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stealingyourbones · 7 months

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Submitted Prompts #144

*shakes a bag of bird skulls I found in the woodsI and places it on your desk like it's a bag of gold*

I had an idea:

What if the Fenton parents are, in fact very competent Hunters, but they love their children more than their work?

Say the first shot Maddie ever fired at Phanton actually lands, and the scream he makes sounds too much like Danny's voice, to a point even with any ghostly distortion, his own still recognizes the voice.

I can see her pulling Jack to the side, making a ruckus about how the "darn ghost got away just as her blaster ran out of juice". Mostly as a way to get Danny her darling son to leave and go somewhere safe, while his parents have a whole breakdown in the GAV about their dead son.

And so begins the stealthy studies on how Phantom's "human disguise" works, the Revelation of Horrible Truth, keeping tabs on Danny's growth and revising their whole attitude on Ghosts to account for the fact that Danny himself is, at least in some part, a Ghost himself, but all he's done is live his life (and be the little hero Mom always said he'd grow up to be).

Jazz stumbles across his secret and is immediately pulled aside to join the secret "Protect the Baby Ghost" family group chat.

"And what about all the times they shot at him in canon" I hear you ask?

They're damn good shots, but while Maddie can train herself to aim just so that the shot misses just enough it looks like Phantom dodged it, Jack has the Fenton Bazooka outfitted with a tracking HUD that purposely fails to hit everyone's favorite Ghost Boy.

Danny picks up on that, but not on the fact that They Know.

And so begins the single most convoluted training arc ever.

Next time Skulker's in town, Phantom has become untouchable. Not a single shot or electrified net reaches it's target.

(The electrified weapons in particular send the Fentons into a rage when Sam and Tucker finally can't keep hiding it, and come clean about what happened, since the Fentons have proven themselves to be trustworthy)

When Red Huntress comes about, and Valerie Grey becomes barely a distant acquaintance after having only just now started becoming more than a friend, and with the GIW sniffing about, Maddie and Jack pull Danny to sit between them and finally tell him they know, and they want to prove that they'll love him just as much as before, whether Human or Ghost.

Danny breaks down in the safety of his family's love, and takes some time off as Phantom to help his parents establish a proper line of communication with the Ancients, considering they've kinda adopted themselves into the roles of Aunts and Uncles towards their little Ghostling.

Which is a good thing, because in Phantom's absence the GIW make a giant spectacle of destroying several houses while chasing some blob ghosts. They're chased out of town by brick, stone and metal bat.

Next time Red Huntress actually manages to hurt Danny, the Fentons pack up and leave. The Portal can be transported somewhere else. It can be rebuilt.

Their baby boy can't be rebuilt, no matter how much he likes to be a little shit and ignore Reality to quote Shakespeare at his own head (thank you Mr Lancer, for not giving up on him) or "give them a hand".

As Fenton takes the last tour of Amity, Phantom disappears. The Protal has been left seemingly unguarded.

The Ghosts decide to have one last hurrah in Anity Park before Danny closes the Portal, as per their deal. They won't hurt anyone, just cause chaos, but in return Phantom won't stop them. It's not like poor Red has the energy to chase them down, now that she's been "upgraded" into Amity's sole defender (the one time Lancer compares her new lack of sleep to Danny's, horrifying pieces start lining up too well in her mind)

The Fentons move out. Into a quiet farm neighbouring the land that belongs to the delightful couple that are the Kents, and their darling son, little Clark, who stares at Danny mildly horrified whenever he comes by to babysit, or help out with fixing the stubborn tractor. One day under Danny's clever hands, and Jonathan Kent's eagle-eyed gaze, and that damned tractor has never worked so well before. The boy's alright in the old man's eyes, and he makes sure they kid knows it.

After quiet rooftop admissions of one small boy's growing powers (I know Adult Clark is a brick house of a man, but what if he was a little twig while young) and the reveal of Something More Than Human from his honorary older brother, the course of Time sets into it's best version, and an Old Clock smiles, as Superman rises, only to be scolded by Spectre for recklessness.

(Dunno how well it came across, but I'm envisioning Valerie's feelings towards Danny to go from bitter resignation because she " had to" push him away, to horrified despair when the truth starts falling into place. He's her "the one that got away". And it's not like she gave him much of a reason to trust her with his secrets.

Maybe older and wiser Red Huntress gets invited to the Justice League, and has to deal with not just Fenton, but also Phantom flirting with her, after a good long conversation on how dumb they both were as kids, and a mutual vow of "I think I can do better now, and I want to prove it to you")

#dpxdc #bones submissions #I started thinking 'what if the fentons were good parents'#and then the 'what if their skirmishes in canon were just playfighting and training' met 'Fenton-Bad-Aim'#and then when I thought where one might put a Ghost Portal where it won't be a bother #the thought 'put it in a fam shed' struck me #and so i had to bring Baby Clark and Ma and Pa Kent into it #Clark jumps off one roof and Danny thinks he knows a little better what he put Jazz through when it was his turn #later whenever Superman mentions his older brother and eveyone expects a Kryptonian #early-days Batman absolutely expects another spandex and cape hero #maybe some superman ripoff #until the Zeta activates for a Guest and in walks a man in black armor #and starlight cape #with a fur collar #and everyone thinks 'ooooh Supes is this one's ripoff'#and then the regal image is shattered because Danny coos at the heroes #many of them are babies when compared to his own experiences as as Hero and how long he's been at it #the Green Lanterns feel him pass by in the way a diver feels a whale swim by singing at them

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forestdeath1 · 3 months

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Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness. Sirius Black (and James Potter, with a bit of Remus and Peter too)

Or who is the smartest of the Marauders?

Sirius and James are described multiple times as exceptionally intelligent. They didn’t need help from Remus or Lily to pass their exams. James didn’t envy Sirius for being ahead academically, and Sirius didn’t ask Remus for help. They could handle everything on their own.

For example, McGonagall rarely gives praise without good reason. Here are her words about James (often unfairly depicted as less intelligent than Sirius or Remus) and Sirius:

‘Precisely,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course – exceptionally bright, in fact – but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –’

Being "exceptionally bright" is an extremely high praise for intellectual ability from McGonagall.

As for Peter, she speaks rather average of him:

‘Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I – how I regret that now...’ She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

Moreover, Peter "was always hopeless at duelling," according to McGonagall. This means that over 7 years, Peter failed to impress McGonagall with his academic achievements. As the head of his house, she was aware of all his grades. Perhaps he was just an average student, but then it's unclear why McGonagall was "often rather sharp with him." She doesn't seem like the type to be sharp over trivial matters.

Slughorn:

‘Well, anyway, he (Sirius) was a big pal of your father’s at school. The whole Black family had been in my house, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came along, but I’d have liked the set.’

While Lupin’s words might be biased, he often speaks quite judiciously about people around him, thus:

"Look, Harry, what you’ve got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

He confirms that Sirius and James were the best at everything in school. Meaning academically first of all, because school is primarily about studying.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong – one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it."

And a bit more praise from Lupin towards Sirius and James' giftedness. They were both gifted – Sirius and James.

Even Dumbledore acknowledges:

‘Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi last night,’ said Dumbledore, smiling. ‘An extraordinary achievement – not least, keeping it quiet from me.’

So, not only did they become Animagi (Peter wasn’t much help, according to Lupin), created the Marauder's Map, which contained very unusual magic (they, of course, all created the Map together, but based on the description above, I can assume that the main magical component of the map was the responsibility of James and Sirius), excelled in their studies, created a magical FaceTime – an artefact for communication among themselves, they also managed to keep a lot from the school's headmaster and other teachers. Intelligence plus cunning.

Sirius and James' reaction to others' "stupidity":

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’

‘Keep your voice down,’ implored Lupin.

‘Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake,’ he heard Sirius say. ‘I’ll be surprised if I don’t get “Outstanding” on it at least.’

‘Me too,’ said James.

Here, I don’t want to dwell on their rudeness, but rather on the reaction itself. Often Lupin is seen studying more than anyone (I too like to see him buried in books), but perhaps Lupin simply needed to study more to pass his exams. He buried himself in textbooks not because he was the smartest, but because it was necessary for him. Remus is clearly not dumb; he became a professor at Hogwarts, he’s also described as intelligent in the canon, but things came much easier to James and Sirius, and they were well aware of how smart they were. Hence their reaction. When a teenager is confident in their superiority, and their intellect is often validated by external factors (grades, teachers' praise), such a reaction from James and Sirius, considering their personalities, is quite expected for their still maturing characters.

‘We’ve still got Transfiguration, if you’re bored you could test me. Here...’ and he (Lupin) held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. ‘I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.’

Sirius' reaction is unequivocal. He doesn’t need to read anything like Lupin, memorising paragraphs. To him, it’s all "rubbish" that he already knows. Sirius likely had a very good long-term memory.

Sirius' memory and attention to detail even after 12 years in Azkaban are also quite remarkable.

"Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point –"

‘That’s what Krum did!’ Hermione whispered.

Clearly, during his 12 years in Azkaban, he didn’t need this knowledge. It’s unlikely he ever used this knowledge in practice. But he remembered it, ready to mention it right away, not having peeked in any books. Even Hermione didn’t know.

‘My God,’ said Lupin softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again.

‘His front paw...’

‘What about it?’ said Ron defiantly.

‘He’s got a toe missing,’ said Black.

And this is about his attentiveness. To notice that a rat is missing a toe from a small photograph while sitting in Azkaban… I wouldn’t have noticed even without Azkaban.

As for adult Sirius, the fourth book shows many of Sirius' reasonable assumptions that eventually are confirmed. What people mistake for stupidity is his recklessness, as well as his willingness to die for those he loves, to protect them at any cost. His recklessness is usually related to this.

‘The Ministry’s forced through another decree, which means we’re not allowed to have Quidditch teams –’

‘Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?’ said Sirius. There was a short pause.

‘How did you know about that?’ Harry demanded.

‘You want to choose your meeting places more carefully,’ said Sirius, grinning even more broadly.

‘The Hog’s Head, I ask you.’

‘Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!’ said Hermione defensively. ‘That’s always packed with people –’

‘Which means you’d have been harder to overhear,’ said Sirius. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, Hermione.’

Hermione is very smart, but Sirius immediately explains their tactical mistake. But it still sounds somewhat condescending.

‘But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –’ Hermione began.

‘You sound like Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry’s letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable.’

It might seem reckless, but he's right, codes can be cracked. And he really wanted to reply to his godson – it's more about his inability to refuse the only living person he loves now and his desire to protect him.

Sirius repeatedly makes correct deductions in the fourth book, here are a couple of examples, but generally, the fourth book is full of rational remarks, assumptions, and overall, he's ready to provide Harry with information, especially in the fifth book, when Harry is having the toughest time and most people simply refuse to tell him anything.

‘Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion,’ said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione’s winces. ‘So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention.’

‘Well, now he’s back it’s bound to hurt more often,’ said Sirius.

‘So you don’t think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?’ Harry asked.

‘I doubt it,’ said Sirius. ‘I know her by reputation and I’m sure she’s no Death Eater –’

‘Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry –’

‘You and the rest of the world,’ said Harry bitterly.

‘– and, reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,’ Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, ‘but I don’t think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one’s going to look into it too closely, Mad-Eye’s heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.’

And much more.

For Harry in the fourth and fifth books, Sirius became the one who supported him and provided information, and all his attempts to break through to Harry, risking being caught – this is an expression of love and desire to help his godson. It's precisely in such moments that his recklessness is revealed – when he wants to help.

Moreover Sirius often gives Harry good advice, there is just one example:

‘Don’t lose your temper,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘Be polite and stick to the facts.’

‘Good luck,’ said Lupin.

‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ ‘And if it’s not,’ said Sirius grimly, ‘I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you...’

Here's the interweaving of Sirius' rationality and recklessness. He knows the right way. But he himself is ready to throw himself into the line of fire. He never gave Harry impulsive advice. But when it comes to himself or when someone needs protecting, Sirius has a different standard of normalcy.

In conclusion, throughout the series, Sirius makes a number of insightful remarks, and his intelligence and giftedness are exceptionally highly regarded by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin. I wouldn’t attribute his pathological desire to help those he loves to stupidity. Furthermore, adult Sirius shows recklessness mainly when it concerns his own safety and life — he doesn't cherish his own life if it means the well-being of someone he loves, thus he readily throws himself into danger.

Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. (Dumbledore)

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #the marauders meta #hp meta #sirius black meta #peter pettigrew

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wyattjohnston · 5 months

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kinda hope they catch us - andrei svechnikov

summary: 3 times the engagement was a secret and 1 time it wasn't.

word count: 1,698

note: this is a fic written for @isconnormcdavidok as part of a server exchange run by @mp0625 💚

It never ceased to amuse Eva that seeing the other WAGs was like seeing a friend you hadn’t seen in months. It had been 2 days since the last home game, and yet it would still be all hugs, kisses and tell me what I’ve missed. Some of them weren’t at the game so Eva could talk about dragging Andrei along to Christmas with her folks, at least. Everyone else would get a somewhat rehearsed story about her plans for starting the New Year off on the right foot.

It was only ever so hard during the holidays when everyone always expected a big, grand tale every time they saw each other.

And only more so of a big deal because she was keeping a secret.

A large secret.

A secret taking up quite a bit of real estate on her left hand.

Eva sighed at the line up of cars in the driveway and on the street outside her parents’ house. She had tried so hard to not be late for once, and she thought she was doing an excellent job.

Andrei assured her that they were, actually, only fifteen minutes late, which was the most on time Eva could ever remember being and her family would hopefully be impressed by that fact.

They made their way to the front door, arms so loaded with presents that she had to awkwardly press her nose to the doorbell because neither of them could free a hand to let themselves in.

A nervous buzz zipped through Eva’s body, her body bursting to tell her family news they’d been waiting to hear for what felt like forever, and she had her mouth open to spill it as soon as the door opened in front of her—except she was grabbed by the arm, her cousin letting out an exasperated “finally”, and hauled into the living room where the entire family was waiting.

Eva looked at Andrei, about to ask him if this was all his doing, to ask if he’d planned this, only to be met with him staring back at her and about to ask the same thing.

There wasn’t any time to work it out between them, though, because Eva’s sister was pulling her husband in front of them all and announcing that she was pregnant. Eva’s left hand got suddenly heavier.

It didn’t matter, though, that it had to put their plans on hold—and there was no question that that had to be the case—Eva used the now empty couches to unload presents from her arms, taking the ones Andrei was carrying.

“We’ll still be engaged tomorrow,” she whispered to him, the pressure of his hand on her upper back settling her.

His laugh was deep but soft when he said, “I know, Zolotse. I know.”

Eva joined the line to celebrate her sister and the pregnancy that she had all but given up on ever happening.

No effort was made throughout lunch to hide the new engagement ring, not intentionally on her part, anyway. Andrei holding hers hand throughout lunch, or when everyone moved back to the couch after, was the norm so nobody thought anything of it. He just so happened to be hiding the news they’d been so eager to share.

Eva always made an effort to watch Andrei’s home games; she’d very much grown to enjoy over the course of their relationship, having met Andrei very early on in his NHL career. There was a nice rotating cast of significant others and kids who appeared at games, too, and Eva’s relationships with them had become some of her most cherished.

“Are you going to take your coat off?” Courtney asked, tugging at material as she passed Eva. “And gloves?”

Eva balled her hands up and then shoved them under her thighs. Her ring caught on the glove which in turn caught on her jeans, but she wasn’t going to let the cold get to her.

“Are you coming down with something?” Gracia asked, concerned enough to put her hand against Eva’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever.”

“I’m just really cold. I haven’t been able to get warm all day.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re twenty-three not eighty-three. Can you start telling us when it’s about to rain?”

Eva rolled her eyes, insisting that she wasn’t sick or old or anything else. She was cold.

There was a period of time before the game started where people were seeming to give her a wide berth; Eva was unsure if it was because they thought her contagious or if she looked generally unhappy about being at the game. And she wasn’t unhappy to be there; she made that very clear when Nykki finally sat next to her.

