#the thinly veiled bitterness and anger

[newdejavuu]

I will probably write about this in more detail later. but while im on the subject of “pre-hiatus/early fob is better than post-hiatus fob” brain rot:

if you look at photos and gifs and videos of soul punk era patrick and think that was the happiest or healthiest that he has ever been. i want you to look in the mirror really closely and examine why. think about it really hard for me ok.

#im begging some of y’all to open ur eyes and read the things you type and say #maybe I’m just projecting bc. of my age and place in life and a variety of other reasons but #soul punk patrick never looked that happy to me #I saw a young man who had been torn to shreds & forced to put himself back together only to be torn to shreds again but now ON HIS OWN #& forced to smile for everyone while he did so #like. his body language during so many interviews and fan interactions. cmon y’all do you not see it #the thinly veiled bitterness and anger #bandom bullshit #kayce’s corner.txt

[satoruxx]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: best friend!satoru is everything to me, fluff, teeny tiny bit angsty, but only bc of pining (my favorite), here to add to my simp satoru agenda, he’s trying his best but reader is oblivious (same), pls notice him rheya’s note: i cant stop thinking about best friend!satoru so i’m here to share this silly little blurb LMAO that’s it enjoy !! part 2

if satoru had known that being your best friend would be this difficult, he would have turned away from you when you said hi to him on your first day at jujutsu high.

it's not that he doesn't care about you. no, quite the opposite actually. he's always cared about you more than he'd like to admit. he can remember the way he used track the eyes of fellow students trailing you when you walked by. he can remember the sting of his nails as they dug into his clenched palms, and how suguru would pat his shoulder sympathetically when he noticed. he was sixteen at the time.

back then it seemed like he would grow out of his teenage crush, after being dismissed as your good friend for so long. but no, just his luck that these stupid feelings would grow and grow until they were tangled up around his very soul. a vice-like grip.

and now almost seven years later, nothing has changed.

"and he told me that if i wanted to be more interesting i should learn to fence, like he does!" you rant, throwing your hands up as you pace the length of his kitchen. satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed as he watches you vent your anger over yet another failed first date.

"uh huh." he acknowledges, trying to stay focused as you continue your annoyed speech. his fingers flex against his biceps, a thinly veiled attempt at controlling his frustration. whether he's frustrated with you or the man you were with, he has no clue.

"then he asked me where i was from, and then said i didn't look like it!" you rage, face hot as you finally unload the frustration you've been carrying all evening.

satoru huffs in mild irritation, trying hard not to roll his eyes. but you hear it and turn to him, half ticked off and half curious. "what was that?"

he clicks his tongue.

"you do this all the time. you always pick guys who treat you like shit. i'm not even surprised anymore." he snaps, a bit more forceful than he intended to be.

there's a silence that follows, and satoru’s unlucky enough to catch the mildly surprised look on your face. he tongues his cheek, brows pinched as he watches your expression fall. an ugly feeling that reminds him suspiciously of guilt rolls around in his stomach.

"you’re right…" you sigh, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms with a defeated shake of your head. "it's just tiring, you know?"

he turns his back to you, reaching across the counter to start slicing up an apple, trying to keep his hands occupied because they're itching to touch you. but he can't keep the bitterness out of his tone when he answers with a clipped, "yeah i know."

he can practically feel your confused stare on his back. but then you chuckle in amusement, mirth clear in your tone. "what do you mean you know? you literally get attention from random people on the street. you can have anyone you want." you laugh.

"are you serious?" he asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he spins around to face you again. you only blink at him, expression so annoyingly clueless it makes him sigh. he turns away from you once again, going back to cutting the apple.

"what?" you cock your head, not understanding why he's so forlorn about it. "most people would jump at the chance to date you. everyone wants you, you know?"

"not everyone. not the one who matters." he mutters bitterly as he places the apple slices onto a plate. you said all of it so casually, like it's supposed to be obvious, but all satoru feels is an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him.

"you…never mind." he relents, biting his tongue. "it's not important."

he hears your sharp intake of breath as you gasp, curiosity no doubt brimming in your barely concealed grin.

"ooh interesting! are you telling me you have a thing for someone, toru?" the teasing in your tone is palpable, and satoru feels his stomach flip pleasantly when you say his name. he turns around to face you, letting his shoulders drop as a helpless smile stretches across his face.

he walks up to you, pushing an apple slice past your lips and chuckling quietly. you're still giving him those curious little eyes as you chew, and he tries to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pure affection that threatens to burst from within. clearly today wasn't the day you were going to realize what kind of feelings he's been keeping a secret for so many years.

that's okay. he'll wait as long as you need him to.

he flicks your forehead gently, before reaching down to tug on your cheek. "don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweet thing. you'll figure it out soon enough."

#[𐐪— rheya’s writings. 𐑂] #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk #jjk fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk season 2 #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo drabbles #gojo imagine #gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you

[lili863]

Yes, all yours.

AN: Welp , I am finally writing for Sebastian Sallow. This was fun to write knowing how his personality is.

Warning: MDNI, SMUT, 18+, Enemies to lovers, DARK, DOM! SEB

TW: Slight Dubcon, a little blood involved (literally)

Sebastian Sallow.

The most charming boy I've met, he's witty, fun loving and just such an adorable flirty dork. In fact if I would have asked him to court me if only...he wasn't such an insufferable, arrogant, hard headed human being that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He's a walking contradiction to better put it.

Just a week ago we were laughing and making our way to the library after sneaking out of detention and then in a span of 7 days I found myself firmly entrenched in his shitlist when he figured out I was communicating with a goblin in my investigation about Ranrok and Victor Rookwood.

Since then, it's been an onslaught of cocky remarks, disdainful glances, and thinly-veiled jabs. Oh, the joy of camaraderie among wizards.

I could tolerate all of it, really. After all, navigating the intricate social dynamics of Hogwarts has become something of a specialty of mine. But things took a turn for the worse when he had the audacity to label me as ignorant and then failed to extend even a semblance of an apology.

Initially, I empathized with his frustration and understood his misplaced anger. I made excuses for his behavior, attempting to rationalize his actions. But my patience wore thin faster than I anticipated.

Merlin, if I had known how stubborn he was going to be I would have given up hope of reconciliation a long time ago.

And it all started right after I had convinced myself that perhaps extending the olive branch should fall upon my shoulders.

I found him by the great hall. There he stood among a few of our friends: Natty, Garreth, Ominis, and Amit. A small smile crept onto my lips at the sight, hoping that this apology, however undeserved, would set things right. But just as I neared earshot, his words struck like a dagger.

"Can you believe her? The audacity. She parades around as if she's the font of all knowledge just because she's the apple of every professor's eye when she's barely scratched the surface of our world".

The words hit me like a ton of bricks as I stood there shocked.

"Sebastian, perhaps you're being a tad harsh," Natty interjected, her voice tinged with a hint of reproach. "She's many things, but ignorant isn't one of them."

Nods of agreement rippled through the small gathering, Ominis adding his voice with a weary sigh. "I'm inclined to agree. You're letting your temper get the best of you."

Sebastian's sneer sliced through the tension like a blade. "Of course you would agree, Ominis," he retorted, the bitterness palpable in his tone.

It dawned on me then that this matter held more significance for him than I had realized. I knew he was angry with me, but to this extent?

"Seems she's got all of you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't it?" he said, his gaze flicking between them with contempt.

"That's enough," I interjected sharply, drawing all eyes to me, including Sebastian's.

"You know, I would have taken your words more seriously if you had the guts to say them to my face," I challenged, closing the distance between us with purpose.

Sebastian turned to face me fully, his eyes zeroing in on mine. His deep frown transformed to a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Well, here I am, aren't I? Besides, your back is just as good a place as any for such heartfelt conversations, considering that's all I was faced with the last time."

I pressed my lips together, determined not to let his cutting words pierce through my resolve, though I could feel their sting like a sharp slap across the face. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed the group behind us watching with wide eyes.

Damn it. The last thing I needed was to turn this into a spectacle, but Sebastian was making it impossible to keep a level head.

"Funny, because I was about to say the same. Grow up, Sallow. I could handle you being a jerk any day, but immature as well?" I lowered my voice, drawing closer so our conversation couldn't be overheard. "We both know that everything I'm doing is for the greater good, including your sister."

That smile disappeared as quickly as it came, as a shadow crept over his features.

Slowly, deliberately, he closed the space between us, each step a calculated move. Startled at his demeanor I started backing up otherwise I was sure our bodies would've collided.

"Don't you dare pretend you're doing this for the good of everyone, especially my sister, when you're the one cozying up to a damn goblin."

Backed against the wall, I felt the weight of his presence looming over me, and it was precisely that moment I realized how much of a threat he could have been if he wasn't someone I knew.

He disregarded the stares of onlookers, his focus solely on me as if nothing else existed in the world.

I never saw this look on him. So scary. And so unforgiving.

My nostrils flared, and I clenched my jaw to tyring to ignore everyone gathering around us "But I am. And whether you like it or not, Lodgok is not the same. I understood your anger at first, truly, but enough is enough" My voice now ringing with authority I continued "Now back off".

He didn't move a muscle. I swear if looks could kill, I'd be 6 feet beneath the dirt right now.

With a glare, I pushed off the wall when his hand suddenly planted firmly against the wall besides my head, stopping me effectively.

His eyes darker then before trailed over my face and down to my lips "You know"... I shivered at the low timbre of it.

" For a so called prodigy you sure do run away a lot. Especially when your one marching in here telling me to man up".

My resolve wavered for a moment, but I steadied myself, meeting his gaze head-on. "Careful, Sallow," I warned, my voice laced with defiance. "Just because I choose my battles doesn't mean I'm afraid to fight."

Sebastian's lips curled into a menacing grin, a small scoff escaping his lips.

Amidst the murmurs of the gathering crowd, I turned my gaze towards them, trying to ignore his taunts.

"Well, while you're busy choosing your battles, you're losing the ones that matter"

Damn it, why is everyone here—suddenly, a calloused hand gripped my jaw, forcefully turning it back to face him.

"With me."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart pounding in my chest, eyes trailing back and forth between his.

He really did have a way of making every encounter feel like a fight for dominance and now I knew I was trapped. "Back off Sallow, now".

"No."

"I said back off"! With a hard shove I pushed him away from me, earning gasps and exclaims from the crowd gathering around us, all excited to see what was going on.

A sinister chuckle escaped his lips, his head thrown back in complete amusement, while I stood there, flushed with embarrassment. Whether it was from the fact that he barely moved an inch or from the proximity of his presence, I couldn't tell. He on the other hand reveled in the attention, knowing full well that I despised being the center of such spectacle.

But I wasn't about to let him see me falter. "You want a battle? Fine. Since you're so desperate to get on my bad side"!

A mocking nod was all he could offer at my not so threatening threat "Bad side, huh? And what does that entail?"

"Mopping the floor with your arse in the courtyard, for all to see. Perhaps then I can show you just how well being a teacher's pet pays off." I spat.

"Well, let me tell you what my bad side entails, since you're already on it."

I huffed, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips as I shifted my weight, a hand on my hip. "Do enlighten me."

As tension crackled between us, Sebastian's breaths came slow and measured, the controlled rhythm of his chest betraying the intensity of his emotions as he stood before me.

"When I emerge victorious from this duel," he whispered, his voice dripping with controlled menace, "You won't forget it. I'll ensure it. And it won't just end there. I'll make your life a living hell, and believe me, darling, it won't be a pleasant experience."

My heart dropped, and my hands fell to my sides as I looked up at him in shock. "Sebastian..."

Maybe it was just my imagination, but a flicker of something passed by his face. His gaze softened, but his face remained expressionless.

"Do you really think you can just come into my life and pretend to care about everything? To care about my sister and then just dump it back in my face, as if all the things we went through together meant nothing?"

I shook my head, my eyes wide as saucers, but before the words could come out of my mouth, he beat me to it. "You'll regret it." Cedarwood and pine filled my senses as he stepped closer. "I'll make sure of it."

Speechless. That was what I was. Turning back around, he faced our group of friends, all of whom were confused, and started walking back towards them.

"Tomorrow after classes, tell Lucas I'll be there at 5," he said. He really was going to duel me.

"Oh, and..." He turned back around, and the smirk on his face irked me. "Bring plenty of Wiggenwald, darling." My stomach churned, and I felt nauseous. I wasn't afraid to duel him, but now, I am not so sure. This was a much bigger deal to him then I thought it would be. And considering this involved his sister... maybe I underestimated the weight of it all.

And that smile on his face... the normalcy after that terrifying expression... it was as unsettling as it was unexpected. And I was going to have to face the full wrath of it tomorrow...

______________________

"Bombarda"!

Sparks flew as spells clashed in midair, casting dazzling lights and shadows across the courtyard. I dodged and weaved, my movements being fluid and controlled, but his relentless barrage of spells were uncannily precise.

There he stood, a calm look to his face as his spells were coming faster and more ferocious with each passing moment.

It's come to my attention as soon as this duel started that I might be royally screwed. Along with the insomnia I had suffered last night and eating next to nothing in the last 36 hours I was in a bad shape.

But what really threw me off was that he had dramatically improved from the last time I dueled him.

In fact he was arguably one of the best duelers in this school at the moment. I am, ashamed to say, it was more challenging with him then anyone I've encountered in my missions, including the trials.

Though in my trials I was fighting knights, not a actual human being so, I cant just use my ancient magic to spear a lighting through his head.

With gritted teeth, I unleashed a wave of fiery infernos, the flames dancing and twisting towards Sebastian with menacing intent. The crowd Oohs and aahs only got louder and more excited at my display of magic.

Too bad it only lasted about 3 seocnds before he countered with a powerful Shield Charm, the flames dissipating against the barrier with a hiss.

A surge of panic washed over me as he unleashed a dark hex, the ancient magic stirring within me in response. With a desperate effort, I summoned a powerful shield to deflect the attack.

As the spell collided with my shield, I felt the impact reverberate through my entire being, threatening to shatter my resolve. I staggered, barely managing to stay on my feet, disbelief etched into every line of my face.

Sebastian stood there, his lips slightly curling at my reaction.

He knew.

That would have been impossible to counter if it hadn't been for my ancient magic.

I heaved for breath, my chest tight with apprehension as I watched the young slytherin, seeing the powerful dark aura radiate off of him like smoke.

Shit...

He just flung a dark hex at me as if the very notion of it being forbidden never crossed his mind.

He stepped close enough for me to hear him say "Did you ever learn that while being a teacher pet"?

I growled, gripping my wand tight. I did not go through trials involving deadly knights, goblins and trolls to lose to an egotisical boy.

"Is this really how you wanna play Sallow"? I sneered.

Sebastian predatory eyes swept over me as I ignored the tightening feeling in my stomach. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips in anticipation.

"You know exactly how I play fifth year". He purred.

