears are ringing and I can't see, it's too bright or.. maybe too dark? Is this what hell feels like? It must be, eternal agony.

There's shouting around me, movement, it sounds like her, but it can't be. I'm dead. It's just a last cruel joke from the universe.

-

A muffled voice tears through my senses. "Sev? I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, I just wanted to say.. I miss you, please come back to me." A cruel joke indeed.

Severus wakes up with a yell, the searing pain jolting him upwards making him almost double over in the bed. Frantically looking around him for any sign that he's in danger. The lights are blinding him but he can faintly make out that he's in a hospital.

A healer runs into the room, a young woman he recognizes having taught a couple of years prior. She says something to him but the ringing in his ears is too loud.

Severus is on edge. While he's sure he's at St. Mungos, he doesn't know whether Voldemort is dead or if he's actually safe.

His senses are working overtime now. Severus is holding one hand towards the ceiling trying to shield his eyes from the harsh light. The ringing is slowly starting to cease and some words are getting through to him.

"Professor? ... Can you - me?" The woman notices his aversion to the light and dims it a bit.

Severus tries to speak back but only gargled noises come out and he finally acknowledges the pain in his throat. Feeling like someone tore it out and put it all back wrong.

"Don't try to speak, you're still healing. Here, you must be thirsty." She hands him a glass with a straw in it. The first sip feels like heaven, if he were alone he'd probably let out an audible moan at how good it felt.

Another healer comes in shortly after, a man this time, that Severus knows from when he has supplied the hospital with potions. He explains everything to Severus, Voldemort was defeated by Potter, and they won the war. He was in critical condition when they brought him here and he's been in a coma for six months.

Severus's thoughts start spiraling, it's been half a year. Where are you? Are you okay, alive?

The older healer tells him to rest but Severus can't stop thinking about you, and he also just woke up from a coma, how much more rest does he really need?

Whether he wanted to or not Severus did end up falling asleep again and when he woke you're sitting by his side, reading a book. He doesn't wanna disturb you at first, just takes some time to take you in. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, lower lip trapped between teeth while you focus on the words in the book.

It takes a couple of minutes before you look up from your book and notice his eyes on you but when you do you almost throw your book aside and jump at him. Landing perhaps a bit too roughly over him you embrace him in a tight hug, sobbing in relief.

"You really are awake! Oh merlin, I thought.. I-" Another sob broke through you and Severus held on tighter, he wanted to say something, to comfort you. Tell you it was okay now, but nothing came out.

-

Severus spent another six months in St. Mungos before they let him go home. During this time you were by his side every day. He regained his speaking abilities, his voice was still hoarse and would probably continue to be but at least he could talk again. The pain had mostly subsided into a dull background feeling.

The moment he stepped foot into their home he felt himself relax properly for the first time in a year. Fatigue hitting him pretty hard too, he wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and hold you.

You broke the silence first, "I think we could both use a nice hot bath right about now, hm?"

He only nodded at your proposal, a bath didn't sound too bad, he could still relax and he did need to wash off probably.

While the bathwater ran you helped each other undress, planting soft kisses over the exposed skin, gentle touches over faded scars.

Eventually moving into the bathroom you add some oils and bubbles to the water before stepping into it. Severus joins shortly after and once he's made himself comfortable you lean back against his strong chest.

His arms move to encircle you, holding you tightly like he's scared you'll disappear at any second. You let the silence envelop you, no words were needed.

Severus could feel his need for you rising with every second he had you in his arms, never wanting to let you go again. He started trailing kisses along your neck.

You moaned slightly in response and let your head fall back against his shoulder to give him more access. Feeling his arms untangle themself a little, one trailed up to cup your chest and the other slowly made its way down between your thighs.

The hand on your breasts groping you and rolling your nipples between his fingers while his other hand starts making slow and deliberate circles around your clit.

You whine into his ear and your legs fall open as much as the little tub lets them. A hand of your own reaches above you to tangle into his hair and guide his head to plant kisses on his face.

While his fingers are working you into a frenzy he captures your lips with a passionate and intense kiss, all the words you didn't say to each other before transferred through the kiss. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip to ask for entry.

You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue and taste overwhelm your senses, your tongue coming to meet his in a lazy battle for dominance that he eventually won.

Severus could feel you tense above him and his fingers sped up. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge, neither of you caring to drag out the moment much. It was pure desperation and need, longing for each other.

He had broken your kiss to catch his breath but his forehead was still connected to yours, not daring to break too much contact with you. "Let go my darling, I love you so much.."

Your orgasm washed over you softly, Severus's fingers slowing down a bit to not overstimulate you but keeping the movement up to extend your pleasure.

Only when he felt you relax in his arms again did he stop. He was back to kissing you, less hurried this time, just full of emotions and softness.

You pulled back a little to look at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes you just smiled at him.

Severus wiped away a stray tear before kissing you on the cheek and smiling back at you, seemingly understanding you. He kissed your face and head a few more times before letting you sink down more into the warmth of the tub and his embrace.

You stayed in the tub long after the water turned cold just holding on to each other. 

[iceysnow]

going through my docs and found this half-baked slop. for reference, I read a whole lot of identity reveal fics when I made this. He was the mightiest mortal alive. Within him resided the wisdom of Solomon, the legendary strength of Hercules, the inexhaustible stamina of Atlas, the potent powers of Zeus, the unwavering courage of Achilles, and the swift speed of Mercury. He bordered on the divine.

Yet, No god was a frail ten-year-old boy. At least, no one would expect a god to be as such. 

This wasn't supposed to happen, they weren't supposed to know. But now, the knowledge lay bare between them.

Their gazes fixed onto his diminutive stature, struggling hard to compare the boy to the imposing figure they had known. Hard to believe. Even Batman had been stunned by his appearance. The villain responsible for this sat unconscious, fell the instant the forced transformation took hold. All that remained was a disheveled child.

“I-I can explain… “ Explain what, what was he supposed to explain!? ‘Oh yeah, I tricked you guys for a whole year into thinking I was a functional adult. The thing is, I’m actually a ten-year-old orphan who was forced to protect all of magic by six gods and a wizard. Oopsie daisy! Please don't kick me out!’ There was no way that would work. 

And even if, by some miracle, they were receptive, this was the Justice League. Sure, Batman had Robin, and Superman had Superboy (almost every top-ranking hero has a mini-me and yet he’s the outlier)—but they operated under intense supervision. Billy seriously doubted his pantheon would qualify as "responsible adults" in their eyes.

"I don't think there's any explaining you can do." Supermans arms crossed, a clear frustration etched upon his face. 

"I know, but—!" his voice cracked. Crap, I'm terrible at this.

“You look seven.” Batman chimes in, remaining stoic. 

“I’m ten!” he wasn't even that small. Granted, he was on the shorter side, but that's the best you can get when you’re a malnourished street rat. Yeah, he got an apartment with Uncle Dudley’s help last month (the gods had kept complaining, and complaining, and they wouldn’t stop), that still didn’t erase his time in the gutter.

They frowned at his outburst. Was he being too loud? Or was it something else? It was probably the latter, a disquieting feeling settling in his gut. The wave of sympathy and pity washing over their faces confirmed his fears. Honestly, was it so unbelievable?

Superman speaks up again, breaking the silence."See, that's the problem. This is unhealthy—especially for someone your age." he reprimanded in that familiar, condescending tone that always grated Billy's nerves. It felt belittling, oppressive, inherently dismissive.

He hated it. 

"You were all perfectly fine with me on the mission last week!!" He knew that their concern stemmed from a place of care, that they would likely react this way to any child in his situation. None of these words of acknowledgement equaled words of acceptance.

"We didn’t know last week." Superman countered

“I didn’t want you to know!” 

"What we're trying to say is—you shouldn't have lied about something like this. If you wanted to join a hero team…" Hal slowed down, pausing his words. (Even behind his mask, Billy could sense the pity radiating off him) "Young Justice is too old for you…but…"

"That's exactly the problem! It doesn't matter about the team; you're too young to be dealing with these kinds of threats!" Barry swung his arms around, snarling when words couldn’t be spoken through tongue, instead communicating through half-baked gestures.  "If you're ten now, that means you became a hero when you were barely eight! Nightwing hardly passed for Batman, and he was nine!”

And at that, those words, Billy lost it.

 “Do you think I wanted to do this! Do you really think EVERYONE gets to choose!?”

This was stupid, they were stupid! What was even stupider was he could already see the turning cogs in their heads.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[seonghrtz]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘.

synopsis: gojo accidentally hurts megumi.

The last thing Fushiguro Megumi wanted was to spend the weekend with Gojo Satoru.

Since he and Tsumiki had not only been taken in by the strongest wizard of the generation, but also by you, Megumi believed that he would somehow see you more than Gojo. However, his wish was never fulfilled when he had to stay in Tokyo with Gojo. But even so, he still had his weekends away from Satoru's craziness, basking in the comfort of your simple life ⸻ the complete opposite of Gojo's extravagance.

These were moments he cherished, not least because the peace you radiated was so much more comforting than the chaos that was Gojo Satoru. The afternoons he spent quietly reading his favorite books, most of which were gifts from you, or even watching documentaries on animal life by your side were the only routine Megumi had during the weekends. Were the only routine Megumi wanted during the weekends.

However, due to recent events, Gojo seemed to be drawn to you and was always trying to be near you ⸻ which certainly didn't please Megumi at all, since what he wanted was distance from Gojo.

But as long as you were there, Megumi would at least try to enjoy the time he had in the midst of all the chaos.

Only Megumi had never imagined that he would have to spend so much time with Gojo when the sorcerer suggested that he start training to control his cursed energy.

Gojo was not good at teaching, he had no experience as a teacher and his explanations were always confusing and lacked any line of reasoning, he would easily get lost in his own words. Megumi had to decipher what Gojo meant if you didn't intervene with a clear and coherent explanation.

You were sitting on the floor in front of a small table between the sofa and the TV in Gojo's apartment, helping Tsumiki with a school assignment while Gojo and Megumi used the rest of the space in the living room to "train". Initially, they had suggested that they train outside, but the uncertain weather (and Megumi's reluctance to leave the penthouse alone with Gojo) didn't seem to help. So Gojo thought this would be a good idea.

Key words: Thought.

It turns out that not everything works out the way we imagine. And sometimes the universe throws us a curveball so that our original plans don't work out, no matter how hard we try.

And that's how Gojo ended up accidentally hurting Megumi during that "training" session.

When you least expected it, you heard a small moan of pain and looked in the direction of Gojo and Megumi to see little Fushiguro lying on the floor, writhing in pain and Satoru desperately trying to help the boy.

"Megumi!" You quickly got up from where you were with Tsumiki and ran towards Megumi, trying to help him "What happened, Gojo?"

"Aah, well... I tried to teach him how to defend himself and then I thought he would actually defend himself but that wasn't the case..."

"Why are you teaching Megumi to fight, I thought you only wanted to help him with his cursed energy." You took Megumi on your lap, protecting him from a non-existent threat.

“Megumi can see curses, I just thought it might be useful to teach him how to fight first."

"He's only six.”

"But he was the one who said he wanted to learn to fight. And it was you who told me to encourage him!" Gojo said in his defense.

"But Gojo, you're a little... too strong."

"You think I'm strong?" Gojo smiled sideways as he stared at you through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

"Don't change the subject!" You quickly rebuked him, "What I mean is that you have a much deeper knowledge of the Jujutsu Society and you understand their cursed technique, and that's one of the factors that makes you strong."

"I think you're the one changing the subject!" Gojo laughed.

"I was explaining myself." You rolled your eyes, "You don't need to rush into training him yet." You held Megumi and carried him on your lap.

"Where are you going?" Gojo asked as he watched you leave the room.

"Megumi's room.”

Megumi had never thought that he would (mentally) thank Gojo for hurting him.

The longed-for peace of his weekend had returned. Now, you sat next to him on the bed and read his favorite book while Gojo helped Tsumiki with her schoolwork.

"I think I better go and prepare lunch..." You said and looked at the clock on Megumi's bedside table.

"Can I watch TV?" Megumi asked.

"Of course you can, you don't have to ask permission." You ran your hand through Megumi's hair, messing up the unruly strands even more. Megumi hated it when Gojo did that, but with you it was different, he kinda liked it.

Megumi went into the living room and sat down next to Tsumiki who was watching a cartoon on the TV, apparently she had already finished her work.

After a while, when the smell of your food began to invade Gojo's apartment, Megumi got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen to watch you and Gojo cooking.

"Megumi!" You called, startled by the boy's sudden presence in the kitchen. "Is something wrong? Do you need something?" You bent down to his height and put your hand on his shoulder, looking for any sign that he might be hurt.

Megumi looked at you with bored eyes and just nodded, but at a glance, he noticed Gojo standing behind you with an indecipherable expression.

Megumi had noticed for a while that Gojo's behavior around you was completely different. He was still the same idiot as always, but he became even more idiotic when he tried to do things to get your attention. Not to mention that he always got annoyed when you didn't give a damn about the things he was doing ⸻ which was quite common.

It was quite clear that Gojo admired you and apparently always sought your approval. In a way, Megumi didn't judge him so much because that would have been hypocritical of him. Even as a child, he understood that you were cool and he admired you and sought your approval. It was great to get a compliment from you.

But Megumi thought it was more than admiration and seeking approval that Gojo wanted from you. He just couldn't say what it was.

"Oh, are you hungry?" You asked Megumi who nodded, "Lunch is ready, I'll just put it on the table." Your lips lifted slightly at the corner of your mouth and you stood up to get the plates and cutlery "Gojo, go tell Tsumiki that lunch is ready.

Gojo nodded and walked past Megumi, staring at him.

You set the lunch table and sat down in your usual chair. However, Megumi, who usually sat opposite you and next to Tsumiki, surprised you by sitting next to you. You looked at the boy, who just looked back at you and shrugged.

When Gojo returned with Tsumiki, he stared at Megumi under his sunglasses and took a deep breath.

Gojo sat down in the chair where Megumi used to sit and ate his lunch in silence, something that was not in his nature.

After lunch, when you and Satoru were clearing the table, you felt something tugging at your blouse and when you turned around, you saw Megumi and Tsumiki looking at you expectantly.

"What happened?"

"We wanted to watch a movie!" Tsumiki smiled.

"Ah..." You looked at the children and then at Gojo, "You don't have to ask permission to do things..." You said confused.

"We wanted to watch a movie with everyone, like when we watched Barbie," Tsumiki said, clarifying the situation.

"Got it..." You mumbled understandingly, "Well, when we finish cleaning up the kitchen, we'll watch the movie. Why don't you choose the movie in the meantime? It would be nice if Megumi chooses it this time, since you did it last time..."

"Good idea!" Tsumiki said excitedly and pulled her brother into the living room.

"So... are you staying the night again like last time?" Gojo asked with a touch of hope.

"Probably not, I have unfinished business in Kyoto."

After tidying up the kitchen, you went into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa, feeling your muscles relax into the softness of the seat.

Just as Gojo was about to sit down next to you, Megumi outwitted him and sat down in the empty spot, looking at Gojo with bored eyes but a glint of conquest.

Gojo bit his lower lip hard and sat down at the other end of the sofa, bitterly accepting his defeat.

So that was it. They fought a silent battle for your attention.

A fight in which Megumi had all the advantages. And that infuriated Gojo, who certainly wouldn't let it go. Gojo Satoru was not a loser and would not lose a fight, even against a six-year-old child.

memory garden masterlist !

☆! tag list: @arminswifee . @khaleesihavilliard . @chieeeeeee . @manooffline . @shybananabagellover . @r0ckst4rjk . @sad-darksoul . @chuluoyi . @stormflysaysstuff . @arminsarlerts

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[one-green-frog]

Malleus x M!Yuu (male reader) PLEASE!!! Malleus brought the reader to the palace as his wife-to-be, but some nobles, servants, and part of the public objected. The king needed an heir, and Yuu couldn't give him that. Yuu has no magic power and is HUMAN. They see it as a worthless person from unknown origin [poor Yuu] 😫

Too much pressure on Yuu [really poor]

Then: 1. What would Malleus do? What exactly would the royal life of Malleus and Yuu be like? 3rd and lastly can you NSFW if you can 🙂

Sorry for the very long and difficult requests. You definitely don't have to, don't force yourself for this

I will be very happy if you do Thank you:)

By Your Side

(Malleus x m!reader)

So no NSFW because i don't write that, and also, it's been a while that i played Twisted Wonderland but i hope it's still ok 👌

The relationship between (Y/N) and Malleus had always been one of gentle affection, a love that broke through the differencesof both their worlds.. It had all started when Malleus, a prince and one of the strongest magic users of this world, had discovered (Y/N), a human, stargazing outside the old abandoned dormitory. Despite being a student with no magic, (Y/N) had a spark about him that caught Malleus’s attention. He wasn’t intimidated by Malleus’s immense power, he didn't even seem the least bit frightened, nor did he treat him as though he were untouchable. For the first time in Malleus’s life, he met someone who saw him as more than just a prince, more that a powerful wizard, someone who valued him for the person he truly was.

As the months passed, that initial spark of friendship turned into something deeper. Malleus found himself drawn to (Y/N)'s kindness, his gentle nature, and the way he made Malleus feel seen and heard in a world full of people who either only saw his title or feared him due to his magic power. They spent countless evenings together in quiet, private moments, enjoying each other's company. Whether it was walking at night under the stars while Malleus explained once again the different types of gargoyles or sitting in together and enjoying tea, world outside seemed to fade away when they were together.

Soon, the bond between them blossomed into a love that was gentle and pure, the kind of love that made Malleus’s heart swell with affection every time (Y/N) smiled at him. (Y/N), in turn, had fallen deeply in love with Malleus’s quiet strength, his caring nature, and the warmth he felt when they shared intimate moments. It wasn’t long before Malleus made his intentions clear: (Y/N) would be his consort, and nothing would ever change that.

However, once they announced their relationship, they were thrust into the harsh reality of palace politics. Despite Malleus’s royal status, many of the nobles and servants were less than pleased with his choice of a partner. The fact that (Y/N) was human and lacked magic was already a "huge mistake" for them. How could the crown prince be such an utter fool. But the biggest issue among the court was that (Y/N) was male. They considered him an unsuitable partner, a "worthless" person from an unknown origin, not extraordinary in any way. They were especially vocal about how (Y/N) couldn’t provide the kingdom with an heir, further sealing their disapproval.