“Are you sure? You’re a little grumpier than usual.”

“Because nobody will let me be cold!” Eva protested. “I’m just trying to get warm.”

During the first intermission, a blanket from the team store was delivered. It was mortifying.

Andrei, when they were both home after the game, found it amusing at least, when he saw it laid across their bed where she was waiting for him with the covers tucked up under her chin.

The boys were, yet again, off in a road trip. This time, just for one game in Toronto before they flew back for New Years’ Eve. Eva was out to brunch with most of the younger cohort of WAGs, ready to start ringing in the new year even if it was a day early.

Before she left, she’d spoken on the phone with Andrei as he was rushing out the door to get on the bus for practice.

“I think I’m going to take the ring off,” she had said, spinning the ring around her finger as she spoke.

There was a beat, much thicker than Eva had been expecting, before Andrei asked in a thick voice, “You what?”

“Nobody knows yet, right?” she asked, unsure if Andrei had told any of his teammates. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but she would have expected him to tell her. “Taking it off until you get home won’t be a big deal.”

Another beat followed, and Eva was expecting him to tell her that people already knew, that he was nervous to do so. She was opening her mouth to say that she wouldn’t bother if people already knew—because everyone would definitely know before she left for brunch—but Andrei beat her to it, sounding even more dejected.

“Zolotse… You don’t want a ring? You don’t want to be engaged?”

“Oh, god. Andrei. No. That is not what I mean!” Eva said in a rush, her voice becoming more and more high pitched with each word.

“What you mean?”

“If I take it off, we can tell people tomorrow! Together!” she held her left hand to her chest and bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes started to water. “Andrei, baby, I just want to tell people together. That’s all.”

Andrei asked her softly, a couple more times before he had to leave, to promise him she was telling the truth.

It put a bit of a damper on heading out to brunch, because she found that, even though it had been her idea, taking off the ring was a struggle. Still, she put it delicately on her bedside table, and headed out to see her friends.

Hiding the ring was easy when her hand was securely in Andrei’s as they walked into the New Years’ Eve party. She was filled with nervous energy, and even though the ring was hidden she found herself looking at everyone as if they would be able to tell with just one look at her.

Not that they had up to that point.

They weren’t without drinks for very long as someone seemed to have been tasked with holding a tray right near the doors. Eva, without any input from Andrei, led them straight to where Martin and Nykki were standing off to the side—they were the first people they wanted to tell, after all.

There were handshakes and hugs the second Martin and Nykki noticed their arrival.

“Did you find the non-alcoholic wine?” Nykki asked, gesturing to Eva’s champagne flute and earning a furrowed brow in response.

“No? Why would—no, that’s not what I want to talk about. We have something to tell you.”

“I fucking knew it,” Nykki shouted, immediately turning to Martin and excitedly smacking his chest. “I told you she was pregnant?”

Andrei choked on his drink.

“Pregnant?” he asked, hurried and panicked.

“What the fuck?” asked Eva. “Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You’re obviously keeping a big secret.” Nykki’s tone was more accusatory than Eva expected. “You’ve been weird since Christmas, and you were really sick at the game on Saturday, and you’re not drinking—”

Eva cut her off to exclaim, “I had three mimosas at brunch yesterday!”

“They weren’t orange juice? What have you been hiding from us then?”

“This fucking dwarf planet I’ve been wearing for a week?” Eva pulled her hand from Andrei’s to hold it out to Nykki and Martin. “That somehow nobody has noticed? It has gravitational pull.”

Nykki grabbed Eva’s hand so rapidly that Eva was startled, but she let Nykki inspect it closely whilst Andrei and Martin had a silent conversation over Nykki’s excited screaming. It drew the attention of everybody nearby.

There was a lengthy conversation once more of the WAGs gathered, how did he do it? When did he do it? Why didn’t you tell us? And Eva had to try and convince them that she hadn’t meant to—aside from the brunch—it had just ended up that way. Not one of them believed her in the moment.

Her hand was being passed around the group, everyone admiring the ring and asking questions Eva didn’t know the answer to, so Eva caught Andrei’s eye here he was holding court with the boys and nearly melted at the softness of his smile. At the pride behind his eyes. At the love that emanated from his entire body.

#andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #canes fic #hockey girlies fic exchange

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yuikomorii · 5 months

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// Ok I didn’t want to go this far but at this point, you guys are hating on Ayato just for clout and it shows. It’s okay not to like a character but straight up spreading misinformation about him is not okay. If you lack reading comprehension, just admit it.

What makes Ayato’s past so sad isn’t only the fact that Cordelia was mean towards him. She mentally and physically abused him, yet what genuinely hurt Ayato the most was the way Cordelia treated ALL the triplets. A part of him didn’t even want to kill her, given that he CRIED in the MB flashbacks because, despite being a huge abuser, he STILL felt sympathy even for someone like her. No matter how horrible Cordelia was, Ayato still wished for Karlheinz to reciprocate her feelings only to finally see her happy.

Don't even get me started on the Adam curse. He was practically used as bait and abandoned to death by his own brothers, but he still hoped for their safety after escaping. That curse literally destroyed his entire life because its purpose was to make the person who ate the fig drown in despair and go insane. That's why he was sooo obsessed with Yui's blood. Heck, he's cursed in routes other than his own, as he goes insane in Ruki's MB one, to the point that his brothers had to lock him inside the dungeon. In addition, in his MB Vampire Ending, he falls into a coma because he refuses to hurt Yui and keep drinking her blood.

Other than that, Laito was the one who made him believe that he wasn’t special, hence he adopted the “I will never make someone special again” mentality. He also wanted to kill him when he was younger (no hate towards any of his brothers though). Kanato was the only one who never did something bad to him, considering that when Ayato was a child, Reiji called him the disappointment of the family after failing a test.

Ayato did twisted stuff too; no character is a saint, but he always tries his best to fix things. Even when not dating Yui, he’s capable of showing compassion, support and a desire to improve his relationship with his brothers BY HIMSELF. Check this analysis for example.

Other than that, despite every time being hurt when trying to show kindness, he still became a very selfless guy who’d sacrifice himself for anyone at any given time. What makes this even more admirable is that according to Karlheinz, he’s literally the only one who actually VALUES his life. This guy who loves life would risk it all for Yui, even when not dating, or for any of his brothers.

Credit to: dialovers-translations and tournesolia on Tumblr

On top of that, he's incredibly empathic?? He forgives everybody, no matter what they do to him, and seeks to maintain good relations with them. In Kino's LE route, for example, he tortures and burns Ayato, but Ayato is the first person to recognize him as his brother because he wanted Kino to feel that he, too, belonged to a family.

Last but not least, nobody silences Karlheinz as good as him. He was also the only one who connected the dots by himself about his dad being the root of all evil (Laito too but that was after the letter), including being the only one who didn’t want to kill him only because he didn’t want to fall into his plan. Check this post.

Oh and, Ayato is actually really big; it’s not that only his fans make him that way! This post basically proves that he’s the IT boy of otome games and I should also mention that he’s the character that sells the most in Japan and China! Just look what Japanese fans think of him. ;)

You can dislike him as much as you want but nobody can deny how brave and pure-hearted he is. He’s the definition of from zero to hero.

As I mentioned earlier, it's fine to dislike him, but don't become obsessed with it, lol. At the end of the day, he's merely a fictional character with endearing characteristics and the male lead. It's really not that deep. Besides, it's embarrassing when the hate comes from Yui stans because she definitely wouldn't be happy of any of you talking about her man in that way.

#diabolik lovers #ayato sakamaki #dialovers #sakamaki ayato #admin

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ofallthingsnasty · 7 months

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Bill gives off “will fuck you minutes before you have to go meet up your friends so he can get out of it AND have you embarrassed” energy so I’ll love it if you can write that scenario 👉👈

Nothing but facts here 🤭💕 He's such a smarmy asshole haha @flameshadowwolf 😘

fic referenced - please give it a read before you jump into this one, you'll probably need the context.

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, Bill being condescending as always, breeding mentioned, talk of future knotting, past noncon + forced impregnation + forced marriage, chubby reader, f!reader, werewolf/human, minors dni word count: 3k

You haven’t done your makeup in forever. It’s been at least two months, you think, as you try to remember which of the colors in your little eyeshadow palette is the best for a monochrome look. You don’t really have the time to duke it out with a more complex style right now, especially with your rusty skills - there is barely an hour left until you're supposed to meet Ellie, car ride not included. Your mind sings at the prospect of a quiet evening, with friendly chatter and good food - and you not having to do anything. No needy toddler, no sticky little hands and pouty mouth to rob you of every last ounce of patience and energy, just adults-only conversations and friendly faces. Ellie and her husband Francis are the only members of the pack that are making an effort to include you and you like them all the better for it. You buff out the eyeshadow a little closer to your brows while you try to keep your bitterness down.

That fateful night three years ago had been your D-Day, and everything that followed was just punch after punch to your face - including being shunned by the very community that you had unwillingly become a part of. Of course, the whole pack knows what happened. Three years might have passed, but they still stick their necks together and whisper about it as though it all happened yesterday, avoiding your presence like you’re some bad omen, the hangman’s bride herself. Only Hugh and the Evett couple are cordial, the rest act as though you’re the black sheep of the family. It’s a small relief but at least they treat your daughter fairly well. It might change once her peers reach a mature enough age to be included in the gossip but for now your little toddler girl doesn’t have to play alone on the playgrounds and is invited to birthday parties only her father can take her to.

You rummage through your little makeup bag, searching for your brow powder. It’s probably too old to use safely, but you don’t care as you smudge it into the hairs. It’s not like you have the time to buy a new one.

Out of the whole pack, only your life is ruled by some archaic tradition. You had asked Ellie once about her and Francis and when she answered that they were high school sweethearts, you had quickly ducked into your coffee, ashamed of your own fate.

Of course, she knows. You’re close enough in age - she’s a few years younger and still bright-faced, probably taking a giant heap of pity in your circumstances. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re just glad that someone who knows about this whole supernatural business is friendly with you - your old, blissfully unaware friends have long since grown tired of your bitter rants about your husband, not understanding why you’re still with him.

Oh, if only they knew. Their not-so-subtle nudges to get you to go to therapy (or to ditch Bill) get nothing but a grim laugh out of you now. No therapist could get you out of this mess, no stupid self-help book could give you the courage (with a sparkle and fire emoji, of course) to just leave. Just leave. God, it’s so stupid it makes you grimace.

Your life simply isn't your own anymore - right down to your name. Now you're just Mrs. Timmons, with a small golden band and his goddamn scent all over you (marking you as his possession). He had dragged you to the altar kicking and screaming, breaking plates and ripping up that gaudy number he had proposed as your wedding dress, but in the end, he had succeeded.

You had threatened to leave once, when Claire had been so very little, to pack her up and go - to the other side of the country, out of the country, across continents - just to get away from him. It had all been hot air, said in a dark moment of despair, of fear.

The solemn truth is that there is no way out of this. No matter how much you screech and fight - you’re not up against a regular man. Behind that grubby smile and dark eyes lies a creature that can track you down with deadly precision and has claimed you as its own, until the day it dies.

It sure is easy to forget when he throws his dirty shoes down onto the couch table or when he smokes when Claire is in the room, when he doesn’t do shit around the house and you get to stew in your anger, ruminate on the abysmal hand fate had dealt you. Then he’s just a regular piece of shit, just another good-for-nothing husband you get to nag and scream at and fume around. But when he fucks you - that’s when he’s back to the snarling beast he had been in that shed. The way he holds you down, even as a mere man, his grip like iron, his eyes feral and wide - even thinking about it makes you shudder.

It doesn’t matter right now, you think. You’ll be safe from his wandering hands and salacious comments in a matter of minutes, able to be yourself and not the always-scowling fury you have been turned into.

Just a swipe of mascara and your purse-

A soft knock on the door frame interrupts you.

The sound of Bill’s heavy footsteps save you the glance over your shoulder to confirm it’s really him. “Wow, look at you”, he whistles, a freshly lit cigarette in his right hand. “Did I forget something? Date night? Our wedding day? My birthday?”

He laughs at his own joke as he takes a drag and you can already feel the annoyance starting to boil in your stomach. “I kid, I kid. You’re gonna meet with the Everett girl tonight, right? Girl’s night, eh?”

“Yeah. Francis will join us later, though”, you say, clipped, brushing your mascara wand over the lower lashes of your left eye.

“That so?”, you can hear him sucking in another lungful, sounding almost pensive. “Sounds awfully nice, princess.” You hum, finally done with your look. “I did invite you to come. If you remember.” A husky laugh behind you makes your brows furrow. “Jesus, woman, what did I do to you now?” You bite your tongue. Oh, you know. You just forcefully impregnated me three years ago and maybe I still haven’t worked through that. No biggie, though. “Be nice to your old man, yeah?”

He takes the cigarette into his left hand and presses a kiss to your temple, then drags his lips down to your ear. His stubble scratches the thin skin that is stretched over the cartilage of your helix and you can’t suppress the shudder. The right hand that lands on your shoulder is heavy and warm as it rubs and presses the fat over the joint, thoughtful but firm. “I have been nothing but kind, haven’t I? If you had ended up with that little freak, you wouldn’t have seen the sun ever again.” Crinkling, dark eyes meet yours in the mirror.

Evan. You still think about him sometimes, but he moved just shortly after you started showing, too distraught that it had been Bill's kid and not his. You'd pity him if he hadn't done the unthinkable to you, just like Bill did.

“You do know that, don’t you?” Despite yourself, you nod - suddenly hot and cold at the same time. “I keep you fed, I keep a roof over your head, I let you run free, I let you tear up my shit when you’re mad, I let you go to your uppity little bitch you like so much- I think I’m doing way more than necessary, darling.” He mouths at your ear again, suddenly licking and biting the shell, only stopping when you visibly cringe. “I even think I deserve a little something for that, hm? And if it’s not gratitude, it might just be something else.”

He presses out the cigarette before you can even answer, right on top of your eyeshadow palette. Rough hands glide over the nape of your neck, down to your shoulders and settle right underneath your tits where he pushes them up and catches your eyes in the mirror again. “Just look at you, baby. I wish I could ruin all that makeup with my cum but we can’t have you be late for your little wine dinner, hm?” You see your own face twist in shock at his crude words and he watches in amusement, hands already working the soft flesh of your chest. He pinches and prods through the sturdy fabric that cups your tits, rubbing the material between his fingers to appraise it. “Aw, you’re wearing only a t-shirt bra today, aren’t you? Not my favorite lace number?”, he says and squeezes over your clothed nipples roughly, making you yelp in pain. “Or maybe I should be glad you aren’t. Else I’d think you’re dressing up for the Everett boy.” “But you’d never do that, would you?”, his tone drips with something dark. “You’d never betray me, hm?” Your breath stutters. It’s not a question. It’s a threat. “Why, I-”, you gasp, the words enough to shake you out of your stupor. “Why would you think that?”

“Dunno, babe”, he almost croons. “Just wanted to put it out there. In case you got into your little head again.” His hands wander down to your stomach and grab your fat roughly, a deep growl ending the conversation. He buries his fingers deep into you, so deep it stings and you subconsciously stretch upwards, granting him easier access to your neck. He promptly uses it to nip the skin of your pulse point.

“Soft as ever. Makes me want to bite and devour you whole”, Bill laughs. “But I’ll settle for putting another baby in you.” The nails digging through the cotton of your shirt turn sharp and long - he chuckles as you yelp, as you try to wiggle out of the chair in front of your vanity. “Too late, honeypie.” The man who stares back at you through the mirror is no longer a man - he is a wolf again, the same one that sounded the bell for the end of the life you once knew. “Don’t give me those pitiful eyes. Where’s all that fire, huh?”, he snickers, grotesque notes strung together by a deeper voice, by bigger lungs. “Your snippy little attitude. You do know I love to fuck it out of you, again and again.” Your head is pushed down into the wood and it sends your mascara and brushes flying to the floor. He simply drags your face over the vanity until the crown of your head touches the cool glass of the mirror, your legs slowly rising with the stretch.