With a swift incantation, I conjured a dazzling array of illusions, each one more intricate than the last.

To my utter joy Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise as he struggled to discern the real me from the phantoms that surrounded him.

But he was quick to recover, his own spells flying fast and furious as he sought to break through my defenses. Bolts of lightning crackled through the air, sending shockwaves rippling across the courtyard as our magic clashed in a spectacular display of power.

The crowd's cheers and gasps melded into a deafening cacophony, but amidst the chaos, I could only focus on the piercing ringing in my ears. I gritted my teeth, my eyes narrowing as I prepared to unleash my most powerful spell yet. With a flick of my wand and a whispered incantation, I summoned a whirlwind of energy that engulfed Sebastian and everyone else in a blinding vortex of light.

Everyone gasped covering their eyes and as the brilliance faded, I braced myself for the next onslaught, but nothing could have prepared me for what came next

Suddenly I yelp, feeling the tip of a cold wand pressed to my neck and a warm yet menacing presence press against my back.

To my utter horror, Sebastian stood behind me out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around my waist, keeping me perfectly still.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach, unleashing a wave of blood to my core. It's almost laughable, the way fear grips me now, rendering me hesitant to face him. I just know what hes going to look like, and I am not sure I could take it.

I try to cast something as his lips brush against my ear, and he whispers "Expelliarmus".

My wand flies out of my hand instantly, bouncing on the ground before rolling away as the crowd watched in stunned silence.

Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead as I watched my wand disappear into the distance. And then it hits me.

Fuck.

How could I forget.

I taught him how to apparate last week...

_____________________

"Sebastian, please," I pleaded, struggling to keep pace with his brisk stride. Every two steps felt like a hurdle, but his iron grip on my arm prevented me from face-planting afterward.

"You've won, alright," I conceded, feeling defeated.

With a forceful tug, he yanked me forward and pressed me against the wall, eliciting a grunt from me.

"And yet, you're still defending a goblin," venom dripped from his words, saturating the air with its malevolence.

I hadn't known he was capable of such intense hatred. Part of it, I suspected, had something to do with his dalliance in the dark arts.

Melting into the wall did nothing as Sebastian stepped in to close the distance.

"He's provided more information than any other creature I've encountered, Sebastian. He's the reason I can move forward in this investigation." I pleaded.

"Yeah, and how do you know it's not all a lie?" he retorted sharply.

"You're acting as if no one else, or any other creature, hasn't lied to me before. How is it any different if a goblin does?" I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

"You know why!" he exploded, pushing against me, his frustration palpable.

Ragged breaths escaped me as I struggled to remain steady. His hard abdomen was smashed against mine with no disregard for personal space. I was caged.

"I understand your anger, Seb. But only to an extent. Not all goblins are bad, just like not all humans are good. Victor Rookwood is scum, yet there are trusted relationships with all kinds of creatures and humans."

With a scoff like laugh, his fingers began to trace its way down my cheek, "You're adorable, living in your little fantasy world. But reality is much harsher than your dreams."

I let out frustrated grunt but before I could respond I felt his wand press against the side of the my lower thigh. "Goodness know mine is hell, your precious goblins saw to that when they decided my sister should be 'seen and not heard'"

With a hitched breath I felt him raise his wand, sliding the smooth wood closer and closer to core.

Oh.my.goodness.

It was like my brain shut down as I realized what was happening.

I squeezed my eyes trying to concentrate on the conversation, a very important conversation.

"I am sorry Sebastian. I-I really am, I am most definitely not defending all goblins here, especially the ones who cursed Anne-"

"Oh yes you are. You even fought me for it". A cruel grin spread across his lips.

I started to step on my tippy toes instinctively to avoid the thin wood making it way under my skirt.

"You'll never understand will you"? His unsettling voice rattled me and thats when a tinge of fear seeped into my brain. This was not the Sebastian I knew.

"Seb..." My voice tremebled.

The tip of his wand disappeared under my skirt until I jumped with gasp when the tip pressed firmly on my core.

"You betrayed me".

I gasped, arching back, my hands shooting straight for his in an attempt to stop him as he began to move the wand up my clothed slit.

"I-I didn't-"

Through quick glances, I could see him observing my reactions without a hint of shame. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering at the sensation as the tip of his wand halted atop my clit before he started twirling it.

Despite my tightening grip on his hand, he remained unmoved. All I could do was throw my head back with a cry, feeling a tight knot forming in my stomach

"Seb s-stop" I whimpered.

"Are you sure you want me too"? His cocky tone showed now remorse as he watched me fall apart.

"Tell me the truth," his lips pressed on my to my cheek. "You wanted this from the day you met me didn't you"?

"W-what? NO-"

"Thats why you did what you did. Because pissing me off was the only way to get my attention" He chuckled. But it was hardly humorous.

I wanted to slap him, but my legs were shaking, my own wetness beginning to drip down my thighs.

His wand dropped instantly, rolling away from us. Panting, I thought maybe this was the end of it until his hand dove beneath my skirt, forcibly making its way down my underwear.

Gasping, I clutched his collar for dear life, feeling his calloused hand slide across my slit, rubbing my soaking cunt. As if my dignity wasn't hanging by a thread, my hips started to roll on their own, meeting his fingers.

"Ahhgh-Seb"!

Thats when his other hand swung around to grab to my ass and squeezed a handful of it. Hard. "Look at this"

I faced him finally. A smug grin draped over his face.

"You act all righteous but in the back of your mind all you wanted was a good fuck"

Suddenly, all sensations within my body halted. Without a second thought, my hand connected with his cheek, the sound of a slap reverberating through the dark hall.

His cheek swung the other way as he backed off slightly. I stood there, breathing hard, eyes wide, and clenching my thighs. If he thought I would just stand there and endure his vulgarity, he had another thing coming.

A small bruise formed at the corner of his lip, where a hint of blood emerged. However, what made me tense up, gripping the wall behind me, was his gaze slowly returning to mine—dark and hungry—as his tongue darted out to lick his lips over the bruise with a smirk

Clenching my jaw, I gritted, "You're a bastard."

Then I see the glint in his eyes

He charges towards me, "Well, if I'm a bastard, then you're my slut."

His lips crashed onto mine, pinning me against the wall. I groaned, attempting to navigate the kiss, but I couldn't keep up. His lips switched angles every few seconds, exploring every inch of me in a frenzy. His chest pressed against mine, his hands diving under my thighs, pushing me further into the wall as he devoured me.

I couldn't push him away, even if my life depended on it—which now it definitely did as I struggled to breathe. With no choice, I pulled my head back, opening my mouth to breathe, but he shoved his tongue in.

I whimpered breathing him in as forcifully as he made me. It was dizzying it, if he didn;t keep me upright I was sure I was going to fall from lack of oxygen. His finger went back to my gushing core as he slipped a finger in, pumping it rapidly. I pulled back gripping his jaw with a moan, barely able to stand right as he finger me harshly

Sebastian lips moved down to my neck pressing searing kisses "Your so wet baby" He murmered against my skin.

Then he brought his head up, pupil exploded with lust. I was sure I looked the same too hazy from the pleasure he giving me.

"Give me a taste huh"?

Nothing was registering in my mind. "Wha-"

Before I could finish, he finger, drove out of me with an audible pop before he yanked my panties down.

He fell to his knees, and without hesitation, his head disappeared under my skirt. Then the most startling sound escaped my mouth as I felt his warm tongue envelop my cunt, sucking and licking with desperation. No teasing, no foreplay, just an explosion of sensation.

My hand tangled into his hair as I cried out, hunching over as if he was sucking my energy. It didn't take him more than a second to find my clit as his tongue circled the hardened nub.

His other finger found my cunt, ramming in two fingers this time. The dark hall was filled with slopping sounds and loud squelches; if that didn't send a message to any poor classmate who happened to walk by, then my screams probably did.

Finally, with two more harsh thrusts, I became undone, crashing my weight onto his shoulders, my world spinning. My cries were silent with how intensely the orgasm hit me. Sebastian knew it too when his head popped out from under my skirt, licking the remaining juices off his lips. He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his smile, anything but friendly

No. I could tell he wasn't done.

My legs finally gave out as I kneeled before him. "Hang on, darling, I'm not through with you," he teased, his tone doing nothing to prepare me as he grabbed my waist and pushed me onto the ground, dirt be damned.

Oh fuck.

I realized I was going to be taken right here, in the middle of this damn hall, and no one was going to stop him. I knew I couldn't. Because hell, I needed him too. He nudged in between my legs, spreading them wide enough for him to see everything.

"You're so fucking pretty," he breathed heavily, his mouth still glistening from earlier. I went completely red.

No, not here. If someone walks in, I'd sooner get eaten by an Acromantula

"Stop, Sebastian! What if-"

A sharp slap to my thigh silenced me instantly before he loomed over me. "You don't want me to stop," he accused, slipping his hands beneath my shirt.

A sob-like cry escaped me as his other hand smoothed over the red mark on my thigh. I hated how good it felt, but what I hated more was that he knew

One last lie. Maybe he'll believe me and I can end this fever dream and not have to deal with the consequences after.

"I do".

Sebastian looked at me, studying my face scrutizing every aspect I tried to keep indifferent when he grins.

"Your cunt certainly doesnt". And he makes a point to show me by smashing his lips on top of mine as I taste myself.

Why is that I am always out of breath whens he kissing me? I breath him in hard.

Everything about him is overwhelming.

As pulls away with my bottom lips between his teeth. He unbuckles his trousers and I dare to look down...

"Sebastian".

His hand immediately grips my jaw bring it up to face him.

"It'll fit. Ill make it fit".

I shake my head, another excuse brewing in my head when he pauses what hes doing and rips open my shirt button flying everywhere.

A shaky sound leaves him he gazes at my breasts "Is that for me".

He was talking about the lacy bra I decided to wear today, and I realized, that today of all day I decided to wear it, because of him.

I gulped "No.."

He smirked, pulling the bra down. "Liar. Keep it up though; I love catching you and seeing the blush all over your face," he said, aligning himself over my entrance and pushing his blunt head in.

I flinched, grabbing his neck and pulling him down. "The least you can do is distract me from the pain..." He smiled, moving a strand of hair out of my face. "I don't think so; perhaps you're forgetting this is punishment," he said, his long, nimble fingers wrapping around the nape of my neck, keeping my head in place.

"Let me see those tears, baby, and don't you dare move your face"

I squeezed his shoulders, a pleading look on my face "Your being cruel".

"Only cause you made me" With that he pushed his length is as I gasp, a strangled noise leaving my throat.

Before I could adjust, he began thrusting into me. The room filled with the sound of his hips slapping against mine. I bounced on the cold stone floor, my breasts moving in tandem. He seized one in his mouth, and I cried out, closing my eyes tightly, feeling utterly helpless in his grasp.

Both of his hands gripped under my thighs and stretched my legs nearly to my stomach as he rammed into me at full speed. My screams and half-moans likely echoed throughout the castle as I flailed on the ground, arching my back, nails scraping against the floor, sweat slickening my skin.

Sebastian groaned as he observed one of my hands reaching for my breast and teasing my hardened nipples

Any pain I felt at the beginning was replaced by sweet utter bliss, it was powerful, and so blinding.

His length reached inside me and pulled out sqelching each time, as if there was a pull stopping him backing all the way out.

He grunted before proceeding to grab my wrists and pin them above my head, putting most of his wright atop of me.

Leaving hot wet kiss all over my neck, he faced me watching my tear stricken face, "Do you want to make this up to me".

I hear those words and immediately nod my head, knowing he would never accpet lodgok no matter what.

"Then promise me your mine. Promise me from now on you'll come to me whenever I summon you whether its the restricted section or in the middle of the damn dark forest. You'll come and do whatever I ask whether thats spreading your leg for me or giving me a taste of that sweet cunt of yours".

I gushed, my eyes nearly rolling at the back of my head with the speed he was going.

"Se-Seb" I whined. "I am-gonna c-cum"

"Promise me sweetheart. Or we stop this. Now".

I am no fool. I knew he what he was asking of me nothing short of being slave to all his desires. But he would never call me his girlfirend. No.

Thats my punishment.

"Seb, I- thats too much"

He clicked in tonghe, an annoyance washing over his features.

"Unless you perfer me to tell other professors what youve been up to. You know, sneaking out in the middle of the night, slaying goblins and ashwinders..."

The cruel grin made it way to his face when my eyes snapped up at him.

"Tell me" He leaned in pressing a soft kiss to my lips and everything I hated about him melted. "Tell me your mine" He murmed against my lips.

As if he knew extactly what to do to get wheat he wanted, his finger dove down to my clit, pressing the nub and rubbing it harshly.

I screamed arching my back as it all hit me. The blinding white pleasure that had me see stars. He wrapped my legs around his waist holding me tight, watching me and convulse against him in pure bliss. As it came over me in waves, I fianlly open my eyes to stare up at his. I cant believe I am saying this.

"Yes.."

His forehead leaned on top of mine a knowing smile on his lips.

"I am all yours..."

#sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian x you #sebastian x mc #sebastian x y/n #hogwarts legacy #hogwart legacy headcanons #headcanon #drabble #hogwarts legacy drabbles #hogwart legacy imagines #sebastian hogwarts legacy

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

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Story Chapter list

23. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻

The night had been long and exhausting, but this mattered little to him. Now that he had brought his child back and turned her, everything was well. Shortly after her first feeding, (Y/n) had fallen unconscious, the exhaustion brought by her transformation finally taking over her.

As a coffin had yet to be made for her, the child had nowhere to rest.  She wasn't human anymore, a bed certainly wouldn't do. These things were too uncomfortable for greater beings like them. Dorian brought her to his own coffin and let her rest next to him for the time being.

Killian remained silent since (Y/n)'s transformation. He hadn’t uttered a single word since. His eyes lingered frequently on the youngling, but he presented a vacant expression, his mind adrift. Dorian didn't mind; he understood that, despite Killian's stoic exterior, the blonde vampire felt a sense of responsibility for the newly turned child. Now, he would have to think of (Y/n) before trying to leave. (Y/n) would now factor into both their lives, a reminder that Dorian intended to keep at the forefront of Killian's thoughts.

A heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with tension as Killian's accusatory words sliced through the room like a dagger. His dark gaze bore into Dorian, carrying with it a weight of both anger and disappointment. 

"You should have left her. You never should have turned her," Killian stated firmly, his voice dripping with a foreboding darkness that resonated through the chamber.

Dorian couldn't suppress a growl of frustration that rumbled deep within his chest. He loved his companion, a bond that had been forged over countless years of shared experiences and challenges. Yet, their differing philosophies had always sparked discord. With a sarcastic hiss, he retorted, "Of course, Killian, you are absolutely right. I should have left her to wither away and crumble into the abyss of old age." The irony in his words was palpable, a thinly veiled mockery of Killian's unyielding principles.