Every day, (Y/N) was faced with glares from servants and whispers from nobles. At first, it was difficult for him to bear the weight of their hatred. He was no stranger to discrimination as a human in a magical world, snarky remarks or simple intolerance but the coldness from Malleus’s own people was something new. Even though Malleus had warned him about the challenges they would face, nothing could truly prepare (Y/N) for how isolating it would feel. He often felt like an outsider, like an alien, which he kind of was, but he felt so much hatred coming from those people, he felt ashamed to even exist in this world, constantly trying to find his place in a world that made it clear he wasn’t welcome.

Malleus, however, could sense the toll it was taking on his beloved. He watched the way (Y/N)’s shoulders would slump after long days of royal affairs, how the light in his eyes dimmed whenever he had to face the hateful stares of the palace staff. It hurt Malleus deeply to see his partner so affected, and as his protector, he vowed to never let (Y/N) face this pressure alone.

One night, after a particularly exhausting day, Malleus found (Y/N) sitting alone in their chambers, curled up in a chair near the window. It was a moonless night, clouds were covering the stars and yet he look outside as if it was the most beautiful view he had ever seen. But Malleus could see the tension in his posture, the way his fingers were nervously playing with the fabric of his sleeve.

Without a word, Malleus moved silently across the room, his large, strong hands gently resting on (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) startled, turning to face him, and for a moment, their eyes locked—Malleus’s green eyes filled with worry and affection, (Y/N)’s eyes betraying his exhaustion and frustration.

“I know it’s been hard,” Malleus said, his voice soft and tender. “But you do not have to face this alone. I will never let them harm you.”

(Y/N) smiled faintly, but it was tinged with sadness. “I know you would do anything for me, Malleus. But it’s so hard… I’m not like them. I don’t belong here. And every time I see their looks, hear their whispers… i can't help but feel as if their words are the truth”

Malleus’s heart ached as he knelt down in front of (Y/N), his hands gently cupping the other’s face. “You are everything to me,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead. “Your worth is beyond measure, (Y/N). I chose you because I love you—not because of what you can give me or your status. You are perfect as you are. Please, do not listen to their poison.”

Malleus held (Y/N) close then, pulling him into his arms as if to shield him from the world outside. The warmth of Malleus’s embrace was comforting, a sense of security washing over (Y/N) as he closed his eyes, resting against Malleus’s chest. He could feel the steady beat of the prince’s heart, the rhythm of a love that would never falter.

“I’ll protect you,” Malleus murmured against (Y/N)’s hair. “I’ll protect you from all who would dare harm you. No one will ever come between us.”

Over time, Malleus’s protective nature only grew stronger. His love for (Y/N) was all-consuming, and he showed it in the sweetest of ways—through tender kisses, loving caresses, and moments of quiet intimacy. Whenever (Y/N) felt overwhelmed by the pressures of palace life, Malleus would be there to comfort him, to pull him into his arms and soothe him with gentle words and affectionate gestures.

When they walked through the palace together, Malleus would hold (Y/N)’s hand tightly, as if to remind the world that (Y/N) belonged to him. He would often pull (Y/N) closer when they were alone, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his partner’s shoulder. These small, intimate moments were what helped (Y/N) feel loved and cherished, even when the world seemed against them.

There were nights when Malleus would take (Y/N) into their private chambers, where they could forget about the world outside. He would gently kiss (Y/N)’s lips, pulling him into a deep, loving embrace, and for a brief moment, they would be just two souls in love, without the weight of the kingdom pressing down on them.

“I’m yours,” Malleus would whisper in between kisses, his voice filled with affection. “Only yours.”

As the years passed, the royal couple grew stronger, their bond unbreakable. The people of the kingdom, who had once doubted (Y/N), now saw the depth of his love for Malleus. The nobles who had once disapproved were forced to accept the reality of their union, and those who still opposed (Y/N) were dealt with swiftly by Malleus, who never hesitated to defend his partner.

Years later, (Y/N) and Malleus ruled the kingdom together, side by side, as equals. The love they shared had triumphed over every obstacle, and now, they led their kingdom with compassion and wisdom. Under their rule, the kingdom flourished, and their love continued to grow stronger each day. In the quiet moments, when they were alone in their chambers, they would still share the same sweet kisses, the same gentle touches, and the same unwavering love that had started it all.

In the end, it was clear: no matter what anyone else thought, Malleus and (Y/N) were meant to be together, forever.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Chapter Five

I Will Wait Mumford & Sons

Sirius Black x Reader (Past) / Remus Lupin x Reader (Ambiguous-Past)

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is still having dreams of her past, while McGonagall convinces Dumbledore to remove the curse on her.

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Mean Remus, Jealous/Jerk Sirius, Fights, mentions of death and murder, minor character death (please reach out if I missed something}

Wc- 4364

A/n: Starting a taglist! Comment to Dm to be added!

You stayed in Moody’s comfort for what felt like hours. You could have stayed for days more, but eventually the strain to your still throbbing limbs and aching body was doing you in.

Moody practically herded you to the couch, allowing you to sit down, and after some push back with him trying to get you to lay down, he eventually gave in and allowed you to sit across from him. Pillows propping up your sides, a horrible tasting healing potion, a cup of tea for a chaser, and a blanket rested on your lap later, you two figured starting from day one was the best course of action.

“October 29th, 1981. What happened?” Moody asked in a careful but stern tone. You weren't used to him being so gentle with you, you guessed twelve years apart could do that to a person. You gave a sigh and set the teacup aside, relaxing back into the makeshift throne and looked at the ceiling, eyes closing as the pain began to disappear. 

“It was a botched mission. Someone sold us out.” You explained slowly.

~~

“With Mad-Eye out of commission sick, we need someone to go in his place.” Gideon told you, having knocked on your door late at night with Fabian at your gate keeping watch. Gideon took the paper that etched out your address, Lupin’s handwriting scribbled on the crumbled paper, as the elder twin set it in your outstretched hand. With the Fidelius charm that protected your home ever since Voldemort marked you for death, you made an impulsive decision to make Lupin your secret keeper.

You hadn't spoken to Sirius in months after your argument and subsequently, your break up. Peter and you were already the Potter’s secret keepers, the last logical step would be Remus. Especially after what happened to Marlene and Dorcus just a few months prior. He was hesitant at first, but when you pushed he caved. He always made it easy for you.

(“You weren't suspicious?” Mad-Eye demanded and you quickly shook your head. “No, if Lupin had to write my address down it meant something. He refused to do it every time he'd been asked, said it was too easily given to others.”)

You snapped your fingers, and the paper burned to ash at your feet. “I didn't know Moody could get sick.” You tried to joke, and Gideon gave you a grimace and Fabian looked back at you two. Your lips twitched. The twins aren't joking? That's slightly nerve wracking. 

“So? What do you say?” Gideon implored, and you nodded, biting your lip. 

“Let me get dressed.”

~~

“They came to your house at midnight to recruit you for a mission?” Moody asked in a shocked and angry tone. “One you weren't briefed on? My mission?” He implored and you gave a small nervous smile, to keep the peace.

“It wasn't the first time if it makes you feel better.”

“Far worse.” Moody practically shouted and you winced. He huffed and lowered his voice, arms crossing and leaning back in his seat. “So what next?”

“Well, I got ready and we left to get to the rendezvous point. It should have been simple, just ambushing a few dark wizards couldn't have been much harder then what we had been doing. The tip said there should be three, two already there and one coming later with what we assumed to be supplies we could garnish.”

~~

“I don't see anyone.” Fabian announced as you three sat among the trees. His wand was to his throat, so even with him across the clearing his voice was transported to your ear, where the weird snake ear clip they gave you relayed his voice. The twins had always been making trinkets and inventions, ever since you first met them, that was one of their defining traits. That and they were absolute children, who tested them on you any chance they got.

“Shouldn't there be people here by now?” You asked, pressing your wand to your jugular, and you heard shuffling before Gideon spoke up. “Maybe we're early?”

(“If you felt it was off you should have left.”

“Would you have?”)

Suddenly there was a loud sound of apparition behind you. You snapped your head around and went silent. Fuck.

There before you were five death eaters and they didn't seem ready for a simple trade off. Fully decked out in battle gear, they began to walk around the clearing and muttered things between themselves.

Then, a voice boomed through the forest. “Alastor Moody!” He called into the clearing. You knew that voice immediately, your stomach dropped. Antonin Dolohovs. “Moody, come out my old friend!” 

You looked to your sides and peaked at Fabian who tightened his grip on his wand, then to your right and saw Gideon already looking at you. He gestured down hill, as if telling you to run, and you refused. Shaking your head you looked back at your left and the other Prewett twin seemed to have the same idea. You pressed your wand to your neck and lowered your voice, as Antonin went on a manic rant. 

“We need more men. One of us has to get someone.” You implored before you quickly hitched your breath as one of the five Death Eaters got too close to your hiding spot.

“Gideon, you do it.” You heard Fabian command and Gideon gave a huff.

“We should send the kid.” He hissed back. “We can stand our own.”

“Send {L/N}? The girl who is supposed to be in hiding straight to the rat infested Ministry? No chance.”

You held your breath as your back nuzzled closer to the tree root you hid in. The closer he got the louder your heart blared in your ears. You took a deep breath as he began to slip past the root and almost spotted you. That was, until Fabian recklessly shot a spell at him. Everything happened in slow motion. 

Gideon raised his wand, mid apparition, watched as Dolohov raised his wand and shouted. “Crucio!” But he couldn't stop, apparating away from the field as his brother wailed.

Fabian fell to the floor, and you covered your mouth. Quickly shooting your hands to your ears and your body shook out in terror at his blood curdling screams.

“I found another one!” One of them shouted and grabbed you by your arm, dragging you out. Tossing you on the ground by your limp friend. You shuttered and quickly stammered to your feet, hurrying to back pedal away from them, before your back fell against Antonin’s chest. Quickly, you tried to rectify your actions, but he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you closer. You squirmed and hissed, stomping back to try and hit your heel to his shoe.

It worked and he flinched hard enough for you to get out of his grasp. You went for your sleeve but froze when you looked at the manic wizard and saw him holding up your wand. He had snagged it in your tussle. “Fuck...” You whispered and he bellowed a laugh.

“Moody sent you instead, huh? Pretty thing you are, can't possibly have been on your own for longer than a year.” He taunted but you kept your expression mute. The less he knew about you, the better. 

“Wait, sir.” One of his lackeys spoke up and you stifled a wince. “That's {Y/N} {L/N}.” He declared with a shocked laugh. “Voldemort would be ecstatic if we brought her to him.”

Antonin looked you over before he wet his lip and fiddled with your wand. “{L/N}, hm? Your father has done a lot for our cause.” He gave a sickening curl to his lips as he pressed the wand to your neck. “Thank you for your service, darling. Let's get you home.” 

Before you could even formulate a plan, one of his other lackeys pointed their wand to Fabian.

“No!” You screamed, shoving past Antonin and running towards the two, but halfway there and the words already left his lips. Avada Kedavra. Your entire body froze up as your eyes locked with Fabian's, and you watched the light leave them. You stood there, horrified. The men around you didn't even see you as a threat. They allowed you to stand there, talking among themselves. 

You felt pathetic. Without a wand you couldn't do a thing. You found yourself wishing you studied wandless magic, because you were truly as weak as you felt. Just a girl. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 'What's your last resort?’ You heard Alastor’s words echo in your ears. Run.

So, you ran. Bolted for the tree line. Alastor always told you, if you had no other choice, you were young. ‘Strip your battle gear,’ You heard him as you tore off the blackened leather wrap around your chest, vaulting over an overgrown tree root. Tossing your bulky boots and sharply turning your direction as you heard their shouts after you. ‘Get out of eyesight, go one direction, leave evidence of the contrary.’ 

You stumbled to a small river and looked around. Their voices that were once fading outgrew closer. You were breathing heavily, your socks were stained and one bloodied from a sharp rock cutting your toe, too filled with adrenaline to notice. You looked around before you took the bloodied sock and wet it, chucking it across the body of water before turning sharply on your heel and ran across the tree line to hide behind a moss-covered rock.

You held your breath, closing your eyes tight and remembered his number one rule. ‘Never panic.’ So, you sat there. Their voices and footsteps passed, and eventually you heard splashing as they ran across the river and soon you couldn't hear them at all. You waited a little bit longer before you looked around. You had no wand, no plan, nothing. All you could hope was that Fabian still had his. 

You shakily rose to your feet and began to stalk back. 

You hadn't realized just how far you had gone. When you made it back, the moon was in the middle of the sky, and Gideon was still not back. You kneeled down by Fabian's body and turned him over. You gave a sigh of relief when you saw his wand. You kept your hand on his chest, it was still warm, like it was taunting you. You thinned your lips and raised his wand to the sky. “Expecto Patronum!” You declared. 

You were weak, so was the disobedient wand, struggling to focus on the good in your mind. You waved your hand, and the fox finally appeared. “Take this message to Lupin.” You whispered softly. “Ambushed. Fabian, dead. Gideon, status unknown. May be splinched.” You panted out. “Running. Five looking for me. Antonin Dolohov.” It's all you could muster, quickly dismissing your patronus and looking back to Fabian. “I just... need to rest.” You whispered as you felt yourself slowly fall against his stomach.

You didn't know how long you were out for, but the first thing you heard was Albus’s soothing voice. You stirred. 

“There you are.” 

You turned to look at him and grimaced, slowly lifting yourself off of your friend and shaking to stand. Dumbledore walked over to help support you. You could have sobbed out, letting your body fall against his chest. You didn't even have time to wonder why he was here, not Remus or Gideon. “H-he-”

“I know. I know dear child.” He hushed and ran his hand up and down your back. You shook and sobbed in his arms, and he looked across the field. 

Albus pulled back and you looked up at him threw glossy eyes, arms still outreached and resting on his forearms, looking for any semblance of warmth and comfort. “We found your letters.” He told you carefully. “We know you have been in contact with Regulus Black via concealed letter since you graduated. Before his passing.” 

The heat left your face. What? How did they find those? How did he know? And why was he bringing this up, now?

“Sir, I-”

“Voldemort knows as well.”

You almost fainted. “Is that why?”

“He is after you? Yes. Now, I have a plan to keep you safer than I have. Keep this conversation renewed in your mind, so one day, we will be able to use this connection.” 

“What are you talking about?” You croaked, looking over at Fabian’s body in a daze. This felt like the cruelest form of whiplash. “Professor-”

“This is for the better, {Y/N}.” He muttered against your temples you sniffled. “What is?” You croaked, and he raised his wand to your head. 

“Obliviate.”

~~

“And that was the last thing I remembered.” You sighed and grabbed your teacup, holding it to your palm for warmth. Moody seemed to be a little slower as he realized what was happening.

“Albus Obliviated you?” He asked in a breathy way, you slowly nodded. “... and you've been alive, all these years?”

“Would seem so.” You mumbled and picked at the helm of your shirt. There was a silence, it wasn't awkward, but it certainly wasn't comforting. 

“Lily, James, and Harry?” You croaked out and when Moody grimaced, your heart broke. 

“The boy is alive.” Moody offered and you nodded slowly, trying to gather yourself. Your voice cracked as you began to speak. “Sirius took care of him, yeah?”

Moody frowned harder and you narrowed your eyes. “No... he didn't abandon him, did he?” You prayed to whichever of the cruel gods was above you that it was a joke.

“He was, until recently, imprisoned in Azkaban.” He mused and your shoulders fell in shock, eyes wide. 

“I- you- I-” You sputtered out. “Whatever for?” You implored and leaned forward. 

“He sold out the Potters and... killed Peter Pettigrew.” He spoke carefully, knowing how close you two were, slow and delicate. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted slightly. 

“... what? Peter is... is dead?” You whispered in shock before your eyes widened. “Wait- Sirius killed Peter?!” You bellowed and snapped up to your feet. 

Alastor stood up and walked towards you, but you began to pace. 

“Why would he possibly need to kill him? And he would never sell out the Potters! He'd sooner die! How did he even manage to tell Voldemort!?” You practically shouted and Alastor scoffed. “A secret keeper can tell anyone.”

Then, your eyes widened, snapping over to look at Alastor. “Moody- no, Peter and I-” Then it hit you. It hit you like a bludger to the chest. Your air left your lungs. 

“Moody, Peter and I were the Potter’s secret keepers.” You whispered in a shaky voice. Moody's expression stayed blank, but his false eye began to flicker side to side showing he was deep in thought. 

“Merlin...”

“Peter would never, he wouldn't-” You stopped and had to think about everything you knew about Peter. He was a coward, but he was bold. He was meek and quiet, but he was confident with you. He was always charming and sweet, but you had heard from Mary and Dorcus how they saw him as slimy when he didn't get what he wanted. 

The more you thought about him, the more traits you came up with for him, the more evidence there was for the contrary. Did you ever truly know Peter Pettigrew? Years ago, you would've laid down your life on the fact that Peter was trustworthy, honest, brave and kind. But the more you pondered it, he was always those things to you. Just to you. You covered your face in shame. “No...”

Moody walked up and patted your back as you tried to come to terms with it all. “But he- I- Rem! What of Remus?” 

“The Lycanthrope?” Moody tutted and you glared up at him. “Don't call him that.”

Moody nodded with an eye roll and gestured to the seat for you. 

You walked back over and sat down. Moody beside you. “After your disappearance, Albus called an emergency meeting. We gathered, and Albus told us of you and Fabian's death. That Gideon was leaving the order and going to America. Molly was inconsolable.”

~~

“No! No no no!” Molly sobbed into Authur’s arms, Albus looked down solemnly at his hands.

A scoff came across the table. “That's it? That's all we get?” Sirius snarled and shot to his feet. “Who did it?” He boomed across the table. He was tired of losing people. But losing you, now, that was a new kind of pain. One he didn't want to discover quite yet, so he lashed out in anger. He hadn't felt like this since he heard of Regulus’s death.

 “Who!?” He demanded as Albus kept a solemn and pitiful look. It burned Sirius up inside. 

“Antonin Dolohov.” Remus spoke up from across the table. He was looking down, eyes bloodshot and clearly distressed. He was in his sleep wear, having been woken up late at night by a glowing blue fox. He could hear what she said over and over in his head. When he got there and found Dumbledore, looking down at Fabian. There was blood, and Remus could smell it. Dark magic and you.