You have a hunch of what will follow. “Ass up, sweetheart”, he bites out and kicks the chair underneath you to the side with so much force you can hear it splinter. You’re left to stand on shaky legs, the cartilage of your nose pressed into the furniture. “Good girl.”

You only whimper in response, too weak to struggle against him, even as his hands leave your head.

He shows little regard for your clothes, as little as he had for his in the moment he turned - sharp claws dig into your nicest pair of jeans with little care, thick hands pull them down by force - over your belly, then over your ass. They're left just above your knees as he targets the next layer, a simple pair of cotton briefs. He slices through them and groans at the sight of you - fully exposed, bent over, vulnerable and oh-so-soft.

"The baby did you good, sweetheart", he laughs and spanks your ass so hard it echoes through the room. "Made you even better. Maybe another one will make that ass even fatter."

You're mortified at his crude words - but any indignant squawk of protest gets stuck in your throat as he presses his whole muzzle into your cunt.

He licks and pushes and sucks - eats you out so messily that his spit drips down your thighs and you can't contain your voice any longer.

You're rewarded with a chuckle and even more fervor.

It's too much and yet not enough - his tongue only brushes your clit but he fucks your hole with it so well it makes your legs shake. You don't even register the way his claws dig into your ass, the pain barely noticeable over the mess he's making in between your thighs.

It’s not enough to make you cum but you feel yourself loosening up, growing pliant under his touch. Maybe he can feel it too because just a few precious minutes later he stops, licking his maw loudly. “Could eat you out all day, princess”, he chuckles behind you. “But you got a little girl’s night to go to, don’t you?” You manage nothing but a teary-eyed nod, throwing him a look over your shoulder, that terrifying creature staring right back at you, the man within it clearly getting drunk with the power he has over you when he is like this. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.” He pushes himself into you slowly, but firmly - his saliva mixed with your own arousal making the most obscene squelch. It’s almost a relief to feel him in you after he fucked you on his tongue and you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of him working you open.

“You take me so well-”, he grits out and you moan in response. You should be ashamed of how much you long for his cock, how the years have made you compliant, even needy for him, even though you’re thoroughly terrified of him - but you can’t find it in you to care right now. The shame will come later, when you’re alone with your thoughts again but for now you just want to him to fuck you so well you’ll forget about everything. He starts out slow but it doesn’t last long - it never does. Just a few thrusts in and he’s found a rather harsh pace that has him fist the neck of your blouse to steady himself, claws puncturing the fabric. “God, I just wanna knot you, sweetheart”, he groans and you believe every word of it. “Bet you want it too- Always such a slut for my knot-” You clench around him both in arousal and shock - taking Bill’s knot is such a messy experience, one that would make you late for sure, with everyone able to smell just why you’re an hour behind schedule. “Ah, tomorrow- I’ll fucking knot you tomorrow.”

Your body is dragged over the wood with every thrust, the crown of your head bumps into the mirror every time he bottoms out - you feel like nothing more than toy with the way you’re rattled around. He seems a little extra desperate, probably trying to empty himself into you as fast as possible.

“Right now I’m- I’m- gonna make you stink with my scent, gonna mark you so that they all know how well I fuck you.” How embarrassing for you. Of course Francis will immediately smell it the moment he walks into the door and you’ll have to duck your head behind your wine glass - wolf that he is, claims like this won’t go unnoticed. “So you can’t run away from me-”, he gasps, out of breath with effort. “And no one can take you, either-” Even through your fucked-out haze, something clicks. He’s insecure. That’s why he’s in this form, why he’s so intent on filling you up before you sit yourself down with friends. Why he just won’t come with you eludes you - but that is Bill, ever so possessive, ever so puzzling.

You’d laugh at him if you weren’t currently getting mounted by a two meter tall humanoid monster, if you weren’t so literally fucked right now. A groan pulls your attention back to the creature you call your husband. “Oh fuck, babe-”, Bill moans behind you, his pace getting even faster. It grates your insides, your body trying to keep you lubricated as he pounds you. Spittle flies through sharp teeth and lands on your ass as he unabashedly lets his maw hang open, too blissed out to care.

“I’m gonna cum, oh shit- Shit-”, he says and loses himself in a string of curses, trying to fuck you as you deeply as he can, rutting into you with so much force you’re scared the mirror is going to break off the vanity. “Fucking take it-”

The snarl he lets out isn’t human anymore, as are the claws slicing into your scalp, the sudden grip keeping you in place. He shudders violently as he pumps you full of his load, hot and wet. The feeling is enough to wring a throaty moan out of you - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make your legs shake and clench around him. “Damn…” Bill wheezes into the silence that follows, hands still iron on your skin. You slump into the wood beneath you, sweat-slicked and high-strung. He laughs as he hears the thump of your forehead against the vanity. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me go before my time with that pussy.” You don’t answer, already irritated with him again. “Well-”, he coughs and takes his hands off you, sounding much more composed. “Looks like you need to start over with your little look.” His words make you gasp and paw at your face, the sticky smudge of mascara palpable on your cheeks. You don’t need to turn your head up to the mirror to tell that you’re back to square one, that you’ll be late, with a dripping cunt and hastily scrawled on makeup. Your arousal is gone in an instant, replaced by hot rage burning its way through your stomach for good. A pat on the head and a content sigh behind you make it boil over, make you clench so hard you actually push him out of you. It’s laughed away, either mistaken for the wrong emotion or simply ignored. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your old man will make it up to you tomorrow.”

#OC: Bill #yandere teratophilia #werewolf x reader #terato #monster x reader #yandere x reader #capture kill #also if you read this: the little toddler has a name. it's claire. and she's with grandma rn 😭💕

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oharaslove · 5 days

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HI LOVIEESS!! Hope you enjoy this preview of my first series!! For some reason I love the concept of soulmates (bwoah, some reason, I know why, but let's stay mysterious for a while, haha), so I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it and thinking about it.

word count: 900 summary: What happens when someone who believes no one can love him meets a person who only desires to love and be loved? disclaimer: All the events of this story happen after Spiderman Across the SpiderVerse (more info in Chapter 1) warnings: MiguelxSpider!Reader (also latina), soulmates, eventual smut? (still debating this, not because I don't want to, but my abilities to do so), eventual angst, fluff, injuries, talks about death (I'll update as I go on)

Also, I'll be putting songs in some Chapters, or all of them if I can find music that I find fitting (Even though I am trying to stick to Sleep Token). Anyway, the song to start it all:

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

Earth-928B

Spiderman 2099, Miguel O’hara, the leader of the SpiderSociety, one half of a whole. Nobody knows it, but he possesses an indelible mark in his body. For many, only a simple birthmark, for him, a constant reminder that there is someone out there who is his supposedly other half. The idea so stupid he stopped thinking about it, constantly at least, after he learned the truth about his biological father, Tyler Stone.

In this Earth, in the year 2099, equal to the downfall of the “heroic age” where there were lots of superheroes, it was also the debacle of soulmates. There was an era where everyone was destined to meet the “love of their lives” and live happily ever after. Each person was assigned a match at birth, that was supposed to be their half, together being and feeling complete, represented by a distinctive mark. Only the children of soulmates could posses this “power” or destiny, or as Miguel liked to call it, a curse.

As time went by, the people of Nueva York and all Earth-928B grew tired of waiting for that special person, and as a consequence soulmates started to disappear. For Miguel’s disgrace, Conchata and Tyler Stone were soulmates, which is part of the reason why he hates them so much.

The mere idea of having someone destined to be with him repulsed him. He isn’t opposed to having a family, hence why he took the other Miguel’s place, but after losing Gabriella, he doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t capable of loving again, trusting someone, or so he thinks.

There isn’t a reason why he thinks the universe (or universes) would give him someone to love him unconditionally. Miguel thinks that if his soulmate really exists, they will be like his mother and Tyler, destined to be apart, a love that never was supposed to happen, it would be a mistake, like HE is, in his mind.

Furthermore, he is Spiderman, he has a duty. Not only does he have to keep Nueva York safe, but also prevent the Multiverse from becoming shambles. There is no time to care for someone, there is no time for love. “With great power comes great guilt”, a phrase he will never let down. He knows what he has to do, he is aware of the power he possesses. There is no time to mess around, and there is definitely not a second a day that he can waste trying to find someone who would, NO, will definitely hate him, doesn’t matter if they were bonded together or not.

Even though he tells himself this every sleepless night, there is always a part of his heart or mind that yearns for comfort, for love, or at least, someone who can understand him. He knows it is impossible, or at the very best, improbable, given the fact that his so-called soulmate is probably only a regular human, so she will never understand, but deep in his consciousness, there is hope. Everytime he saves someone he believes he is a step closer, but there is always disappointment. So he drowns himself with work, trying to forget, trying to erase the idea that he was born to belong to someone, but instead fate gifted him with loneliness on this Earth, and in many others.

Earth - 129

Y/n Y/Ln, the only Spiderwoman of Earth-129, the other half of a whole soul. Since you have memory, everyone has told you how important the weird shaped mark you had in your body was. It meant you had a soulmate, like almost everyone in your universe. Soulmates in your universe were sacred, as in Miguel’s, only children of soulmates could possess soulmates, but as the vast majority married and had kids with their own, most people have them.

Obviously, your parents were each other’s soulmates, and you had the opportunity to hear how much they cared and loved each other. As you were growing up, you couldn’t wait to meet your other half, the person who was supposed to understand you like no other, to love you unconditionally.

When you were born, unfortunately, your mother died, which caused your dad great pain. In your Earth, soulmates can feel each other’s pain and strong emotions, so your father felt how your mom slipped out of his grasp. He had hope they would leave this life together, as he didn’t know life without her, but fate had other plans.

Even though this broke your heart, you never stopped looking for your soulmate, and your father never stopped encouraging you.

Now, in your twenties, 28 to be precise, everyone your age you know has met their soulmate. Friends, cousins, everyone!. Your friend was worried for you, he even started to think that something bad happened to your soulmate, because of the weird shape your mark has, but you still have hope.

You’ve never been with anyone, so you don’t know how love feels, well, romantic love, but you know you have a lot to give. You can’t wait for the day you meet him. Every time you save someone during your patrols, you hope that it gets you closer to getting to know your soulmate. But you haven’t had luck yet. You only wish for your friend to be wrong, and your soulmate is somewhere on this Earth. One of these days, you'll meet him, you feel it.

Well, he isn’t on your Earth, is it darling?

Hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think!!

TAGS:

@oscarissac2099 @cupcakeinat0r @greensagephase

#miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #spiderman #oharaslove #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #soulmate au #soulmates #spider reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o hara #soulmate miguel o'hara

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Yandere (HOTD) Targaryen/Velaryon/Hightower family (together) HCS part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Note: Finally part 3 is here! Also, this probably is some of the longest hcs I have done. This starts from episode 3 to episode 7. Mainly platonic, but there could be a romantic pairing. Also, the reader is basically trying to keep everything from going to shit

The conflict between Alicent and Rhaenyra has persisted over the years. And you tend to find yourself directly in the heart of the fights. However with Viserys there; he’s made sure that you diverge away from their disputes. He has long accepted that his wife and daughter will never get along, but what they will not do is involve you in their conflicts.

Many children have been born throughout the years, and the two women made sure you were there for each. They secretly want you to prefer one over the other. Although you lack a dragon, Alicent and Rhaenyra made their children believe you are related to them by blood.

Similar to their mother, Jace and Luke are a bit possessive. While they can be a bit mischievous, the two typically listen to you, even more than their mother. Their faces light up when they see you and they run right up to greet you. Also, they like it when you watch them spar, asking whether they did well, grinning back when you tell them they did. While you have noticed how different the boys are, you chose not to say anything, even when Alicent argued with Viserys regarding it.

At least for the time being, Luke is the youngest of the bunch. He takes full advantage of it when the other kids are fighting for your attention. Such as pretending to be hurt so you can comfort him. It is well known that he follows you around the court and becomes agitated when you focus on someone else.

Like Criston, there’s a very similar chance that Harwin also begins to have tendencies for you. His fondness for you doesn’t go unnoticed by the court. He trusts you well enough that he isn't afraid to show affection towards Jace, Luke, and Rhaenyra. Harwin feels so strongly about you that even the smallest remark about you will prompt him to intervene.

Since they've likely spent the most time with you, Jace and Luke are the most jealous of Aegon and Helaena. Aegon and Helaena are also very attached to you. Aegon is frequently pressured by his family to fill in a role he doesn’t want. He appreciates having someone who is gentle and doesn't push him as the others do. Helaena, on the other hand, is attached to you because you're the only person who doesn't think of her as strange or give her odd looks; instead, you sit with her and listen to her go on about all the kinds of insects she has.

Aemond is a completely different case. You're used to possessiveness, but Aemond is almost always by your side. Being the second son, he is frequently overlooked or passed over in favor of his brother, never mind the fact that he is still without a dragon. Because of all the love and attention, you show Aemond, he grows quickly fond of you. Including his siblings, he is jealous of everyone. The fact that Alicent also forces particular ideas into Aemond's mind is not helpful.

Aside from Helaena- in contrast to his two brothers, Dareon is also the most pleasant. Throughout the years, he has always been gentle and sweet and has often given you the prettiest flowers as they remind him of you. Dareon had to eventually depart from King's Landing in order to go to Oldtown and serve as Lord Omund Hightower's squire. Before leaving, he embraced you and made you swear you would exchange ravens, no matter what.

You occasionally also spent time in Driftmark with Rhaenys and Corlys. Rhaenys makes you ride her dragon back and forth, as it is the fastest way to travel. There are times when you run into Daemon and Laena, and they are thrilled to see you. Likewise, Baela and Rhaena become very excited whenever they get to meet you.

Similar to the other kids, the two girls adore spending time with you. They find themselves missing you when they have to travel with their parents. Rhaena sometimes feels left out compared to her sister and enjoys any attention you give her. Baela, on the other hand, is more demanding and jealous than her sister. She often reminds you of Daemon.

Speaking of Velaryons, Laenor is content to reside in King's landing, even though he longs to return home and engage in battles. Your presence there is one of the few pleasant things he anticipates. Laenor, unlike the others, enjoys sparring with you and will gladly teach you how to fend for yourself. It's one of his favorite ways to spend time with you.

Rhaenyra has objected to the idea a few times, but when you beg her to reconsider, she eventually gives in. She has Harwin watch and Laenor promises that only wooden swords will be used. Alicent and Criston, on the other hand, are horrified at the thought of you wielding a sword even if it’s wooden, and possibly hurting yourself.

Criston develops a rivalry with Harwin regarding you. And it's possible that Criston already dislikes Harwin as a result of jealousy or a bruised ego. Criston is supposed to be your sworn protector, not him. He will not only support Alicent's animosity toward Rhaenyra, but also ensure that some of Alicent's animosity is directed at Harwin.

Viserys occupies most of his time with you as he gets older and his health deteriorates. While he prefers Rhaenyra to his children with Alicent, it gradually becomes clear that he favors you even more. Viserys always relies on you for solace, and you never fail to reassure him. He feels comfortable sharing his shame and suffering with you, particularly regarding Aemma.

As Rhaenyra gives birth to Joffrey, you and Laenor wait outside. Only to be confused when you see Rhaenyra carrying Joffrey already walking and ascending the stairs. Apparently, the queen wants to see the baby right away. You insist she rests while you bring the child to the queen, but she refuses. There is a glimmer of hope in Rhaenyra that this will help you realize just how cruel Alicent is in this whole situation.

Your focus is now on Joffrey in light of everything that is happening. You are the one holding him the most, along with Rhaenyra. Luke, who is accustomed to receiving the majority of your attention, is a little jealous of his baby brother. As Harwin requests to see Joffrey, you place the child in his arms. While rocking the baby; he grins, saying you’d be a great aunt to the boy.