The girl in question, still adjusting to her new existence, remained cradled in Dorian's arms, her eyes closed. Dorian hugged her tightly, his hands tenderly covering her ears in a protective gesture. He wished fervently that the newborn vampire didn't hear the words that had escaped Killian's lips, for in her eyes, he was the embodiment of virtue and goodness.

"I do not care how much you dislike this situation," Dorian sneered, the bitterness evident. "Rant and rave about it as much as you want, but don't you ever — and I mean it — say it in her presence again." The warning hung heavy in the air. “I was able to get my hands on a stake once and I will not hesitate to do it again, but this time– and I swear to all that is holy and unholy– I will make sure to complete the job.”

She didn't need to know the depth of the internal conflicts that had arisen within the very beings she would have to look up to for guidance. They were her guides, and Dorian intended to shield her from the shadows that lurked within their immortal souls.

⊱ ────── {⋆𖤐⋆} ────── ⊰

The night unfurled around (Y/n) as she awoke, grappling with the disorienting transition from a human world to the reality of her new existence. She emerged from the coffin, the memories of the nunnery, the massacres, and her transformation flooding back. She distantly realized she couldn’t feel any more pain in her leg.

The once mundane aspects of her surroundings now pulsed with life—the scents, sounds, tastes, and sensations overwhelmed her heightened senses. The onslaught of sensations became too much to bear. Blood pounded in her ears, her hands trembled, and her feet tingled. It was a whirlwind of clarity and chaos, leaving her desperate for reprieve.

She needed it to—

She gulped as her stomach churned. She felt as though a hand of ice had reached inside her chest, gripping her heart with a vice-like hold. She covered her ears, shutting out the cacophony threatening to engulf her. She just wanted it to stop.

Stop, stop, stopstop—

"(Y/n)," a voice, loud and grounding, called out to her. She winced in pain.

"Child, can you listen to me?" The voice, a lifeline amidst the turmoil, asked gently. Hesitant, she nodded, still overwhelmed and scared. "I want you to take three breaths with me. Can you do that?"

Hesitant but compliant, she followed his lead. Breathe in, breathe out—a rhythmic attempt to regain control. The creaking door and the aroma of food wafting from downstairs threatened to disrupt her focus.

"Breathe in... breathe out," he instructed, accentuating the motions. Slowly, through repetition, (Y/n) began to regain a semblance of calm. Trembling persisting, she clung to Killian, a strange calm intertwining with an unfamiliar sense of resentment.

As she followed his instructions, focusing on the simple act of breathing, the chaos within her began to subside, if only momentarily. The scent of food from downstairs, once a distraction, now mingled with the comforting presence. With each inhale and exhale, she felt herself slowly coming back to herself, the trembling lessening as a sense of control returned. Yet, beneath the calm facade, a knot of resentment twisted within her.

"I'm a monster," she confessed in a whisper, scorn lacing her words as tears traced down her face. "He made me into this."

Killian rolled circles in her back, a silent pillar of support. Dorian wasn't in the room, there was only her and the other vampire.

"I never wanted this," her voice cracked.

He enveloped her in a comforting embrace. "I know, child," he assured, his tone echoing the different emotions that enveloped them both.

The sound of approaching footsteps reached (Y/n)'s enhanced hearing moments before the door swung open. Her gaze, a defiant glare, met the vampire who entered. Despite Killian's protective arm around her shoulders, Dorian paid it no mind, smiling while cupping her face in his hand.

"How is my little fledgling tonight?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Show me your fangs, dear."

(Y/n) clenched her jaw and turned her head away in defiance. Dorian, undeterred, tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "Now, don't be—"

Instinctively, she bared her teeth and attempted to bite him, a surprising action even to herself. Dorian retracted his hand just in time to avoid it. Rather than anger, (Y/n) sensed amusement radiating from her sire, who rewarded her with a sharp grin, practically cackling in delight.

"Quite a feisty one, aren't you?" he commented gleefully. "Father is so proud." She glowered. "Freshen up; it is time to eat."

She left their room to go to her own quarters without a word. Anything to not be in direct contact with him. A maid had already prepared a bath for her and left, a fortunate occurrence. She was bloodied, her clothes stained by blood that had dried. The origin was unknown to her. Was it from Dorian, herself or even the nuns? She clenched her jaw, preferring not to think of that. 

She just wanted it all gone. With meticulous care, she lathered her hands with soap. She thought of Sister Gloria and of the pain she must have felt as her sire sank his fangs in her neck, draining her life force. Or maybe, as he sliced her open– or as he ripped her apart ruthlessly. Her mind buzzed, each possibility running through her head. She could still hear the screams, could still see the red. The same red covering her. As the soap bubbled between her fingers, she scrubbed furiously. It had to leave. Did he play with them before slaughtering them? Did he make them partake in his twisted version of hide and seek? Hiding until he found them and spilled all their life fluids across their haven? Was it the same fluid she had on herself now? She scrubbed, her nails digging into her skin with a desperate intensity. She needed it gone. Was that what she was forced to become now? Would her existence revolve around spilling all that blood? Would it be consumed by the red? She scrubbed, she could have missed–

Someone knocked. “Miss,” a soft, almost inaudible voice called, “the duke is requesting you.”

She looked down at the blood tainted water and stood up. She paused for an instant. With a sigh, she reached for the hand towel, her movements slow and hesitant. Once she finally dried and dressed herself, she was ready to go.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #toxic relationship #abusiveness #Our girl seems to be unhealing :) #tw abuse #manipulation #(y/n) #reader isnt ok

[teyamsatan]

OMGOMGOMGOMG NEW THE 1 CHAPTER??? i'm so excited i'm gonna cryyyyyyyy!!! whenever you can, please post a snippet??? pleasepleaseplease

ARGHHH I'M EXCITED YOU'RE EXCITED :(((( and you're in luck because i have 3.6k words written on it already bestie xx

The 1 Chapter 2 snippet below x

“Fuck! Neteyam, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?” 

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as you took in the man sitting on your bed, that was way too big to comfortably fit in your tiny room, not that that’s ever stopped him in all the years you’ve known him. He looked almost out of place here now, so long after the last time, and you winced a little at the contrast between the memories in your mind and what was displayed so clearly in front of you. 

Neteyam looked lost in thought, almost unaware of your presence or your voice, glossy eyes fixed somewhere beneath your desk, on a specific box you wish he never got to see.

“This room hasn’t changed one bit in all this time. It’s so weird. Everything’s changed…” the sigh that tried him felt like it was expelled from deep within his soul, like a sigh he’s been holding for the last year and a half. “Everything… and yet this room, it’s like a portal to the past, like I woke up in a life that feels like a mere dream sometimes.”

You don’t interrupt his musings.

“The sheets, the books, the smell, the way the light flickers sometimes, the way the mattress dips on one side more than the other because you’ve always preferred the left side of the bed, and I always had to sleep on the right, even the broken vase I broke with my tail the night I left. It’s all the same.”

His gaze finally settles on you. He looks pained as he sees you, finally the human he remembers, that he loved. It hurts him being in this room. It hurts you, too. It was your turn to sigh, as you tried to remove the images of the past flashing in front of your eyes like a picture book, and tried to focus on the reality that was still weighing heavily on your heart, no matter how many counterweights you balanced it with. 

Your sigh matched his earlier one as you spoke, your eyes darting to the room that you spent less time in with each passing day, that felt as much of a relic of the past as you sometimes felt in his life. 

“Yeah. I guess nothing’s changed.”

He notices an ornate bow by the foot of the bed, clearly the make of a talented Omaticayan warrior. It annoys him to no end that he can recognise the work easily, having grown up seeing it, having been one of the few that could compare to his. It angers him further just how much the disdain doesn't seem to want to melt away, regardless of how much he's told himself to let it go, regardless of how he swore the reason he came here tonight had nothing to do with it. He had no right to pry, not anymore. No right to be jealous... not anymore.

“Well, at least some things have changed...”

You blush and he hates it, hates that you're even talking about it to begin with, hates that he has to hear this in the first place.

“Tarsem made it for me. It’s cute.” You didn’t know why, it’s not like you owed him anything, but you couldn’t help the next words, that stumbled unceremoniously out of your mouth in a panicked hurry. You didn’t owe him anything, but you still needed him to know. “And platonic.” 

“Yeah, so were we.” The words, and the bitterness in them, so thinly veiled despite what you assumed were his best efforts, shocked you. This wasn’t like Neteyam at all - Neteyam was kind, and careful with his words always, he was considerate and empathetic, and he was never mean, especially not to you. Especially not like this.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and the tears that threatened to spill, leaving his words to hang in the air, making it thick and heavy with heightened emotions you were both trying your best to suppress. 

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

#☆ andra's series #neteyam #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfic #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam sully fanfiction #neteyam angst #awow #awow neteyam #sully family x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x y/n #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader angst #☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ 𝓆 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

ahhh i love it when lucifer fumbles the bag hard so can you do “why is it that when you look at me I know you’re thinking of someone else?” and “I have given you everything including myself if that isn’t enough then nothing will be”

❤��Prompt List❤️

Lucifer is furious, however, he can’t decide who he should direct his anger to. Perhaps Asmodeus? Who helped you sneak out to a bar in the human world, completely ignoring Lucifer’s messages of asking where exactly you both were. Or maybe even you, for also ignoring his messages, staying out until unreasonable hours of morning and returning back, reeking of alcohol, clinging to Asmodeus’ arm. Or himself. As when he asked the others if they knew of your whereabouts. Satan was the only one to reply yes, but refused to answer where. "Maybe you should ask yourself why they might have decided to go somewhere, without letting you know." A very sharp reply, that stung enough to make Lucifer hold his tongue.

He decides to keep his anger thinly veiled for the moment, sending Asmo to his room with a glare, who softly pats your back and murmurs to you. “Let me know if you need anything sweetie.” Before pushing past his elder brother. And as for you, he’s grabbed you by the hand, directing you to the kitchen to drink water. Not a word between either of you exchanged as he marches and you stumble next to him. Only when you appear to sober up enough to walk, does he speak to you. 

"Do you know how worried I've been?" He hisses, as you lean against the kitchen counter, drinking another glass of water that he forced upon you. You take a gulp of the water, before slamming it down, spilling most of its contents. A glare matching the intensity of his own, greeting him before you speak. 

"Probably not in the slightest." Your sentence is broken up by a bitter laugh, it isn’t until you continue when he begins to notice the amount of poison underlying your tone. "In fact I bet you were so not worried that you got work done." The sudden jab surprises him, the heat behind your narrowed glare growing. He’s stunned. 

"Excuse me?” Is all he manages, racking his brain to figure how he could have even given you such an impression. He understands that there have been occasions where he’s had to miss spending time with you to finish tasks and to go to meetings, but you’ve always assured him it’s fine. That you didn’t mind, staying up late, or missing reservations on his behalf. That bitter laugh of yours makes a return. 

“Diavolo sure is lucky that you’re so dedicated to him.” You snap, and your glare eases briefly as your eyes downcast, lips begin to quiver ever so slightly. His heart contorts at the sadness, reaching forward to place a hand atop of yours. Your attention turns away from him, but to the gesture, that once made your heart flutter. 

“You’re intoxicated and clearly aren’t thinking properly. Lets talk about this tomorrow.” He tries gently. 

“Why is it that when you look at me, I know you’re thinking of someone else?” But when he gets your question as a quiet reply, he’s taken aback. 

“That isn’t the case.” And as if he threw a match into a pile of gasoline, your attention snaps back to his face with a glare. Recoiling your hand from his touch, as if he himself had burned you. 

“Isn’t it? You’re always working or going to another meeting, or are being held back for him.” You don’t even realise you’re shouting, or shaking with every grievance escaping you, and in silence he watches. “Don’t you love me? Am I not good enough?” He calls your name quietly, but he’s ignored. “How many dates have you missed, how many hours have you given to him that you robbed from me? From us.” Panic settles in as it dawns on with every word, you’re growing further and further out of his reach. 

“My time is always yours and I’m sorry if you don’t feel it to be that way.” His apology is laced with an unspoken plea. Don’t leave he wants to say, but your rage continues on. 

“So you can’t even admit it? You can’t even accept what I’m saying might be true so you deflect it onto me.” He wasn’t trying to do that, he attempts to explain himself, you don’t want to listen. “I’m so stupid. Of course you’re not going to listen. And I know you’re not going to change either.” He can change, he pleas, he will for you and he thinks as your rage subsides that maybe he’s gotten through to you. Only to see the sorrow in your gaze, as you quietly begin to speak, “I have given you everything including myself, if that isn’t enough then...” the silence weighs on him, on his heart and as you finish your thoughts, “nothing will be.” It crushes him. 

It’s agonizing. The pain in his chest, the ways his lungs heave as words trap themselves in his throat, as it settles in you’re right. And that as you turn on your heel, to shakily walk back to your room, he has no right to follow after you. 

#lucifer suffering blog #one day he will be happy #but not today lol #angst #lucifer #om lucifer #lucifer om #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #om lucifer x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #om! #om x reader #obey me swd #obey me one master to rule them all #cherry's fruit infused prompt list #my writing tag

[onyx666]

☽◯☾ let the moon settle you ☽◯☾

chapter 3

pairing : finnick odair x black fem!reader

warnings : mention of alcoholism

District 11 - [17-19] - Moon (Victors’ Village)

In the days that followed, you found yourself stuck at home.

Even if your world was paused, everything around you kept moving forward.

It must’ve been 2 or 3 PM when you woke up to the sound of breaking glass and shuffling for afar disturbing your sleep.

Stepping out of bed, walking through the corridor, you made your way to the living room.

With a racing heart, you rushed in the kitchen to investigate, finding your mom amidst a mess of shattered glass, her hands shaking as she tries to clean it up.

"What happened?" you ask, concern evident in your voice as you join her.

Shame fills her eyes as she struggles to contain the chaos, the shards of glass cutting her hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." she stammers, her voice trembling with exasperation.

Noticing the blood trickling from her wounds, you act quickly, guiding her away from the broken glass and gently tending to her injuries. Carefully, you step out and walk away from the mess to go sit on the couch. As you take a look at her hands, you can smell it.

The scent is everywhere, filling the room, crashing through the air.

Maybe you’re not sure, or you don’t wanna admit it to yourself.

But, the thing is, you’ve already faced this too many times to doubt it.

In the street, the whole District, with your dad.

And especially with Chaff.

She was drunk.

"Let me see" you say softly, unfolding her clenched hand.

As you analyze the damages, you can’t help but exhale at the sight

You finish cleaning her wounds, the sharp scent of alcohol lingers in the air, mingling with the antiseptic. With a sigh, you glance at the clock on the wall.

"It's 10 in the morning, Mom. That's really nice," you remark, your tone full with irony.

Still slightly dazed, she shoots you a snappy retort. "No need to be a little shit," she mutters, her words slurred.