“Ambushed. Fabian, dead. Gideon, status unknown. May be splinched. Running. Five looking for me. Antonin Dolohov.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Sirius sneered and Remus closed his eyes. “She sent me a Patronus.” 

“Of course she did.” He snapped at Remus, slamming his hands on the table. “Of course she'd send it to you, wouldn't she? I bet that makes you feel real special, getting her last words.”

Remus gawked at Sirius in pure shock. It felt like he stupefied him to his chest. “And what's that supposed to mean?” He suddenly snapped back and stood as well. Alice was quick to nudge Frank, both parties standing up to make sure the two didn't jump across the table and shred each other. 

“Do you think I'm daft? Do you think I didn't notice the way you looked at my Fiancé, Remus?” He bellowed across the room and Remus gave a laughing scoff. “This is how you want to have this conversation, Sirius? Now?” He snapped back and Sirius gave an incredulous laugh.

“When else? She's fucking dead, she can't come save you now.” 

“You've gone mental!”

“No one worth being sane for left!”

“Maybe if you hadn't left her, this wouldn't be happening!” Remus shouted and that seemed to physically stun Sirius. “If you hadn't pushed her away until she hit her breaking point, until she had to come to me of all people, you could be at home right now waking up to her! But you didn't, you failed her Sirius.” Remus cut and cut as deep as he could. Sirius was silent for a moment and his mouth grew dry. Suddenly, he picked up a plate and threw it at Remus, the latter just managing to sidestep it before the Black stormed out.

Alice tutted and Remus looked down at her, breathing heavily. Slowly, he noticed the looks of pure horror on everyone's face. He knew he had gone too far. He cleared his throat and muttered an apology, turning to quickly leave.

Through all the chaos, no one noticed Peter leave moments later. He was walking down the street. His hands in his pockets and head down. Lost in deep thought, about you. No one truly knew the snake that was Peter Pettigrew. He was a people pleaser, he wanted validation and clung to the biggest bully in the yard like a vise. Originally, that was why he wanted to get to know you. You were James Potter's childhood friend, but you also managed to befriend several of the most influential Slytherins and purebloods of their school years. You were confident, unashamed to be you, the opposite of him. 

The more he got to know you, however, the more he truly cared. He loved his friends, he loved them all, but there was only one he'd fight for. You. Foolish you. You swore to him you would give your life for the Potters, for Sirius and Remus, himself included, but he never wanted it to get this far. When he first found the letters between you and Regulus, he felt hope. That maybe, just maybe, you were like him. Buying yourself time with information.

He hoped that when he brought these letters to Voldemort, he would finally be convinced of your worth to the cause. That he would lend him more time to let him convert you. Then the dark lord sent out a notice for your capture; he knew he had made a mistake. He should have de-charmed and read the letters himself, but it was all he could think of. Your safety, with him, like he always promised.

Last night was a fluke. A fluke that cost him more than he was willing to put on the line. It should have been Moody. That's what he knew, Moody, and the Prewetts. They should have been the ones to die that night. Instead, it was you. You lost your life, as you always promised, for the cause.

The cause? The cause. The cause that sent in children to die like cattle. His dearest friend falling to the hands of a god he placated. You died for the Potters. For Black. For Lupin. You died for him… Anger bubbled under the surface. The charm was broken, he would go to the Potters to repair it tonight. Then, he would be there the next night, with the dark lord by his side. He wanted them to hurt. To hurt like he was, to ensure they had no one else. No one, like him. 

~~

“But that leaves one thing that I do not understand.” Moody challenged and you rolled your tongue. He opened his coat and pulled out a long box, holding it out to you. You narrowed your eyes before he opened it, revealing a wand. Not any wand, your wand. You gasped and reached for it, before he quickly shut it closed. You glared at him, and he flicked the box onto his lap. The box looked worn, like it had been in his pocket for years. It made you feel warm. He has been keeping you close this whole time. You were not forgotten. But clearly, he planned to make you work for it.

“What is it?”

“What was in those letters? And why were you talking to the youngest Black?” He leaned closer, trying to use the same techniques he taught you about interrogation. You rolled your eyes, you can count on one hand the number of times you lied to Moody since you were 16, you didn't plan to keep counting. Four times.

“He was telling me things. Things about Voldemort’s plans, what he had done and who he had done it to. In exchange, I kept him updated on Sirius, I promised to keep him safe. He also kept me up to date on a few Death Eaters I had known in school. I want to tell you, but I feel I should talk to Dumbledore first. I feel I deserve a proper explanation as to why this happened to me.” You muttered bitterly and then your face scrunched up in a pout. “I also have a certain cat to see.”

“Cat?”

“Glasses.” You mumbled and Moody shook his head in confusion. Tossing the box on the table and you quickly snatch it, opening it up and pulling out your wand with a sigh of relief.

“Until further notice, you are to be on house arrest.”

“What? That can't be true! Isn't Voldemort gone?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. 

“There are some who believe otherwise. Regardless, you are dead, the minister is still working through a story to tell the world about your reappearance.”

You scoffed and rubbed your temple. “And what of Harry? Who has he been with?” You challenged and Moody frowned.

“His mother’s sister.”

“That monster!? No, Moody, I must see him!” You begged. “I have no idea what they could have done to that boy! He deserves to be with family!” You stood up sharply and Moody scoffed.

“The boy is with family!”

“No, for Merlin’s sake he is not! I am his family! Sirius and Remus! I don't care what anyone has said, Petunia Evans is a wicked monster of a woman! I have heard Lily’s horror stories! I am his Godmother! I demand to see him!” Your voice filled the entire house. Lily had spent most of her school years protecting you from your family, you have left her son for twelve years, unable to protect him from her family. He deserved a home, you don't care what people seem to think, people like her could not change.

“And what a Godmother you will be, your home has no wards protecting it, you have nowhere to take him, and your vaults are locked until your Godson turns 18! You must wait until the minister announces you are safe to resume your life!”

“This is absolute shite!” You snapped and stormed towards the stairs like an emotional teenager. “I am going to my room!”

“And stay in there!” He snapped back as your footsteps stomped up the steps and the sound of a slamming door rang through the house.

Even after that argument, Moody couldn't help but sit down and smile at the fireplace. You were annoying and unruly, and he has missed that spunk.

~~  “Make that five.” You muttered to yourself. You walked over to the radio and turned it on. You muttered a small enchantment on a pillow, and it began to levitate. You pushed it out the window and jumped onto it. It began to fall quickly, before you transformed. The sudden shift in weight slowed the descent significantly. You landed in the grass and hurried out into the field. Making sure no one could see you, being a fox was fox was fine, but being a silver, fox is what raised eyebrows. Sorry Moody, I have to see my Harry.

[unofficialwriting]

She calls me Freddie (Pt.4)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Just fluff! A little corny but it’s Christmas and that’s Fred. This is arguably one of the most important chapters of the series

Summary: Winter break had finally arrived and it would turn out to be one of your favorites

Word count: 5.1k

(Part 4 - find all other parts here)

༺═────────────═༻

The days following the first task crawled by slowly. And despite what had happened that night, nothing else followed. Once again, everything seemed to go back to normal between you and Fred. At least, as much as it could. You were able to go about your days as usual, but after admitting to yourself your feelings for him, you found it more and more difficult as time passed. It would only be so long before you slipped.

On that morning, the first snow of the season fell. It reminded you how close you were to the holidays. The early classes had been replaced with a gathering of each house with their head, Gryffindor with McGonagall. You found yourself in a wide corridor, boys and girls seated on either side and the professor at the center. Most students were on a long bench, some standing behind. You were one of them, leaning casually against the stone wall. Fred, who you attempted to avoid repeated eye contact with, had a similar stance across the room.

“The Yule ball has been a tradition of the Tri-wizard tournament since its inception,” McGonagall explained, turning across the room to speak to everyone. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance.”

The moment she uttered the words, the room erupted into noise; especially from your side. Most of the girls around you, including yourself, dove into enthusiastic chatter. Just the brief idea of going with Fred brought upon you a fresh wave of excitement and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction. To your surprise, his gaze had found you first. You sent him an exaggerated wink and watched his body shake with a laugh in return, not managing to completely avoid a prolonged stare.

“Silence!” McGonagall called, bringing the talking to a quick end. “The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons.”

The twins caught your eyes again, seeing them whisper together with two poorly hidden smiles. The professor continued, having not heard them. “Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

Ron made an attempt at whispering as well, but he was far worse at it. Laughing came from his direction, taking the attention of McGonagall. “Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley.

She strode over to the boy, standing before him. “Yes?” Ron asked with dread, sinking lower into his seat.

“Will you join me please?” She answered simply, not letting him reply before taking ahold of a bit of the fabric on his clothed shoulder. She dragged him out to the center of the room, every student behind him bursting into laughter. “Now place your right hand on my waist.”

“Where?”

“My waist.” She instructed firmly. Fred whistled a catcall to tease his brother, earning a glare instantly. The boy hesitantly did as his professor asked. “Mr. Filch, if you’d please.” Filch quickly began the music, which came out more as static while the machine started up. McGonagall pulled Ron around the room, demonstrating the waltz to everyone. Fred and George swayed as well to mock him.

“Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!” Most of the younger ones were in no hurry. Of all of them, Neville Longbottom was the first to stand, the rest following behind him and filing in to find partners.

You remained at your spot against the wall, not in a huge hurry to jump into the crowd of students. Besides, you had a feeling your partner would find you.

In mere seconds, Fred appeared and slid behind the benches to where you stood. He gazed down at you with a bright smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Would I be lucky enough to dance with the Y/n L/n?” His voice sounded silky smooth in your ears, despite the edge of playfulness.

You copied his tone with a raised brow. “Hm, would you?” He let out an exaggerated scoff, still holding your hand in his.

“I would.” He twirled you in front of him, Little butterflies flitting about in your stomach and any ounce of stubbornness leaving your body. “Shall we, my love?”

“Your love?” You questioned him as he led you out from behind the seats.

“Mhm,” Fred responded as if it was a casual thing to say, not bothering to explain himself further. You took the stance McGonagall had instructed, a hand holding his and the other on his shoulder. Confidently, he set a hand on your waist, pulling you in to close the space between you. How could you only be friends when he did things like that? He was usually flirty with you and had been for years, but what he was so blissfully unaware of was how hard it had become for you to keep your composure. Although, a part of you could admit that he likely knew fully.

The both of you attempted to dance through your poor excuse for the waltz. At first, you quite literally stepped on each others’ feet. One could argue that his were the victim far more than yours, but he didn’t care to admit it to you. Regardless of who was correct, It did not go unnoticed by you that Fred was much better at this.

“Have you done this before?” You questioned, watching a smile tug at his face. You tried to pause your dance, but he continued on, not missing a beat. “You have, haven’t you?”

His lips formed a smirk, having a slightly more difficult time keeping up with the music now that you were distracted. “I have,” he said casually, gazing down at you.

“Who was the lucky girl?” You meant it to tease him, although the question twisted at you. You preferred not to try and visualize the thought.

Fred twirled you again, catching you off guard since you weren’t paying attention. “Ginny,” The reply earned a snort of laughter from you. “Now would you focus? We’re going to get good at this before the dance.”

You only laughed more at his determination. Fred shook his head, fighting back his own smile. “I’m so sorry.” You giggled, bringing your attention back to the dance.

“That’s alright, I can forgive you.” He joked with you, leading you through the dance once more. After a while you had actually started to improve. And eventually you were successful enough that even McGonagall praised you.

After you had wordlessly deemed you’d had enough practice, your dance turned into something less and less formal. Fred would twirl you and then pull you back into his arms, swaying you to the music. The rest of the room left you as you made your little space; spinning, tripping, and laughing. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow you were even more head over heels for him than before.

By the time everyone had finished and McGonagall had regathered the room, the seating arrangements were abandoned and traded for simply standing around her. You and Fred stood toward the back of the group, him using your shoulder as an armrest.

“Now one more thing, everyone.” Your professor announced. “Since the ball will be held on Christmas, you all will be given the week in advance to return home. But spend this time wisely. I expect all of you to keep up on your studies.” McGonagall had to know that very few of the students in the room would willingly spend their break studying, especially when this year we would be given two.

“You all may go!” She dismissed us, letting everyone file out of the room. “And practice your dancing!” You exited the room with Fred, who finally let go of you. George came out of the large doors with Angelina. You hadn’t even noticed they were dancing together since you were so focused on your own partner.

“How on earth are you two not together yet?” She asked with a smile. You knew she meant nothing but well by the question but it was currently a touchy subject to talk about.

“Angelina,” you replied quietly, in hopes that she would take your hint. She was oblivious to it and spoke on.

“I’m just saying,” She continued playfully. You shook your head, unable to help having a little amusement at how clueless the girl was in that moment. “When you do start dating we won’t be able to tell; you already act married—” George suddenly cut her off by gently taking her arm.

“I had a question to ask you, Angelina.” He spoke simply and led the confused girl away to prevent her from talking further. The way he said it wasn’t very convincing, but you were grateful for him regardless.

You glanced up at Fred, who returned your gaze with both a puzzled and slightly nervous expression. It wasn’t often you saw him look nervous. He stood there Frozen for a moment, trying to form the correct words. But once he had finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Hermione and Ginny’s poor timing.

“Can you believe it?” Ginny asked, taking your arm. She and Hermione both wore a wide grin. “What are we going to wear?”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to figure that out, Gin.” Hermione responded, noticing the situation quickly. She glanced from Fred to you, taking on a little guilt in her expression.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” Fred told you, giving you a little smile and walking off in the direction of the common room. You sighed, every part of you wishing he’d had the chance to say what was on his mind.

─────────────────────────

The first of two breaks approached quicker than expected and soon you found yourself on the train home to the Weasley’s. You sat by the window, admiring the land as it passed by. Though it hadn’t snowed in a while, it had been cold enough that there were still patches of white here and there; the rest had already melted away. Fred’s eyes drifted to you, his expression softening at the sight. Oh, how beautiful you looked to him there, staring out the small train window. He took your hand and squeezed it affectionately, pulling your gaze toward his. A short look was shared and little smiles were exchanged before you looked back through the glass.

The sun had already fallen by the time you arrived to the burrow. Every single one of you stood at the door: You, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Before George could even knock, Molly was at the door to greet you. “There you all are!” She welcomed you cheerfully, only letting you in after each one of you had a hug. She had always treated you, Harry, and Hermione as one of her own children.

Inside became busy quickly after your group’s arrival. Percy, Bill, and Charlie had already arrived and came to greet you when you entered. “Bill!” You exclaimed as you spotted him, giving him a quick hug. You had known Bill for less time, but he had become your older brother just the same as Charlie had.

“Have you gotten taller since last I saw you?” He questioned. You gave him a rather sarcastic expression in return. The last time you saw him was the summer before last and it was very likely you had grown since then.

Charlie greeted you the same way, except he was far more nosy. He gave you a big hug and another remark about the status of you and Fred. “Any updates?” You rolled your eyes at the question. God, it was getting so old.

“For the last time, Charlie.” You whispered, glancing back to see if Fred was anywhere near you. “We aren’t dating and we won’t be anytime soon, so give it a rest.” He shrugged playfully at your response, not quite believing your words. Up until then, you had meant it every time you said it. But this time you weren’t so sure. Either way, you wanted to change the subject. This wasn’t difficult to do with Charlie. All you had to do was ask him about his dragons and he completely forgot about any situation between you and Fred.

That night had been deemed an honorary Christmas Eve since actual Christmas would be spent at Hogwarts. Molly had prepared a wonderful dinner for everyone, which was loud and chaotic with so many people fitting into one table. You made it work just fine. The sound of laughter, stories, and cheerful conversation filled your ears and kept a smile to your face. This was truly your favorite place to be.

After dinner had concluded and the noise had begun to die out, Molly hurried you out of the room. It was Christmas Eve and she had more she wanted to accomplish before morning. You offered your help, but it was declined “You enjoy the rest of your night, dear.” She told you. So once everyone else had departed for their rooms, you climbed the stairs with Fred following behind.

“So, Ginny’s room then?” Fred started, waiting for you to make a questioning face to continue. “Unless, you know, you want to share my bed.” The slightest bit of heat burned in your cheeks at the notion and when you looked back, he wore an exaggerated smirk.

“Nice try, Weasley.” You replied, crossing your arms. You had made it to Ginny’s room but he had more sets of stairs to climb. “I don’t think your brother would take too kindly to that idea.”

“No, he likely would not.” He admitted simply, leaning against the wall beside you. “But it was worth a shot.” The boy winked and you shook your head.

You mimicked his stance, leaning against the doorframe. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight, darling.” He held your gaze for another moment and then continued down the hall. You felt like melting right into the door, following him with your eyes as he climbed the next flight of stairs and out of sight. A sudden longing filled your heart. You wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but part of you would want nothing more than to follow him.

Right then you came to terms with your situation. You would tell him your feelings. You didn’t know when or where, but you would. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with nothing more than quick touches and flirty questions forever.

─────────────────────────

Morning came quickly, and you found yourself awake before everyone else. It was a tradition for you and Fred. Each year, on Christmas, the two of you would wake up several hours earlier than the others. And each year Fred would try and beat you downstairs. However, he was never fully committed to the task and always awoke much later.

This year was no different. While you sat on the couch with a book, the boy lumbered into the living room with a heavy yawn. Without even so much as a good morning, he collapsed onto the couch beside you and hurried his head into the cushion. You giggled and used a free hand to tail a strand of his hair.

“Every year it gets harder to wake up.” He complained, his voice muffled against the fabric. A sigh escaped his body at your touch.

“You poor thing,” was your response. You let him lay like that for a minute, without disturbing him, until he was a little more awake. Eventually, he sat up and slid across the couch closer to you, sitting beside you and reading over your shoulder. This didn’t keep Fred’s attention for very long and soon he turned his head to gaze out the window. It had snowed a little more last night, leaving everything covered in a thin blanket of white.

After a moment or so, he glanced back down at you to find your eyes still traveling across the pages of your book to soak up all the ink spoke about. The sight put a sense of relaxation into his body. He sunk back down into his seat, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

He admired you like this for as long as he could before you noticed. You lowered your book, and turned to meet his eyes. “What?” You questioned him. Instead of avoiding your eyes, Fred gazed back into them, not in the slightest attempting to avoid them.