Since you lack a dragon, the kids quarrel over which one you should ride. Jace argues you should ride his dragon, but Aegon counters that since his is larger, it’ll be better. Aemond says nothing during the entire conversation.

When the boys offer to give Aemond a pig for him to ‘ride’, Aemond immediately goes to you; telling you what they did as you console him. You confront the boys to scold them on the matter and Aemond can be seen almost smiling in the background.

At Pentos, Laena wants to leave, but Daemon is adamant about staying. The truth is that Laena misses her home, her family, and occasionally, even you. And to make matters worse, Laena is worried about the hightowers, and she can tell that her husband feels the same way. Besides, her daughters also miss you.

As stated, you frequently watch the boys spar, and they all like to show off. Viserys occasionally join you and express his desire for the boys to bond through sparring. However, an unfortunate event occurs when Harwin lunges at Criston. As Harwin is pulled back by four men and forced to leave, Criston feels victorious; this will make you see Harwin as the man he is.

Before departing, Harwin bids you and the children farewell. He promises to come to see you someday and exchange ravens with you. Harwin advises you to take care of the boys and your "sister". You're not aware that this is the last time you'll see him.

Like her father, Rhaenyra attempts to keep you in her vicinity as much as possible during that time. The rumors surrounding the court become too much, and she feels as though her friendship with Alicent will never be repaired. Laenor is also preoccupied with drinking at the moment. This all just makes her feel more isolated than ever. She desires to depart for Dragonstone and wishes for you to accompany her.

As you might expect, Alicent declines and assumes you'll stay in King's Landing. But Alicent is taken aback when you ask to accompany Rhaenyra. This was brought on by guilt—the guilt you felt for siding with Alicent more than Rhaenyra, and the guilt you felt for not being a good sister to her. Otherwise, she wouldn't feel so alone. Even when Alicent is pleading otherwise, Viserys allows you to travel with Rhaenyra for a time.

You are greeted at Dragonstone with the most heartbreaking news: Harwin and Leana are dead. Knowing how much she cared for him, you take a moment to console Rhaenyra. Jace comes to you for consolation as well, and you let him grieve. Luke is still too young to recognize Harwin was his father, but he claims to miss him and exhibits sadness over his passing. When you finally get to Laenor to comfort him over the loss of his sister, you don't hold any of his tears against him.

When you attend Laena’s funeral, there seem to be only a few who are truly grieving. While you’re used to everyone’s eyes on you, this time it feels unsettling. Baela and Rhaena are the ones you approach first, and you take them both in your arms. Later, Rhaenys joins, and the two of you share a hug and a private moment. Then you find yourself walking up to Corlys, who is speaking to Jace. The instant Corlys notices you, he immediately stands up and embraces you, too. Jace is gently nudged by you to go comfort the girls.

Your eyes meet Daemon's, but Otto stops you as you try to reach him. Otto hugs you while expressing his regret for what happened; all in front of Daemon. You both can see the anger on Daemon's face as he walks to you. Otto is pulled aside, and the two of them have a brief conversation; you can tell from the look on Otto's face that Daemon said something demeaning.

Aegon seems to prefer being anywhere else than here. He is standing near you most of the time and will occasionally take a cup whenever a servant passes by carrying a tray. Helaena chooses to entertain herself by catching a spider. She shows it to you, and despite your sorrow, you smile at her. You are aware of Criston and Alicent watching you the entire, and wonder why Criston seems content.

Later at night, you are summoned to the room because of an incident involving the children. Luke, Jace, Baela, and Rhaena come running to you the moment you enter the room. As Luke's face is the most battered, your attention is drawn to him. But when you see Aemond on the chair, you are horrified. Aemond then turns to fully face you, wanting you to see what they did to him.

Nearly in tears, Alicent demands justice. When Viserys refuses, she is left with no other option. Alicent grabs the king’s blade and heads to the children. She is stunned to witness you quickly running to put your body between her and Luke. More so, the look on your face when she cuts Rhaenyra. It was a look of fear. She could still hear Rhaenyra's words, "Now they see you for what you're."

Aemond breaks the silence by telling his mother not to mourn over him, and that this is a fair trade. He leans on his mother, but she is perplexed when he abruptly leaves her side to approach Rhaenyra and those nearby.

They realize you are what he is actually heading toward, not Rhaenyra. You still have Luke in one arm when he approaches you, and Aemond rests his head against your shoulder. You reluctantly embrace him while everyone looks on. With his good eye, Aemond turns to Luke, glaring ferociously. No one notices.

You then remain by Rhaenyra's side as the maester sews her arm. In another room, Alicent is distressed. She tells her father about the looks you gave her that night and how she might have lost your favor. How she must have frightened you. But she is reassured by Otto that this is untrue; you embracing Aemond that night proved there’s still a chance of you being on their side. You’re fond of the children, and Otto will use that to his every advantage.

At night time, you're taken aback when Laenor wakes you. He apologizes for being absent when the incident happened and for failing to offer you comfort when you needed it, as he was too preoccupied with his grief. Strangely, though, Laenor bids you farewell and mentions how much he values having you in his life.

In the early morning, you’re in Rhaenys’ chamber consoling her for the loss of her son. Viserys had intended to take you with him to King's landing, but after seeing how Rhaenys became childless in a span of days, Viserys let you stay to aid Rhaenys in her grief.

You soon serve as one of the witnesses at Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage. You are surrounded by the children, who are all in your immediate vicinity. You knew the marriage was not done out of love, but to prepare for something, and for that, you have begun to dread the future.

---

Taglist: @westernbaby @elsyyie @athelleen

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fanfic-lover-girl · 4 months

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The HP Epilogue: JKR's trashfire ending to a trash book series

I was reading snippets from the epilogue for the first time and everything about the epilogue is just frustrating. And I want to share things I found intolerable about it to let off steam. These are MY opinions so if you feel differently, I am happy for you. But here is a summary of my gripes.

The names of the Hinny Harry's kids

James Sirius. Albus Severus. Lily Luna. I can empathize with wanting to honour people you love by naming your kids after them...but this is just overkill. Not one of Harry's kids has an original name. Not one! And I said Harry's kids because it seems like Ginny had absolutely no input in the names. If I am being generous, maybe the Luna name was hers, but given the naming pattern of the kids, I am sure that Luna references Lupin and not Luna Lovegood. Sometimes I feel as if Harry has a domineering vibe in Hinny and the kids' names are not doing any favours to combat that. Not surprising as everything about the Hinny romance was dictated by Harry's wants. Who cares about Ginny?

Muggleborne discrimination is bad but pureblood discrimination is A-ok

‘You’re right, sorry,’ said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, ‘don’t get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood.’

I could not believe my eyes when I read this. It's like Ron forgot that HIS family is pureblood! It's the same vibe as a black parent telling their black or mixed kid not to marry another black person! Luna is pureblood! Neville is pureblood! Do the Weasleys have some kind of self-hatred?? Another point to purebloods slowly dying out but who cares? As far as JKR is concerned, the wizards should be aiming to all be mutts with mixed blood :)

BTW the Scorpius/Rose pairing fills me with revulsion. I like Albus and Scorp as friends though! But not so much as lovers.

Marriage is the only way to be truly part of a family

‘Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!’ whispered Lily ecstatically. ‘Teddy would really be part of the family then!’

Got some heavy Hinny vibes from this line of dialogue. Harry did not become a true Weasley until he got with Ginny after all :)

I know Lily is a kid and she means no malice, but I truly felt disgust towards this line. It just bothers me, especially in the context of Hinny and how Ginny functions as a way for Harry to become a Weasley member. Teddy is Harry's godson, he should be like a big brother to Lily. How does becoming a cousin-in-law make him more of a family member compared to being her surrogate big bro??

Do Hogwarts alumni swear an oath of secrecy?

‘And you don’t want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts,’ Harry put in.

He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus’s face when he said it.

So James Sirius is telling Albus Severus exaggerated tales about Hogwarts similar to what the Weasley twins did to Ron. But how is this possible? Do the parents not talk about Hogwarts to their kids? If my kid was going to my alma mater, I would tell him/her all about the school when I went there. I don't understand why it seems like parents don't talk about Hogwarts. At least Draco's parents seem to talk to him about the school at least.

Muggle abuse is still funny Ha. Ha.

‘As a matter of fact, I did Confund him,’ Ron whispered to Harry, as together they lifted Albus’s trunk and owl on to the train. ‘I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let’s face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that.’

Remember that Ron is an Auror! A wizarding cop! But nah muggles are still lesser than wizards so even a guy like Ron who's supposed to be a good hero character feels no shame in messing with their autonomy. Ron is literally so disgusting in the epilogue. Never thought I would end HP finding Ron the least tolerable of the trio when Ron is usually my fav of the 3. Not that the bar is very high for the other two.

JKR really does not like Draco

His hair was receding somewhat, which emphasised the pointed chin.

Of course, JKR can't end the series without throwing more shade at Draco. He's rocking the middle-aged man look, only has one kid and has a love interest that we know squat about. And then in CC, Draco's wife dies! Sigh, I really hate Drastoria...

All is not well

There is still house discrimination. Magical creatures likely still have fewer rights. Aurors like Ron and everyday wizards abuse their powers against muggles. Purebloods are dying out. Wizards like Albus act like they did not grow up in a magical world, aka wizards still have low brain cell counts. But sure, Harry's scar is fine so ALL IS WELL!

I can't believe there are people out here calling JKR a good writer! I see the vast potential of the book series and I feel so sad sometimes. I am so happy that HP never existed in my childhood.

#harry potter series #anti harry potter #harry potter epilogue #hp 19 years later #weasley family #anti hinny #ron weasley critical #anti jkr #draco malfoy #harry james potter #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #anti scorose #anti drastoria #muggle discrimination #pureblood discrimination #draco deserved a better author

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livingdreams97 · 5 months

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Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 2)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 3.275

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POV Narrator

Dear readers,

The same two words always come to mind for this author the morning after a big party: surprise and delight. And dear reader, the scandalous accounts of last night's evening at Ranger House ( Bridgerton house ) are quite surprising and a real delight.

Emerging from her previous failure with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Miss Edwina Sharma seems to have charmed Prince Friedrich of Prussia with her charms.

They have been seen very together at every social event and close sources comment on the success of the diamond of the season with the prince. Perhaps it turns out that the Queen Regent is a very good supervisor and has an eye for pairing.

Maybe this is the queen's redemption, compared to the resounding failure she had last season with Miss Sharma herself; her diamond for the second consecutive year, and the frustrated wedding she was going to have with the Viscount.

Speaking of royalty, we must also mention the presence of Prince Y/n of Hannover and also the queen's nephew in this season. Also remember that Prince Y/n is the future heir to the throne since the queen and the regent king so dictated after his 16th birthday .

Apparently, this handsome green-eyed prince is also looking for a wife and a future queen. The mothers are very attentive to each moment of solitude, to push their daughters into hisarms and try to catch the biggest fish in the place.

But it seems that his attention is fixed on none other than Miss Eloise Bridgerton. It should be noted that this is the second season as a debutante for the second daughter of the Bridgertons and the bad reputation that comes from the people with whom she joined last season.

But that fame does not seem to frighten or matter to the Prince of Hanover, as he has been seen many times on the dancefloor with Miss Bridgerton. They say that love is blind and perhaps in this case it can also become deaf.

How will the queen feel about this possible union?

On the other hand, we have Miss Prudence Featherington who is still engaged to Mr. Jack Featherington and it seems that the nuptials are still some way off. On the other hand, we have Penelope Featherington , who has reportedly been seen in the company of Mr. Colin Bridgerton more than usual. Could this mean something else; or is it just a friendship?

Always yours,

Lady Whistledown.

Eloise's POV

I can't do it anymore. I can't continue with this constant pressure, feeling like every step and every one of my movements is being watched. And not only for my mother, but also for the rest of the people in each event.

It's only been three weeks since the social season began, three weeks that have seemed eternal and one of the heaviest. It seems that three months have passed and not three weeks.

I feel exhausted and totally stressed. I don't want to disappoint my mother again and have our last name put in doubt again because of me. That is what I least want.

But the pressure not to disappoint Mother again, the feeling of being completely watched at all times, and the discomfort I feel every time a newcomer questions me about my "radical" ideals overwhelms me.

The only times I don't feel so overwhelmed and suffocated by everything is when I'm reading in my room and no one bothers or watches me at all.

I can only relax when I am completely alone.

Worst of all, I can't talk about it with anyone, since I would have talked about it with Penelope before and that's it. But after her betrayal, I can't talk to her, much less when she didn't trust her and continues to write as Lady Whistledown .

The fact that she continues writing annoys me even more, especially when she writes about my family and more specifically about me. If anyone had forgotten about her comment last season, about my relationship with Theo and my supposed radical political ideas; with what she wrote about me three days ago, she reminded all of London.

So people looked at me even more and not in a very positive way. But I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt, because I don't have any friends left and no one in my family would understand.

I can't even tell Benedict how I feel, since he's too focused on his drawing and I don't want to worry him with my problems. In addition to that he would tell me not to pay attention to people and he would tell me something funny to make me laugh.

But that's not what I need right now. What I need now is someone who listens to me, who understands me and can help me with all this that I feel. Because I feel like I'm drowning more every day and how I'm short of breath every time I enter a dance or social event.

And the same thing was happening to me right now.

Tonight was the annual seasonal ball at Vauxhall Gardens, so the whole family except my two younger brothers had come. Even Kate had decided to leave little Olivia at home.

As soon as the family had set foot in the party, all eyes were on us and more specifically on me.

Ignoring with all my might the gazes on me, I comply with what my mother asks of me and dance with two men until the song ends. But neither of the two men are educated people.

Because both of them have spent the dances asking about my ideals and how wrong I am with my radical political thought, since that promotes the extinction of my life as a person of high class.

What ends up getting fed up and in a carelessness of my family I flee towards the labyrinth of the gardens. Where I sit on one of the stone benches of the place and I start to cry without being able to avoid it.

XY: I don't think it's safe or correct that you're out here without supervision.- I hear near me, causing me to jump scared and turn around to find the Prince of Hannover.

Eloise: I could say the same to you.- I reproach with a frown, forcefully wiping away my tears and trying to stop crying.

Y/n: Are you alright Eloise? - he asks with some concern on his face, walking towards where I am and sitting a bit far away; but in the same bank.

Eloise: Of course I'm fine.- I answer clenching my jaw and holding back the urge to continue crying.

Y/n: I'll believe you and we can go back to the dance as if nothing had happened.- he says with some sarcasm, bringing a glass to his lips and giving a small sip.

Another thing that has changed is my relationship with Prince Y/n. At first it seemed unbearable and somewhat unbelievable. But over time I have been able to learn more about him and have long intellectual conversations about our interests.

So I've started to see him a bit as a friend, since he knows what is said about me and completely ignores it. He has never come to ask me about my radical political ideas, even though I don't have them as such and that is something that everyone has asked me about.

So you can say that I like him a little, although not enough to tell him my stuff and be considered my friend completely.

Eloise: I'm just tired and overwhelmed by everything.- I admit with a sigh and see how he offers me his drink.

Y/n: What has you overwhelmed?- he asks as I accept the glass and take a small sip, feeling a burning pain in my throat.

Eloise: Iugh Yuck.- I say with a gag, giving him back the drink and causing him to laugh at my reaction.

Y/n: Don't change the subject and answer me.- he tells me funny.

Eloise: I feel overwhelmed for not finding a husband and disappointing my mother for a second time.- I answer playing with my hands and lowering my gaze.

Y/n: And why do you think you won't find a husband?- he asks with some confusion in his voice. -From my point of view, you are perfect for any man. You are beautiful, you have your own thoughts and ideals that you defend with very good arguments, you are educated, you like to read and you do not give importance to what the rest of the world says. - he enumerates and I look at him completely surprised, feeling a certain heat on my cheeks and ears.

Eloise: You say that out of politeness.- I played down what he just said, feeling embarrassed and somewhat impressed by his opinion about me.