Standing up from where you were crouched beside her, you can't help but feel a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What were you trying to do, anyway?" you ask with a huff,, your voice tinged with worry.

Your mother pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions.

"I was just trying to clean up," she says, her voice dripping with false innocence.

You scoff, not buying her act for a second.

"Cleaning up with a bottle at 10 in the morning? Really setting the bar high, Mom," you reply, your words laced with thinly veiled sarcasm.

She bristles at your remark, her facade slipping for a moment to reveal the simmering anger beneath.

"I don't need judgment, especially from you" she snaps, her tone sharp and defensive.

You roll your eyes, unimpressed by her attempt to deflect blame.

"Of course not, because you're doing such a stellar job on your own," you retort, your voice heavy with disdain.

"What were you really trying to do, Mom?" you ask, your tone softening slightly as you cautiously approach her.

Her eyes flash with indignation, refusing to show any vulnerability.

" Cleaning, just like I said ," she says, her voice tinged with defiance.

You sigh, knowing better than to expect a straight answer from her.

"Well, mission accomplished," you mutter under your breath, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice.

There's a tense silence between you, the air heavy with unspoken resentment.

"I know I messed up" she finally admits, her voice tinged with a hint of regret.

You resist the urge to scoff at her feeble attempt at remorse.

"Yeah, no shit Mom," you spit, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you turn away, unable to bear the weight of her presence any longer.

District 4 - [17-19] - Finnick (Victors’ Village)

As Finnick emerged from the cool embrace of the ocean, his bronzed skin glistening with saltwater, he noticed an old fisherman sitting on the weathered dock nearby. With a friendly smile, he approached the man, drawn to the familiar scent of the sea that clung to his weather-beaten clothes.

"Beautiful day for a swim, isn't it?" Finnick remarked, his voice carrying the easy confidence of someone who had spent their life on the water.

The fisherman looked up, a weathered grin spreading across his face at the sight of the victor.

"Aye, that it is," he replied, nodding towards the shimmering expanse of the ocean. "Nothing like the sea to clear the mind and soothe the soul."

Finnick nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting out towards the horizon where the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the water.

"It's like coming home," he mused, the nostalgia evident in his voice.

The old man chuckled knowingly, his eyes twinkling with a wisdom born of years spent at sea.

"Aye, there's no place quite like it," he said, casting his line out into the water with practiced ease.

As the conversation ebbed and flowed like the tide, Todd's weathered eyes wandered over Finnick, lingering on the subtle hints of luxury that clung to his attire.

"You’ve been wandering around there for a while, haven't you?" he remarked, his tone casual but observant.

Finnick nodded, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You could say that," he replied, his gaze drifting out towards the distant horizon.

"I spend some time in the Capitol from time to time."

Raising an eyebrow, Todd’s curiosity piqued.

"Ah, the Capitol," he mused, his tone tinged with a mixture of reverence and skepticism. "A world unto itself, they say."

Finnick chuckled softly, a hint of melancholy in his laughter.

"That it is," he agreed, his mind drifting back to the glittering halls and lavish parties of the Capitol elite.

"But sometimes, even the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows."

The fisherman nodded in understanding, his expression thoughtful.

"Aye, that they do," he said, his gaze lingering on Finnick for a moment longer before returning to the gentle sway of the waves.

He nodded knowingly, his gaze drifting back to Finnick.

“You’ve been on the screens a fair bit lately,” he observed, his tone neutral but perceptive. “Seems like you’re a regular fixture in the Capitol.”

Finnick’s smile waned, a pang of regret echoing in his heart.

“It’s… part of the job,” he admitted reluctantly, the weight of Snow’s expectations pressing down on him like an anchor. “But sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it.”

They sat in companionable silence, the weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air.

No matter how far he roamed, Finnick couldn’t help but feel a twinge of interrogation deep within him. Despite years passing, Snow’s grip on his life still felt as tight as ever. He wondered if he would ever truly be free from the clutches of the Capitol, or if Snow would always hold a piece of his youth captive.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, he realized that even in the company of the sea and the camaraderie of kindred spirits, it was time to go home.

Finnick reluctantly tore himself away from the beach and made his way back home, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

Finnick’s footsteps echoed softly against the wooden planks of Four’s docks as he made his way towards the shoreline.

The salty breeze tousled his hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of the ocean that never failed to soothe his restless soul. Today, however, even the calming embrace of the sea wasn’t enough to ease the worry that gnawed at his heart.

Upon his arrival, he found Mags, the elderly woman, a winner herself who had taken him under her wing after his victory in the Games, sitting in front of the television.

“Mags,” Finnick greeted her with a warm smile, though the concern in his eyes betrayed his attempt at nonchalance.

Mags replied silently by returning his smile with a knowing look. She could see the turmoil that churned beneath his calm exterior, the worry that etched lines into his youthful face.

Setting bags full of fresh fishes that Todd caught earlier today on the table he notices the activity on the screen.

Finnick joined her in front of the television, his gaze fixed on the screen as the Capitol’s channel aired a recap of your interview following your victory in the Games.

He watched intently, his heart aching at the sight of you, knowing that you bore burdens far heavier than any tribute should.

As the interview came to an end, Finnick couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. And though he was miles away, he vowed to do whatever it took to ensure that she found the peace and happiness she deserved.

With a heavy sigh, Finnick turned away from the television, his mind already racing with plans to reach out to you.

But before he could gather his thoughts, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Mags, gesturing towards a piece of paper in her hand.

With a curious expression, Finnick took the paper from her. And just like the teenager that he was, his heart was racing as he ran in his room under the smiling gaze of the elderly woman and he unfolded it.

(not proofread again im so sorry hdjsissisjsj)

#finnick fanfic #finnick odair #finnick odair smut #finnick x oc #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #hunger games finnick #let the moon settle you #thg finnick

[shivvroys]

Hi lia! #5 from the big swiss dialogue "but you? You, i loved" :) feel free to make it angsty i can take it <3

this, uhm…turned into something else. Nia i think you may have broken my angst compass i keep trying to make everything end nicely 😭

“But you? You, I loved.”

“Ok, I fucking get it.” she raises a hand, almost dropping her cigarette. “I don’t know why you agreed to come, since you hate it so much. You know, you won, mom—he’s fucking dead, I can’t see how much of upper hand you could possibly have to gain than that.”

Her mother sighs in the same disappointing manner she always has. Like she’s tired of the conversation before it’s even started, like talking to Shiv is always just such a dreadful bother.

“And if it’s not him you’re still pissed at, you can just admit it’s me you can’t stand to be around. I’m way past the point where that’s gonna bother me.”

Shiv supposes she should mostly be blaming herself. She was the one who’d decided inviting their mother to their father’s memorial party was the thing to do. She just hadn’t expected her to actually show up.

The sour mood and constant scoffing, she could handle that—welcome it as a surrogate for the motherly warmth she’d never felt growing up. But the divorce jokes, the thinly veiled allusions to what Roman had been calling her vanishing uterus act—that had felt intentional. Like her father’s absence left Caroline with no vessel to pour her bitterness into, so she’d chosen the one who reminded her the most of him.

Shiv busies herself with the cigarette, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. She doesn’t know what she fears seeing most—hurt or confirmation.

As the sentence hangs in the air like a sliver of smoke, twisting and turning into a sharp dagger, Caroline takes a step towards her, almost reaching a hand towards her elbow, before pulling back.

“It isn’t you that I can’t stand, Siobhan.” She doesn’t force Shiv to look at her, but she speaks to her slowly, and gravelly, in the tone she usually reserves for when they’re both tipsy and aching to hurt each other with the truth. “It’s never been you.”

Shiv scoffs. “Right. I know, what with all that maternal love you’ve showered me with.”

She turns to face Caroline, though she only manages to maintain eye-contact for a brief moment, before turning her attention back to the cigarette in her hand.

“There are things about you that I couldn’t bear to see, yes.” Caroline sighs. “Things that drove me mad. Like the way your eyes would only follow him in every room, even as a baby. I hated the anger he planted into you, the way I could hear him each time you were upset. All of those little claw marks he’s left in you—Kendall, too.”

Shiv sweeps her eyes over the guests inside, over her father’s legacy reduced to mediocre wine and fucking fusion cuisine finger foods. Then her sight unfocuses, and all she can see is her own reflection. The problem is—her mother’s not wrong.

“But not Rome, right?” she finally meets her mother’s eyes, challenging her to lie.

Caroline shakes her head sadly. “Not really, I suppose. Though he desperately wished for it, the poor thing.”

The briefest mention of her petit prince is enough to get the waterworks going.

Snapping herself out of it, Caroline puts out her cigarette and lays both hands on Shiv’s arms, not squeezing, but lightly stroking the rough material of her blazer.

“But you, Siobhan. You, I loved. Love.”

It’s pathetic, really, how little it takes for tears to gather in Shiv’s eyes. How quickly her mother could slip through the cracks of any wall she’s tried to build. Brick by fucking brick, and all it took was a look from that woman and down came Shiv’s mighty fortress, like a house of cards.

“I’m your fucking onion, right?” she sniffs, averting her mother’s gaze.

She hears laughter coming from inside, though she doubts anyone’s sharing some hearwarming anecdote in her father’s memory.

Her mother laughs in quiet and heavy breaths. “Yes, you are, darling. My darling onion.”

Already exhausted by the millisecond of vulnerability, they both snap back to reality, the moment already forgotten.

Shiv turns back towards the railing, lighting another cigarette. She tells herself it’s because it’s too hot inside, and she can’t bear to hear Roman make another joke about Frank’s sweater vest.

“What’re the others, then? Is Rome your fucking parsley?”

She extends her lighter to Caroline, who lets her palm caress Shiv’s hand as she takes it.

“That’s an herb, dear, I think you mean parsnip.” she murmurs. “I’d say he’s more of a beetroot—remember how he used to get so red and splotchy in the face when your father yelled at him.” she almost chokes while inhaling. Shiv joins her, smirking as she takes a drag from her cigarette.

“And Ken?”

“Hmm…” her mother rests a slender finger against her chins, in mock contemplation.

“An eggplant? Like a sad, wilted one.” Shiv snorts.

“Oh, yes.” Caroline bursts into a pearl of laughter. Then, resting her back against the railing, she gestures towards the memorial party. “What about her? What’s her place in your garden?”

Shiv turns to see her mother’s eyes fixed on one person in particular. Karolina. She’s listening to something Connor is saying, nodding politely every so often, though Shiv knows she’d probably checked out of the conversation the moment Connor had started talking.

Shiv also knows the angle at which Karolina is facing the terrace door is intentional. She’s keeping Shiv in her peripheral vision, the way they always do when they have to attend some work function where they might need quick rescuing from some boring conversation.

“Oh, that’s—she’s not..” she stutters, flicking her cigarette so hard it almost breaks in the middle.

“Darling, please.” Caroline scoffs. “She’s been throwing daggers at me ever since you came out here. Does she think I might throw you off the balcony?”

“You wouldn’t?” Shiv tilts her head. “We’re just—she’s just being friendly. We work together, so yeah. We’re friends, I guess”

Caroline looks down, shaking her head. “Alright, Siobhan.”

“What? I can’t have any fucking friends?”

“Of course, darling.”

Caroline puts her cigarette out and ceremoniously shakes her shoulders, as if cleansing herself from the conversation. She starts walking towards the door, before turning over her shoulder to Shiv.

“You can also have more, Siobhan. He is dead. No need to look for his shadow under the door.”

“Uh huh.”

With that, Caroline goes back to the party, leaving Shiv alone with her half burnt cigarette. She turns back to the railing, watching the sun dip below the skyline, her eyes following a stray bird or plane every now and then.

She’s never been into gardening, so she doesn’t know that much about it. But she knows everything needs good soil to grow in. And she knows once the soil is poisoned there’s very little chance of anything surviving in it. What can she grow if all she has is mud?

She doesn’t hear the door open, only feels the lightest pressure on the small of her back and quiet voice that brings her back to the terrace.

“You okay?”

Shiv looks down at the burnt out cigarette dangling between her fingers. She throws the stub in the wine glass she’s been using as an ashtray, before turning to face Karolina.

“Yeah. Just, you know, weird day.” she sighs, her voice slightly shaking.

Karolina nods, throwing a glance towards the setting sun. “It’s almost over.”

“Thank god.”

Karolina keeps her eyes on the party inside and her voice low and soft. “You wanna come over tonight?”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to stay here?”

She regrets the suggestion before it’s even left her lips. Though she’s had Karolina over many times before, it had never felt quite right. The walls of the apartment held too much, had trapped in every bad memory from the past few years like mould—silently rotting it from the inside out. She fears letting all of that cling to Karolina.

“It would.” Karolina nods. “Hey, how about we get a room somewhere?��� she says, after some contemplation.

“What, like, we go down to the hotel bar and you pretend you’re a call girl?” Shiv smirks.

“No, Siobhan.” Karolina raises her glass to cover her face, attempting to hide her laughter. “Like—we just spend a night someplace neither us have ever felt bad in.”

A place with good soil. Like there’s still a chance something good could grow.

Karolina always says things like these like they’re part of the natural order, like the most obvious choice for her is to keep Shiv safe—to take the bad stuff away.

“Yeah, okay.”

For tonight, Shiv decides, she’ll let it happen. See if anything grows.

#shivlina #shiv x karolina #siobhan roy #karolina novotney #caroline collingwood #CAROLINE ALERT!!! #im not the proudest of this and i definitely made caroline too kind 😭 #im losing my sparkle i keep wanting to see them happy 😩 #my fics #prompt fill

[edelgarfield]

you are both cain and abel (1/8)

Relationships: Astarion/The Dark Urge, Rolan & Tav, The Dark Urge & Halsin Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

You were made to be a weapon—a perfect blade meant to sever the spine of the world. You lost your old life, but you're still the same blade wielded by a different hand. An arrogant older brother forces you to confront the ruins you left behind. But with every glimpse into your past you lose more and more of yourself. Astarion desperately tries to keep you together as you self-destruct.

Next Chapter >>

Chapter Excerpt:

Someone scoffs beside you. “Go drown your sorrows somewhere else, will you?” A familiar voice sneers. “Some of us have had enough of you heroes.” You ever so slowly turn to face a familiar red tiefling. The young man slumps over the bar, nursing a bottle of Arabellan Dry in the crook of his arm. Wrinkles crease the fabric of his robe, and dirt stains the sleeves. Clearly, the man hasn’t changed in some time and his clothes are in need of a good wash. He meets your unfocused gaze with bloodshot eyes, glowering at you venomously. Even if you didn’t recognize him, you’d recognize the wave of annoyance his face conjures. “Do I know you?” you ask flatly. The flames in Rolan’s eyes surge with anger and bitterness. “Oh, I suppose you go around telling everyone how to live their lives?” he snaps. You smirk to yourself and look away from Rolan’s heated glare, a sick pleasure welling up inside you at finally receiving the anger you deserve. “No, only wizards who think it’s impressive they can cast a first level spell.” Rolan literally growls at you, hellfire licking at the backs of his bared teeth. “My ‘first level spells’ saved these orphans while Cal and Lia were dragged away screaming.” He gestures towards the children behind the bar, who respond by sticking their tongues out at him. You raise an eyebrow, eyeing him with thinly veiled amusement that makes his blood boil. “Well, if you didn’t want to hear them scream, you should have cast Silence on them.”