“Just trying to figure out what’s so interesting about that book.” He teased, breaking out of the trance you had him in. You shook your head at the statement, setting it down beside you.

“I’m so sorry to have bored you.” You returned sarcastically, turning to face him in the couch. When you met his eyes again, it took all his willpower not to get stuck there.

“That’s alright, I forgive you.” Fred replied, smiling at the chuckle he earned from you. He glanced out the small window again, noticing the little white flurries that had begun to fall from the grey clouds in the sky above.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He suggested after a long moment. You followed his gaze out the window.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want, love.” He took your hands and lifted you to your feet, gathering your coat and his to bundle up for the cold. Fred kept ahold of your hand and led you out the door, the burst of cold air hitting your body immediately. It was a dreadful change from the warmth of the house.

Despite your complaints, you followed Fred out into the snow, watching the shape his footprints left behind. Blades of grass tried to poke through where you both walked, successful here and there since there hadn’t yet been enough snow to conceal it completely.

It didn’t take long for you to adjust to the cold, as much as one could be. The original shock of it was replaced with rosy cheeks and a pink nose. You drifted away from the house, arm in arm with Fred.

Crossing the pathway was a hazard. Instead of snow, a layer of ice coated the stone beneath. And without much thought, Fred stepped onto it, immediately sliding to the ground and dragging you down with him.

“Fred!” You exclaimed in surprise, hitting the ground hard. He unfortunately didn’t do much to break your fall.

“Sorry!” He apologized profusely, rubbing the back of his head where he made contact with the ice. He placed a hand on the ground beside you to try and steady himself enough to stand, but his feet slipped out from under him and he came back down to join you. You burst into laughter.

“Oh, you hush,” he remarked, not-so-gracefully pulling you with him to the edge of the path to gain traction in the snow. Finally, he managed to stand, lifting you with him by your hands. From then on you both avoided the path.

The two of you continued on, wandering around in the snow until your fingers started to freeze. Fred led you into his father’s shed, which was where he kept his collection of muggle artifacts.

He slid the door open enough for you to slip inside. There was no heat, but it was insulated enough to provide a significant relief from the weather outside. “God, it’s cold.” You complained, blowing into your cupped hands in an attempt to warm your frozen fingers.

Fred leaned against the counter on one wall of the little structure. He opened his arms as an invitation. “Well, you know body heat is the best way to warm up.” He stated confidently, sending you a smirk. You agreed a little too quickly and walked into his arms. Who were you to turn down such an offer? As much as you hated to admit it to him, he was absolutely correct. Warmth radiated from his body, relieving you from your cold temperature. You opened his coat and slid your arms around him inside it, making it even warmer.

“Better?” He asked, arms embracing you. You nodded, gazing up at him with frosty cheeks and a little smile. His expression softened at the sight, getting trapped by your eyes once more. Your face seemed to glow to him, despite how cold it was for you.

“Much,” You replied simply, breathing in the smell of his jacket. This particular one he wore often. He wore it the day of the quidditch game and it still smelled of gunpowder. You buried your face in it, shielding yourself from the cold air.

Fred scanned the shed casually, his eyes catching an old record player. He pulled away from you just a little to reach it, apologizing with a chuckle when you complained. You turned your head to follow his gaze, watching him put one of the records into it.

“Dad showed me how to use these,” he explained, smiling in triumph when the music started up. “It’s a little different than the ones we have.” A slow song played, one that you had never heard before. But it felt like silk in your ears.

Fred took your hand, pulling you to him as he did when you were dancing in the corridor mere days before. “You want to dance here?” You questioned with a raised brow. The tiny shed severely lacked the space. He set a gentle hand on your waist, which stole any remaining words from your mouth immediately.

“Yeah, why not? Just don’t break anything.” He teased, beginning to sway you to the music. “McGonagall did say to practice, didn’t she?”

With less space around you, you both had to take a little more care than before, but you managed. He spun with you, following the tune of the song. Right away, you could tell it wasn’t his first time hearing it.

A minute or so into it and you realized the meaning. It was a love song. And that made your heart absolutely sick. He twirled you and met you again, pulling you back to him so your body rested against his. The gentle vibration of his humming travelled from him to you, seeping directly into your heart. Fred’s hand slid from your waist up to your back, filling you with both nerves and excitement. The mixture of the two felt like electricity in your veins.

Throughout the entire song, he managed to keep his eyes on yours. He seemed so calm. As if none of this made him into a wreck like it did you. Maybe behind the composure, it did make him nervous. You wanted more than anything then to be able to read his thoughts and find out.

Fred gazed down at you with gentle eyes, containing enough warmth that you were sure you’d never again feel the cold of the morning. “Fred?” You started softly, barely managing to get above a whisper. You heart thumbed against your chest and you desperately hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Yes, darling?” He responded, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. He wasn’t making this any easier for you. You thought about your words, trying with everything you had to make sure you put them together correctly. Your steps became smaller as he focused on you, unable to choose which of your eyes to lock on.

You opened your mouth a little but nothing came out at first. There was so much you wanted to say and so little words fit to say it. “I-I don’t know how to tell you this.” You stuttered, which was rather uncharacteristic for you. Nothing had ever made you feel so nervous before. But now, as you stared up at Fred Weasley, the man you had slowly fallen so in love with, you couldn’t breathe. It must have been showing on your face, because his softened.

Fred lifted a hand to the side of your face, brushing his thumb delicately across your cheek. “Then let me.” He responded in the same hushed voice as yours. His expression changed just slightly, finally letting you pick up a hint of nerves.

He made up his mind, picking his other hand up to your face and leaning in to press his lips to yours. This time you let him. Your entire body lit up, sending a feeling from head to toe that made you want to burst. You slid your hands up to his chest, meeting him with the same longing he kissed you with. It was so long overdue.

He sighed into your lips before pulling away. But before you could even open your eyes he kissed you all over your face. From your forehead, to your cheeks, to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart, stomach, and lungs all doing flips. It was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Fred admitted, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, y/n. I have ever since I met you.”

You wanted to melt right into the wood of the floor at those words. Never did you expect to actually hear them. “I love you too, Freddie.” You told him, having no better way to say it than that.

His smile grew into a wide grin, having longed to hear you say that just as much as you longed to hear it from him. “Well then, my love,” he started, twirling you once more and then abandoning the dance altogether. “I would be nothing short of thrilled if we could prove my entire family and everyone else correct about us.” You could tell he had also waited a long time for this. It suddenly seemed silly how long the two of you had avoided the subject.

“I’d like that,” You responded, mimicking his grin. Fred seemed more full of joy now than you’d ever seen him. He still held you there, savoring the feeling of your touch that meant something a little different than before. Now that he had you, he never wanted to let go.

─────────────────────────

You walked back through the snow, wanting to get to the house before everyone started to wonder where you were. The entire way Fred’s mind was focused on you like a horse with blinders on. It was only the cold bite of the wintery morning that convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. His arm held yours with care, unwilling to part from you yet.

This time you avoided the path, climbing the slippery stairs of the porch cautiously to avoid another mishap. Fred stopped you at the door, sliding an arm around your waist. “I know you’ve known my siblings almost as long as I have, but I’m still going to apologize in advance. I think they’ve all been waiting for this for a long time.” You both fought a laugh at the statement. It was comical how involved everyone was in your relationship except for you and Fred— until now of course.

“Has it been as bad for you as it has me?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone.

He freed his hand to grab the door handle. “Maybe worse,” Fred snuck in another kiss before pushing the door open, not realizing it would not go unnoticed.

You stepped inside only to be met by George, who stood across the room with his jaw practically on the floor. “George?” You called.

“George before you go making a scene, let’s—” Fred started, knowing full well his brother would be more than happy to make a scene. He, of course, was interrupted by George yelling up the stairs.

“Charlie!” He shouted, climbing the stairs when he didn’t get a response. As expected, he completely ignored the protests behind him. You exchanged a look with Fred, who carried the same expression as you.

You came in and hung up your coats, just in time to see all the Weasleys piling in one at a time. Ginny was first, followed by Hermione. She looked at you two and then up the stairs. “I’ve never seen George look so happy in my life.” She said skeptically, hearing him bang on Charlie’s door from downstairs.

“He’s going to announce our relationship to the entire house.” Fred complained, earning an immediate series of excited gasps from the girls. They gathered around you, forgetting Fred’s existence entirely.

Bill had entered with perfect timing. “Relationship?” He inquired. “Did you—.”

“Yes, Bill.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. So far none of this had gone to plan. “If you must know, it’s true. We’re together.” God, it was embarrassing to tell everyone like this. Even in knowing everyone here was family to you in every way but blood.

Ginny and Hermione both grinned, expecting a full explanation from you. “Really?” Bill questioned, clearly not quite believing what he was hearing. It had been several years in the making.

“Yeah well, we talked it out, weighed the pros and cons.” Fred remarked sarcastically, earning a poorly concealed laugh from you. He opening his mouth to speak again, but was once again interrupted by the appearance of another brother.

Charlie stepped off the bottom stair, followed by George. They both wore smug smiles. “Fred and I are never dating, Charlie! You’re crazy, Charlie! Give it a rest, Charlie!” The older boy mimicked what you had said to him just the night before, mocking your assurances. He walked over and ruffled your hair, sending his brother a wink. Fred rolled his eyes dramatically. “But was I really crazy?”

Bill crossed his arms, chiming in again. “You are crazy, yes.”

Charlie sent him a look and returned his attention to you two. “Except poor timing, you were one day late.” He frowned.

George stepped forward, holding a hand out to Charlie and Bill. Your eyes followed him with a puzzled expression. “I believe I’m owed something.” He said to the both of them. They sighed and handed over a few coins each.

You stared at them in shock. “You guys did not have a bet on us.”

“We did.” Charlie replied with no shame. “I told you right to your face we did.” He glared at George as he pocketed his money.

“I figured you were joking.” A sigh escaped you.

“Nope.” George stated simply. “Charlie thought it would be before Christmas, Bill thought after, and I knew it would be on Christmas.

“But this isn’t actually Christmas.” Hermione chimed in, questioning their logic. The three brothers exchanged a glance at her words.

Before any arguing started, Molly and Arthur arrived. “Morning everyone!” Molly greeted. “And congratulations!” She pulled you into a tight hug, heat rushing to your face. It was one thing when Fred’s siblings did it, but Molly and Arthur were a completely different story.

“Ok, mom. It’s Christmas, can we all avoid making this about us? You’re going to overwhelm my girlfriend.” Fred stated, earning gasps and looks from everyone in the room; including you. You knew Fred Weasley and you knew he did this on purpose. Your suspicions were confirmed upon seeing his subtle smirk.

Ron, Harry, and Percy arrived, completing the group. “Did we miss something?” Ron questioned, confused at why everyone was gathered around like this.

George elbowed his brother. “Didn’t you hear? Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” He said, sending you a wink. You hoped your cheeks were still red from the cold so it would cover your blush.

Ron started a reply but was stopped by Arthur swooping in to save you. “Alright Weasleys, let’s not forget it’s Christmas!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the heavily decorated tree and the pile of gifts surrounding its base. You sighed, thankful for the distraction. Fred squeezed your shoulder gently as a silent apology, but all you responded with was a silent giggle. The whole situation was ridiculous.

─────────────────────────

It didn’t take long before the entire group was gathered around, each of you sorting the the gifts to find the ones with the correct name. Molly had knitted everyone a new version of her famous sweater, all with the initial of who it belonged to sewn into the front. Before you knew it, each and every one of you had found theirs and put it on.

You glanced at the girls in time to see them exchanging neatly decorated gift boxes, turning to you with yours. Across the room, Ron laughed at something Harry received loudly enough that it caught the attention of half the family. Beside you, Fred and George looked through the box of materials you gifted them; all things they could use in whatever experiments they pleased.

“Alright, I have a special one for you.” Fred told you, pulling your attention to him.

“Is that so?” Your eyes landed on a small box he pulled out. It was wrapped in an obvious failed attempt to be perfectly neat, but you loved it just the same.

As you reached out to take it from him, he held it playfully out of your reach. “Fred!” You exclaimed, severely exaggerating an annoyed expression. He laughed brightly, letting you struggle for another moment before handing it over. You snatched it right out of his hand, eyeing him.

“Oh just open, darling. The anticipation is killing me.” He told you, leaning a hand on the ground to sit over your shoulder. You shook your head and carefully tore open the packing, once again wondering if Fred fully knew the effect he so easily had on you. Beneath the paper and tucked inside a little box lay a bracelet. The sight made you practically melt. The piece of jewelry was the exact one you had pointed out that night at the quidditch game, so many months ago.

“It’s the one I told you about. You kept it for this long?” You smiled at the pride in his expression. Fred took the bracelet and your wrist, gently tying it on for you. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by his twin brother.

“It was almost longer too.” George cut in, still sifting through the box in front of him. “He would’ve left it at Hogwarts if I hadn’t seen it with his things and so heroically rescued it for him.”

Fred gave him a look, shoving his shoulder. “Well look, my intentions were good.” He swore, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“It’s perfect, Freddie. Thank you.” You replied, brushing your thumb over the surface of your bracelet. He smiled down at you with an expression somehow even happier than that of this morning.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple.

Merry Christmas,” You replied in the same manner, unable to keep a grin off your face. What a perfect Christmas it was turning out to be.

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Taglist:

@superlegend216 @ivymyers @inkedeye2345 @eaterof-concrete @maximumzinesharkskeleton-blog @getthefuckoutofhereidiot

Let me know if you want to be added ♡

[faeriichaii]

Hello I have a request for thorin!!

Can you please write a Thorin x afab!human reader, in which her family line worked for the line of Durin for many many years, and during the meeting at bilbo’s, Gandalf brings her along with him and Thorin recognizes her immediately because of her similarities to her family & he gets a little emotional and happy? :) Or anything of that sort! thank you in advance <3

A Part from Home ~ Thorin x afab!Human!Reader

A/N: Omg I'm so happy to get a request for Thorin haha! Ngl I struggled a bit because I didn't really know in what kind of direction I was going with this but I still think it turned out quiet nice and wholesome (I also let my best friend read through it and she said she blushed and smiled so Ig it’s approved) :) If you want a pt. 2 I can always do that :) But I still hope you like it and enjoy reading it <33

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Softness, wholesomeness ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 933 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ

Summary: Tagging along for an adventure with Gandalf, you didn't expect to run into people that remind you of your lost home.

The night was dark as you walked alongside Gandalf on a small path through a town called Hobbiton. A soft cold breeze accompanied you on your travels. The soft chirping sound of grasshoppers paired well with the gentle glow of the fireflies, giving the small village a comfortable and cozy atmosphere. “Gandalf, is there a reason why you chose to take me with you on this adventure?” You asked him, shifting your heavy bag on your shoulder. Inhaling the smoke from his pipe he looks down at you. “Well, of course there is a reason to that.” He blows out the smoke, forming rings on the way up into the dark sky.

“Care to explain them to me?” At your inquiry, the wizard just let out a chuckle and shook his head, indicating you that he will keep it a secret for now. “You will find your answers during your journey (Y/N).” With that, the wizard knocked on a little green wooden door, which was connected to a hole in the ground. “Why do you have to keep it a secret from me?” You continue to interrogate him. However, Gandalf’s attention was fully focused on the hobbit that just opened the door. “Bilbo Baggins, it is nice to see you again.” Walking through the door the both of you enter into the small but pleasant home. Boisterous laughter and cheers could be heard from the table further down.

“Why on earth are dwarves swarming my home Gandalf?” The hobbit seizes, while slowly turning towards you. “Oh- Hello, my name is (Y/N). It is nice to make your acquaintance” You quickly introduce yourself, smiling at the man whose house you just entered. “Bilbo Baggins, the pleasure is all mine.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile before gesturing you to set your baggage to the rest of the bags that are already perched by the door. Setting your stuff aside, you follow Gandalf into the room, filled with dwarves that are sitting around a table.

“Gandalf, I didn’t expect you to be the last one to join in on this important meeting.” A dark-haired dwarf mentioned. Two braids on either side of his head framed his bearded face perfectly. “My apologies, I had to make a detour and collect your 15th member for the company.” Thorins gaze drifted towards you, making you shuffle on the spot a little. Most of the dwarves stopped talking and focused their attention towards you and Gandalf, as well as Bilbo, who stood beside you. The dwarven kings’ eyes locked onto your own as something unrecognizable flickered in his gaze. “Gandalf, you invited a human into the company?” One dwarf muttered, making you raise your eyebrow in annoyance. “I might be a human, however, my family has served for the line of Durin for generations. I know exactly how to handle my weapons and I am more than capable to protect myself and I am pretty sure that I could even take you down in a fight.” You snap back, shutting him up immediately. A chuckle escapes Thorin, as he made some space for Gandalf and you to join around on the table to talk about the mission at hand.

After investigating the map and Bilbo refusing to sign the contract, that was handed to him, you all started to clean up the mess that has been created throughout the entire meeting. Thorin walked up to you while you were washing the dishes used earlier. “I knew you seemed familiar the second my eyes landed on you.” He murmurs, taking a towel to dry the wet dishes. “How come?” “Like you said, your family has been loyal to the Durin line for centuries. You share a lot of familiarities with your mother.” You smile softly at the remembrance of the time you spent with her in Erebor. “I remember I used to constantly beg her to take me to work with her.” “Can you remember anything from the time you were there?” He asked you tentatively. “Not much, I was very young back then. I think I always brought little flower crowns I made in the garden for the royal family.” At that statement he chuckled softly. “Yes, I always made sure to wear them, when you were around. Else you would just pout at me, hang on my leg and spend the entire day with me instead of your mother.” A blush dusted your cheeks at that statement. “Hmm seems very made up to me. I really don’t remember that ever happening so I think you must be lying.” The two of you laugh, finishing up the rest of your work.

“Care to join me for a walk?” Thorin gently asks, holding out his hand to take for you. Placing your own in his, a welcoming warmth spreads through your body. As you both step outside into the cold night, you walk towards the stream, flowing through the small town. “I always wondered if your family made it out alive of Erebor.” His gaze was cold at the remembrance of the day the dragon decided to use the kingdom as it’s new home. “I barely remember that day, I just know that we somehow got away.” Looking at the reflection of the stars in the water you thought about your family, that moved to Esgaroth after the attack of the beast.