Y/n: I say what I've seen and what I've experienced with you.- he assures me with a small smile, so I look away from him. -There are very few women like you Eloise Bridgerton and you should be proud of who you are. Because you are worth much more than any of the other debutants with knowledge of pianoforte or whatever they know how to do, because you go further and you don't focus only on learning something to please your future husband.- he expresses and i presses my lips , so that he does not see the smile that wants to appear on my face about what he has told me.

Eloise: That's the problem, I don't want a husband to please and become a boring housewife.- I say with a sigh. -I don't want to have to pretend to be someone I'm not in order for a man to like me, I don't want to make myself less so I can get married and I don't want my life to be left in the hands of a husband who is only interested in himself.- I complain and I can see how he listens to me attentively.

Y/n: So you don't want to get married? - he asks with confusion and with some interest shining in his eyes.

Eloise: No.- I deny with a sigh. -It's not something I want, but my mother wants me to get married and I don't want to stay like a spinster either; because it is not that they are very well seen in our society. - I explain and I see how he nods with his head processing what I just said.

He stares at me in silence for a few moments, saying absolutely nothing and with a certain pensive look on his face.

Y/n: Can I make you a proposition?- he asks me with some caution.

Eloise: What kind of proposition? - I ask a little interested, but also with some caution for the possibilities.

Y/n: You don't want to get married, right? - he asks and I shake my head. -But neither do you want to stay single and "disappoint" your mother by not getting married.- he says and I nod without understanding where he wants to go. -I propose that you marry me.- he says confidently and I open my eyes wide.

Eloise: WHAT?!! - I exclaim completely in shock.

Y/n: Don't yell or someone will see us.- he whispers looking at all sides.

Eloise: Have you gone crazy?- I ask quickly in a whisper. -I just told you that I don't want to get married and you ask me to marry.- I commented as if it were the craziest idea in the world.

Y/n: Be quiet and listen to me for a moment please.- he asks me with a certain plea in his eyes.

Eloise: Okay.- I accept with a sigh, trying to relax my breathing and the accelerated beating of my heart.

Y/n: I don't want to get married either, but my father forces me to find someone and marry her for love.- he begins to tell me. -I just want to travel the world and enjoy life, but I can't do it until I get married; since I made a deal with my father. The deal is based on the fact that if I marry for love, he will pay me six months to travel the world and buy me a house wherever I want for myself and my wife.- he explains and I still don't understand his proposition.

Eloise: And what do I paint here and in your proposal for me to marry you? - I ask still a bit confused.

Y/n: That's what I'm getting to.- he complains with a sigh. -I don't want to get married and you don't want to get married, but for different reasons we don't want to be single either. So it's the best thing that could happen to us. - he exclaims and I look at him still confused.

Eloise: I still don't quite understand the reason for your proposition.- I point out how poorly it is being explained.

Y/n: You marry me and your mother is glad that you marry a prince and future heir to the crown; besides that you don't stay single.- he points to me first . -And I marry you, finally being able to travel the world and having the freedom to live away from my father. We both won.- he exclaims with some joy.

Eloise: But I would still have to marry you and I'm not going to make myself less or become a housewife for you.- I deny immediately.

Y/n: And you won't.- He denies, reassure me immediately. -You will have all the freedom in the world, you will be able to read everything you want and dedicate your time to yourself without having to worry about your future anymore.- he assures me and I observe him considering the proposal.

Eloise: Could I choose where to have the house? - I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Y/n: As long as it's not near my father; yes.- he nods with a smile.

Eloise: I want to review your proposal, okay? - I ask and he nods. -You want us to get married together; because neither of us really wants to get married, but I don't want to disappoint my mother and I don't want to stay single either. At the same time as you , you have made a deal with your father and if you get married he will finally let you travel the world and buy you a house.- I am saying everything he has told me, causing him to nod again. -And I will be able to continue enjoying my books and not being the most feminine woman in the world, without you caring and I will have all the freedom in the world; besides that I will choose where we would live? - I finish reviewing the proposition.

Y/n: Exactly.- He nods with a smile.

Eloise: What's the catch? - I ask raising an eyebrow, knowing that everything sounds very perfect and there must be a catch.

Y/n: It has to seem like we really love each other and my aunt has to accept our marriage.- he responds a bit insecure and I open my mouth in surprise.

Eloise: No.- I deny getting up from the bench. -Your aunt; Your aunt THE Queen hates me.- I point out and he follows my example getting up from the bench.

Y/n: My aunt will adore you if she thinks you're the love of my life and thinks I'm in love with you.- he assures me and I shake my head.

Eloise: Nobody will believe it. - I deny nervous and somewhat disappointed.

The proposal was perfect, but it was too perfect to be true and now it's clearly impossible.

Y/n: Eloise, please listen to me.- He begs me, grabbing my hands and making me look at him. -You are my only hope, the other debutants want to marry me to show off and for the possible power that marriage would entail. And to be honest, I couldn't pretend to love them one bit, no matter how good an actor I may be.- he explains sincerely and I can't help but laugh at the last thing .

Eloise: And with me if you can pretend perhaps? - I ask strangely nervous about his closeness and curious about his answer.

Y/n: Yes, because you have something in your head and you have thoughts of your own.- he answers without thinking for two seconds. -It would be easier for me to fake a relationship with someone intelligent like you, than with someone who doesn't even know what an intellectual and casual conversation is; without it being planned.- he comments and I can't help nodding at the reality of the situation.

Eloise: And what happens if we don't fool anyone? - I ask with an exhausted sigh.

Y/n: Lady Whistledown already believes that there is something between us and as my aunt says, if that lady writes about it, the rest of the town comments on it and also thinks about it.- he answers calmly. -We just have to start being seen more together, take walks in the park together and dance only with each other.- he explains part of his plan.

Eloise: And how will we convince my mother, Lady Danbury and your aunt the Queen?- I ask and I see how he remains thoughtful.

Y/n: I could go to your house for tea from now on, show an intense interest on my part towards you and a notorious approach so that they do not suspect.- he plans and I can recreate the plan in my mind.

I can see how the situation can turn out favorable for us and how we can both win if everything works as he has said. But it can also go wrong and someone discover us.

Eloise: Can I think about the proposal for a few days? - I ask a little nervous and insecure.

Y/n: You can think about it for as long as you want. - He nods with a small smile. -But I'm afraid that to ensure a positive ending in case you accept, we have to start acting now and even if in the end you reject the offer, we'll just distance ourselves a bit and that's it.- he raises and I nod, understanding his point of view .

Eloise: Okay.- I nod and he leaves a light squeeze on my hands and then releases them. -I'll think about it these days and I 'll give you an answer as soon as possible.- I assure him and he takes a couple of steps back, picking up his glass from the bench.

Y/n: Great, now let's go back to the dance and hopefully no one has noticed our absence.- he tells me and we both head towards the dance.

Before reaching the end of the maze, he asks me to go first and that he will appear a few minutes later; so as not to arouse suspicion. And that's what happens.

Ten minutes after I have found my brothers, excusing myself for having been in the bathroom and for the long queue, there he was. Prince Y/n approaches us and asks me to dance with him, which I immediately accept with a smile and beginning the most important performance of my life.

From this moment on, in the following days we will have to be the best actors in the world and make all the people believe that there is something between the prince and me.

I just hope that everything goes well and that in the solitude of my room, I can think calmly and weigh all the pros and cons of the proposition Y/n has made me.

I only hope to be able to choose well and not regret it in the future; either close or far from the decision that I have to make in a few days. Because that decision will dictate my life and future from the moment I make my final decision.

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #eloise bridgerton x male reader #anthony bridgerton #lady whistledown #queen charlotte #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton #edwina sharma #kate sharma #oc character #male reader

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fate-motif · 10 months

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here's the character traits i think predisposes characters in the jigsaw franchise to get brainwashed by jigsaw and become a jigsaw killer themselves:

they have to believe that they did something wrong, and that they atoned for it when jigsaw tested them

they have to be already somewhat comfortable making life or death decisions for other people

we all know pee-paw's self-help seminar from hell isn't just an alleged self-help seminar, but doubles as retributive justice in case the person fails (in his eyes). so whoever is offered to join up with jigsaw has to be comfortable with both sides of the ideological operation in play. it's not enough that they were severely traumatized and have a hole in their lives that they could fill by being part of this cult, though those things really predisposes them for the brainwashing. multiple characters were targeted to join the jigsaw movement and did not feel the vibe, so i think i have it isolated to these two traits.

further thoughts under the cut

how we see this in the apprentices

this puts all three main character mainline franchise jigsaw apprentices in a very clear light, really. amanda thinks john helped her overcome her addiction and redeemed her for the things she did as an addict. lawrence acknowledges how he neglected his family and took them for granted so hard that he cut off his foot for them even though there was no guarantee they would be alive when he got out. hoffman is perhaps the one that feels he owes john the least (since he at least partially came in on the scheme purely through blackmail) but considering his intense passion for brutally punishing the guilty i think it's safe to say john testing him jolted him out of the apathetic, drunken stupor he had been living in since his sister was killed, and that he thinks that's a good thing.

(your mileage may vary as to whether logan nelson blamed himself for john's cancer going undetected, but as a coroner he seems to take his job extremely seriously. if john sparing his life caused him to take action in appreciating his life in any way, i think it's fair to say that it got him to give his everything when at work.)

and as for the life or death decision making for others, it's crystal clear at least to me why the people that joined up did. two are doctors and one is a cop. these are professions where making life or death decisions for others is required, even if you're doing everything you can to save someone's life. amanda isn't either a cop or a doctor but having been an ex-con i think it's safe to say the high risk environment may have predisposed her to feel more comfortable taking decisions that may lead to someone's death.

and it's not really a coincidence that it's cops and doctors, either. both policing and healthcare are embedded in the themes of the saw franchise. john kramer thinks jigsaw is a doctor that doubles as a cop; healing a sickness if the patient is worthy, killing them if they aren't. that's why i think a lot of traps that people like to claim 'don't work' because the players aren't being tested for a flaw or misdeed still suit the jigsaw ethos perfectly. because pee-paw may act high and mighty but what matters most to him is the retributive justice aspect of the traps. and this is the same for all his apprentices as well.

except for brad and ryan, really, but they're more than anything victims of saw 3d's rushed writing. they're only there to help lawrence stop hoffman, since a disabled oncologist might struggle to take down the armed and dangerous cop turned serial killer. even then i can sort of squint and see those two as thanking jigsaw for intervening on letting this one woman ruin their friendship and make them commit crimes when she didn't value them. the atoning aspect, weak as it is, may be complimented by the fact that jigsaw just netted himself a couple of honest-to-god psychopaths because they didn't look even a little remorseful to have to kill their girlfriend when they reached their truce. oh, well.

but what i like about my conclusions is that they really explain why the victims who were set up to be brainwashed failed

not every jigsaw game victim would make a good apprentice

yes, up front: john kramer has lost his mind when he thinks anyone would ever want to join his sick little crusade. most people do not want to kill and can't find killing in most capacities to be vile. also most people's reactions after being tortured would be to immediately try and attack their torturer. and yet the madman actually netted three people to help him out. it's such an insanely lucky number, really, proven by the fact that hoffman tries to recruit two cops and fails.

two cops. one of them had engaged in police brutality, let a colleague cover for him, and respected and defended colleagues that engaged in it. the other one may have been a little too classy to punch suspects in the face, but the way he treats jill tuck speaks to the opposite of any respect for people's dignity. both of them are fine murdering jigsaw game victims who were only attacking under the extreme circumstanced they were in! and yet they didn't even hesitate when hoffman tried to sell them on the life of being jigsaw, the ultimate policeman!

because neither of them thought they had anything to atone for.

while rigg has an entire library of things to atone for, what hoffman wants him to regret and feel bad for is letting his desire to save people affect the people around him. maybe if hoffman had any kind of emotional intelligence he could have pitched his traps to make him consider his actions on others, but instead all his arguments came down to 'look at these weak, pathetic people. they're sick, deep down, so it doesn't matter if they die when we torture them'. which rigg was never going to believe. he saw his desire to save people as innately good and unchangeable, which is correct, of course. it's just that the actions he takes are absolutely hopeless to actually save anyone in hoffman's eyes, because that desire makes him careless but in mine because policing saves no one. so of course he could never have become a jigsaw killer, because his traps did not make him think he had something to atone for.

as for strahm, hoffman didn't even bother brainwashing him, and that's why obviously he was never going to get in that coffin. the water cube trap was a straightforward execution. strahm had already seen a jigsaw trap mutilate perez for no reason other than to get them off his trail. by the time he reaches the coffin there was nothing in the world that could have convinced strahm to join hoffman.

it really speaks to how far gone and twisted hoffman is that in either of these cases, especially strahm's, hoffman thought there would be a chance either of them would even think about joining forces with him.

could any other jigsaw victims have made good apprentices?

i have a couple of ideas.

before we get to the candidates i'm going to address the apprentice adam angle, because it's a common au and everyone loves adam and wants him to be alive. also because it's a fun angle for chainshipping. this is your opening to send me chainshipping fanworks where larry tries to brainwash adam into joining him! but as it stands in canon i don't think adam would have found it in him to join the serial killers because he's not the kind of guy with a developed killer instinct. yes, he's depressed and suicidal in the original script. yes, the bathroom game makes him say out loud he wants to stop taking his family for granted. but he killed zepp in the very urgent scenario of trying to stop zepp from shooting lawrence, and i don't think he has it in him to deliberately put people in torture games where it's very likely they'll die. especially since, before jigsaw, adam had never met anyone he would actually find it in him to kill on purpose. though neither had lawrence, so i will give the adam apprentice girlies a point there.

the writers of the first movie say that zepp was having a blast when he kidnapped gordon’s family so he’s clearly he’s got the killer instinct needed for the job. the problem is that even john would be able to tell by a glance that zepp wouldn’t be able to stop himself from indiscriminately harming people as opposed to using violence for their ideological leanings. there’s a reason he was poisoned instead of merely asked to join. so while a rare find in that he might have already been primed to be a serial killer already, we all know john loves his delusion of doing violence for a higher purpose and zepp would ruin that illusion very quickly.

the only candidates i think would have been perfect otherwise would be brit and mallick from the fatal five. i've mentioned this before but they feel like they've atoned for their crimes through their game and were delusionally euphoric by the end of it. and so long as the victims chosen were on the scummier end of things, i could see both of them prompted into villainy.

you know who else got prompted into villainy? brett abbott. which is kind of insane to say considering he's a kid and i feel for him even though he did literally murder a man. it's just very hard for me to hate a kid suffering under institutional injustices even though he let that suffering out through murder. but all i'm saying is that under the right trap brett and the fatal five survivors were the more ideal candidates for apprenticeship... if only john was there.

yeah. hoffman doesn't have it in him to coax anyone into anything. he's a homemade nail bomb, not a leader. he would probably even dismiss brit and mallick right off the bat over their now missing hands, and you can't tell me he would have the patience to groom a teenager like brett. amanda and lawrence are also not exactly winning in the charm department. so really once the cult's charismatic leader kicked the bucket their way of life was doomed to eat itself from the inside out.

which is exactly what happened.

... don't ask me to think very hard about anyone in jigsaw because i've forgotten 95% of that movie

#saw franchise #saw x #jigsaw killer #john kramer #amanda young #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #logan nelson #jill tuck #adam faulkner stanheight #adam faulkner #adam stanheight #brit stevenson #mallick scott #daniel rigg #peter strahm #brett abbott #tara abbott

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throneofsmut · 6 months

Text

BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 6

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood and death.

Author's Note: None.

Word Court: 4.9k

****

Alis stepped out in the hall and you followed after her, leaning on the wall next to the door of the room you were given, waiting for Feyre.

The both of you waiting in silence. Not awkward or uncomfortable silence—just silence. Exhaustion finally wearing on you as you stood there, head against the wall, eyes closed. You heard her before you saw her, “Is Y/n, already down there?” Feyre asked quietly. The door of her room opened before the servant who helped her get ready could respond.