Read on AO3

#baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #astarion #bg3 rolan #halsin #durgestarion #fic tag #cardinal series

[thebitchkingofangmar]

15 questions for friends

@hobbitwrangler tagged me (ty!!), and so I'm letting myself be known. questions + replies under the read more

tagging @mirkwood @gondolindon @realmofautumn and @adanethorn 🫀

Are you named after someone? Not on purpose. I picked my names because they resonated with me, and then I realised they were both thinly veiled Percy Shelley references.

"Jules" as a name has a life of its own, though. Which amazing, showstopping, may it be an omen of my own.

When was the last time you cried? Yesterday, out of sheer anger at people's audacity.

Do you have kids? If my cats count, then sure.

What sports do you play/have played? Used to play volleyball and do equestrians. Did bouldering for a while because, are they y'know, and am of the intention of picking it up again.

Do you use sarcasm? Yes but 60% of the time I end up explaining it's sarcasm before anyone asks me, so I don't know if it counts.

What the first thing you notice about people? What jumps up to me from individual to individual changes. I am not good at registering first impressions v consciously. So I couldn't say if I tried

What's your eye colour? Brown-black. Darkest brown eyes you'll ever find. Came with my "I'm right, tho" permit.

Scary movies or happy endings? SENSE-MAKING ENDINGS. My favourite endings are the hopeful ones, regardless of genre, but if movies flub the ending I will be so mad, I will be so angry.

Example: As Above So Below butchered its themes with that fucking ending it had, and I do not care how hopeful it is, I hate it. It makes no sense from a storytelling perspective, and I will be forever bitter because its a horror movie about alchemy that borrows heavily from hauntings and Dante's inferno, they took all of my favourite themes and KILLED THEM WITH THAT ENDING

Any talents? Talking a lot, saying hauntingly poetic things, personal pep talking team on the go.

Where were you born? Not doxxing myself on tumblr, so iykyk, but I'm a child from from the global south

What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, dancing, learning things, collecting books, gaming, dissecting language structures and then not learning the languages, worldbuilding. oh man, I love worldbuilding. The disease is terminal and the ND levels catastrophic

Do you have any pet? Two babycats, both boys. A tabby called Findecáno and an orange creamsicle called Finrod Felagund

How tall are you? 158 cm/159 cm roughly. Have been told I give vibes of being taller

Favourite subject in school? Highschool ages? History and english. I also liked trig despite being shit with numbers. Uni? the International Law ones.

Dream job? Eccentric travelling girlboy boygirl they/them you never forget. Alucard cosplayer. And world-building consultant and book editor. Oh, and. My actual job I am lucky enough to work in my dream job, even if its time to upgrade the dreams and find what can I see on the horizon

#me @ any given time: may i interest you in public policy as an aspect of narrative worldbuilding mAY I INTEREST-- #jules.txt #meet the bitchking

[peninkwrites]

Lines Drawn in Sand & Concrete - Ch 7 of ?

Sapnap gets a second job, Quackity continues to keep his enemies close, and Connor continues to have a bad time.

[CW: mentions police violence/abuse, c!Dream in the first scene]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 6

Ch 8

Mafia AU

~ Sapnap & Quackity ~

When Sam was hospitalized, things started to change around the precinct, but that was nothing compared to what’s changed since Dream got rid of Sam and took his job.  The first warning Sapnap should have heeded was Dream’s thinly veiled threat,  “if we’re talking about associates of the Badlands, you of all people should watch your step, Officer Halo.”

That didn’t mean Sapnap fully abstained from talking to his best friend, because regardless of these changes, Sapnap isn't going to throw away a lifetime of loyalty over a few disagreements, however concerning they may be.  Captain Taken has gotten reckless, or rather ruthless.  He keeps on sending officers to the East side, which he knows is dangerous.  Every time Sapnap points out a patrol entering gang territory, Dream snaps back, “do you want the police to prevent crime, or not?”  At first Sapnap had tried to argue back, explaining why Sam had never sent patrols across the river at night, the bitter truth that they were meant to do damage control, not win the war, and Dream certainly hadn’t taken it well.

Sapnap thinks Dream is now trying to keep him out of the way.  Sapnap has spent very little time in the precinct and therefore can offer no criticism to Dream’s decision making.  Instead, he joins the ranks of cannon fodder sent across the river.  Sapnap assumes his best friend must still value his life a little as he hasn’t been sent over after dark.  Sapnap also notes that other officers seem to be taking the changes in stride.  Sapnap isn’t used to them acting like this, not merely enforcing, but downright cruel.  Sapnap can’t help but think that Sam would never stand for this, and part of him still hopes Dream won’t either, but he’s been proven wrong on a lot of things as of late.

Sapnap returns to the precinct after another uneasy patrol and heads right for the Captain’s office.  He stops himself from barging in at the last second and forces himself to knock.

“Enter.”

Sapnap does so.  He’s not used to this office being so empty.  When he’d been a rookie, the room had been all rainbows and proud-parent memorabilia, and under Sam’s reign it had been a mess of dog pictures and Ponk pictures and little mechanical things Sam liked to fidget with.  Now, there is nothing.  Just a shiny nameplate center stage reading out Captain Taken.  Behind it, sits the man himself, expression calm and inquisitive at Sapnap’s unexpected arrival.

“Hey, Dream, can I talk to you about something?” Sapnap shuts the door behind him.

“Is it about something personal, or work related?”

“Uh, work related?”

“Then, maybe don’t call me Dream,” Dream says it like he’s teasing, but Sapnap knows he’s serious.

“Sorry, Captain,” Sapnap says reluctantly.  “So, out on patrol today, some of the boys were being really shitty.  Really shitty again, like, this has happened more than once, y’know?”

“Shitty?  Shitty how?  That could mean literally anything,” Dream says dryly.

“Like, harassing civilians kind of shitty.  Like, being dicks to the homeless.  Earlier, Morgan and Grant were pushing around this guy who hadn’t done anything.  That sorta goes against the protect and serve deal, right?” Sapnap folds his arms over his chest, preemptively on the defensive.

“Well, was he loitering?”

Dream's blase nature turns Sapnap's irritation to anger.  “They didn’t just ask him to move, they threw the guy’s stuff in the river!” Sapnap says, antagonism and volume rising.  He forces himself to step back.  “Captain,” he adds bitingly like that will make a difference.

Dream is unfazed.  “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t really any rigid laws against littering in the river, especially for a government department.”

“That’s… that’s not the problem with that.  Are you serious?” Sapnap doesn’t know why he’s still surprised by Dream letting him down. 

“Look,” Dream sighs.  “We have bigger concerns than a rookie throwing away some low-life’s garbage.”

“Officers under your control are harassing the homeless," Sapnap still tries, and he still expects reason.  "And that… that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not as much as the rampant violent crime we’re supposed to be dealing with,” Dream says dryly.  "But, fine, I'll... talk to them."

Sapnap tries to accept this, even as it feels like a dismissal rather than his concerns being taken seriously.  He knows it’s not worth arguing any further over, however much he hates it.  Bigger concerns feels like an understatement.  “Yeah.  Fine.  Any more bodies?”

“Always,” Dream sighs.  He scans the folder on his desk wearily.  Frustration bleeds through, his fist slams against the desk.  “The Badlands… there’s no way they’re still active, but if they’re not, why the hell are just as many bodies turning up?!”

Sapnap tries to keep focused and ignore his friend’s agitation, however uneasy it makes him.  “More bodies than before considering the serial killer,” he points out.  “And…” Sapnap frowns.  “Why would the Badlands have stopped?”

“Never mind, it’s just– Frustrating,” Dream sighs.

Sapnap hates it when they talk about the Badlands.  He misses when he wasn’t alone in that, if they have to talk about them.  “I bet Sam would know.”

Dream looks over at him sharply, genuine anger directed at him now.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sapnap scrambles to recover, thrown off by Dream’s defensiveness.  “Just like, the Badlands thing.”

“Shouldn’t you know, then?”

Sapnap feels like he’s been gut punched.  “No.  No, I was… Why would I know something, Dream?” He hates how quiet his voice gets.

“I dunno, maybe because you spent your childhood on the lap of the devil himself huh?” Dream says mildly, Sapnap reads it for what it is, an accusation.

Sapnap’s friendship with Dream was foundationally built on him not judging him for growing up alongside violence he had no control over, and on a dime it’s like Dream wants to revoke that history.  Sapnap defends himself in an old, familiar way, but he had never expected to have to use this line on Dream.  “I was a fucking kid.  I never had a choice.”  Something more personal follows, “you know this.  What’s wrong with you?  Why’re you acting like… like…” Like you see me the same way everyone else did.

Dream smiles.  “Sorry, Sapnap.  I wasn’t trying to make you nervous, it’s just… it’s an asset, actually.”

“An asset?” Sapnap says warily, still deeply unsettled, even more so by Dream calming so easily.

“Yeah!” Dream rummages for a different file.  “You heard anything about Las Nevadas?”

“No, what’s that?”

“It’s a casino.  Or, it’s going to be I guess.  The guy opening it used to work for JSchlatt, and I can almost guarantee it’s not going to be an above the board establishment,” Dream explains.

“Wait, why are we worried about something that’s not even open yet?” Sapnap frowns.

“Because, they were previously affiliated with organized crime, and I doubt they’ve magically turned their backs on it.  You of all people know it’s not that simple.”

“No, no it was turning my back on family, not… not the criminal parts.”

“Jeez, Sapnap, calm down,” Dream rolls his eyes.  “Don’t take everything so seriously.”

“What’s your point, Dream?” Sapnap says irritably.

Dream slides him a newspaper clipping.

LAS NEVADAS LOOKING FOR KITCHEN STAFF, SECURITY, AND CARD DEALERS.

It’s written in an ad in large, black lettering, details in smaller text below.  Dream taps the word SECURITY.  “Do you follow, Sapnap?”

“...No, not at all.”

“I want you to go undercover and pretend to work security at the casino!  Let me know when they fuck up and break the law, y’know?” Dream smiles like he’s offering Sapnap a gift.

“Dude,” Sapnap waits for Dream to admit that this is a joke.  He doesn’t.  “You want me to… to go undercover, which means making it look like I quit my job here, starting a new job at a place that I know nothing about, probably having to move out so we’re not living together just to be safe, and change a bunch of other shit in my life, on the off chance a guy who used to work for JSchlatt is still doing shady shit?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Dream laughs.  “Come on, Sapnap.  This is some important work.  I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t.  And considering your… troubled background, I think they’ll be more inclined to hire you instead of any old ex-cop.”

“Badlanders and Schlatt’s boys weren’t exactly best friends, Dream.”

“Well, good thing Schlatt’s dead and you don’t associate with the Badlands anymore, right?” Dream replies smoothly.

Sapnap struggles to process.  “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the serial killer?”

“We have people working on it, just not you, Sapnap,” Dream says patronizingly.

Sapnap tries again.  “What if I say no?  Turn down the assignment?”

“You’d rather have desk duty?” Dream responds just as icily.  “I’m your Captain, I am giving you your assignment, I expect you to follow through.  Or you can get out just like Sam did.  You’re not supposed to actually be a Badlander, just pretend to have been one.  Don’t make me treat you like you’re actually a problem.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Sapnap says before he can stop himself.

“What’s my problem?!  I’m not the one disobeying orders!” Dream snaps back immediately.

“This isn’t about orders!  You’re not just supposed to be my boss, you’re my friend,” Sapnap wishes he just sounded angry instead of hurt.

Dream sighs.  “Yeah, yeah I am your friend.  And I’m your boss.  This is… this is important to me, Sapnap.  I don’t know why you can’t take that seriously.”

“I am taking this seriously.  I seriously am,” Sapnap says fiercely.

“I don’t know if you are.”

A pause, the two men staring each other down.  Sapnap takes a step back.

“Fine.  I’ll… I’ll try to go undercover.  I dunno if me showing up and saying I’m from the Badlands means they’re gonna roll out the red carpet for me.”

“I mean, I still think it’ll be better than just showing up as an ex-cop.  They hired Sam just fine,” Dream shrugs.

“What?”

“Sam is working there, apparently.  I’m guessing also in security, so I thought that might give you an in.  But you cannot tell him what you’re really doing there, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah I got it,” Sapnap is feeling almost dazed.  He feels like Dream is shoving him toward a past he had tried so hard to abandon, but he trusts him.  If this is important, he’ll do it.

~

Quackity is getting desperate.  He feels surrounded on all sides, and his single shred of security is an ex-cop fresh off crutches.  He wants something more than this, but his reputation proceeds him, and anyone honest or honorable recognizes his name and runs.

Really, he could tolerate having one member of security watching his back, the bigger issue is Karl.  Every day Karl goes to work, leaves his sight, and Quackity watches him go with dread.  Quackity would send Sam to guard Karl, but Sam is meant to be his head of security, which means he needs to be around to help with the planning for Las Nevadas.  He tried to get Karl to take a gun.

“I’ve never used a gun before, and I don’t plan on starting now.  And I don’t think Tina would appreciate me bringing one into her bookstore,” Karl had told him gently.

“What if it keeps you safe?”

“Anyone sent to kill me, Q, is definitely gonna have a faster trigger finger,” Karl explained in the most brutally honest way possible, in that same sweet voice of his.

“Damn you, Karl,” Quackity sighed.  “Can’t you just give into my paranoia for once in your fucking life?”

Karl grinned.  “No, I don’t think I’m gonna, actually.”

So, Quackity continues to hunt for someone who will fire a gun on Karl’s behalf.  Quackity is desperate, but when the scruffy, unsure man, dark hair pulled back and hands in his pockets, comes in and asks Foolish about a job listing, Quackity’s first impulse is to send him away.  Karl is still with him for the morning, and had followed him downstairs to meet this mysterious applicant.  Quackity takes one look at the man, and pulls Karl aside.

“Yeah, no.  No fucking way.  I can smell it on him.”

Karl giggles, eyebrows raised.  “You can smell him from here?  Smell what?”

“Pig!  The guy is a fucking pig.”

“You can smell that?” Karl teases.

“No, no I can’t literally, oh my god, I mean his stupid fucking narc shoes!” Quackity hisses, nodding to the black boots every stupid cop wears.

“His… shoes.”

“Yes, his shoes,” Quackity says grumpily.

“Well, if he’s currently a cop, why is he looking for a job, then?  And if he’s a former cop, I mean, you had no issue hiring Sam,” Karl points out.