“I am glad to have you here. It feels like I have a piece of my home with me.” He smiles softly at you. Returning his with a smile of your own you squeeze his hand, that was still holding yours. “We will get back our home. We will fight for what is rightfully ours.” You reassure him, looking into his bright blue eyes that glimmer with hope. You will get your home back. Even if it is the last thing you will do.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Tender Touches

[Screenshot by me!]

Pairing: Gale x F!Reader

Author's Note: When your period hits you like a mac truck going 100mph on the highway (as it has myself; send help, Gale, and chocolate. I am dying as we speak).

♡♡♡

You groaned softly, feeling the ache before you understood it; familiar, deep, and all-consuming. You curled in on yourself instinctively, sleep still gripping at the edges of your mind, preventing you from realization. The ache built until an agonizingly slow tidal wave of pain washed through you, carrying your slowly waking conscious into a chasm of apathy. 'Make it stop.' your inner voice whimpered. 'Please, please make it stop.' You curled tighter. 'Nnngh. Hurts. Stop. Please.'

Another voice came from somewhere in the dark, faraway but recognizable. "-ove?" A sudden urge to go towards the voice consumed you and you tried to unfurl, but another wave of pain was building, then blooming, and you were knocked back into darkness. What felt like several blinding eons of pain swept across you before slowly easing again.

"-y love?"

"Mmh?"

The voice had returned, and had become clearer now; warm, soothing - concerned.

"My love?"

"Mmm...Gale?" you slurred, your surroundings finally beginning to dawn on you.

"Love, you've been groaning and whimpering. I've been attempting to wake you for some time now." A large, warm hand glided down your side and you hummed, the heat keeping the wave at bay. "Were you having nightmares?"

You shook your head, inching closer to him, seeking his body heat. He understood almost immediately and pulled you close, allowing you to relax into his hold. You sighed in relief as your abdomen met his, the pain fleeing further from the molten touch.

"It's your moon cycle, isn't it?" Your lover murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. You nodded, nuzzling into the crook of his neck; lavender, old tomes, and last night's fire. A smile stretched across your lips unbidden. You would never tire of his scent. It caressed you like the gentlest of lovers - it caressed you as lovingly as he did. His palm made tracks up and down your spine as you let out a quiet purr of appreciation. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and into you, relaxing you ever further.

"Well, our fearless leader is quite overdue for a day of respite as it is," Gale observed. "I'm certain the rest of our campmates can survive a day or two without us. Perhaps not Astarion, but he's another matter entirely."

You sighed, the sound almost coming out as a defeated bleat, and Gale laughed. "Worry not, I'll inform Wyll to keep a sharp eye. The rest, I'm sure, will be fine without any additional chaperones. The first druid, however, will remain here with us."

You quirked your head and looked up at him curiously. You had never needed the tadpole to communicate silently with Gale, and this was no different. "While my many expansive talents as a wizard and former Chosen have their unending uses in the battlefield, I am quite limited in my knowledge of herbology and alchemy. Not only that, but I regrettably lack forms of healing magic in my arsenal. Halsin, on the other hand, is quite well-versed, and I'm certain can brew you up a tonic for that persistent pain of yours."

You listened to him quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips as he explained his thoughts to you. You were certain you'd never tire of it. How anyone found him frustrating was beyond you. His voice covered you in a blanket of comfort, and to know that he had already decided on a plan that's entire purpose was to ease you through the coming days sent a delightful buzz through you, slicing through the remaining ache.

"Thank you, Gale," you whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Always, my love," he whispered in return, his lips seeking yours, and breaking into a grin when he found them.

♡♡♡

Tagging, Darlings: @fanon-and-canon @knightofmight01 @just-a-refrigerator @micropoe10 @charlenestrawart @senualothbrok @worfs-glorious-hair

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

Related to isekai x self aware Holy moly, you really got me excited about this one with just the idea I have on my mind. I think both of us can try to make this a series for Beast-Yeast episode. If you are interested and need some ideas to continue this series, I will try my best to help you so reader can enjoy it. *behind the scene* -Cream Ferret Cookie come out from the phone- Cream Ferret: Baker, I have been with the team since the day you got me. Why didn't I have a chance to get into action!? Y/N: uh.... because it's dangerous? Mystic Flour: Baker... it would've been a great help if Cream Ferret Cookie join in to help. Beside, I would need another healer. Y/N: Don't worry Mystic Flour. Once I have Awakened Pure Vanilla, you and him will get the work done! Pure Vanilla: Pardon me but what did you just say? Y/N: N-nothing! S-say, Cream Ferret Cookie, aren't you suppose to take care the little one? Cream Ferret: ah crumb.... alright then, Baker. I will see you later! *Disappear to the phone* Gingerbrave: Who is that? Y/N: Important Cookie that will take care a certain cookie in the future. Now let's face Shadow Milk one last time and finish this. (I wonder who is insane enough to not have Cream Ferret in their team lineup, they are literally the best support cookie in the game)

(Me. I'm insane. I'm insane cuz I can't pull sh#t to save MY DAMN LIFE-) yeah sure dear butterfly

first part- Previous per

The ball's in your court pt3

The final battle was about to commence and Y/N cookie along with their allies were all ready for what was to come. Just as Y/N cookie and Moonflower faerie cookie expected, Shadow milk cookie came out in the classic jack in the box style. However, what neither of them expected was for Shadow milk cookie to also pull Y/N cookie up in the strings, as though for direct confrontation.

Shadow Milk cookie: And so I finally meet the diva responsible for this. You really think I didn't notice you and how those traitors followed your order blindly, little cookie?

Y/N cookie: meh, I mean...

Shadow Milk cookie: Oh, you wound me. I don't know what's so special about you but I'll make sure to find out once I finish with a few more pests.

He says this as he glares down at the group with a scowl.

Awakened Dark Cacao cookie: You will release the baker at once, fowl beast!

Mystic Flour Cookie: It'd be wise to comply now instead of facing a fate far worse.

Y/N cookie: Nah, it's fine. I like the view up here better. But do please go on, I'm enjoying this.

Shadow Milk cookie: Suit yourself little cookie. Now, where were we? Ah yes! Th fall of the new guardian!

And fight number who even knows anymore starts. Y/N cookie, alongside all the other captives watched on from the side. Then came the moment White Lily cookie stopped moving for a bit. Upon realizing what was about to happen, Y/N cookie started snickering like a maniac once again, earning a confused glance from the other trapped cookies.

Pure Vanilla cookie: Y/N cookie? What's so funny?

Y/N cookie: The fact that she's about to eat and leave no crumbs for the second time :3

Strawberry cookie: Huh?

Wizard cookie: What on earthbread are you-

Just then White Lily cookie had been transformed into her Moonflower faerie cookie outfit, now an exact twin with the other

Gingerbrave: What the-

Y/N cookie: SLAYYYYYYYY!!!! BEAT THAT A$$!!!

Strawberry cookie: I'm so confused!

Wizard cookie: Ok- WHAT IS GOING ON?!?

They all watched as Moonflower faerie cookie 2 sealed the tree and beat Shadow Milk cookie AGAIN. Once he was gone and everyone was free both Moonflower faeries glanced at each other.

Moonflower faerie 2: Woah... It's like looking into a mirror.

Moonflower faerie 1: The feeling is mutual.

Pure Vanilla cookie: Now that that issue is out of the way, we should try fixing the faerie kingdom, right?

Y/N cookie: Of course. And hey, once we finish I'll explain everything. Now come on, let's go

[ravenclaws-stuff]

Harry Potter Love Languages Drabbles

Gryffindor Boys

Harry Potter: Acts of Services

I moan quietly as the brush pulls through my hair gently. I pull the blanket closer as Harry leans down,leaving a quick kiss on top of my head. “Feel good?” I hum, my eyes fluttering shut as Harry sections my hair. “Would you like for me to braid your hair as well? That way you don’t have to before bed.” I look up, finding his eager green eyes. “Only if you want to.” Harry scoffs. “Of course I want to. I love doing your hair. Think of it as practice for when we have a daughter.” My face heats up, a shy smile on my face. Harry is going to be the best dad ever. “We have to get married first.” He hums, placing a kiss on top of my head before continuing his task. “Soon.”

Dean Thomas: Acts of Services

“Hurry up. Ron is going to eat all of the good food before we get there.” Ginny whines, pulling me faster to the Great Hall. Yawning, I attempt to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I was too tired to remind her that the house elves would be offended if she thought they didn’t cook enough for everyone. Not that she would appreciate it. I practically collapse onto the seat between Neville and Dean.

“Merlin, shake the whole table, why don't you.” McLaggen scoffs, seated at the end of the table. My head turns slowly, like in one of those muggle films, glaring at the offending wizard. Everyone knew not to mess with me before I have had my coffee. “Ignore him.” Dean whispers, placing my favorite mug in my hand. Dean, the love of my life, always has a cup of coffee waiting for me each morning. “Drink and we’ll deal with him later.” I lean towards him, placing a kiss the side of his jaw. “Thank you, Dean. Oh and good morning.” Dean chuckles, placing a quick kiss to my lips. “Good morning, love.”

Neville Longbottom: Quality Time

The sun shines through the greenhouse, lightning the entire room. I turn the page of the book I was reading, or at least attempting to. I peek over the edge of the pages, cheeks flushing at the sight. My fiance, Neville, pulls the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. My eyes trace the line of sweat running down his stomach. Gulping, I force myself to look back at my book. I cannot let Neville catch me staring. Again. 

“Petal?” I look up, eyes widening at how close Neville is. When did he walk over here? “Y..yes love?” I stutter, forcing my eyes to stay on his face, and not his sweaty, hot body. “Are you hot? Your face is as red as the roses outside.” Neville kneels down, smirking. Oh Merlin, he knows. “Let’s go inside and watch one of those weird telly programs you like.” 

Ron Weasley: Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation

“Please just come with me.” Ron whines as pulls me through the hall. I laugh, shaking my head. “Where are we going?” His hands squeezes mine. “Trust me.” My smile softens at his soft pleas. “I’ll always trust you.”

To my surprise, Ron leads us to the kitchens. “Ron?” His blue eyes shine with excitement and a hint a nervousness. “I have a surprise for you.”

He pushes the portrait open, leading me to an empty chair. I spin around, taking in the busy kitchens. The smell of baked chicken and roasted potatoes fills the kitchen. “Did you have the elves make this?” Ron’s face turns a matching shade to his hair. “Um, no. I made it. For you.” My heart melts as I wrap my arms around Ron’s torso. “You did?” He nods, reaching for a plate, placing it in front of me. “Its your favorite.” He says, not needing to explain any further. I lean up, kissing his cheek. “Thank you Ron.” He nods, scratching the back of his head. “It’s no problem. Just dinner.”

Taking a bite of the kitchen, I moan at the delicious taste. Ron is a god send in the kitchen. “It’s more than just that,but thank you.” Ron smiles before leaning down, stealing the bite off my fork. “Mmhm, that is good.”

Seamus Finnigan: Words of Affirmation

Rummaging through my bag, I search for the letter from my mum. I never got the chance to read it this morning. Poor Lisa. Her boyfriend decided breakfast was the best time to break up with her. Such an arse. Who breaks up with somebody at the start of the day?

My fingers brush against a piece of parchment. I smile as I pull out of my bag. Another note from Seamus.

Good morning gorgeous. I hope your day goes as perfect as you are. Which you are. Perfect that is. I love you. - Seamus

I look around the library, hoping to see my boyfriend. The search was pointless. Seamus Finnegan would never be caught even a toe in the library unless I was dragging him. I pull out a blank piece of parchment. Mum’s letter can wait an extra five minutes.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's time to get back at Severus for being a constant ass... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 37: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight)

You had retired to one of the tables alongside Remus to explain your plan. It was simple enough to execute, and it wouldn’t cause any harm. Well, as long as Ackley’s prank treats didn’t cause any harm, since your entire plan depended on those. 

 “You think it’ll work?” you asked him. 

He bit his lip, a small frown adorning his handsome features as he thought about it, about 5 seconds later he nodded, a small smile spreading on his lips. “You’re a brilliant little witch, aren’t you?” 

You beamed at his praise, standing just a bit straighter  as he said it, and leaned in just a little closer to him, cheeks brushing against each other as you went over the plan by whispering into each other’s ear. 

“Mister Lupin, Miss (Y/LN), pleasure to see you here,” a voice said from behind. You turned to your teacher with a smile. 

“Professor Slughorn, we must thank you for the invitation.” 

He nodded, “Oh no, the gratitude is mine, such a lovely presence adorning the party,” he said. “I see you’ve made an interesting choice,” he said, now turning straight to you, “How did Mister Black take it?” 

Remus looked at you from the side, seeming weary at Slughorn’s question, you simply smiled at the teacher, “Sirius is more than okay with it,” you reassured. “In fact, he did mention he wasn’t a big fan of Christmas parties.”

Slughorn raised his eyebrows and nodded, you tightened your smile, then another wizard approached Slughorn. “Ah, Roan,” he said with a smile as he pulled the young man and placed a hand on his back, having him face the two of you, “These are some of my best students,” he said pointing at both you and Remus. “Exceptional Wizards,” he praised, “Remus is clever and strong, and this young lady here is brilliant at charms and hexes, I would know, she accidentally hexed one of my kids,” he said, hailing the way you had confringoed Evan. “Very advanced spells I tell you, they would both be brilliant additions to your department,” he said. 

The man smiled, he was slightly shorter than Remus, but held his head high with a smile and a rather prideful look, not in a bad way though, Roan, reminded you a lot of Nightshade actually, that same regal look, thought his hair was a lighter brown and his skin was a lot more tan in comparison to her. He extended his hand to Remus. “Roan Elnore,” he said, “pleasure to meet you both.” Once he shook Remus’ hand, he extended it towards you. His hand was rough and strong, on the smaller side compared to your boys’ thought. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Elnore,” you responded.

“Please, call me Roan,” he said with a laugh, “Mr. Elnore is my father.” 

“Roan,” you said with a smile, you didn’t miss the way Remus stepped closer to you after that, as if protectively, or perhaps, possessively. Roan didn’t miss it either and he took a short step back, that’s when you noticed a sharp claw mark that shone from behind his ear to almost the front of his neck, it was outside of Remus’ field of vision, and you weren’t sure if Roan had purposely moved his head in such a way that’d you’d have to notice or if you had just perceived it that way. 

But the scar almost made you lean closer, it was dreadfully similar to the ones that covered Remus’ body, and to the three –now healing– marks across your arm. You almost stepped closer to try and perceive it better but held back when you realised, again, that Remus’ shoulder was almost in front of yours, impeding you from walking any closer. 

“Your department?” Remus asked.

Slughorn smiled as if he had been waiting for one of you to ask. “Ah yes, Roan here, works for the ministry, why don’t you tell them all about it while I go greet some more guests?” Slughorn said as he patted Roan on the back and moved to talk to some other students. 

Roan laughed awkwardly, “Some things never change, do they?” he said with an awkward smile, “I work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” he said with a smile, Remus tensed and it was you who stepped closer to him this time around. 

“Oh, really?” you said, mustering a charming smile as you attempted to divert the attention from Remus, “And what do you do?” 

“I oversee the Registry of Dangerous Creatures,” he said simply. “We basically have to make sure all creatures like goblins, giants, trolls, dragons, werewolves, etc. are identified and–” 

You could feel Remus tense even further and you casually dragged your hand to his, taping your finger over his until he wrapped it around yours, you tightened it reassuringly. “Punished?” Remus offered. 

“Salazar No!” Roan answered as he shook his head, “I know some people who despise dangerous magical creatures, yes, but while they are dangerous because it’s in their nature, it doesn’t mean they’re not either provoked or without the capacity to control themselves,” he explained. “Werewolves, for example, can be extremely dangerous, but only a few times a year.”

You smiled at that, “Yeah, I agree,” you responded. “Most ‘dangerous’ magical creatures are only such a thing because we have invaded their natural habitat and provoked them.” 

“Exactly!” Roan said as he leaned onto you, clearly happy that you understood exactly what he meant. “It’s what I’ve been trying to convince the ministry of,” he explained, “It’s a tough battle, but I don’t plan on giving up.” 

“We’d both be pleased to help,” you said with a smile, now paying a closer look to his scar, it most definitely looked werewolf-infringed. 

“Roan, darling!” you heard a familiar voice approach and were slightly taken aback when you witnessed the way Seraphina wrapped her arms around the young man and pulled him into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said with a smile, looking at her with adoration. You turned to Remus and he gave you an equally confused look. 

Roan pressed a short kiss to her lips and then turned back to you, “Do you also teach this young couple? Slughorn was giving me all sorts of praises for the two of them.” 

Remus pulled his hand away from you in an instant, feeling nervous after giving the man such an impression. 

Seraphina, who had her hands on Roan’s arm turned to you, a kind of shine in her eyes you saw only when you cast the right spell on a duel, or when you got the answer to a question correct, “They’re not a couple darling,” she explained simply. “And yes, I do teach them, in fact, I’ve talked to you about her,” she said pointing at you, “She’s my star duelist.” 

“It is her?” he asked with raised eyebrows and Seraphina smiled and nodded in return, you swallowed at that, “You’re Silas’ daughter?” he asked almost in disbelief. 

You nodded in return. “And that’s Remus Lupin,” she said, emphasising his last name. 

“Blimey, you’re the son of my boss,” he said with a gasp. Remus smiled awkwardly, he had never been the son of anyone’s boss before, and while he knew his father worked at the Ministry, he didn’t know of him having many people working directly for him at the department, but he had been working there for almost as many years his own age, so in a way, it made sense.  Regardless, Remus felt like Roan was placing him on the same level as you, as if your father’s exceptional political career was equal to his own father’s. He had never felt like that before. Always failing to understand the weight on James’ or Sirius’ shoulders after coming from pureblood families. 

“You’ve met Lyall?” you said curiously, “I’ve only ever heard from him. Hopefully, I’ll get to meet him soon.”

“He’ll be delighted by such a bright young witch, surely,” Roan replied. 

“Certainly,” agreed Seraphina. 