“No, she’s right here.” You answered before the servant could, Feyre’s eyes lighting up at the sound of your voice, shoulders relaxing just a bit as she took you in. A small smile only for her gracing your lips at the fact that you could relax her.

You love the fact that your voice, your presence, alone can relax your sister. Yet, it’s bittersweet because if she knew who you really were, what you really were, she wouldn’t trust you. Maybe she would even fear you. . . hate you.

Moving to stand right in front of her, placing your hands on her shoulders, eyes searching for any hint of her being hurt. When you didn’t find anything wrong, you met her gaze and she gave you an incredulous look. You arched a groomed brow, “What?”

Feyre crossed her arms across her chest, eyes narrowed, “Shouldn’t I be the one checking you. Worrying over you as the older sister?”

“No.” You replied simply.

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

Now it was your turn to cross your arms, eyes narrowing in challenge, “Because I can handle myself. Take care of myself.” And take care of you. Take care of the both of you—you implied with your tone.

Feyre scoffed. “So can I!”

“No. Not like I can and we both know it.” You said matter-of-factly, holding her gaze—daring her to challenge you.

She didn’t.

****

The High Lord of Spring and Lucien were lounging around the table when Alis returned you to the dining room. Food still remained on the table, the array of spices lingering in the air, beckoning. You were starving, your head unnervingly light. It had been days since you’d last ate, since Feyre last ate.

The High Lord’s mask gleamed with the last rays of the afternoon sunshine. "Before you ask again: the food is safe for you to eat." He pointed to the chairs at the other end of the table. No sign of his claws. When you didn't move, he sighed sharply. "What do you want, then?"

You said nothing.

Lucien drawled from his seat along the length of the table, "I told you so, Tamlin." He flicked a glance toward his friend. "Your skills with females have definitely become rusty in recent decades."

Tamlin. He glowered at Lucien, shifting in his seat. You willed your face into neutrality at the confirmation that he had survived all those years ago.

"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on you, then Feyre "You two don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though tunics aren't as pretty as a dress."

You were all too aware of the way your jaw clenched and unclenched, of the very breath you took as you said, "I'd prefer not to wear a dress."

"And why not?" Lucien crooned.

It was Tamlin who answered for you. "Because killing us is easier in pants."

You kept your face blank, willed yourself to settle as Feyre began to speak, "Now that we’re here, what. . . what do you plan to do with us?"

Lucien snorted, but Tamlin said with a snarl of annoyance, "Just sit down."

Two empty seats had been pulled out at the end of the table, one at the head and the other to its left. You sat in the one on the left, gesturing for Feyre to sit at the head. If something were to happen you’d at least have enough time to get in front of her.

So many foods, piping hot and wafting those enticing spices. It’s been years since you had food in Prythian, human food always tasted like ash. The servants had probably brought out new food while you'd washed. So much wasted. You clenched your hands into fists.

"We're not going to bite." Lucien's white teeth gleamed in a way that suggested otherwise. Feyre almost imperceptibly stiffening—almost.

Giving him a toothy grin, your sensual lips curving upwards, “Not even if I ask you too?”

He choked on his wine and gaped at you. Feyre gaped at you too, making you chuckle. Tamlin cleared his throat and then rose, stalking around the table—closer and closer to Feyre, each movement smooth and lethal, a predator blooded with power. It was an effort for her to stay still—for you too as he approached her—especially as he picked up a dish, brought it over to her and piled meat and sauce onto her plate.

“I can serve myself.” Feyre said quietly.

“It’s an honor for a human to be served by a High Fae. Isn’t it Lucien?” He bit out roughly.

“Yes. Yes it is, Tam.” Lucien’s eyes flickered with amusement for a second and the next he was out of his seat making his way to you—to serve you.

You fought back the urge to smirk as you cocked your head to the side, so you could look at Tamlin, “Which is more of an honor to be served by a High Fae or a High Lord, High Lord?” Tamlin paused—stiffening but didn’t look at you and Feyre let out a small gasp her eyes wide. Lucien paused as well, looking over his shoulder at Tamlin. The High Lord only cleared his throat and continued plating Feyre’s food, earning a snort from you.

They both only stopped piling food onto your plates when they were heaping with meat and sauce and bread, and then filled your glasses with pale sparkling wine. Feyre’s eyes were still wide with shock as they both prowled back to their seats.

They watched both of you, too closely to be casual. Tamlin straightened a bit, his gaze settling on Feyre and said, "You look. . . better than before."

Your brows rose and you blinked a couple times. Was he trying to flirt? Was that a compliment to flirt with her? You could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod.

"And your hair is. . . clean."

You couldn’t hold in the laugh that worked its way up your throat. Earning glares from the two high fae seated across the table.

Feyre looked at you before looking back at them, "So you're High Fae faerie nobility?"

Lucien coughed and looked to Tamlin. "You can take that question."

"Yes," Tamlin said, frowning—as if searching for anything else to say. He settled on merely: "We are."

"And you’re High Lord?" She asked.

Tamlin’s eyes didn’t leave her face. "Yes."

A few moments of silence passed before Feyre spoke again, “What do you plan on doing with us now that we’re here?”

“Nothing. Do whatever you want.”

“So we’re not your slaves?” She dared to ask.

Lucien choked on his wine. But Tamlin didn’t smile, “I don’t keep slaves.”

Feyre and Tamlin went back and forth for a bit, before Lucien started with her. He was still upset about Andras—understandably so but Tamlin put an end to their bickering. Then he and Feyre started again. He took a breath before his gaze flickered between the two of you.

"I'm going to warn you once," Tamlin said too softly. "Only once, and then it's on you, humans. I don't care if you go live somewhere else in Prythian. But if you cross the wall, if you flee, your family will no longer be cared for."

You opened your mouth, but his snarl rattled the glasses. "Is that not a fair bargain? And if you flee, then you might not be so lucky with whoever comes to retrieve you next." His claws slipped back under his knuckles. "The food is not enchanted, or drugged, and it will be your own damn fault if you faint. So you're going to sit at this table and eat. The both of you, Feyre. And Lucien will do his best to be polite." He threw a pointed look in his direction. Lucien shrugged.

The invisible bonds he had placed around the two of you while he and Feyre argued loosened, and she winced as she whacked her hands on the underside of the table. The bonds on your legs and middle remained intact. One glance at Tamlin's smoldering green eyes told you what you already knew: his guest or not, you weren’t going to get up from this table until you’d eaten something. You'd think about the sudden change in your plans to escape later. Now. . . for now you eyed the silver fork and carefully picked it up.

They still watched you—Feyre watched you—watched your every move. You gave her a small nod as you picked up the silver fork beside your plate and that was all she needed to start digging into her plate.

It was an effort to keep from grunting. You hadn’t had food this good in years and Feyre hadn’t since before your family’s downfall. But still the mortal realms' food couldn’t compare to Prythian’s. You both ate your entire plates in silence, too aware of the High Fae observing every bite. Your sister was reaching for a second helping of chocolate torre, the food vanished. Just vanished, as if it had never existed, not a crumb left behind.

"One more bite and you'll hurl your guts up," Tamlin said to Feyre, drinking deeply from his goblet.

The bonds holding you loosened entirely. Silent permission to leave.

"Thank you for the meal," She said.

"Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat.

She braced her hands on her chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep."

"It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at." At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it.

"You're High Fae," Feyre said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all—or dining with me."

Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you’d rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"—he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face—"surely we’re not so miserable to look at. Unless you have someone back home. Unless there's a line of suitors out the door of your hovel that makes us seem like worms in comparison."

"I was close with a man back in my village." Feyre confessed.

Tamlin and Lucien exchanged glances, but it was Tamlin who said, "Are you in love with this man?"

"No."

"And do you. . . love anyone else?" Tamlin said through clenched teeth.

“No.”

Then Lucien looked at you, cocking his head before he spoke, “What about you? Do you love anyone, Y/n?”

“No. Love will get you killed.” You told him, giving him a sweet smile.

A laugh bursted out of your sister, tinged with hysteria. "Is this really what you care to know about? If we find you more handsome than human men, and if we have a man back home? Why bother to ask at all, when we'll be stuck here for the rest of our lives?"

"We wanted to learn more about you, since you'll be here for a good while," Tamlin replied, his lips a thin line. "But Lucien's pride tends to get in the way of his manners." He sighed, as if ready to be done with both of you, and said, "Go rest. We're both busy most days, so if you need anything, ask the staff. They'll help you."

"Why?" She asked. "Why be so generous." Lucien gave us a look that suggested he had no idea, either, given that we'd murdered their companion, but Tamlin stared at her for a long moment.

"I kill too often as it is," Tamlin said finally, shrugging his broad shoulders. "And you're insignificant enough to not ruffle this estate. Unless you decide to start killing us."

Feyre’s cheeks and neck were tinged pink as she thanked Tamlin for the meal. He gave a distant nod and motioned for the both of you to leave. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave you a lazy half smile. You walked behind Feyre until you reached the doors, and whispered only for her to hear, “Go straight to your room.” Without turning to look at you she nodded her head and you shut the dining room door behind her.

Lucien groaned, “Now what?”

“Shut up. I’m gonna talk and you’re going to listen.” You snarled at the red head.

“Who do you think you—“ He started but Tamlin silenced him with a raised hand.

Eyes boring into the high lord of spring, “How much time do you have left to attempt to break the curse?”

Tamlin’s mouth opened and then closed before opening again, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stalking closer until you were face to face with him, you let out a bitter laugh, “That was a pathetic attempt at a lie… I know about Amarantha, Under The Mountain and the curse. So. How. Long.” It was a command not a question.

His and Lucien’s faces went pale, then he swallowed hard, “Months. A few months.��

You swore under your breath and shut your eyes. Fuck, months. There were only months left to kill Amarantha. You knew monsters like her couldn’t just be stopped, they had to be killed. When you opened your eyes again Tamlin was studying you, head cocked in a way that was more animalistic than fae, like he was sizing up an opponent.

“What?” You gritted out.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion lacing his tone as he asked, “How do you know?”

“I hear things.” You answered smugly, letting your lips set in the all too familiar wicked smirked you’d mastered as a child.

You rolled your neck before placing both palms flat on the dining table. Leaning in you said to the both of them, “I’m only gonna say this once, I’m not the one that’s going to fall in love with you and break the curse—“

Lucien cut you off, “Why? Because the hate you have for us is stronger than the chance of love?”

You sighed, “No. I just. . . I- I can’t. Feyre is your best chance but. . . I will not help you make her fall in love with you. It already feels like I’m raising a lamb to the slaughter. It’s already bad enough I can’t tell her—my sister—about the curse. I can’t tell her just like you can’t. But it doesn’t matter if she does or doesn’t break the curse, I’m going to kill Amarantha.”

“Why?” Tamlin asked.

“She took something from me.”

“So. . . What? You want it back?”

“What she took, I can’t get back.”

Your mother.

The High Lord of Spring glanced at his emissary. Then Lucien scoffed, “And we’re supposed to trust that you can kill her.”

“Trust my rage.” You said with lethal softness. Letting the wrath you usually kept buried deep within you show in your eyes. They tried to suppress a shudder as you let your rage roll off of you in waves.

Their voices cut through the silence as they spoke simultaneously, “All right.”

Sleep didn’t find you that night. Most nights if you were being honest. Instead of restlessly staying in bed you opted on going out onto your balcony, climbing onto the roof and staring up at the stars. You always felt less alone when you were close to them. As if your mother was there—your real mother. A soft warm breeze caressing your face and if you closed your eyes it felt like she was doing it.

****

Days passed and you saw Tamlin’s poor attempts at trying to woo your sister. It was almost laughable. But you saw the small bits of progress between them. Especially after she had caught the Suriel and was attacked by the naga. She had injured two by the time you and Tamlin got to her side. He had been tracking them when he heard her scream. You were already making your way to the direction she’d gone in before she screamed. Feeling something was off, you’d picked up an axe that was left out in the garden and as soon as you heard her, you sprinted to her and killed two while Tamlin killed the others.

Feyre was surprised that he’d come to help her. Feral rage still shone in his eyes as he knelt beside her but he was gentle with her as he healed the cut on her cheek and gave her his tunic to wear since hers was ripped.

They still bickered but they were starting to find some common ground. Starting to understand that they were similar in some ways. Well at least that’s what she told you.

****

A couple weeks passed and you were finally dozing off when you heard shouts and someone’s screams sounding through the crack beneath your door.

The shouts weren’t aggressive—more like orders but the screaming was agonizing.

Shooting out of bed and ripping the door of your room open you practically leaped down the stairs making your way to where the screams were coming from. Ripping the front doors to the manor open and Tamlin rushed in, a screaming faerie—summer court by his appearance—slung over his shoulder.

You heard footsteps behind you, turning your head to look at the top of the grand staircase, where Feyre stood. Watching. Even from atop the stairs, you knew she could see the blood gushing down the faerie's back—blood from the black stumps protruding from his shoulder blades. Blood that now soaked into Tamlin's green tunic in deep, shining splotches. One of the knives from his baldric was missing.

Lucien rushed into the foyer just as Tamlin shouted, "The table—clear it off!" You shoved the vase of flowers off the long table in the center of the hall.

The shattering glass set Feyre’s feet moving, and she was halfway down the stairs before Tamlin eased the shrieking faerie face-first onto the table. The faerie wasn't wearing a mask; there was nothing to hide the agony contorting his long, unearthly features.

"Scouts found him dumped just over the borderline," Tamlin explained to Lucien and you, but his eyes darted to Feyre. They flashed with warning, but she took another step down. He said to Lucien, "He's Summer Court."

"By the Cauldron," Lucien said, surveying the damage.

His wings. His wings.

"My wings," the faerie choked out, his glossy black eyes wide and staring at nothing. "She took my wings."

She. . . Amarantha.

Tamlin flicked a hand, and steaming water and bandages just appeared on the table. Your body started to shake with rage. She hadn’t just taken his wings—she ripped them off.

Your mother had always made sure you understood how valuable—how priceless your wings were. To lose them and live was worse than death. And for Amarantha to have ripped them from his body was the cruelest thing she could have ever done to the summer court faerie.

"She took my wings," said the faerie. "She took my wings," he repeated, clutching the edge of the table with spindly blue fingers.

Tamlin murmured a soft, wordless sound—gentle in a way you hadn't heard before. Blood oozed from the black velvety stumps on the faeries back. As if she'd sawed off his wings bit by bit. The wounds were jagged—cartilage and tissue severed in what looked like uneven cuts. And your Mothers once glorious—beautiful—wings flashed through your mind.

Large, leathery soft wings. The tips of them tipped with a single talon. Black membranous bat-like wings that looked like a sunset, purple and pink when the sun shone through them. Just like yours.

But other images of them flashed through your mind as well.

Shredded and covered in blood from whatever magic Amarantha and her most trusted soldiers used to mutilate them.

She lost hers to save yours. Just like she did with her life.

"She took my wings," the faerie said again, his voice breaking as he trembled, shock taking over, his skin shimmered with veins of pure gold—iridescent, like a blue butterfly.

"Keep still," Tamlin ordered, wringing the rag. "You'll bleed out faster."

"N-n-no," the faerie started, and began to twist onto his back, away from Tamlin, from the pain that was surely coming when that rag touched those raw stumps.

It was instinct, or mercy, or desperation, perhaps, to grab the faeries upper arms and shove him down again, pinning him to the table as gently as you could. He thrashed, strong enough that you had to concentrate solely on holding him. “Feyre!” She didn’t hesitate to help you hold him.

You looked to Lucien, but the color had blanched from his face, leaving a sickly white-green in its wake.

"Lucien," Tamlin said—a quiet command. But Lucien kept gaping at the faeries ruined back, at the stumps, his metal eye narrowing and widening, narrowing and widening. He backed up a step. And another. And then vomited in a potted plant before sprinting from the room.