“Sam is– Sam is different,” Quackity deigns not to explain the difference being he has something he can hold over Sam.  It wouldn’t be very in line with his promises to Karl to stay out of organized crime.

“You need more security, Quackity.  What’s the harm in just talkin’ to him?  Besides, he’s cute,” Karl nudges him playfully.

“Fine, fuck.  You’re coming with me, though,” Quackity says before sulking across the lobby to where Foolish had kept the man occupied.

“Hi.  I’m Quackity HQ, the owner.  How can I help you?” Quackity smiles and he knows some people can read the threat behind it.  He isn’t sure if this man can.

“Uh, hi.  I saw the… the ad.  For the job.  The security one,” he says with an awkward nod.

“Right, right, what’s your name?”

“I’m Sapnap.  Sapnap Halo?”

Halo.  Interesting.  “Well, Sapnap Halo, do you have… any qualifications?” Quackity keeps up that smile, half hoping to scare the guy off.

“Y-Yeah!  I… I used to work in law enforcement, I mean, your other staff member Sam can… vouch for me?” Sapnap Halo sounds unsure.

“Used to be?  Why’d you quit, Mr. Halo?” Quackity is calculating multiple things at once.  Halo.  Sam.  Narc shoes.  Familiar.

Sapnap shrugs.  “Didn’t like the new management.”

“Is that so?  You could’ve just requested a transfer.” Quackity deigns to ask Sam privately about the guy later.  “So, why are you interested in Las Nevadas?”

Sapnap clearly hadn’t planned out any answers beforehand.  He looks mildly startled.  “Uh, gambling is… fun.  Like, it’s exciting.  And I know private security is pretty boring, so… I thought maybe this place could be cool?”

“I know you,” Quackity says, eyes narrowed.

The man looks almost alarmed.  “You… do?”

Something clicks into place.  “You’re the guy who showed up to harass a teenager after his dad died.”

Sapnap Halo looks offended.  “You’ve gotta be confusing me for someone else, there’s no way in hell I’d do that.”

“No, it was definitely you,” Quackity takes a step closer.  “You and that grumpy little cop turned up and interrogated a barely legal kid without an attorney present, ring any bells?”

Sapnap’s eyes widen.  “You’re… right.  You’re Quackity HQ.”

“Obviously.  You didn’t know that going in?”

“I mean, kind of, but I didn’t like, connect dots I guess–” Sapnap shakes his head.  “But wait, I didn’t… I didn’t harass anyone.  I tried to… to help the kid, he was going through something fucked up.”

“Help him?  Really?  Why the fuck would you want to help someone like him?” Quackity is openly hostile now, shark-like smile gone.

“Cause I get it, y’know?” Sapnap looks deeply uncomfortable, bouncing back on his heels.  “Complicated dads and shit.”

Quackity laughs harshly.  “Complicated.  Right.”

“No, seriously, I…” Sapnap trails off, clearly warring over something.  There’s a pause, Quackity letting him simmer.  “You… you used to work for JSchlatt.”

“I was his lawyer,” Quackity says, voice taut, a warning.

“So, like, you get that businesses like that aren’t… uh, squeaky clean?” Sapnap says awkwardly.  He sighs.  “Look, I’m trying to say I don’t care about the illegal shit.  Especially not whatever some kid got wrapped up in ‘cause of his dad, because, well.”  Sapnap winces, as if bracing himself.  “I’m the son of the leader of the Badlands.  Y’know, Halo?  Does that… does that count for anything in me getting the job?” He asks sheepishly, shoulders raised and tense as he shrinks down, waiting for the fallout.

“You’re…” Quackity is briefly thrown off.

“Ohhh.  Halo.  Duh,” Karl finally chimes in.  “I didn’t know Bad had a kid.”

Quackity elbows him lightly.  He doesn’t want Sapnap to know how well he knows his father.

“Um.  Sorta estranged,” Sapnap mutters.  “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything, look, I just… really need this job, alright?”  He stands up straight, as if preparing for a fight.  “I don’t care what you guys are involved in, I’ll… I’ll do good work, and I’ll mind my own business.  Is that an alright offer?”

“Hm,” Quackity eyes him carefully, calculating.  “You got a resume?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Sapnap nods quickly and pulls a very folded sheet of paper out of his pocket.

“Charming,” Quackity accepts it with dry sarcasm.  “Give me a minute to consult with my team,” Quackity retreats to the back hallway, Karl following, and after a wave to flag him down as part of the team, Foolish joins as well.  “Sam!  Get over here,” he drags his head of security into the mix.

“What’s going on?” Sam frowns.

Quackity shoves the crumpled resume into his hands.  “One of your old pals at the swine factory came waltzing in asking for a job.”

Sam’s frown deepens when he sees the name.  “Sapnap?  He quit the force?”

“Allegedly, he did,” Quackity folds his arms over his chest, waiting for Sam’s assessment, Foolish and Karl watching on with far less concern.

“Did he say why?” Sam asks carefully.

“Said he didn’t like the new management,” Quackity huffs.

Sam passes back the resume, shaking his head.  “That doesn’t make sense.  His best friend is the new management.  My guess would be he’s undercover, but I don’t know what Dream’s priorities are if he’s sending his right hand man here.  Last I heard, they were dealing with a serial killer.  And so far, we’re… well, as upstanding an institution as a casino can be.  If you want my advice, no.  Whatever he’s up to, it’s a risk to hire him.”

Quackity nods curtly, mulling it over.  “I mean, I hired you.”

“Yeah, but you know I quit being a cop,” Sam points out.

“What about… what about in general.  Is this guy… decent?” Quackity feels a bit ridiculous asking Sam this, but he doesn’t really have anything else to go on.

“Sapnap?  Yeah.  He was a good kid, and one of the best cops I know,” Sam nods.

Quackity’s lip curls in disgust.  “Well, I’ll try not to hold that against him.”

“No, I mean, he was… he wasn’t always great at being a cop, because, well, in the early days because he was reckless and had something to prove, but in general, he actually took the innocent-until-proven-guilty thing seriously,” Sam says earnestly, before growing gloomier.  “I mean, just ask Ponk.  Sapnap was getting on my case about not waiting on them hand and foot…”

“Yeah, you’d rather break hands than wait on someone, huh?” Quackity says dryly.

Sam clearly wants to make a bitter retort, but he holds back.  “The point is, I trust him.  He’s good to his word, and honestly he’s one of the worst liars I know.  Whatever he’s doing here, you’ll probably figure it out in a matter of days.”  He adds pointedly, “not that I suggest you take the risk considering there’s no way Sapnap would just up and quit the force.  Not even because I think Dream is going to keep treating him fairly, but because I know Sapnap would stick around anyway.  The kid is loyal to a fault, but if you’re going to do it anyway, oddly enough, there’s no one I’d rather hire,” Sam frowns, as if troubled by the thought.

“Hm,” Quackity mulls this over.  He needs security because he needs Karl safe.  He could hire this guy, and keep him well away from their business, and know Karl is protected.  He also would feel better knowing exactly who the plant is, if the police are really set on nosing into his business.  “Thoughts?” He glances at Foolish and Karl.

“I don’t care.  He seems chill,” Foolish shrugs.  “I don’t know him super well, not now at least, but I hung out a bit with him when we were kids, or, teenagers I guess.  Post-kidnapping.”

“You did?” Quackity gives him a surprised look.

“Yeah!  Yeah, my dad and his dad would meet up and would have us like hang out together.  I mean, we mostly talked sports, but he was cool.  Really treated me like one of the guys, which, y’know, at the time meant a lot,” Foolish shrugs.

“I don’t know him,” Karl offers helpfully.  “And it’s your call, Q.”

“Okay, but it’s important to me I get your approval, Karl.  Him or Sam is gonna start following you around,” Quackity points out.

Sam takes issue with this.  “I’m needed here, Quackity, you know that–”

“It’s whatever Karl is more comfortable with,” Quackity cuts him off sharply, looking back to his boyfriend.

“Oh! Uh,” Karl glances at Sam, and then back toward the lobby.  Karl shrugs.  “I mean, sounds like we should keep him away from the business stuff.  And I don’t mind,” he grins. “He’s cute.”

Quackity rolls his eyes fondly, “you’re gonna go flirt with the enemy, huh?”

“Keep your enemies close, right?” Karl waggles his eyebrows at him.  “Maybe I can get him to spill his secrets with some of my good looks and oodles of charm.”

“We’re not marrying the guy, I haven’t even gotten a ring for you yet,” Quackity teases.

“I told you I’d be happy with a ring pop,” Karl says.

Sam and Foolish exchange a glance, used to the couple getting sappy on them.  “You should probably go tell him he’s hired, then,” Sam interjects.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Quackity nods.  “And Karl, actually, if you’re hanging around the guy, and he does anything weird, or you can worm anything out of him…”

“I’ll tell you, Q, obviously,” Karl says, taking Quackity’s hand.  “Let’s go invite him to the polycule.”

Quackity scoffs, “you’re the worst.”

Karl giggles, “I’m hilarious.”

Sapnap has been staring at the casino with unsure curiosity.  The place is nearly finished, in opulent glory, using the original molding of the bank, white pillars trimmed with gold, and marbled tile.  He gives Sam a nod of greeting, focus more on Quackity.

“Welcome to Las Nevadas, Mr. Halo,” Quackity smiles, offering him a hand.

“So, I got the job?” Sapnap seems surprised.

“If you want it?” Quackity says dryly.

“No, yeah, I do,” Sapnap nods.

He accepts the handshake, and Quackity at least commends the man for not holding on too tight in some pathetic macho display.  Karl is right.  Quackity had thought it too, even when the man was still in his stupid uniform, he is handsome.  More so now without the pig suit.

“Sam will get you the paperwork, and you’ll start first thing, alright?  Can you do that?” Quackity asks.

“Y-Yeah, first thing like, now, or..?” Sapnap asks uncertainly.

“Well, today Sam can show you the ropes, but properly you’ll start tomorrow morning.  Do you have a gun?”

“Do I..?” Sapnap trails off.

“Do you have a license to carry?” Quackity says slowly.  “Or did they take that with your badge?”

“I mean, they took my gun that I used on duty, but I… yes, I have license to carry,” Sapnap fumbles out an answer.  Sam was right.  He’s a terrible liar.

“Bring that tomorrow too.”

“Got it, Mr. HQ,” Sapnap nods.

Quackity leaves, Karl follows, and then it’s just Sam and Sapnap.  And Foolish.

“This must be fun, huh?  Old buddies working together again?” Foolish says brightly, nudging the two of them comraderally.

Sam and Sapnap exchange an uneasy glance.  “Right.  Foolish, aren’t you supposed to be picking up the tables for the opening night?”

“Shit, yeah, yep, and I was supposed to be there 20 minutes ago,” Foolish winces.  “Bye, team!”  He leaves.

Now it just Sam and Sapnap.

“So, quit the force, huh?” Sam says dryly, clearly skeptical.

Sapnap doesn’t defend himself outright, scanning the casino as if he’ll find something hidden between the slot machines.  “Dream has kinda lost it.  A bit,” he says carefully.

Not what Sam was expecting.  “Lost it?  Lost it how?”

Sapnap wavers, clearly holding something back.  “He’s sending more guys across the river.  And when I try to report them for acting out on civilians, Dream doesn’t give a shit.  Or… didn’t give a shit, I guess.  Since that’s not my problem anymore,” Sapnap says reluctantly.  “I didn’t want to leave, but Dream was really starting to freak me out.”  Sapnap glances at Sam uneasily.  “He started… he started talking about my… affiliation with the Badlands.”

“What affiliation?  A dad you haven’t spoken to in like eight years?” Sam scoffs.

Sapnap shrugs.  “I dunno.  He… he wasn’t acting like my Dream anymore.”

Sam grows less skeptical and instead more concerned, even more, he’s starting to believe maybe Sapnap had left the force.  “I’m sorry, Sapnap.  I don’t love him stabbing me in the back, but for you, it’s…” Sam doesn’t know how to console Sapnap.  In Sam’s mind, Sapnap had always been wrapped up in Dream, it’s almost difficult to disconnect the two.  “Do you have somewhere to live?  You and Dream were housemates, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be alright.  Gonna get a studio on the East side.  Part of why I… really need a job,” Sapnap once more assesses the casino with something like trepidation.

“Quackity can be intimidating, but don’t let him bother you,” Sam nudges him gently.  “Come on, I’ve been going to town setting up security cameras and such.  It’s a bank, so the layout is perfect for controlling who goes in and out.”

Sapnap follows him and allows Sam’s enthusiasm for systems and mechanisms to fill the melancholy still lingering in his chest.  He still doesn’t want to let Dream down, but he’d meant what he said.  He doesn’t know if it’s the same best friend he’d trusted with his life.

~

Sapnap shows up for work on time and wary at 10 o’clock.  Quackity HQ is waiting for him, cool, collected, wearing a white button down and red suspenders and a few gold rings.  Quackity doesn’t waste time with small talk.

“Now, most of the time, you’re gonna be protecting Karl for me, but forgive me if I want to do a little trial run before I trust you with him,” Quackity says, immediately heading back out the door, Sapnap close behind.

“And… Karl is your partner?” Sapnap asks slowly.

“Yeah, light of my life, my soul, my everything,” Quackity says mildly, as if making an offhanded comment about the weather, but it doesn't make Sapnap doubt that he means it.  “I’ll make sure your priorities are clear later, I’ve got a meeting to get to, which means we've got a meeting to get to,” Quackity nods him to a sleek black car.  “I know you work for me, but I’m driving.”

“Yeah, fine with me,” Sapnap gets in the passenger side.  “Who’s your meeting with?  If… if you don’t mind me asking.”

“The Mayor.”

“The Mayor?” Sapnap blusters.  “I mean, the guy has his own security all over the place, why do you need me there?”

Quackity gives him a look, amused.  “Think of it like training wheels.”

“You think I need training wheels?”

“Haven’t decided yet.  Maybe.  Let’s see how my meeting goes, huh?”

“I dunno how you’re planning on testing my skills.  Are people really trying to kill you that much?” Sapnap retorts in the same half-teasing tone Quackity has taken on.

“This is more making sure you can stay out of my way, how about that?” Quackity replies dryly.  Sapnap huffs a noncommittal reply, and quiet falls for a few blocks.  Quackity doesn’t tolerate the lull in conversation for long.  “So.  You’re a Halo, not only that, but Bad’s only son.  And… you decided to be a cop?”

Sapnap perhaps should’ve expected this line of conversation, considering for the first time in however many years he name-dropped his father, mostly out of a panicked impulse as it seemed he wasn’t going to get the job.  Stupid of him either way.  “Uh, yeah, I don’t… I don’t really talk to my dad anymore.  I didn’t agree with a lot of the shit he was doing, so.  I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hold it against me, or like, casually bring up my estranged family.”