“You are married?” you asked, looking at the two of them with a charming smile, following along the conversation and changing the focus when you noticed Remus didn’t seem too comfortable with them speaking about his father or the registry. Remus, on the other hand, was absolutely impressed with how well you were handling the conversation. It’s not that he struggled to maintain conversations, but you managed to keep the talk flowing with a rather effortless approach. 

And it wasn’t because you were particularly outgoing, but you had been to several political events with your parents, so you had kept a lot of conversations with older people before, you were awfully used to the politics, and you had developed a way to use your charm to veer conversations in whichever way you needed them to go, in this case, away from Remus and his father’s work. 

Seraphina smiled at your boldness, “Not yet darling, we decided to wait a little bit more until things were less complicated and we could make a big party with no looming danger,” she said. “Roan here has a lot of family members, and they sure would be offended if we made a party without inviting them.” 

“She says that, but it’s her family that would be really offended,” the man reproached. “And trust me, you do not want to cross the Nightshades,” he leaned a little closer. “They can be terrifying sometimes.” 

You smiled at that, giving a small look at Nightshade before nodding in agreement, yes, she was stunning, but that didn’t take away her presence, she was delightful in a rather icy way, like an ice queen that could freeze you if you did something that could upset her, and yet, you still liked her very much.  

Nightshade jokingly shoved Roan by the shoulder, it was rather interesting to see this side of her, a lot more playful and youthful in comparison to the much more stoic ballerina vibe she gave off as a teacher, it made you wonder how she might have been when she was just a student. 

You had taken the moment Roan leaned closer to pay a little more attention to his scar, and then when he was shoved by Nightshade, you noticed there was another one peeking from his long-sleeved shirt, barely a the tail of a scar, but you had seen similar ones, on Remus’ hands. 

“Are you planning anything tomorrow?” You asked the two of them. “I mean, I know it’s the last day of class and you must be rather busy with grading and such, but we were thinking of preparing a small dinner,” you said pointing at both you and Remus, “With the rest of our friends, of course. And if you’re still around, Roan, you’re more than welcome to come.” 

Remus, whose hand had at some point travelled to your arm by crossing his behind you, squeezed as if trying to remind you what day tomorrow would be, but you being so calm with stating you would have a dinner had thrown him off guard too, since obviously you had planned no such thing. You didn’t pay much mind to it, almost completely focused on Nightshade who gave you a sharp look, almost telling you she had understood exactly what you were doing while narrowing her eyes. You gave her a soft look in return, even throwing in a bit of a tight-lipped smile. 

Roan’s breath caught in his throat for only a second before he turned to you, “Oh, thank you for the invitation, but I must get back to London with Seraphina early in the morning, we still have some business in the ministry.” 

“Of course, do not worry, I’m sure we’ll get more than enough time to meet again on a different day,” you said. “Anyway, Rem and I were just about to walk over to the food table when Slughorn came over,” you explained, “would you like us to bring you something?” 

“No darling, we just ate,” Nightshade said as she sent a courteous nod to both you and Remus and started moving towards a different place. 

“It was nice to meet you guys, if you’re ever over at the ministry, I’d love to see you,” he said as he followed his girlfriend along. 

Both you and Remus walked over to the sweets table and then towards one of the corners of the room, “What was that about the party?” 

You turned to him, almost peering through your lashes before raising your head, a small smile on your lips, Remus thought he’d never seen such an angelic look on someone with a smirk before. “You didn’t see Roan’s scars, did you?” Remus tilted his head. “He had one on his neck,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his and tracing your finger over the same area but on his skin. Remus almost shivered at your touch, your hand was cold from the drink you had grabbed at the table, and you assumed that had been the reason for the way his breath hitched on his throat and pulled your hand back. 

You then brought your hand up and traced your finger over it too, going first over the long sleeve of your dress near your upper arm and then just for a second touching your own skin. “He had another one there.” 

“Well, he works with magical creatures, dad also has a few of those,” Remus said, missing your point, and perhaps a little annoyed at the fact that you had been paying such close attention to Roan. 

“Yeah, but they didn’t look like just any scar, think of Alastor Moody, I’m sure you’ve seen at least a few pictures of him on the paper, his scars are different.” 

“How come?” 

You let your hand hover over your arm before deciding it would be a bad idea to remind Remus of the now-scarring tissue on your shoulder and decided to grab his hand instead. “They looked like this,” you said as you let your finger brush lightly over one of his scars. “The same depth, tones, tightness.” 

“Are you implying that–”

“I thought I was imagining things, but I’ve gotten pretty used to the way they look, Remus, I’ve seen them up close,” you took a deep breath, as you moved your shoulder just slightly, almost involuntarily but Remus noticed. “They were the same.” 

“So– whatever did it must have been–” 

“Like you,” you concluded. “Roan said they were only dangerous at certain points of the year. He even said he was trying to persuade the ministry. That's a pretty solid stance on werewolves compared to the rest of the people.” 

“He didn’t have as many of them,” Remus said, remembering some of the scars on his own face and the rest of his body, some you had seen, some you hadn’t. Even some already healing you had unwittingly caused the previous moon. It was silly really, how the two of you had scarred each other when you were the last people who would willingly hurt the other. 

You nodded, “Threw me off guard too,” you admitted. “But he’s older, Remus, and some time ago Nightshade admitted she knew what you were when she got hired, that she was close to Dumbledore even before she was a teacher here, and I just thought… What if he hired her because she already knew how to deal with, well you know.” 

“But the scars, it still doesn’t–” 

“That’s why I invited them to dinner.” 

“He said he had to work,” Remus said with a shrug. “He could have been telling the truth, although…” 

“You smelled his nervousness, didn’t you? I wasn’t paying attention to their answers, but rather, to their reactions. Nightshade threw me a look I know well, a warning. I think she knows I was close to figuring it out… and then there was the way Roan was holding his breath, I mean I cannot smell nervousness, not when I’m not Vixen, but I can see it. And you? Tonight especially.” 

Remus was frowning, looking at the floor and yet nowhere in particular as he bit his lip. He’s thinking, you realised. It was a look you had seen him make more than once when he was analysing situations, then he turned to you, his brown eyes could easily let you see how worried he was, “He smelled funny.” 

“You think he’d notice the same about you?” 

Remus sighed heavily, “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s a lot of people, I was paying close attention because-” he trailed off as if he didn’t know what exactly to say after that. 

You looked at him, now analysing the situation at hand. The way he had stepped over you protectively, and how he had been looking at Roan rather intently. Roan was handsome. Not your type of handsome but attractive nonetheless. What if Remus was attracted to him…? You almost felt your cheeks warm at the thought crossed over your head. You couldn’t have drawn a more faulty conclusion. For someone who had identified a werewolf after one simple talk, you had, so far, been terrible at realising your friend’s feelings for you. 

“You were curious,” you offered, giving Remus an easy way out, and he nodded. It was better for you to think that, than knowing that, in reality, he had actually been smelling the way you reacted to Roan. But most of all, he was trying to make sure that you still smelled like him. He almost couldn’t live without being able to feel his scent all over you and Sirius anymore. He sometimes wondered if that was the wolf, or if he was just possessive like that. More often than not it was hard for him to draw the line where Moony ended and Remus started. 

“Yeah,” he added. 

“He seems like a convenient friend to have,” you said. 

“What if he’s evil though? What if he’s with the other werewolves, like Forrester or… Greyback?” You knew what a delicate subject Greyback was to Remus, he had told you the story of how he’d ended up being a werewolf. He had told you about Lyall and his prejudice and how Greyback had escaped and then taken revenge on him by using his child. 

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “He wouldn’t be with Nightshade,” you said, “She’s too sharp and perceptive. You know she was offered to work with Moody but rejected being an auror in favour of coming here?”  

“Really?” 

You nodded, “Dumbledore asked her to do it, and she was thrilled to teach DADA,” you told him. “If Roan was dodgy, she would have already sent him to Azkaban.” 

“Maybe she’s blinded by love.” 

You smiled at that, “You really think someone could be blind enough not to see a deatheater?” 

Remus thought about it, if either you or Sirius were deatheaters, he for sure wouldn’t have noticed. “Would you ever suspect Sirius to be one?” 

“Of course not,” you said honestly. 

“You’re in love,” he said with a shrug. 

“You wouldn’t suspect him either, and it’s not because you’re in love with him.” If only you knew. “It’s because you know him, because he’s your friend.” 

“Maybe we’re blinded by the love we have for our friends too.” You looked at him with a smile and pushed with your shoulder just a little. “What?” 

“I think we’re passed Pissy Moony and we have Sad Moony instead.” 

He gasped, a smile playing on his lips regardless, “You think I’m saying that because of the moon?” You shrugged, mirroring his simile and raising one of your eyebrows as you did. “How would you feel if I said the same when you’re on your period?” 

You snickered at that. “Well I do get a little pissy sometimes,” you said with a shrug. 

“You’ll admit you get pissy on your period just to maintain your argument?” 

You pretended to think about it for a second and then nodded. “You know, it’s kind of nice.” 

“Getting pissy on your period?” he teased. 

You shoved him in response, “No silly, having a friend who understands,” you said. “A male friend that understands,” you clarified. He raised an eyebrow at that and you shrugged. “You’ve always been more understanding, it’s probably why Lily had a crush on you in 3rd year.” 

“She what?” Remus gaped. 

“You’re telling me she never told you? She said she did!” 

Remus thought back, and then remembered. Lily had said he liked him, in potions at some point when they were partners, but she had said it in such a casual way, Remus didn’t actually realise what she meant, he had been rather worried about other things he was discovering about himself back then, especially the kind of things that he couldn’t exactly talk about with other people. “I thought that was… I thought she meant it platonically.” 

You responded to that with a simple incredulous look. 

“I said thanks!” he said afterwards, you busted out into a laugh, looking at him as you bit your lip, he was slightly red, and looked adorable all flustered. You were looking at him fondly when you felt someone pushing you as they walked, forcing you to crash against his chest. You were a little stunned by such an unexpected fast movement and had grabbed onto his arms to keep yourself from falling, Remus had done the same to you, holding you just tight enough for you not to fall. 

You stayed in Remus’ familiar embrace for just a couple of seconds before turning your head to look at the person who had pushed you, half expecting them to say they were sorry when you noticed who it had been. Fucking prick, you thought as you saw Severus walk towards Barty with his head held haughtily high. 

You looked up at Remus, a determined look on your face he instantly identified as your need for payback. Severus had been a total prick all night and no matter how upset Lily had been with you, you were going to retaliate, and not with poisonous words this time around. You leaned back onto Remus, “You already know the plan.” 

Remus only nodded with a smile, he wondered if that was what you did on your dates with Sirius too, be all over each other and plan sneaky pranks. Of course, he did it unconsciously, and almost felt bad for even thinking of it, but if that was how it was, he thought it would be splendid.

You walked over to Johnny Ackley as he kept an eye on the Slytherins. Once you reached the boy, you gave him your charming smile, to which he responded with a quirked eyebrow, “May I help you?” 

“Indeed you may,” you responded, grin growing ever wider. “I’ve heard you’re an entrepreneur, great businessman too.” 

He smiled at your use of words to describe him, “You’ve come for a bargain?” 

“Indeed,” you replied with a smile. “Now I don’t want any Rumpelstiltskin tricks to be pulled under your sleeves. Tell me your exact price after I’ve made my request. How many of those trick treats do you have left in your tray.”

“I have only one safe one left,” he replied honestly. “But I’d give it to you for free.” 

You let out a breathy laugh at his smile, he wasn’t half bad at this game, from what you’d heard you’d expected him to be a little less capable as a businessman, but he clearly knew that was not the reason you had approached. “Good, because I need that one out of the tray before we make a deal.” 

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You cannot kill anyone with these,” he joked. 

You scoffed playfully in response, “Why exactly would you think I– Actually, never mind,” you said, and then proceeded, “you said one of those gives bad breath?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, someone’s already taken that one,” he said with an apologetic look, “looking to get away from your date?” 

“What?! Not at all! Remus is great!” You weren’t sure why the thought of someone implying you’d want to get away from Remus had upset you so much, but you choked it up to the fact that he was your best friend and that you had to defend his honour because of it. “I’m looking to get back at someone who has been pushing people around since they got here.” 

“Ah, of course. Unfortunately, Severus didn’t want to have any of these,” he said as he pushed the tray up just a little, “I’ve offered a few times already.” 

You huffed a laugh. “Of course, but you haven’t tempted, not in a way that matters to him,” you said with a smirk, the kind of expression someone who had a plan would make, “what other things do they do?” 

Now it was his turn to smirk, and he pointed at one of the treats, “Makes your headache,” he turned his finger to a different one, “gives you the hiccups,” he hovered to another one, “makes you horny–”

“Wait, really?” you asked. 

“Want to give it a try?” he teased. 

You almost punched him. “That seemed like a terrible trick to play on someone. Could have some nasty uses. You sure you wouldn’t get expelled if they find you out?” 

“Not that horny, jeez,” he said. “Belby helped me develop some of these, they are safe and recreational.” He then hovered his pointed finger back on the tray. “Gives you a terrible stomach ache, you can only get rid of it by dancing or kissing someone. And this one–” he said pointing at one with what looked like grey scales on top, “twists all your words so you say the exact opposite of what you mean.” 

You smiled at that, instantly knowing which one would be useful for Severus and his nasty little mouth, “Green is the only one that’s good, right?” Ackley nodded in response. “And the price?” 

“A piece of your hair.” 

You frowned at that. You knew what people could do with hair, you did not want anyone going around with your face. “Hell no!” 

“Do you even know how precious it could be? I know people who would pay so much for it!” he tried to reason. “We could even split the profits.” 

“For my hair?” 

“Hey! A lot of people have a crush on the new quidditch player,” he stated. “I’m sure they’d have a kick with polyjuice and someone willing to help.”

“Ugh, gross!” You said, honestly horrified at that. 

“And people also like Sirius,” he said thoughtfully, “would you consider it cheating if someone had polyjuiced themselves onto you?” 

You looked positively scandalized by the idea, “Well of fucking course it would be!” 

Ackley shook his head as he tsked, “It’s a million-dollar idea, I’m telling you! You lack vision!” 

“You wouldn’t sell your hair if you knew they were gonna use it to satisfy some weird as fuck kink!” He gave you the kind of look that clearly said he would and you scoffed. 

“Okay, I assume Remus, Sirius and James’ hair is also off the question? What about Lily’s? Or Tom’s?” 

“Ackley, I’m not giving you the hair of any of my friends.” 

“Your loss,” he said with a shrug. In truth, Ackley did not expect you to agree to either of those requests, but he also knew he wouldn’t lose anything by trying, especially not when you had come to him for help, “If it’s not hair then… would you be willing to brew a potion for me?” 

“What potion?” 

“I overheard you talking with McGonagall after the game, I reckon she’ll give you the recipe for a contraceptive potion. Think you’ll be able to brew it?” 

Fucking hell, now it wasn’t only McGonagall who thought you and Sirius were nothing but horny teenagers. “Yeah, of course, I can brew a batch.” 

“Fantastic, they sell incredibly well,” he said with a smile. “But I lost my dealer last year.” 

“It will only be one batch though!” you added, a little more vocalised this time around, trying to make it clear. 

“Of course, of course. That’s fine though, the scarcity will make it more expensive. I’m terrible at brewing, but I’ll get you all the ingredients you need once you send me an owl with the list, does that sound fair?” 

You smiled, “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal, Johnny.” 

He gave you a short wink and nodded at that, “And a good one indeed.” He then looked over your shoulder, at the Slytherin boys. “What’s the plan?” 

“Just show up near us and offer some treats in a few minutes, play along if necessary. Remus and I will do the heavy lifting.” 

“Easy enough,” he said with a nod and disappeared in the crowd. 

You smiled and walked back to Remus, he was a lot closer to the boys and you started a casual conversation with him, telling him about some of the homework you were supposed to do over the break and asking, subtly –according to you– what he’d like to get on Christmas. Now it’s not that Remus realised you were asking him for your own sake either, he was rather enthralled by your talking to pay much attention to your not-so-subtle questions. 

“What did you ask Father Christmas to bring over?” you asked him. He quirked an eyebrow giving you an incredulous look, “Aw come on! You cannot tell me you’re too old for presents.” 

He shrugged in response. “I’m not sure, back in the house my parents always got me rather practical things, well except for mom, she always got me muggle toys.” 

“Really? Were they fun?” 

“Some of them, for sure. I once got a small broom horse that my father enchanted so I could use it to fly! It only allowed me to go up a few feet, but it was incredible!”

You gasped at that. “Really?” 

He nodded, “And at some point, they even got me a muggle hamster, he was horrified of me though, had to give the poor thing away.” 

You gave him a pitiful look. “At least our children like us both equally,” you said, thinking of Pyro and Nummie. You and Remus had already developed a whole system that would keep them fed while you were out on vacation, they had already gotten wide enough to be dangerous when transporting them home. Remus chuckled at that, letting his mind wander just for a second, he could never have children, not with his condition. What if his child ended up like him? The fantasy was nice, though. You looked to the side, Ackley still wasn’t close. “But… what would you like to get now?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe a jumper or something. You keep stealing those.” 

You gasped at that, swatting him playfully on the shoulder. “For the scent thing.” 

“Nah, you’ve been stealing them even before the scent thing,” he said, and it was true, not that he minded it much, he loved it when he got them back and they smelled like you and Sirius. You shook your head in response. 

“But what do you actually want, though?” and then you gave him a look. “Don’t think practical, be delusional about it if you need to.”  

Delusional? I’d like to have you and Sirius… at the same time, he thought. “Haven’t really thought about it, maybe something comforting? Or a cool band T, like the ones Sirius has…” alternatively one from him. “What about you? What do you want to get for Christmas?” 

It was your turn to shrug now, “Not sure either,” you answered sincerely. “I was thinking of getting a muggle gaming console, but I highly doubt it will work with the magical fields here in Hogwarts, so getting it on the summer break might be better.” Remus agreed with a simple humm. “If I do get something muggle it will be like Sirius’ cube.”

“He hates it,” he told you. “He’s been struggling to solve the puzzle since he got it. I think he’ll end up transfigurating it or something.” 

You giggled, the image of Sirius struggling with the cube diverting you more than it should. Sirius was always very capable, so thinking that a muggle puzzle would frustrate him, was rather amusing. You could almost picture him throwing the cube to the wall in a very child-like tantrum after trying for very long and not achieving much with it. Perhaps that’s why he was already rather cranky back when you had worn Minho’s sweater. “I feel like Dromeda gave it to him on purpose.” 