The faerie twisted again and you held tight, your arms shaking with the effort. His injuries must have weakened him greatly if you and Feyre could keep him pinned. "Please," you breathed. "Please hold still."

"She took my wings,” the faerie sobbed. "She took them."

“I know,” Feyre murmured. “I know.”

Tamlin touched the rag to one of the stumps, and the faerie screamed so loudly that your senses guttered, sending you staggering back. Your mother’s ruined wings flashing in your mind. He tried to rise but his arms buckled, and he collapsed face-first onto the table again.

Blood gushed—so fast and bright that it took you a heartbeat to realize that a wound like this required a tourniquet—and that the faerie had lost far too much blood for it to even make a difference. It poured down his back and onto the table, where it ran to the edge and drip-drip-dripped to the floor near Feyre’s feet.

You found Tamlin's eyes on you. "The wounds aren't clotting," he said under his breath as the faerie panted.

"Can't you use your magic?" You asked, wishing Amarantha hadn’t stripped him of most of his power.

Tamlin swallowed hard. "No. Not for major damage. Once, but not any longer."

The faerie on the table whimpered, his panting slowing. "She took my wings," he whispered. Tamlin's green eyes flickered, and you knew, right then, that the faerie was going to die. Death wasn't just hovering in this hall; it was counting down the faerie's remaining heartbeats.

You took one of the faerie's hands in yours and Feyre took the other. The skin there was almost leathery, and, perhaps more out of reflex than anything, his long fingers wrapped around yours, covering them completely. "She took my wings," he said again, his shaking subsiding a bit.

You brushed the long, damp hair from the faerie's half-turned face, revealing a pointed nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth. His dark eyes shifted to mine, beseeching, pleading.

"It will be all right," you promised, and hoped he couldn't smell lies the way the Suriel was able to. You stroked his limp hair, its texture like liquid night. “It will be all right.” The faerie closed his eyes, and you tightened your grip on his hand.

Something wet touched your feet, and you didn’t need to look down to see that his blood had pooled around you.

"My wings," the faerie whispered.

"You'll get them back."

The faerie struggled to open his eyes. "You swear?"

"Yes," you breathed.

The faerie managed a slight smile, squeezing your hand with his last bit of strength and closed his eyes again. And in that moment you made a silent vow to avenge him. To kill whoever Amarantha had ordered to take his wings knowing she believed this faerie to be beneath her. To be nothing.

Your mouth trembled and you wished for something else to say, something more to offer him than empty promises. For the ability to heal him and give him back his wings. But Tamlin began speaking, and you glanced up to see him place his hand gently atop the faeries head. "Cauldron save you," he said, reciting the words of a prayer that haunted your dreams. But you said it with him. “Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain." Both of your voices wavered, but you finished. "Go, and enter eternity."

The faerie heaved one final sigh, and his hand went limp in yours. You didn't let go, though, and neither did Feyre. She kept stroking his hair after Tamlin released him and took a few steps from the table.

You could feel Tamlin's eyes on you, but you wouldn't let go. You didn't know how long it took for a soul to fade from the body. You had done the same for your mother—held her hand for hours after she died. Too young to know any better. You would've stayed with the wolf in the forest for hours too had Feyre not been there.

Feyre and you stood in the puddle of blood until it grew cold, holding the faerie's spindly hand and stroking his hair, wondering if he knew you'd lied when you'd sworn he would get his wings back, wondering if wherever he had now gone, he had gotten them back. Just like you wonder if your mother did.

A clock chimed somewhere in the house, and Tamlin’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "He's gone. Let him go." His hand was gripping Feyre’s shoulder. He didn’t try to touch you.

"Feyre," Tamlin said and she brushed the faerie's hair behind his long, pointed ear and let go.

You wished you'd known his name, still you would never forget him.

Tamlin led her up the stairs, no one caring about the bloody footprints she left behind or the freezing blood soaking the front of her nightgown. Hearing her pause at the top of the steps, no doubt twisting out of his grip, and gazing at the table in the foyer below.

"We can't leave him there," She said, making to step down.

"I know," he said, the words so drained and weary.

"I was going to walk you upstairs first." Before he buried him.

"I want to go with you."

"It's too deadly at night for you to—"

"I can hold my—"

"No," he said, "I must do this. Alone."

You heard your sister’s departing footsteps but Tamlin remained at the top of the stairs. "Feyre," he said softly "Why? You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras... So why?"

She took a step closer to him, her blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. "Because I wouldn't want to die alone," she breathed, her voice wobbly. "Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie." You heard her swallow hard. Her voice sounded painfully tight as she continued, "I regret what we did to Andras.” She said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. "I regret that there was. . . such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it—and. . . I'm sorry. So very sorry."

You couldn't remember the last time—if ever she’d spoken to anyone like that. And then they were silent. Moments later Tamlin’s heavy footsteps were nearing and he moved to grip your shoulder but you moved out the way. He spoke to you gently, “Go. Try to get some rest.”

You hadn’t realized you had started crying and your voice cracked as you whispered, “No. I’ll bury him.”

“It’s alright. I can do it.”

You sniffled and then let out a sharp breath, “No. I need to bury him.” Find a beautiful place and lay him to rest and mourn the loss of the nameless summer court faerie. Mourn the loss of his wings. Tamlin—no one would understand unless they had wings. You had to do this.

“Did she? Did she take your wings?” He said it so low if it wasn’t for your enhanced hearing you wouldn’t have heard him.

You shook your head no. “Please. I need to do this.”

“All right. But. . . why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” You didn't look at him as you positioned the faerie’s limp broken body across your shoulders and carried him to the garden doors beyond. You carried the faerie through the moonlit garden and into the rolling fields beyond. Never once glancing back.

Walking the fields of the Spring Court until you came across a tall beautiful Yew Tree. Remembering your mother telling you that the old gods saw the Yew Trees as the guardians of the dead. That they purified the dead as they made their journey to the afterlife. Ensuring their souls made it to eternity. Which was why you buried her under a yew tree and why you were going to bury him here.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

part 11

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#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames #eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x y/n

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abimess · 2 years

Text

1825 days

Kate Bishop x Reader

gif is not mine

Summary: Kate fell in love with you as soon as she met you. However, the vast age difference between you always let her know that nothing would ever happen. But what happens when those seven years of difference suddenly become two?

Word count: 3.774 || Pronouns: not used

Warnings: none

A/N: Well, today was a very boring day for me so here's a short story for you guys. Enjoy!

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Masterlist | Be notified of my stories (Read on: Wattpad)

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It was yet another one of the many fancy parties Kate’s mother would drag her to, claiming it was important to Bishop Security’s business that the company's legatee attended all relevant events.

That didn’t make the brunette like them any better.

Eleanor would have to spend weeks insisting, urging her daughter to participate - and moreover, to behave appropriately for her position. Kate didn’t even know what that really meant, if she were being honest. She had no intention of finding out either. And, to be even more sincere, her mother’s speech was very little effective.

What really made her show up at all of those boring parties had a name, and the most beautiful face - that was scattered all over her bedroom walls from pictures she took over the years.

Kate Bishop loved martial arts, and archery, and adrenaline. But the thing she loved the most - and the one that was the most surprising of all, at least to herself - was you.

Your mother worked very closely with Eleanor, they were both partners on some matter that Kate had absolutely no interest in. The only part of this partnership that the brunette really cared about was the fact that you’d always be at the events her mother put together.

And, over these few years, Kate has learned a few things about you. You like blue, you always have some blue item on your clothes, even if discreetly - she always wondered if you liked her eyes as well.

Unlike her, you really want to take over your family’s company one day, and you work really hard to do it, even though your parents are still young and don’t plan on retiring any time soon. She really admires you for that.

You love seeing animal pictures on your phone when you’re bored, and the brunette felt her heart warm every time you sent her dog pictures because you know she’s a dog person.

And, the apparently only detail of yours that bothers her: you are older than her. Seven years older, to be exact.

If she were being honest, Kate didn’t care about that age gap one bit. She truly likes you and the way her heart skips a beat every time you’re around should overcome any age difference that two people may have.

But she knows that the fact that she’s sixteen and you’re twenty-three was clearly an issue for you. Especially since you didn't seem to have feelings for her at all.

And the worst part is that she knows you know, because everybody knows. People talk about it, making funny comments and jokes that made Kate’s cheeks warm up so hard she’s sure she’d get a third-degree burn. You always noticed her embarrassment, deflecting the subject to take the focus off of her. That only made her like you painfully more.

“I noticed you’re copying my style.” The voice she loves the most sounds right behind her, and an ear-to-ear grin took over her lips even before she spun on her heels. “Hi!” The brunette greets excitedly, throwing her arms around your neck, and you giggle as you hug her around the waist.

“Hey, Bishop.” You say against her ear, and the sound this time so close to her made Kate’s body shiver in a way she probably shouldn’t, so she pulls away. She keeps her eyes on yours as she does, though, admiring mesmerized as you smile at her expectantly.

The silence grows longer for a moment, and it takes the brunette another two seconds to remember you had made a comment in the first place, blinking a few times to pull herself together. Looking down at her own body, Kate lets out a short laugh. “Er-Yeah! I am, yeah. My mom finally let me wear a suit.”

“It looks good on you.” You comment wholeheartedly, admiring the set of clothing before taking your eyes back to Kate’s face, which is on fire at this point. “It looks better on you, though.” The brunette bites her tongue as soon as the comment fails to be contained by her short-circuited system, her eyes widening slightly. But you just giggle softly in response, making her forget about anything at all.

“I have to greet the other guests, but I’ll come back to you in an instant, yeah?” You comment a moment later, glancing at a point ahead of the party, where your mother beckons you to join her. “Sure, I’ll be waiting.” The brunette answers in a nervous grumble, and you give her a brief smile before rushing to where you were supposed to be, leaving behind a rather flustered Kate Bishop.

The next few minutes are somehow worse than the previous ones before your arrival, because the brunette decided to sit at one of the empty tables at the back of the salon, waiting for you to come back with a swinging leg.

Kate didn’t know exactly how long had passed - 23 minutes and 45 seconds, but who would ever count such a thing? -, but you eventually joined her again, two glasses in your hand and a soft smile on your face. The brunette reciprocates it with a shy one, murmuring a low ‘thank you’ as you hand her the glass of soda, sitting by her side as you sip on your champagne.

The silence grows longer as the two of you stay there in silence, watching the party getting more and more crowded. And although Kate didn’t mind just being by your side quietly, her anxious brain fought in search of something to say or do.

“I got my driver's license this weekend.” She lets out the first thing that came to her mind, and you turn to her with an excited smile. “No way! That’s awesome!” You reply wholeheartedly, making Kate’s cheeks flush as you place your glass over the fancy tablecloth. “I remember when I got mine, I was so nervous.”

“Yeah, I was a bit nervous too.” The brunette agrees with a giggle, finding it hard to keep her eyes on you and not on her lap. You offer her a sweet smile, and Kate ignores the fast beats of her heart to smile back.

“But don’t worry about it, it will get easier over the years.” You assure then, and the brunette only murmurs in understanding, being once again reminded of your obstructive age difference. “I'd love to get a ride with you sometime, Bishop. Maybe I can give you a few tips.” You add, playfully nudging her arm with your elbow, and the brunette widens her eyes.

“Sure! I-I’d love that!” Kate agrees perhaps too excitedly, but the sound of your giggle fills the air between you soon after, and she doesn’t find it in herself to care, an ear-to-ear grin on her lips. “Cool! We can do it on Friday afternoon if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not, Friday afternoon would be awesome.” She lets you know, and you smile as you nod your head in confirmation. The next moment, however, a noise caught your attention, and you turn your gaze to a spot ahead at the party.

Smiling with amusement, you nod for Kate to follow your gaze, and the girl giggles softly at seeing one of the richest men at the party apologizing for knocking wine onto the jacket of a boy Kate had only seen a few times, the former's cheeks almost as red as the drink stain.

And as she looked at the scene, the brunette watched you out of the corner of her eye. With a smile on her lips at the thought of meeting you in a few days, Kate had no way of knowing that, after this night, she would not see you again for another five years.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

Today is as chaotic as it was five years ago.

However, instead of painful and sorrowful and herwreaking, this one was exciting and hopeful and overwhelming in the best possible way.

Kate knew the world would need a long time to adapt to this huge change - she wondered if having half the population coming back out of nowhere would be more challenging than having the same amount of people disappearing overnight.

But the social, economic, political, and environmental problems were the last thing on the brunette’s mind, because fifteen minutes ago she got a phone call from her mother telling her that you were at your parent’s house.

You were back.

After losing her father, Kate thought nothing could hurt that much. But you went and proved her wrong. Seeing people vanish into thin air in the middle of her classroom was frightening, but it was nothing compared to the horror of receiving the news that you were one of those who had been turned to dust by Thano’s snap.

During those five years, the brunette had felt so alone, a kind of loneliness she didn’t even know could exist. Living her life on autopilot, every single minute wishing she could talk to you again, tell you about her day and the things she’d done, craving to hear your giggle again, the sound that was slowly fading out of her memory.

But all those bad thoughts all vanished at once the instant your father invited her into his house, being replaced by pure excitement. When she walked through the marble doorway dividing the kitchen and living room, the brunette’s brain stopped working all at once at the sight of you, sitting on the couch by your mother’s side.

The gasp that left her mouth must have been loud, because as soon as it does, you raise your eyes to where she is, and Kate can’t help but feel her vision blurring with tears when they meet hers.

“Y/n!” The brunette lets out as she runs towards you, and you barely have time to stand up from the couch before she crashes into you, her arms around your neck. “Hey, Bishop.” You greet her in the same way you always did, and the sound of your voice in the real world, outside of her memory or the videos on her phone, makes her cry even more.

Your arms hug her tighter around the waist as her body begins to shake with sobs, and Kate doesn’t know how she feels about it all. It is so familiar and heartwarming to have you back, the same perfume, the same way you run your fingers gently on her back. But it was also new, the way your bodies fit completely differently against each other’s.

But regardless of whether it was familiar or new, it was good, so Kate makes no mention of letting go at any time soon. Much to the brunette's satisfaction, you let her be the first to pull away. After a few minutes, she does.

“You’re back.” Kate comments with teary eyes, sniffing softly. “I am.” You confirm with a smile. “And you’re… So different from the last time I saw you.” You add as you let your eyes roam over her figure, head to toe before coming up to her eyes again, your expression too hard to decipher.

“Well, that was five years ago.” The brunette comments with a giggle and rosy cheeks, and you laugh through your nose at the banter. “I’m pretty sure it was yesterday.” You hit back with humor, but the thought makes Kate’s eyes fill with tears again, and she can’t help hugging you once more. “I missed you so much.”

“Y/n,” your mother’s voice calls you softly, and only now do the two of you remember your parents’ presence in the room, pulling away to look at the older woman, “your father and I need to go back to the company now.”

“Things are very chaotic with everyone coming back.” The man adds the explanation as he approaches you and Kate. “Sure, of course.” You answer with an understanding smile, and your family smiles back in appreciation.

“We’ll see you for dinner though.” Your mother promises with a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, and your father nods in confirmation before turning her gaze to the brunette beside you. “I’m sure Kate here will love to keep you company in the meantime.”

“Absolutely.” She answers promptly, glancing at you for a brief moment before looking back at your parents.

And so the four of you are exchanging goodbyes, and your parents hug you tighter than usual before walking towards the door. Kate watches them leave until they disappear through the door, and the moment she looks back at you, she sees your eyes already on her.

“What?” The brunette asks amidst a giggle, a hint of amusement in her curious tone. But you just stare at her in silence for a while, and she doesn’t press you to speak. “It’s been five years.” You answer finally, your hands in your pockets. “You look so different, it’s… weird.”

Kate’s brows furrow slightly as she looks down at her own figure, and only then do you realize what you had just said, widening your eyes. “No- Not that you look weird! It just is weird. You look nice.” You explain yourself clumsily, your cheeks burning, and the brunette slightly narrows her eyes at you.