It’s Quackity’s turn to look uncomfortable, even guilty.  He tries to mask it.  “Got it.  I won’t touch the daddy issues.”

Sapnap tries not to take offense to that, and an uneasy silence settles over the rest of the drive.

They do not pull up outside of City Hall, rather, the somewhat tired looking mansion the Mayor has always lived in, old money with a hint of frat-boy chic.  As they approach the door, Quackity is back to business.  “You’ll join me in the meeting, unless the Mayor asks for you to wait outside.  You won’t join in the conversation, got it?”

“Yes Sir,” Sapnap says, sarcasm very poorly contained, earning a look from Quackity that Sapnap almost thinks might be amused.

Quackity rings the bell, and a member of staff answers.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yeah, Mayor Hedge is expecting me.  Quackity HQ?” Quackity’s dry, sharp humor turns to charm the moment the door opens.  He’s all smiles and niceties.

“Right this way, Mr. HQ,” the man nods the pair of them inside.

“Connor!” Quackity greets the Mayor with his first name and open arms.

The Mayor, quite frankly, looks like shit.  His suit is wrinkled, and there are bags under his eyes, and his expression could best be described as miserable and failing at his attempt to look brave about it.

“Hey, Quackity.  Good to see you, man, good of you to come and see me,” Connor hugs him, clapping him on the back with something concerningly desperate in his mannerisms.  “Who’s this?”

“Oh, Sapnap Halo,” Quackity says dismissively.  “He’s my new security, so, he’s sticking with me for his first day on the job.”

“Hi,” Connor says shakily.

“Uh, hi,” Sapnap had low expectations for the Mayor, his reputation proceeds him, but he’s almost impressed that the man in the flesh is somehow even worse, in a sad wet cat sort of way.

“Come in, come in,” Connor waves them into a lounge that must have been quite nice once, and is instead a bit worn down, the occasional modern fixtures clashing poorly with the original furniture.  There’s a foosball table that definitely doesn’t belong.  “Sit,” Connor gestures to the couch across from him.  Quackity sits, Sapnap remains standing, just behind the sofa.  It feels like what he’s supposed to be doing, at least.  On the coffee table, there is a tray with an open bottle of liquor.  Connor starts pouring two glasses.  “D’you want ice?”

“No, I’m good, Connor,” Quackity takes this all in stride.  He does not glance back to his new ex-cop staff member to see his reaction to the Mayor doing something illegal in front of both of them, but Sapnap, as he stares between the two of them, thinks Quackity is smirking.  Sapnap, cop or not, isn’t a saint committed to abstaining from all wrong-doing.  He’s gotten drunk at a speakeasy or two, or three, or more, over the years.  Really, he’s mildly impressed by how casual the Mayor is being.  Maybe Sapnap shouldn't have had a standard for him to begin with.

“You?” Connor waves the bottle in Sapnap’s direction.

“He’s on the clock, I’m afraid he won’t be joining us,” Quackity answers for him.

Connor shrugs.  “Fine,” he takes a swig, ice clinking loudly in his glass.  Quackity takes a much smaller sip, before setting the glass down.  Connor continues, “so, Quackity.  You been doing alright?  Coping okay?” Connor’s concern seems genuine, if messily presented.

“I mean, it’s hard,” Quackity sighs heavily.  “I miss him every day.  I’m sure you can relate.”

“Yeah… relate…” Connor mumbles, and Sapnap realizes his lip is trembling slightly.  Connor sniffs loudly, wiping his nose on his suit jacket sleeve.  “I… I miss him so much, man.  He was such a riot, y’know?  No one else parties like Schlatt,” he says wetly.

“You could say that again,” Quackity agrees smoothly.

Schlatt.  Quackity is visiting the Mayor to talk about Schlatt?  Sapnap briefly, wildly, thinks maybe this information might actually be useful to him, but from the current direction of the conversation, he has doubts.

“No one else parties like Schlatt…” Connor mumbles, taking another sip of his drink.  “Fuck, man.  I think this is hard, but… but what about you, right?  Wasn’t he… wasn’t he like, your husband or something?”

Sapnap sees Quackity visibly tense, but his voice remains calm and friendly.  “No, he definitely wasn’t.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Connor gives him a tragically earnest and sympathetic look.  “You guys didn’t even get to tie the knot, huh, before he…” Connor gets too choked up to continue.

“How about you, Connor?” Quackity is quick to change the subject.  “I mean, I’d say you were his best friend.”

“Really?” Connor’s eyes are shining with tears.  “Fuck, man, I never told him that I felt the same way!” He’s almost wailing.

If Sapnap recalls correctly, Schlatt died over a month ago.  And Connor is still this broken up about it?  How does anything get done?  Although, if Sapnap really thought about it, he’s not totally sure what the Mayor actually does.  Quackity stands, circling the coffee table to sit beside Connor, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“He knew, Connor.  I know he did,” Quackity says with such firm insistance, Sapnap can almost mistake it for being sincere.  “I actually… I wanted to talk to you about honoring his memory.”

“Huh?” Connor looks over at him blearily.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and there’s one change that you could make, Connor.  You could use your position for good, and honor Schlatt in a way I really know he’d appreciate,” Quackity says earnestly.

“Something I can do?  What can I do?”

Quackity’s kind smile stiffens slightly into shielded exasperation.  “You’re the Mayor, Connor.”

“True!” Connor points at him amicably.  “True…”

“There’s something we both know was very near and dear to his heart, that the rest of the city doesn’t get to truly appreciate, y’know?  But you could change that.”

Connor sniffs, looking at Quackity hopefully.  “What?”

They stay for another tearful half hour, but the deal was done.  Sapnap doesn’t say a word until they’re halfway down the drive, Quackity striding ahead, hands in his pockets and a skip in his step.

“You just ended the prohibition by… handing the guy a tissue and playing along for an hour?” Sapnap says the moment they’re out of earshot of the house.

“Oh, is that what I did?” Quackity grins back at him, smug as a fox.  “I thought I was just consoling a very dear friend and… making a suggestion.  And maybe it’s also beneficial to myself.  A good casino could use a bar, y’know?  And I don’t think I ended it just yet, let’s see if he can actually pull it off first.”

“Sure, whatever, man, but you…” Sapnap is genuinely impressed.  “You know how to push people around, huh?”

Quackity’s cockiness wanes into something more bristled as he heads for the driver’s side.  He doesn’t care for that wording, it reminds him of someone he’d prefer to stay dead.  “I don’t know if I’d call it that.  More like… guidance.”

“Right,” Sapnap says doubtfully.  “Hey, dude, you did have like, two and a half drinks, and the Mayor is a heavy pour.  I should probably drive.”

Quackity pauses and genuinely listens, if only out of surprise.  “It’s your first day following around your new boss, and you’re calling me dude?” He raises his eyebrows at him.

“Sorry, uh.  Force of habit,” Sapnap says sheepishly.  “Past ten years, my boss has always been kinda a buddy of mine.  Keys?”

Quackity, grudgingly, tosses them to him.  “A buddy of yours…” he mutters somewhat mockingly.  “Well, I wouldn’t call us buddies, Mr. Halo.  Even if I’m letting you drive my car.”

“Got it.  No more ‘dude’s,” Sapnap says dryly.  “I mean, no more ‘dude’s, sir.”

That gets another laugh out of Quackity as he settles into the passenger side.  “You passed the first test,” he says, and he almost sounds approving.

“Huh?”

“You’re not such a buzzkill or a narc that you were gonna tell the Mayor off in his own home.  Low bar, like, exceedingly low bar, but like I said, the first test.”  Quackity doesn't voice it aloud, keeping tally more for himself, that Sapnap also hasn't asked about Schlatt.

Sapnap glances at him, intrigued.  “What’s the second test, then?”

“You not fucking up my car.”

#I'm back babey!!! Karlnapity time!!! #kind of #it's a slow burn ok #my writing #mafia au #karlnapity #also it was a throwaway line but mau!Foolish is trans and figured it out while kidnapped by Schlatt lol #that's also when he started calling Puffy dad bc he was excitable and a lil confused and was like 'I'm ur son now so ur my dad!' #and Puffy just rolled with it like fuck yeah son I sure am #i've had nowhere to canonize that so y'all get my ramble in the tags <3 #c!quackity #quackity #c!sapnap

[andiwriteordie]

tell me the sad wheeler sibing thing

part 2 of the sad wheeler sibling thing, inspired by nic's additions to this scene

(part 1 here)

mike wakes up, of course. mike wakes up, and like i've talked about already here, he's going Through It. but let's add some more angst into the mix, and obviously, mike is going to get caught up on what happened and how... his sister chose el. she chose to save el, to go to el first, to make sure el was alright, and then, she went to mike. then, she restarted mike's life, and luckily, she and will were able to save him.

mike can't even blame nancy. that's the shittiest part about all of them. mike can't blame nancy, because she made the right decision. if el had died, then the entire world would've suffered for it. if mike had died... would anyone even care? (OOPS DID I SAY THAT PUTTING MYSELF IN JAIL FOR THAT ONE WOOPSIE) el is the avatar, for crying out loud! and mike... he's just mike.

so he can't really blame nancy.

but that doesn't change the fact that it hurts, right? that doesn't change the fact that when nancy stops by mike's room to check on him and she can't quite meet his eyes, mike feels a familiar sort of anger inside his heart? a resentment and a bitterness and also a grief? none of this changes the fact that mike has always known he and nancy don't quite have the relationship other siblings do—they're not like will and jonathan, and now will, jonathan, and el. they're not even like lucas and erica. they just... sort of exist around each other. they share the same space and the same family, and mike loves his sister... and maybe she loves him too. but it's just... not the same.

it all comes out in irritated words and harsh tones and sarcastic comments, because anger's easier than sadness. and god, mike has a lot to be angry about right now. he's angry at himself and at henry and at the spirits and at nancy. there's no sense in denying any of it. so he hides behind the thinly veiled mask of anger and annoyance, and he pretends that nancy's choice—however "right" it may be—doesn't hurt him as much as it actually does.

but in reality, mike grieves. because it's more obvious now than ever that they're never going to have that same type of relationship like the byers-hopper siblings or like the sinclair siblings or others that mike has seen. the two of them are siblings but only in name. and maybe all these years, mike's held on to the belief that—well, nancy and him may not have the best relationship, but at the end of the day, they'd still have each other's backs, still would do anything for each other, still would save each other's lives in a heartbeat. that's the bare minimum for siblings, right?

nancy made her decision though. and it wasn't mike. and yet, her choice was still the right one.

and maybe that's why this hurts even more. because maybe mike's never... actually going to be someone's first choice? maybe he's never going to be the right choice, the first choice, the person who is needed and valued and important—because he's just mike. he's just mike.

and "just mike" has never, ever been enough.

#andi's asks #atlagate #stranger things/avatar au #mike wheeler angst? #on my blog? #SHOCKING #that was sarcasm obvs

[seancamerons]

I am having such a hard time in my personal life lately, and there's alot of uncertainty, fear, anger, and just generally not good. I have been feeling overwhelmed lately, lots of stuff on my plate and more crap got added and dumped on, and now it's just overflowing and that is putting it mildly. There is still good things going on, but it's overshadowed by these other events and elements, making things difficult and hard to deal with with everything overwhelming and confusing and hard to leaf through like a big salad with too many different veggies, croutons, too much of an element or uneven quantities of things on it too much dressing, the ratio is off or something. In short, it's a disappointing salad, basically.

A storm has been brewing for some time, between 20, 10, or 15 years there has been. Sometimes it's fine, managed, not dangerous, or calm and then it storms and it rains and pours. Other times it's a constant arc era of it, random, frequent screaming, or and nothing makes edgeway no rational talk or sincire or effort of apology with backhabded or snide remarks and only escalating and making it hard to rationalize or even more ideally work it out. If you wanna come back to it later after ironing things out or cooling off you get cut off and it's silent treatment. Egg shells, silence, even some fatigue from all the adrenaline of the anger and decades or days, weeks or resentment. Rinse and repeat.

or worst case, its nucleqr troubles, like tropical tornado storm deafcon 5 crisis mode. Last time it was

So then comes the fears, uncertainty, everything is up in the air. I'm sitting here, bitting my lip and my tongue from spewing hateful shit, potentially pointed bitter confessions, incencritty saying something wrong or maybe worse things you can't take back or even come back from. And it isn't just you it's then too simultaneously.

Is that how you really feel or felt?

Has this happened to you growing up?

Fine until they're not. The last time this happened, I lost my shit and my mind. I was so not good, but before this weekend it was manageable because confrontations and such were backburner, and no conversations.

Perhaps cheerful past few interactions olive branch in the form of a surprise bottle of wine once in awhile but this month frequent. Decent humanesque conversations of light topics and safe and being decidedly scripted or bordering on carefully selecting every word like when you are ordering from McDonald's and don't want to mess up or fumble your words to tip them off all is not well. Such as maybe being drunk and running into someone and you don't want the other to know you aren't in the best state to talk and all. It's like random spurts like a pop quiz. It isn't truly genuine talk nothing is honest about it. Usually, it's pretty short like small talk, you're not that important or significant or wrong even in your own experiences or whatever.

They are the dominant in the conversation and you listen and can only say few things. Thinly veiled is some niceties or relatable or even predictability and this is where it snaps like a rubber band and it ends. It's so fleeting. It isn't worthwhile and you go where you go and whatever and leave the place. From experience it goes one of two ways, the true calm b3tore the fireworks or the storm el niño and you are fubar. Then comes all the shitstorm stuff I touched on before.

Well this is where current events fall into place and I do not want to get that deep into that or delve that personally publicly but only trusted mutuals I'd speak more about that to and with than someone stranger. 😔

This is what happens when you are not taking care of yourself or have accepted so much things that led to these consequences for better for worse. Some people have grief that manifests differently sadness anger or even violently or a combination. not even that isn't a pass or an excuse for being so bad off, it destroys so much in the person's life for starters and your own and no one or

What if they are family? Immediate?

I'm hurt and resentful, I don't feel community of that end of the family as this is a black sheep or at least in stereotype that could be an understatement or determine or pigeonhole. I don't know or can't speak on for sure what or now they're feeling about me because of the eggshells on the floor at every path and at every turn in almost every situation. No honesty, and it's cold. You see them through images and video impersonal informal and most importantly at and from a distance all the while missing out on precious time with loved ones or missing milestones because of the storm. Rain outs, delays, cancelations or radio silence. Nobody communicates property nothing changes. Finally, bitterness builds walls and barriers and screaming eveloped in silence ence speaks volumes. I care. They might care too buy fears keep them faraway. I think about when I see a birthday without a invite, instead, snubbed and pictures with family and none if us are there or invited, crpssed out cast out. It is particularly the storms fault, not mother nature or a curse or a conspiracy. It was deliberate. I don’t have a lighthouse or a beacon

I guarantee the storm though chaotic is only human and has feelibgs.