“Oh, she must definitely did,” Remus agreed with a smile. “We should write her a letter, telling her that her gift was an absolute success.” 

“You think she wouldn’t mind? I mean, us writing her even though I don’t actually know her personally?”

“I’m sure she’s heard lots about you, bet she’d be more than thrilled to hear from her new cousin.”  

You pushed Remus lightly after that, he knew Andromeda had heard about you already, she had sent him a letter a little after Sirius sent her one mentioning you were now in Hogwarts too. She wanted to know every single thing about you. Of course, Remus, who already considered you wonderful, ended up sending her a rather short and concise story telling her just that, but that if she needed any more information she was to ask Sirius instead because he was not about to meddle in his best friend’s business anymore. 

“Treats?” Johnny said as he approached, offering them to some other students but moving rather fast before they even got to dig their hands inside the platter. He passed by you and moved towards the Slytherins. 

“Hold up, wait!” you said as he looked your way, the platter on display right in front of the Slytherins. You turned to Remus and called his attention by tapping the back of your hand softly on his chest, “I tried the pink one earlier,” you said. “It was delicious, you should try it,” you said then as you approached Johnny. 

Severus gave you a look, at both you and Remus approaching and then turned to the platter, there was one pink one left. So, naturally, and with the intention to piss you off, he took a hold of it and plopped it onto his mouth. 

Jonathan Ackley turned to him shocked, but managed to keep it together and hold the snigger threatening to leave his mouth. He had tried to get Severus to eat one of his trick treats so many times and it wasn’t until you and Remus intervened that he managed to do it. 

“Oh, you wanted that one?” he asked with a clearly fake concerned expression. “I’m very sorry, I’m sure there are many others you could take instead.” 

You looked at him with an annoyed expression, of course, he had just done exactly what you wanted him to do, but the way he had responded, the fact that he really thought he had taken the treat you wanted, it made your bIood boil. If there was anyone that could make the worst side of you flare up, it was Severus Snape. Exactly like it had happened earlier and with equally disastrous results –Lily was probably still angry at you.  

“Well, that’s all right, Severus,” you said with the most neutral tone you could have mustered, “I can still take the purple one, I heard Imogen say it was good,” you said simply. 

“Which one?” Barty said as he turned. “This one?” he asked as he plopped it into his mouth. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ackley said, pretending to move the tray to the side, but Evan intervened and grabbed him by the arm. Softly, but firmly. 

“What? Do you only give treats to the Gryffindors? I’m sure Slughorn wouldn’t be too happy you’re neglecting his own house,” he said as he grabbed onto one of the leftover treats and popped it into his mouth. 

“Reggie, would you like one?” he asked, Regulus, who was a few steps behind, and talking to someone else, turned around, slightly oblivious to the situation at hand and nodded. You gave him a warning look and sneezed when he hovered his hand over some of the treats. He gave you a pointed look and hovered his hand over a different one, you sneezed again. 

“Bless you,” Ackley said as he turned to you, eventually Regulus took hold of the one with the green mousse on top. 

You breathed out calmly and then turned to him, “Thank you, Johnny.” 

While Regulus savoured his treat, you realised Barty blinked a few times and left to the other side of the room. The headache treat he had taken, had been of fast action apparently. 

Then James approached, placed an arm over Ackley’s shoulder and leaned over the tray. The Slytherins could not know of the involvement of either you or Remus in the little prank, so it’s not like you could actually stop James from taking one of the treats, but he already had one on his hands. 

Fuck it’s that one, you thought as you looked, there was still one on the tray. It’s the stomach ache one, well getting a kiss will not be that hard for James, will it? Besides, it was a lot better than the alternative… You moved quickly, taking hold of the one that was left on the tray and turning to James. “Switch with me?” You asked politely. “I really want to try that one, yeah?” 

“I don’t know, Vix,” James teased, Did he have no idea? He probably didn’t. 

“James mate,” Remus intervened. “Be a gentleman, would you?” James gave him a look. “Follow the Marauder’s code.” 

James narrowed his eyes at Remus but nodded, you quickly switched with him and James left with the treat on his hand. 

You gave the small cookie one last look before plopping it in your mouth. Downing it all before Remus even got the idea of eating it instead of you, which you knew he would, but you also knew he’d be in a lot more trouble than you would be if he did take that particular treat. 

“Delicious,” you said honestly.

“Of course it would be, you sensible girl,” Severus said. 

You gave him an amused look, “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I said you, sensible girl! What the heaven?” Severus looked genuinely confused. “BIood loyalist! What in the Godric Gryffindor have you not done to me?” 

“Me?” you asked confused, “Whatever could I have done to you, Severus? I was just getting my own treat.” 

Evan started to hiccup on the back, he looked uncomfortable more than anything, so he left to search for Barty a little later. Regulus was still standing there, looking like he was just understanding what was happening. 

He gave you a complicit smile and turned to Severus with a rather confused stance, “I ate a treat too, and nothing’s happened to me.” He then proceeded to place his hand on Severus’ head, as if to check for temperature. Who would have thought Reggie could be so brazen?

Should have known, he’s Sirius’ little brother, after all. 

“Put your hands on me, Regulus,” Severus spat, desperately, although his words didn’t match his tone.

Regulus pulled back with a frown, instantly recoiling after hearing Severus’ words, not because his tone had been imperious –that was always the case–  but because of what he had demanded. 

“Sev–” he asked cautiously, but he was interrupted by the boy whose name was uttered. 

“It was that angel! She did not do this to me. Godric cherished heaves! This is exactly what I’m trying to say!” 

You broke into a giggle then, “Well, Sev, I never thought you’d be giving me so many compliments in one go, but thank you very much.” 

“You and you’re clever –cherished–”“ he looked genuinely frustrated, “–cherished heavens– your handsome fiend.”

“My handsome fiend?” you asked as if surprised. “I have no such thing,” you added with a devious smile. “You are my only fiend, Severus.”

Ackley had already bolted, but Remus and Regulus were still standing there, Remus looked like he was about to break into a laugh. Severus had turned red, “You stunning lady!” 

“Woah, Severus, I have a boyfriend,” you teased further, just to spite him. It was almost funny that he was saying such nice things now, it really put into perspective how nasty he was on a daily basis. 

“Sev, perhaps we should take you to the infirmary, you don’t look all right,” Regulus intervened again. 

“Yes! I mean YES! Godric bless it! Cherished heavens, this is exhilarating.” 

“Regulus is not wrong,” Remus said, in his always conciliating tone, “You should probably go to the infirmary.” 

“You WILL go unharmed after this,” Severus said as he turned to you with a threatening finger. 

You waved him a polite goodbye as Regulus took him away and got him to sit down at a nearby table while trying to calm him down. 

“Didn’t you mention there was only one good treat left?” Remus asked once the two of you managed to catch your breath. You nodded in response, “Who took it? James? Reggie?” 

“Could have been the one I ate…” you said defensively. 

“Yeah sure, like I didn’t see you sneezing so Reg didn’t take the one that James took and you ended up chowing down in the end.” 

“Reggie took the good one,” you admitted. “Saved James by giving one that wouldn’t affect him much.” Remus frowned when he saw James dancing next to Lily, he had been dancing before he went for the treats too, he probably wouldn’t even feel the effects of the potion. “Johnny said that one gave you a stomachache that could only be cured by dancing or kissing someone, I figured James would have obliged either one without giving it a second thought. Especially if he got yet another excuse to kiss Lily.

Remus gave you a long look and wondered what would have happened if you had taken that one. Would she have asked me to dance? To kiss her? Of course not, she has Sirius. 

But what if Sirius wasn’t around, what if I was the last resort… would she kiss me then? “And the one you saved him from?” 

You took a deep breath at that, thinking of the treat you had taken, red, the colour of lust, you thought, Ackley must have thought things through when he asked Kless for help. 

“Nothing to worry about,” you said with a shrug, you weren’t sure how exactly the red treat would affect you, but you knew it would 100% be a lot worse on a man. “Trust me, I’d be worried if I was a boy.” 

Remus frowned at that, “What do you mean you would be worried if– What on earth did you eat?!?!”

“Shhhhh,” you said, a little stressed. “It’s okay, Remus. Don’t stress about it, I won’t stress about it, and things will be alright,” you said as you turned to him, you hadn’t quite noticed how broad Remus’ shoulders were until they were right in front of your face. Actually, you might have noticed how broad they were before but you had never found them so attractive, had you? 

Fuck, it’s taking effect, you thought as you looked at your friend and bit your lip, fucking hell. At least you could use curse words without them getting all twisted. 

“You can’t just ignore feelings until they disappear,” he said, hypocrite, his own inner dialogue shouted back at him. 

“Remus,” you whined, dragging out “e” from his name. “Please, please, let’s not talk about the potion I took and do something else instead?” 

“Like what?” 

Kissing in a broom closet, your brain shouted at you, you shoved the thought to the back of your head, “Dance?” you offered. 

“Do the effects also go away with dancing?” 

You looked to the side and thought about it. You guessed, in a way, they could. “Yes.”

The rest of the night went in an instant, between dancing and trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Remus looked damn good that day. From the moment he took off his suit coat and kept only his navy shirt, that was just the right amount of tight on him. Or the way the pants were also a little too tight and let you see his toned legs. 

Warmth crept up your cheeks each time your gaze lingered a second too long on Remus, the guilt gnawing at you whenever your head started objectifying him, and the potion wasn’t half as bad as it could be, you weren’t needy or anything like that, but fucking hell did it make you insanely aware of how attractive your best friend was. It wasn’t torturous, except for the fact that you kept thinking that: that night, you’d be sleeping with him and Sirius. 

That sounds terrible, you thought as you winced. Vixen and Padfoot would be sleeping with Remus because of the moon– yeah, that’s better. 

“You all right?” Remus asked concerned as he saw the expressions you weren’t quite managing to hide appear on your face, winces, smiles, frowns, whatever was going on in your head, including a rather large inner monologue. Perhaps the potions were making you overthink stuff? 

And boy were you most definitely overthinking stuff, way too much stuff, and all at the same time. If anything, you’d say the potion had made your mind work 10,000 kilometres an hour –you were doing that on your own– rather than making you exceptionally sensitive to teenage hormones –that was the actual potion’s work. 

In fact, the potion wasn’t some frivolous “horny” concoction, like Ackley had described. Kless had tried to describe it to Ackley, to narrow down exactly what would be going on –chemically– on the person that took the potion, but Johnny had given up about halfway through and decided to call it a horny potion. That was nothing close to what the potion actually was. If anything, it was meant to reveal truths obscured by your own defences, a lot closer to what love potions did than it was to aphrodisiacs. In Kless’ own words, it was more “akin to a mirror for the soul rather than an instigator of base desires.”

The potion was a carefully elaborated brew that Kless had designed with slightly selfish purposes, he wanted to use it on himself. Now that sounds terrible when you think of it as a horny potion, but it was never that. In fact, Kless’ intention was just to make himself a little more sensible to his very own feelings. You see, what we know of love, is actually a series of rather complex chemical processes that happen in our brain, things involving neurotransmitters: dopamine –involves pleasure, rewards and motivation–, serotonin –which regulates the mood–, oxytocin –also known as the love hormone–, Norepinephrine –yeah, the same one that’s related to adrenaline–, endorphins and a myriad of other chemicals that would take much more dedication to explore, but Kless did it anyway. 

Now his investigation had a reason –no he did not want to make a love potion– he wanted to know if he really liked someone in particular, and he knew that, while there were probably easier ways to tell if you liked someone (like those quizzes on Witch Weekly, and doing a bit of introspection) he also knew that a potion that allowed you see your own true feelings for someone could be really useful. So he gathered some interesting ingredients, that according to his research would help: Moonlit Petals (to enhance receptivity), Tears of a Siren (to increase the sensibility to pheromones), Crystalized Honeydew and a few other things that he thought would make an effective potion. He was about ready to present it to Slughron when he discovered his werewolf obsession and forgot about it altogether. That was until Johny had gone to him and revised his notes. 

On the top page, he had written “HARNi” (Heightened Awareness Recreational Brew –Ni was a stand-in for things he didn’t have a proper name for yet), but Kless didn’t have the best handwriting and Johny read horny instead. And we already know how the story goes, Kless tried to explain and Johnny decided to keep the other name instead, he thought the results were similar enough to the meaning of the word anyway. So no, you had never taken a horny potion, what the potion was doing was only letting you see some things you had never been quite aware of before –or not as aware as you were in that particular moment, at least–. Not that you knew any of it, the potion had been presented to you as a “horny” potion and you had eaten the treat as if it had been just that. And whatever it was you were feeling for Remus at that moment, you had –as anyone would– set it down to the potion.

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A/N: Well, did Sev get what he deserved? Honestly, he brought it onto himself... Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. Lastly, you guys were asking for a new Q&A so I'm working on it at the moment, send all the questions you may want to be added here, or directly on asks. Love, Lils xx

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[masterpurr]

all gale banter! (that i am currently aware of)

hiii gale enthusiasts, i just spent the past few hours picking through videos trying to find all of gales party banter and transcribing it! check under the cut for verbose details

copied directly from the doc i transcribed this into so youll have to bear with the initials to denote who is speaking when! generally speaking, initials are a=astarion, g=gale, h=halsin, j=jaheira, k=karlach, l=lae'zel, m=minthara, s=shadowheart, and w=wyll

(except for two minsc quotes that are also m, both where he mentions his name so like... it's obvious)

transcribed with attention paid to particular noises characters make that aren't quite whole words and also words that are emphasized!

please let me know if youre aware of any banter ive missed!

warning: long

G: Karlach! A hypothetical question for you. If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another… unnamed individual, erm, what might that someone… do about it?

K: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale! And leave out the hypotheticals.

G: Talking. Right! I'm good at that!

A: So, Gale, how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

G: [Ach!] I'm hardly pining! Been a year or more since Mystra cast me aside!

A: Oh, my dear wizard, I wasn't talking about Mystra.

W: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed, but Gale, you are so much more tolerable now that you've found your second.

G: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended.

G: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, er, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll?

W: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. I can recognize a troll silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

G: I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion.

A: Hmph! I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they're begging me to dream them on the first night.

G: Tell me - you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?

A: As the vampire ascendant I can grant my lover immortality and bind them to me forever.

G: Hmm. I trust you speak of the bonds of love, not the shackles of servitude.

G: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach?

K: I sure am. [heh] If there's hope for me, there's hope for anyone.

G: I'm surprised you're permitted to choose a partner outside of your own people.

L: We had to use and misuse each civilization in the stars in every way we know. I do not conquer by blade alone, Gale.

G: I can't imagine Mother Gith would approve. Doesn't she prefer us lesser species enslaved? Or eviscerated?

M: You've been smiling like a fool of late, wizard. Explain yourself.

G: I found love. Surely even you wouldn't begrudge me some happiness?

M: All I can say on the matter is that you were wise to lower your standards from the godly to the ghastly.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel: is it common for githyanki to fall in love?

L: Love? Is that this feeling in me, then? This passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way, but few would ever declare it. Githyanki have playmates, thrill partners but I've never heard anyone profess love, nor read of it in our slates.

L: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

G: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel. The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

G: If you're feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don't mind donating some blood.

A: Aha! Well, you're still full of that Netherese bile, I'll pass, thank you! Besides, I have someone else to nibble on, and they are delicious.

G: I'm glad to know you have a softer side, Minthara. I was beginning to think you rather… heartless.

M: Loving another is not soft, wizard. It is one of the hardest things a person can do.

G: So you admit you found love! Aww. How delightful. I'm happy for you both.

A: So, how was your night with Gale? Did you have a long, hard debate?

G: Ugh. Ignore him. Astarion envies the depth of a bond because he's of a shallower inclination.

G: So Astarion, I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently.

A: My life has taken on "a new aspect." It's only natural that my relationships change as well.

G: Halsin! You must have accumulated considerable wisdom on matters of the heart in your long life. Anything you'd like to pass on to a… strapping, lovestruck wizard such as myself?

H: [hehehe] Dispensing advice on matters of the heart would be like swapping boots. What suits me may be a… poor fit for you.

G: Ah. Well. There's no faulting that logic. At least you didn't tell me to "be myself."

H: Oh no, perish the thought. That can be outright cruel advice to offer in certain cases.

G: Indulge me, Lae'zel, as someone unfettered by Faerunian beauty standards: how would you appraise my appearance?

L: Your beard looks like the hairy tufts upon the [surlon], the largest of wyrmkind that sliver our skies.

G: Hm. I suppose that's… a bad thing? No. Don't answer that.

G: Wild-shaping must sprinkle some spice on your love life, Halsin.

H: Heh. Indeed it does. Did you… never experience such delights with Mystra? I, uh, hear the gods enjoy taking on the forms of swans, horses, eagles and the like when… visiting with mortals?

G: Oh no, quite the opposite, actually! She mostly preferred our interactions to be abstract, and incorporeal. Most invigorating.

G: So, Lae'zel, have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, uh, romantic endeavors?

L: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time?

G: Fascinating! I think the arch-mage Tasha described a spell with similar affect! I really must look that up.

G: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Passionate! Primal! Capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort - or - inflicting the profoundest damage.

L: That's… pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But… now I will.

G: I've been pondering something, Lae'zel. Why is it that githyanki have bellybuttons, hm? When they hatch from eggs?

L: I did not grant you permission to gaze upon my midriff.

G: I- I wasn't gazing! Merely observing! Though that can hardly be said for a certain someone else.

G: Y'know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality.

K: Ugh! Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what?

G: W-well actually, I was thinking of poetry!

K: Oops. Sorry. But, uh, now that I think of it… is mage hand especially hard to learn?

G: Even shaped by shadow as it is, Sharran architecture has a kind of beauty to it.

K: Beautifully intimidating. This place was meant to scare people into submission.

G: There you go. Cutting right through the ephemera to the heart of the matter. Hm! Your finest quality, I think.

K: Uh. Here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

G: Nothing wrong with a bit of friction now and then. You help me keep my mind sharp.

K: Aw, thanks, pal! I think.

G: When we met, Shadowheart, your gaze seemed to linger in the distance on some unseen goal, some insubstantial purpose. But I notice now your gaze settles on something or someone much closer.