It’s the first time Kate has ever seen you like that. You’re usually so confident and chill, you’ve never been shy or flustered, much less stuttering. At least not in her presence, certainly not with her. She wonders what has changed, and then she remembers. Five years have changed.

“Thank you.” She chooses her answer, still intrigued by the slightly pink in your cheeks. “So,” you start, looking away as you sit on the couch, “what happened while I was gone?” You decide to change the subject, and Kate smiles, taking the seat across from yours. “Oh, so much. I’m gonna tell you everything.”

She did, indeed, tell you about everything. About her last years in high school, about all the awards she’s gotten from archery and martial arts tournaments. She tells you about her friends, about her new apartment in Manhattan, and about her favorite establishments in the city, many of them having been opened after the snap.

“[...] There are so many places I wanna show you!” The brunette commented excitedly and, feeling her throat dry, she finally realized how much she has been talking since you asked.

But for the first time, she doesn’t care about talking too much, because she missed you more than she was able to bear these last five years, and you look at her as if you were more than willing to hear everything she has to say, so she didn’t hold back.

“Well, you still owe me a car ride.” You say with humor, referring to the conversation you had had that night at the party, yesterday for you but so many years ago for her. The memory was still fresh on Kate’s mind, however, and she lets out a happy giggle as she agrees.

“I’m afraid I don’t need your tips anymore, though.” The brunette hits back playfully, and you narrow your eyes at her as you murmur a “we’ll see about that” that makes her giggle.

Then the two of you are walking side by side towards the front door and Kate casts you a brief glance, smiling at having you back.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

You and Kate see each other every day now.

As she promised on the first day, she takes you to all the places she likes that she knows you’ve never been to, telling you about all the things that have changed during the time you’ve been gone.

But the change that strikes you the most is Kate herself.

Ever since you met her, the brunette had always been the shy girl that always got flustered whenever you were around, stuttering at her own words as she tried to say to you the simplest of sentences.

This Kate Bishop beside you was completely different from that sheepish girl in the corner. She was funny and confident, and clumsy in a surprisingly charming kind of way. She was also beautiful and - every now and then - flirtatious, often turning you into a flustered mess.

The conflicting feelings grew inside of you, becoming more and more overwhelming every time you saw her smiling or you heard her laughing. The moment it all became very clear to you, however, was during a night out at a bar.

Kate was telling you about this pub downtown with colorful lights and live music, and you would accept going out with her even if it was to eat hot dogs on the street, so you said yes immediately.

The place was indeed cozy, and you didn’t mind when she dragged you towards the bar by the hand. The night was pleasant and the alcohol in your veins was about to make you do something stupid if she kept smiling at you like that.

But not before long, a random guy approached, ignoring you completely as he flirted with Kate bluntly. He was charming and seemed like a nice guy, but the jealous feeling inside you was so strong and unexpected that you weren’t able to stop yourself from aggressively telling the man to fuck off.

And then the guy suddenly didn't seem so nice anymore, and the discussion ended up with the two of you being requested to leave the bar.

“I’m sorry for ruining the night.” You comment shily as you walk down the street, your voice a bit slurred from the strong liquor you had. “Oh, you didn’t. That was actually really fun to watch.” Kate replies with humor, making you smile as you look at the floor.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” You ask before you’re able to hold back, and as you look at her expectantly, the brunette turns her gaze to you with slightly wide eyes. “What? Oh, no. I’ve been busy.”

That was a lie. In fact, a very bad one. But, fortunately for her, you were busy kicking a pebble to notice. “Although I… I had a huge crush on you.” Kate adds a few minutes later with a shy giggle, making you smile. “I’m aware.”

“I know you are.” The brunette grumbles in response, feeling her cheeks heating up as she looks away. But you let out a soft laugh at her reaction, and soon she’s smiling again. It would always be a mystery to her the effect you had on her.

The two of you fall back onto a comfortable silence, walking together around New York as you think of something else to do. But then you stop suddenly, and Kate mimics your action a second later, a furrow between her brows as she watches you with confusion.

You don’t say anything however, and the brunette follows your gaze with her, her sight landing on a light-up billboard advertising a play with the date of the next weekend highlighted.

“Can you believe it’s been five years?” You comment slowly, your expression thoughtful, and Kate sighs, looking at you briefly before looking back at the advertiser. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel like a lot when you put it like that.”

“What do you mean?” You sound as curious as your expression and, feeling your gaze on her, Kate looks back at you again. “Like, five is such a small number, isn’t it?” She says, “I prefer counting it in days, it feels more real.”

You only look at her in silence, the furrow between your eyebrows letting you know you didn’t really understand what she meant. “Every day I would mark another day being over in my calendar, and I would think of how much time has passed since the day you were gone.” She explains, swallowing the lump in her throat to add, “1825 days.”

“That’s a lot.” You comment under your breath, and the brunette nods with a sad smile on her lips. “I know.” She agrees quietly, tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been missing you for five years. But it sure as hell feels like I’ve been missing you for 1825 fucking days.”

You only stare at her in silence, your eyes shining with so many emotions Kate can’t even start to count. But she wouldn’t be able to even if she tried, cause the next moment you are taking a step closer to her, making the brunette take a step back in reflex.

“And what about your feelings?” You ask in a low voice, your eyes descending to her lips. “What?” Kate asks affectedly, her brain completely short-circuited at this point. “What happened to your feelings in these 1825 days?” You ask again as you take another step forward, and this time the brunette hits her back against the wall of the building behind her, making her gasp softly.

“They haven’t gone anywhere.” She replies finally, finding it hard to keep her eyes on yours as she can feel your breathing against her lips. “I’ve been loving you for all of these 1825 days. I think that’s what hurt the most.” Her confession makes you smile, and you take your eyes to her blue ones one last time before descending them again.

“Well, good thing the pain is over, then.” You whisper against her lips, and any coherent thought is sent far away from Kate's mind when your mouth meets hers, eliciting a heavy sigh from her.

Your lips fit perfectly against hers, as do her hands in your hair and yours on her waist. As your tongue begs for passage, the brunette feels a funny sensation beneath her belly, and she's quick to grant it to you.

And as you deepened the kiss against that concrete wall, you had no way of knowing that 1825 days from now you and Kate would be sharing an apartment in the outskirts of New York, the brunette being one of the newest superheroes while you took care of your newborn Y/l/n-Bishop.

And within those 1825 days, there wouldn't be a single day that Kate wasn't scared of losing you again, the same way you were terrified of losing her on some dangerous Avengers mission. But everything was fine, because you would always come back to her after a long day at work, and Kate would always come back to you after saving the world.

And from 1825 days to 1825 days, the two of you would build your life together, unhurriedly, one day at a time.

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And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfield x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #hawkeye fanfic

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blue--ingenue · 11 months

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"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 4

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Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: sorry for the little cliffhanger/teaser a few days ago hehe. i've been really excited to post this chapter and wanted to give you a sneak peek. anyway, seb is a mess, but i promise he gets better at expressing his feelings :) (i forgot to mention in previous parts, but all characters in this fic are aged 18+)

Sebastian cursed as his shoe caught on a loose floor tile, nearly stumbling down the short flight of steps leading to the Potions classroom. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed and everything else had gone downhill from there. He’d arrived at morning quidditch practice to an onslaught of rain. Despite the wind and near-torrential downpour, Imelda had insisted they run drills until their allotted hour on the pitch was up. It was their final practice before their match against Gryffindor. Not only was it one of the most anticipated matches of the season, but Madam Kogawa had also chosen this particular match to evaluate the two houses’ players for a chance to represent the school at the Championships. Sebastian barely had time to cast a half-arsed drying charm over his robes before realizing Potions had started ten minutes ago. Now he was barreling through the halls, irritated and hoping that his tardiness wouldn’t affect his partner’s grade as well as his own.

Remembering that his best friend stood just beyond the door in front of him, he paused to run a hand through his unruly curls and adjust his tie. He hadn’t abandoned all decorum in his tardiness, thank you very much. For some reason she was the only one he cared to check his appearance for. The whole world could think him a rumpled, muddy mess, but as long as he maintained his dashing charm in front of her, he was content. This was, of course, all due to the fact that she was his best chum. That was the only reason he could think of. She was a fixture in his life, occupying more space in his heart and his head than he had the words to describe. So it naturally followed that her opinion would matter above the rest. It had been like this for as long as he could remember. Just last week he’d spent the galleons he’d been saving for some new quidditch gloves on a lovely necklace for her. He told her he’d come across it just as he was leaving Honeydukes. In truth, he’d spotted it at Gladrags a week before the start of term and knew it would look perfect on her. He’d only visited the sweetshop after he had acquired the necklace. He decided to downplay his enthusiasm for her gift, just in case she got the wrong idea.

Sebastian was no fool to the nuances of courtship. Ominis had approached him over the summer to ask him for his blessing about courting Anne. Solomon, who had always had a soft spot for the Gaunt boy, and encouraged his endeavor with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Both boys knew that Anne was her own woman and that asking for his blessing was a mere formality, but Ominis insisted on speaking to both of her remaining family members just in case. He knew what it was like to lose family and he didn’t want to risk causing a rift between any of the Sallows.

Sebastian’s feelings toward his Gryffindor weren’t similar in the least. He’d seen witches and wizards fawning over one another as they walked arm-in-arm at Hogsmeade. He knew how ridiculous his classmates would act when the object of their affections glanced their way. Sebastian Sallow had never acted that way with her a day in his life. Sure, her presence left him invariably flustered, but that was simply because they were the closest of friends. He didn’t know how to put a name to the feelings she roused within him, but calling it something as trivial as “infatuation” seemed nothing less than insulting. No, she was far too extraordinary for that.

He was looking forward to putting this mess of a morning behind him. Spending time with her never failed to lift his spirits - which is why it hurt twice as hard when he stepped into the classroom and saw a familiar ginger nuisance standing in his spot. He was rooted to the spot, incredulous and fuming. He’d never taken issue with Weasley in any year previous, but since the start of term he seemed to be in the one place that was rightfully Sebastian’s - by his Gryffindor’s side.

“Ah, Mr. Sallow. Good of you to finally join us,” Professor Sharp drawled from the front of the classroom. “If you’d like to avoid losing Slytherin any house points for today I’d recommend finding a seat. There seems to be an open stool next to Mr. Clopton.”

Begrudgingly Sebastian stalked over to Everett’s workbench and dropped his books onto the table with far more force than necessary. From across the room his Gryffindor shot him a sympathetic smile. It was like the first rays of sun had disintegrated the clouds from this morning’s offending storm. Looking around, she hastily scribbled a note onto a spare bit of parchment before waving her wand over it. With a soft pop the note appeared next to him. He smiled and snatched it from the table, unfurling it with speed.

Sorry, Garreth volunteered to take your place when Sharp noticed you hadn’t yet arrived. Catch you after class?

He let the note fall to the table and plastered on a nonchalant smile. She seemed relieved, and for some reason that only seemed to irritate him further. Did being his partner mean so little to her that she was already content to continue on? To add insult to injury he was now forced to spend the next hour with Clopton. He was an alright bloke, but his obsession with quidditch meant that he was one of Sebastian’s biggest fans. He felt flattered, truly, but Everett’s presence began grating on his nerves once he started butting into the rare free time he spent with his Gryffindor. Seeking out a distraction from the hornet’s nest of feelings trapped within his head he turned to Everett to ask how far along they were in the potion recipe.

The Ravenclaw stood stock-still, as though he couldn’t believe Sebastian was actually talking to him after nearly a month of dismissed conversations.

“Everett?” he prompted, exhaustion leeching the annoyance from his tone. He seemed to come to his senses at last and fumbled for the open potion book propped up against their cauldron.

“Just here,” he replied, pointing to the second step. “I’ve already gathered the necessary ingredients, so we can just carry on with the chopping.” Sebastian thought he sounded far too enthusiastic for their first class of the day, but obliged. He’d just finished crushing the last bit of moonstone when Everett piped up. Unsurprisingly, and much to his dismay, he began prodding Sebastian about his broom skills. Sebastian gave a few obliging nods as he tuned out the boy’s rambling, intent on finishing their brew as quickly as he could.

“The maneuvers you pull during practice are incredible! And on a school-issued broom, no less!” He carried on. Haughtily he added, “Of course, my broom is one of the fastest on the market. Begged my parents for one of those models for a year. A newer model was close to being released by the time they finally caved.”

Sebastian gave a noncommittal hum and focussed on listening in on the couple occupying his usual station. His hand stilled over the cutting board. Couple? He wondered. When had that word popped into his head? She and Weasley were hardly a couple. She was his best friend, and he was sure that he’d be the first one to know if she were even remotely interested in courting someone. To prove it, he looked up from his slicing to affirm their mutual distaste.

Only it didn’t look like distaste at all. She stood as she always did, elbows on the stained wood as she ran down the ingredient list with the tip of her wand. Weasley towered over her, reading over her shoulder with one arm supporting his weight atop the table. His attention caught on the boy’s face. He was smiling. It was soft and fond and trained entirely on her. Sebastian seethed. He didn’t know why this small act of affection lit a fire in his veins, but it just felt innately wrong, like stretching a muscle just a tad further than it was meant to bend. She was none the wiser as his larger hand brushed against hers in his attempt to turn the page. She turned her head then, realizing for the first time how close they were and blushed. This was ludicrous. Any closer and he’d practically have her pressed against the table. And what if he leaned down? What if he held her impossibly closer and pressed his lips against hers? Would she kiss him back? Sebastian wondered if she’d tug on his tie, pull him down and tangle a fist in his curls.

This was ridiculous. Unbelievable. The whole bloody world was spinning off its axis and Sebastian was the only one who seemed to notice. If anyone should be kissing her, it should be him. He was supposed to be the only one to-

Oh.

Oh, dear.

The world was no longer spinning off its axis. In fact, it wasn’t spinning at all. Everything and everyone was frozen and Sebastian was left to feel all these feelings in painful crystal clarity. He’d read about romance in the muggle novellas Anne had teased him for buying, but on paper everything was straightforward. The hero knew he loved the girl, and the girl loved him right back. In all the books he’d read the couples were inseparable. There was never a question of whether they loved each other, not one true doubt to be found. From Prologue to Epilogue he felt safe knowing that the couple would ultimately get their ‘happily ever after.’ Things were different once the books were back on their shelves. Happy endings were rare, if they even existed at all. His parents were kindred spirits, their love for one another so powerful that it flowed into every nook and cranny of their home. His mother used to tuck them in and say that she loved their father so much, the world decided they needed two children to carry it all. Those happy honeyed years were tucked safely away in his mind, where the memories of his parents’ demise and the rest of reality couldn’t touch them.

Love was soft and sweet, and the world was a sharp and insatiable thing. The years following their move to Feldcroft were a special type of purgatory. The memories of his beloved childhood swirled cruelly in his mind’s eye each night, just vivid enough to remember yet just out of reach. A shard of fear pierced his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose her like that. He didn’t think he could stand getting so close to another person only to have them inevitably ripped away. Sebastian Sallow yearned for fairy tale endings, but he didn’t know if he believed in them anymore.

A high-pitched hissing tore his focus away from his epiphany and the world spun on as if he hadn’t just realized something beautiful and horrible and terrifying. It intensified and he realized the noise was coming from Weasley’s cauldron. He could only watch on as it erupted, sending metal shards and acidic splatters every which way. Garreth tackled his Gryffindor to the floor, shielding her with his own body while the failed potion smoked and ate through his robes. She frantically tore the tattered robe from his body before it could make contact with the rest of him and the two froze. Although he couldn’t hear them over the chaos the rest of the room had erupted into, he knew she was asking if he was alright. He nodded and Sebastian saw red as he brushed her hair back to look at a nasty cut on her forehead. Garreth’s discarded robe smoked behind him, his shirt torn in a few places, and gently held her face in his hands as he checked for more cuts. He only barely registered Sharp dismissing the class for the day before he was grabbing his things and slipping out of the classroom.

Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @tired-meg, @somethingiswrongwithme

#sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #angst #fluff #pining

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