S: Is it that obvious?

G: Of course! There's nothing escapes a wizard's powers of observation.

A: I gave my return to Baldur's Gate a lot of thought. I never pictured this, though.

G: Ah, what did you have in mind? A quiet party? Toasting your own return with a few good friends?

A: Less "quiet party with friends", more "days of hedonistic debauchery", but otherwise… yes!

G: Hmm. Sounds like a recipe for disaster. But you know what? I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

G: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, "wizard" is also a term used for one who eschews their more, [hr-hrm] carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll?

W: Where are we going with this, Gale?

G: Oh, nowhere. Just think it's a rather cruel misnomer, not at all reflective of the glamor wizarding life affords.

A: So Gale, you laid with a goddess? You must have some sordid tales to tell.

G: Sordid? I lay with the Mother of Magic herself! What we had was… transcendent. Euphoric. Incandescent. Not sordid!

A: You actually made sleeping with a goddess sound boring. Hm. Incredible.

A: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale?

G: Uhh… sure! In silence.

G: When you've loved a goddess as I have, people often think you less experienced in the way of romance.

S: She just lives on another plane! [heh] Only jesting. I'm in no position to judge, especially after what happened with Shar.

G: It's true for a time, I neglected the physical in favor of celestial euphoria. But our relationship was no less real for it.

G: I feel I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have… must change a person.

A: Thank you, Gale, but let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

A: So, do you have loves waiting for you once this is all over?

G: You know what, that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

S: You mean just… waiting? Like a lovesick puppy?

M: Do you have elder siblings, wizard?

G: You're about to say something awful, aren't you?

M: In Menzoberranzan, after a house has two sons, every subsequent male-born child is slaughtered at birth, as it is useless, even for breeding. You have the aura of a third child about you.

G: The architect who built this must have been remarkable. Pity their vision didn't stand the test of time.

K: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place!

G: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

K: Hope keeps you going.

K: So Gale, got any book recommendations for me?

G: You can read?

K: Hmph. Yes, very funny. I can read. School put me off big, boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.

G: Ah! Say no more. I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep, ooh.

K: Ooh, something with magic please! And no devils!

G: Do you feel that? The darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave?

K: Er, you'll still be able to do your wizard thing though, right?

G: Of course. Doesn't make the shadows less dangerous.

K: Joy.

M: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt with all of this… stringy hair in your face.

G: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort.

M: Oh, no. Most warriors of [Rashinan] wear long battle braids weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp.

G: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. Not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting.

A: Gods! We're not back, are we?

G: On the Nautiloid, no. This is a different nursery. Similar, but not identical. There's likely one in every colony.

A: I don't care what's in every mind flayer colony, Gale. Nobody does. Except you.

A: Ugh, another ruined temple full of foul-smelling beasts spoiling for a fight.

G: No mere temple. This was a monastery, devoted as much to study as to worship.

A: Oh, how ignorant of me. So it'll be free of foul-smelling beasts then?

G: Quite the opposite. Some monastic orders celebrated their pungency as proof of their devotion. "To think is to stink" was the motto of one ill-fated brotherhood near Arm. Oh! Huh, but you meant beasts of the life-threatening variety. Yes I'm sure it's teeming with those.

A: Moonlanterns to keep the curse back? Burly guards to fight off any monsters? I could get used to this place.

G: Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

A: No, of course! Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

H: Ah, Last Light Inn. Half aglow and lanterns lit. Just like a hundred years ago.

G: I imagine the vista was more idyllic back then. As were its patrons' chances of surviving the walk home.

H: [Grunt.] Still though, when you are expecting nothing but desolation, even a small glimmer of hope fills the heart. To think long ago, the druids feared this market down would grow into a city and threaten nature's realm… little did we realize what the true threat was.

G: Divination is a skill few can master. The rest of us must simply muddle along, content to view the past with a clarity the future rarely offers.

H: Perhaps I can yet turn hindsight into foresight, provided the curse is lifted. The better way for all. Whole generations were denied their chance to flourish… I must put this right, for them.

A: That orb seems powerful. What could it do once it's extracted?

G: Nothing good can come of it unless it is contained. Why.

A: It might be useful. Who knows?

G: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep were far superior - and, they have the most excellent soaps.

S: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.

A: From sweet woodland to stinking swamp. Can you do tricks like that, Gale?

G: Easiest thing in the world. Though I'd do it the other way around.

H: Brickwork and stonework. This place is far out of balance with nature, but the Oak Father will reclaim this all eventually.

G: Not too soon, I hope! I've a craving for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a large glass of Arabellan Dry. None of which I've ever found hidden under a log.

H: Hah, you may thrive, but what of other life? A city is no place for wild creatures.

G: Cities teem with life! Rats, pigeons, flies… they count no less, for all their more pestilent qualities.

G: The Society of brilliance has quite the reputation. Even Waterdhavian academics refer to their works from time to time.

S: They talk a great deal but do very little. Which may be for the best.

G: I take it you're not inclined to study the wonders of the Underdark?

S: Its inhabitants and cultures, maybe. Its fungi and cave slime, no thank you.

W: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean?

G: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient. Exceedingly dangerous. And quite unrivalled.

A: Wonderful. I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic.

G: Home and hearth, reduced to ruins. The shadow curse stole more than the light from this place.

H: That is why it must be stopped. Imagine a whole century of life and love denied the chance to ever take place.

G: A hidden shrine dedicated to the Moonmaiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on.

K: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

G: Look around you! Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.

K: Where's the axes?

G: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield! They sell knowledge! Ingenuity! The wisdom of mages past.

K: [yawns] Ugh, sounds like more your thing than mine.

K: Doing alright, Gale?

G: Oh, you know. Still alive and kicking despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of… darkness and decay.

K: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

G: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place.

K: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess.

G: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd've been quite happy without.

K: Aw, man, adventuring is thirsty work.

G: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale.

K: Ah, that sounds like heaven. Wait. Used to?

G: Oh yes, long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still. At least your thirst for knowledge is quenced!

K: Ugh!

W: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place is a boastworthy bar.

G: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect on its racks?

W: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents.

G: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is!

K: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right?

G: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not!

K: Ugh. My mum always said the Chionthat was unlucky.

G: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep?

K: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say… a long way away.

G: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

G: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

K: I was just thinking the same thing! But… poetically.

G: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles.

K: A girl could get used to this.

L: These children and their pets lack discipline. Were they githyanki, I'd recommend further training.

G: Not everyone approaches the raising of their young with such militaristic vigor.

L: That is the very purpose of training. To determine which children shall be warriors, and which are suited to other roles. As for the unruly animals, they would make for nutritious marching rations.

G: Mm, that's certainly one way to make them behave.

L: These flowers are quite vivid, not to mention pungent. Not to my liking.

G: Are there no flowers in [tunirath]?

L: In the city of death, the m'lar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.

G: Huh. I'd rather get them from my florist in Waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.

G: That zaith'isk you mentioned intrigues me. Care to tell me a bit more?

L: An intricate device crafted by m'lar, our most gifted artisans. I am sworn to say no more.

S: Why must the Dead Three be so obvious and ugly with their decor? Blood and bones, bones and blood… Pointy nonsense. At least Shar had some panache.

G: As did Mystra's home on Elysium. Her ribbed vaults and buttresses created a magic entirely of their own… not to mention their pleasure domes.

S: Hah! Pleasure dome.

G: It's a perfectly legitimate architectural feature!

G: The road to Baldur's Gate is a long one. Who knows how long it'll take these folks to get there on foot.

S: If they make it. They're slow, vulnerable. Half or more will die long before Basilisk Gate.

G: Doesn't seem to trouble you a jot.

S: What good would it do for me to be troubled? We can't save them all.

S: You seem to know a good deal about our condition, Gale.

G: Everything, really. Not to put too fine a point on it.

S: A humble specimen, aren't you?

G: On occasion.

G: They're not mutually exclusive! The weave is served best with a dash of eloquence.

G: There's magic here, but it's of a rancid, impure form. Nothing like the true Weave at all.

L: This is why I appreciate a sharp blade to a ball of fire or a bolt of lightning. The Weave is inconsistent, unruly.

G: The Weave is constant, but its users - anything but. We must be on our guard.

L: A githyanki warrior hardly needs to be told that.

L: What is this? This place makes me feel sad, melancholy.

G: Ah, so you're susceptible to the tragedy of a broken home. Maybe you've more in common with us weaker beings than you thought.

L: There's no call to be insulting.

G: Not to diminish our efforts, but. Was rather simple getting here in the end, wasn't it?

L: The obstacles ahead prove to be higher still, which will make the pleasure of overcoming them all the more potent. Imagine the glorious din of it all, the streaming banners, the charging knights. The piles of severed limbs and heads.

G: Mm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you.

G: Whatever I expected to find lurking in this cursed gloom, it certainly wasn't this. A glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

S: That's one way of looking at it. You could also say it's a prime target, the one pocket of light in the gloom.

G: Oh pragmatism, thy name is Shadowheart. You're not wrong, though. Best we keep our sojourn here to a minimum.

G: So! Shadowheart. Such a name implies yours is a difficult heart to find.

S: It's not that hard to find. Perhaps any difficulty is more telling of you, Gale.

G: I always wondered what a vampire's lair would look like. Can't say I pictured it being quite this… theatrical.

L: I find it surprisingly similar to Queen Vlaakith's aesthetic.

G: That makes sense. She does have a flair for the dramatic.

G: No day, no night. It's as though time itself has abandoned this place. Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn't you say, Lae'zel?

L: Mm, hardly. It is said that the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving and wondrous in all directions. Nothing like this dismal abyss.

G: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me.

L: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral.

L: A tadpole nursery, as on the Nautiloid.

G: Quite right, so long as the attempt won't leave us similarly dismantled.

L: Caution is commendable. Boldness is extraordinary. In this case, I recommend the latter.

W: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name.

G: I take it you have some suggestions?

W: The Wizard Wonder. Or, how about… the Master of the Weave?

G: Tempting, but I think we already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

G: Pigeons, gulls, sparrows. These streets would make a fine hunting ground for a tressym like Tara.

M: In the Underdark, we have packs of winged hounds to deal with vermin like your precious Tara.

G: Flying hounds? Come now, you're pulling my leg. Aren't you?

M: Yes, I am. It is the bats that would make a meal of her.

M: Umberlee. Her clerics possess a nasty streak as wide as her oceans.

G: So their reputation suggests, especially among the good folk of Waterdeep. I'm curious to learn how you fell foul of them.

M: Blasphemy, said the temple priestess, but Minsc says do not give horns to your statues if you do not wish the visitors to try and make them toot.

G: Yes. That would probably do it.

W: I admire your courage, Gale.

G: Thank you! Any particular reason?

W: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.

G: What can I say? Mother always told me to be a gracious host.

G: My, my. Well I'll say this for the bonecloaks: they know their mushrooms.

S: Perhaps they should expand their horizons. Too much time spent obsessing over fungi seems to leave them a bit, well… like them.

G: Oh, a byproduct of their profession. Few can spend a lifetime inhaling fungal spores without turning out a bit… muddled between the years.

W: This is it, Gale. Today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power.

G: Entirely unnecessary. Though, if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration! Whatever outcome of what's just ahead… it will be the stuff of legends.

G: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer, too! I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball.

W: I'd have loved to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

S: What did you mean before, Gale? "A woman with shadows for eyes", you said.

G: Merely that if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror. No offense taken, I hope.

S: Not necessarily. I haven't made up my mind about you yet.

A: Ever heard of a vampire called Cazador, Wyll?

W: I don't think so, no. Why? Friend of yours?

G: He's patriarch of the Szarr family. Nasty fellow, if the histories are accurate.

A: I imagine they are.

L: The right of these prisoners to die in mortal combat was stolen from them.

G: Hardly the worst atrocity the Absolute's committed.

L: One of many, but by no means the least. To die properly is a matter of honor.

W: This is no aimless horde. The Absolute's forces are organized. What do you make of it, Gale?

G: All enemies have some chink in their armor, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable.

W: And if we don't find any clear weakness?

G: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or! We die nobly in the attempt.

G: I was wondering about your queen, Vlaakith. What tales of her reach us are terrifying. I suppose that's not how you would describe her.

L: Vlaakith is unity. Fear and beauty, life and unlife… eyes like onyx, teeth like daggers. There is none more perfect.

S: Sounds vile. I assume the meaning of perfect was lost in translation.

G: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it.

W: Then let us push forward, head high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble.

G: Your confidence is encouraging, but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead- or eye, as the case may be.

W: Who's in charge of the mind flayers, Lae'zel? Is there a squid king or something?

L: No. Each ghaik is servant to an elder brain. No king unites elders, only their collective tyranny.

G: A mind flayer monarch! Imagine that. Such a thing could shatter worlds!

K: Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

G: Ugh. It's the stairs I'm dreading.

G: No sign of tentacles so far.

S: The same. Except for a knot of worry in my stomach that's in no rush to go away.

G: That I can relate to.

G: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were.

W: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows.

G: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed.

W: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talent to use elsewhere. Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

S: You seemed quite forward with your compliments earlier. We'd only just met.

G: Seize the day, I say. More now than ever.

S: Careful you don't pull a muscle in this place.

S: Isn't it so that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavoring to call upon Mystra? I'm surprised she still listens to you.

G: She has no choice. She's sworn to hear all magic users. Even me. I'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations.

G: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here. A fascinating resource.

W: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence.

G: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

G: Look at this place. Such horrors defy description.

S: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime.

S: What if this creche doesn't work out, Lae'zel? What if your kin fail you?

L: If I can reach the creche, my kin will provide. Any failure will be mine alone.

S: If you say so. Just don't expect me to put all my eggs in the same basket.

G: That expression must sound curious to a githyanki ear, given the way they're birthed.

G: Gods. Who knew such a vile abscess lurked in the bedrock of this city? The very stone reeks of misery and despair.

J: Mm. A sad shrine kept by the lunatic and the lost. The last time I was here, I promised myself I would die beneath open sky. I have not changed my mind.

G: Nor should you. Far better to feel a cool breeze on your skin than whatever foul expirations blow through these halls.

A: Eh, can't say I love what they've done with the place.

G: Unsurprising, really. Fanatical cultists tend to care more for ambience then aesthetics.

A: Hrm. Reason enough to put them all to the sword, I say.

A: Heh, what's this? A clever little hideaway. A little too clever, if you ask me. Watch out for traps.

G: Not just clever. Rather ingenious! Somehow its construction keeps the shadow curse away.

S: The end must be near. No regrets, Gale? You may have been better off staying inside this boulder.

G: Unlikely. Had I stayed there much longer, the orb would have reduced it to rubble. Besides, think of all the fun I'd've missed out on.

S: Fun? Well, yes… I suppose we did manage to make the best of things.

[maxdibert]

Your canon takes are AMAZING!!!!

Say, what do you think teen Barty was like? Or any other Slytherin from the Marauders era. I absolutely hate how he's made into a crazy, spunky, weird caricature by the fans- he's giving too much Pinkie Pie from that old Smile video iyky and for no good reason. Like??? Wasn't everyone shocked to learn he became a death eater?? Implying he didn't show his crazy side??

What little we know about young Barty is that NO ONE expected him to be a follower of Voldemort. His father had him completely under his thumb—or at least, that’s what Crouch Sr. thought. In fact, Crouch Sr. boasts about what a great student he was and the incredible grades he got. It was a shock to everyone to learn that the son of one of the wizards who despised dark magic the most and pursued dark wizards relentlessly was part of Voldemort’s cult. So clearly, Barty wasn’t an eccentric twink flaunting his psychopathy with witty, sassy, and sharp comments, because that image has absolutely nothing to do with what we’re told about Barty prior to Azkaban.

I think Barty was actually quite an introverted kid who got along well enough at Hogwarts because of who his father was. He was very focused on his studies and always tried to avoid drawing attention to himself. He was terrified of his father, who didn’t inspire respect but fear, being the patriarchal figure of the family with a terribly dominant character. Over the years, he probably accumulated a great deal of resentment towards him. He didn’t feel loved or supported, and no matter how hard he tried to please him, it was never enough because, for Crouch Sr., nothing ever was. So, one way to get back at him, so to speak, was to take an interest in what Crouch Sr. hated the most: the Dark Arts.

It’s common for people who grow up in oppressive environments with parental figures who are more of a threat than a source of protection to develop anxious and obsessive behaviors. It’s likely that Barty learned his lack of empathy from his father, who never showed any understanding toward him. As Voldemort’s influence grew at Hogwarts, I think Barty gravitated toward some kids involved in the movement. Voldemort probably saw him as an asset: the son of a high-ranking Ministry official who could be used to extract valuable information. So Voldemort essentially gave him everything Crouch Sr. never had: attention, validation, and affirmation. Voldemort didn’t show him affection, but he didn’t reject him either, and he even valued (or at least pretended to value) his loyalty and talent. That was something Barty had never received from a male authority figure, so he saw Voldemort as a substitute for the father who had always intimidated and rejected him. This explains his unwavering loyalty and devotion to Voldemort: Voldemort gave him a purpose, but more importantly, he gave him value.

Barty likely kept a low profile, avoiding being seen with Slytherins or people who might be connected to the Death Eaters, and collaborated with Voldemort in the shadows. I don’t think he was ready during his teenage years, no matter how radicalized he became, to confront Crouch Sr. He wouldn’t have risked rumors about the people he associated with reaching his father’s ears. So all those silly notions about him being part of a Slytherin gang are absurd because they don’t align with what we know about him in canon.

No, not at all—Barty waited for his moment to graduate, and that’s when everything he’d been bottling up came out. At some point, I believe he developed psychotic behavior combined with a compulsive need to prove to Voldemort that he was worthy, that he wouldn’t fail him, that if Voldemort trusted him, he would repay that trust by being his most loyal follower. Voldemort had given him the security his father never had, and that was the most valuable thing in the world to him. So he was willing to do anything to repay Voldemort for the sense of recognition he made him feel. And all of this came with the added (whether conscious or not) satisfaction of destroying Crouch Sr.’s reputation and hitting him where it hurt the most.

And, well, the rest is history. I think this version is much more coherent and consistent than the cheap caricature the fandom has made of him.