Could be possible they feel pain and some guilt and big time regrets. It is uncomfortable. The kicker will be eventually when they are gone. The once close, the once cordial, the once happy memories will be slowly gone too, and the decressendo to emptiness and the regrets pile up like my plate that is overfill to the brim and the past will be a distant memory, tragic and more people will dip out and they will probably be alone and leave the planet too one day and like Jay Gatsby nobody will care no one will attend the service for them or in their honor but out of an obligation and

I had been consistently failed by this person. It is embarrassing. I'm trying to take care of myself in the meantime. My peace has been disturbed, and I'm temporarily derailed, and it has been about 8 or 9 years since the last time I experienced this level of incertianty and fear and constantly living in survival mode. Counterproductive as unresolved tension reaches a boiling point with everything else is boiling on backburners and staining and tainting the good. The now strained straw suddenly breaks the camels back and makes it unbearable and remarkably awful and bleak. It took 3 days to knock it all down and take the bunch of baby and large steps back totally a preventable situation no matter what and certain. It sucks. It isnt half of it, but this is about a smidgen. This is personal, but it's all I'm willing to share in this grim glimpse tonight.

It is so rough. I don't even know how to put it all together or fix a thing. Is it even something I'm able to revise or repair? I don't know if I have tools and can I make a difference or a bad difference? Unfortunately some how a moot point but a fifty fifty crapshoot a fork in the road, and I haven't the slightest idea what to do now. I want to change things and wish I could. I can't fill the glass. I do not have to fill or whatever because I can't, in the sahara or something, so now I'm keeping it to myself, and the water no matter how selfish it sounds. I can't burn myself again or burn me to keep them or the storm itself cushy and bite my tongue till it bleeds or worstcase, it all becomes all consuming and kills me or it's all irreversible. I wouldn't be able to handle this kind of thing years ago but it's been the same for years. It's a cancer on famkly and friends near and far a death sentence. The optimistic part of me has slivers and speckled hopes but o don't know if I'm overreacting but I feel like deeply for once I'm not.

I desperately need a miracle or a magic genie for a wishfor good things to happen no more destruction. We were almost done rebuilding from the last wave the last 10 or so years or even longer who knows? I don’t like it. I dont want a part of and that keeps me up at night.

For the record, September sucks. Just wake me in November. The storm is human and negatively impacting my life. I don't know what to do.

I'm always last to know things in every aspect with few exceptions I wasn't equipped for a explosion or spontaneous derailment of everything qnd all the destruction in the wake the next morning or the day after or after effects. The hangover I guess.

Just get help. I can't help you. I need to be selfish and focus on me for the first time. You disserviced me so now I don't know how to remedy or find a solution or save myself from torment. I can’t even with this any longer. You aren't sorry. You just don't understand or are just as lost as I am. I live in constant dread though put on a happy face. It's getting hard to play pretend. I'm not ready for any aspect of this. I'm omg angry and hurt unbelievably and rightfully. It's valid. I don't know if I can bounce back at all. I want my romantic relationship to work because last time the stars lined up this way I lost them too because I lost myself and my mind and took time to rebuild and after neglect myself and things I'm so much more aware and wide awake to the bullshit. I used to feel stupid and now my eyes are open to the bad part. It is ALOT.

I hope I'm gonna be okay. I hope. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck. It really sucks, fucking sucks. I don't know how to like previous mentioned use careful words or struggle to compose virtually anything. That is it.

#personal #bummer times #life #fear #scary #idk how to tag tbh

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s CMA-

I can’t stop thinking about this Anthony/clover!au…. A kind of combo of his love story with Lottie and his relationship with clover

She’s best friends with Ben in this au and just same thing that they’ve been going through- fighting at every turn, stubborn and heated, defensive and emotionally constipated, idiots in love

And like Ben brings up wanting to help her and it’s just like and Anthony finds himself agreeing and just:

“I don’t need your help”

“I’m not offering because I think you need it, I’m doing it because you deserve someone who is going to love and cherish and protect you the way that your parents should have.”

And

“I thought you hated me.”

He sighs, going to take her hand before thinking better of it, and taking a deep breath as if he was reigning himself to something he’d always known.

“I could never hate you.”

And the words sit there between them, the silence of the unsaid words hanging in the air, the sound of a thousand things they dare not acknowledge.

And

They find each other in the silence. For two people who seemingly can never stop yelling at one another, who go to every argument as if fighting for their very life, those who have never been able to keep their opinions quiet; this is where they find one another.

Not with fiery words, tempers blazing, and heated exchanges and not among the passive aggressive remarks and social slights, nor even in the thinly veiled insults and buried anger.

And

Two people who have spent their whole lives drowning alone in a sea intent on burying them beneath her waves; with grief as high as tides and trauma hidden just beneath the shore; this is where they find one another.

The silence says everything they never could:

I’m sorry.

We are both drowning and there is nothing I can do, so just hold me tight and we can drown together.

——

Idk just the idea of two people who can’t express themselves with anything besides insults and anger, who’s response to anything good and kind is defensiveness and vitriol… whose passion hides itself behind bitter words and veiled threats, whose love languages manifest themselves not through words but through acts of service, through paying attention with the guise of looking for ammunition, to hide the fact that they care too much and too deeply.

Two people who find themselves pretending not to care but the truth is they care too much, love too easily, and break even easier.

Seriously MWAH that is my cup of tea

Omg darliiiiing! ❤️

Wait, I am absolutely in love with this au and you put it into words in such a beautiful way! ❤️😍 I'm in awe! ❤️

Anthony instantly offering his help and Clover going against it without even thinking about it😂

"I could never hate you" OMG HE IS SO IN LOVE😍

Two people who have spent their whole lives drowning alone in a sea intent on burying them beneath her waves; with grief as high as tides and trauma hidden just beneath the shore; this is where they find one another.

We are both drowning and there is nothing I can do, so just hold me tight and we can drown together.  EXCUSE ME-

Darling this is such a gorgeous way to describe them and their whole dynamic! 😍 Aaaaaah I can just see this, their love would be right there with their vulnerabilities and they would both be terrified to let it show at first but then...😍❤️

How did you make me ship them with just one ask!? 😱😍❤️

[delicatefade]

wip wednesday - The Veil Falls over Tevinter

I got tagged by @nirikeehan on Jan 11th. Still counts, right? I'm working on a post-Veil fic, a sequel to my published post-Trespasser solavellan fic. A couple of you don't want spoilers of the sequel (looking at gabs and narra) so I am putting it under the "read more!" wc: 535 Tagging @mindfogger | @inquisimer | @anneapocalypse | @brainworm-terrarium | @demarogue | @ir0n-angel | @kirkwallsokayesthero | @melisusthewee | @queenaeducan-writes | @roguelioness

In the Tevinter capital of Minrathous, Magister Dorian Pavus sat on the roof of his estate with his boyfriend Lukas and his closest friend and political ally, Magister Maevaris Tilani. They sat on a woven blanket and shared a bottle of Antivan wine. Their attention was turned up towards the eerie beauty of the dying sky. The deep purple of the Tevinter night had blanched to a bone white, and that color was now being replaced with a green so pale Dorian could not say whether or not his eyes were playing tricks. Dorian’s moneyed neighbors had also gathered on their roofs to watch the Veil draw its final curtain. They lifted their glasses to each other in rare and buoyant camaraderie, borne both of wartime nationalism and the need to maintain morale in the midst of this millennium’s greatest calamity. Magister Irian Amladaris called over to Dorian across the alley between their estates and shouted, “Is that the best the Dread Fucker’s got?” Dorian grinned thinly and lifted a glass to acknowledge Amladaris, who just last month had tried to censure Dorian in the Magisterium. Hours ago, graduates from the Circle of Magi had lined the city wall and erected a massive, magenta shield over the city. The Siccari, Tevinter’s mage spies, had gotten a lucky and timely break. The city’s readiness was proof of the Imperium’s power and the shield assuaged the fears of its people, for now. The lower castes congregated in the main square outside The Needle, the tall, thin building that served as Archon Radonis’ residence. The Archon’s voice boomed throughout the public square and to every corner of the city. …No nation is better prepared to face this threat than our Imperium. The continent knows no better mages than ours. Throughout our long history, Tevinter has persevered against impossible odds. We do not know what lies ahead, but we know what has always been unchanging: Our glory is divine. We rejoice in the Maker’s gift of magic and in turn he smiles on us. The Imperium has never been stronger… Had the Imperium never been stronger? He and Maevaris had founded the Lucerni caucus in the senate to answer that very question. He met Maevaris’ eye and saw his skepticism reflected in her stare. Decades of complacency, corruption, and lethargy had made Tevinter’s institutions weaker than they ought to be. But all the same Dorian wanted to believe in the greatest of his country, in its ability to come together to do incredible and inspiring things, and to survive the villainy of a wicked elven god. He wondered what Solas was doing at that very moment, and if Eilan was with him. He wondered if she had fought until the bitter end, or had she, as Dorian feared, joined Solas willingly. He bristled at the latter, could not believe it. He imagined Eilan alone somewhere, unable to stop Solas, regretting her poor decisions and impotence. His lip curled as he blamed her for her role in The Fall, but his anger was tempered with pity. Had she made better decisions, would it have made any difference in the end? Did she worry about Dorian as Dorian worried about her?

#delicatefade wip #wip excerpt #wip wednesday

[liiilyevans]

They say I did something bad But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could

Or, Draco and Astoria become closer when they're in the French Alps.

TW: sexual content below the cut!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! @cruelsummer-ficfest

Read on AO3

“What were you thinking?” Lucius hissed. Both of the Malfoy men were sitting in Lucius’ office, though his father never used it as such. He just entertained important guests here, or had before the war. While his father was sitting behind the desk, Draco was across from him, leaning moodily against the side of the chair. His parents had been stonily silent since Draco’s return two days prior. Until now. Now, Lucius was looking at him like Draco had just told him that he was moving to Maraco to live with Muggles. 

Draco had never liked disappointing his parents. Since he was a young child, he always strove to make them proud of him, always wanted to do just as they asked. It had irritated him to no end that Granger was top of the class instead of him, especially when his father gave him that pointed look down the end of his sharp nose. His main reason for being branded like a piece of cattle was to make his father proud. But Draco had learned that obeying his parents’ every order had not, in fact, led to the greatness that they had always promised. 

“And what moment in time are you referring to?” Draco asked easily, picking imaginary dirt from under his fingernails. It was an avoidance tactic that Lucius knew well. Draco had learned it from him. 

“The moment when a reporter took a picture of you with Astoria Greengrass.” 

Draco thought the press really must be hard up for gossip if they were taking pictures of purebloods and slapping them across The Daily Prophet’s gossip column. Nevertheless, his and Astoria’s picture was plastered across that page, the headline reading ‘A History of the Malfoy Family’s Shady Dealings and their New Ministry Connection.’ It hadn’t really been bad either. Draco had his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip opposite him, while he leaned down to whisper something to her. Astoria had a smile tugging across her lips as she glanced up at him. It was harmless really. Potter and his Weaslette had been caught in much more compromising positions. 

Yet here he was, getting lectured. 

“Honestly, Draco, of all the women you could have been photographed with,” Lucius muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Why couldn’t you have chosen the Parkinson girl?” 

Because she was married. Draco rolled his eyes. He knew his father was still bitter that Blaise had ended up married to Pansy instead of him. According to his mother, she was one of his best prospects — not that he had a lot of those these days. Pansy was one of the few girls his mother didn’t complain about. Besides criticizing her haircut from time to time, his mother didn’t really have anything awful to say about Pansy. 

“And you had to pick Hyperion Greengrass’ daughter? Of all people,” Lucius scoffed. There was certainly no lost love between Draco’s father and Astoria’s father. Draco could remember the scathing remarks Lucius made whenever Hyperion Greengrass was even mentioned, and the thinly veiled insults whenever the two men crossed each other’s paths. 

At this point, Draco had taken to staring out the window at the snow covered lawn of the Manor. His father’s anger was something he had expected when he returned from the French Alps, but Draco had been in here for over an hour and dealing with his father was becoming tedious. 

“Are you listening to me, Draco?” Lucius snapped. 

“I’ve already replayed everything you and Mother could say to me over the past two days when you weren’t speaking to me,” Draco said icily. “I’m sorry if I’m rather bored hearing them again.” 

Rage appeared in his father’s eyes, and Draco fought the urge to flinch. Normally, he strove to please his family. This sort of reaction would have made him grovel for his father’s approval not two years ago. Though that need to see pride in his father’s eyes still existed within him, he was slowly learning that need often did more harm than good. 

“That girl is a disgrace to good pureblood society,” Lucius said. 

Draco didn’t even bother to roll his eyes. He knew his mother and father would never approve of Astoria simply because of her view on Muggleborns, just like they would never let go of the views that had been ingrained in them since birth. 

“And she is the most crass person I have ever seen,” he continued. 

Bold maybe, but Astoria was never crass. 

“She will ruin you,” Lucius finished. 

Privately, Draco thought she already had. 

#

Draco hadn’t thought this through. When he and Astoria arrived at the little cottage rental where Draco and his parents normally stayed, there was no one out front. After ringing the bell over a dozen times and searching the little inn, they finally located a very irritated satyr who told them that there was only one cottage left and that it was near the base of one of the mountains. Grumpily, he’d given them the key, and Astoria had tipped him handsomely for the inconvenience. Draco thought that he deserved a swift kick up the ass for his attitude rather than a tip. 

Now, Draco listened as Astoria put away her clothes in the bedroom. That annoying satyr had sold them a room with only one bed and had not mentioned it when they left the reception area. Astoria didn’t even allow him the chance to offer her the bedroom — just waltzed into the room and started unpacking. Leaving Draco to awkwardly decide if he was going to go in there and speak to her or live out of his suitcase for the next week. 

Astoria also saved him that decision as well. She appeared in the doorway of the bedroom holding up a bottle of wine. She looked just as pretty as she had a few hours ago, in her pretty green jumper and trousers with her hair ruffled. 

“Do you want a glass?” she asked. 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get that?” 

“I took it from the reception area,” Astoria said as she searched the cabinets for a bottle opener. When Draco looked at her incredulously, she only grinned. “What? I gave that satyr more in a tip than this wine costs.” 

Her audacity never ceased to amaze him. While Astoria opened the wine bottle, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. Once the wine was poured into two glasses, Draco sat down on one end of the couch and Astoria on the other end. He lifted the wine to his nose, taking in the notes of black pepper and cherry. As the rich tannins coated his tongue, he realized this was awkward once again. Or maybe it was just him. 

On the balcony in Athens, it had been easy, opening up to her in the moonlight, sharing things he hardly admitted to himself, listening as she explained her life. He was starting to realize that he’d disappeared in the middle of the night with a girl who was as good as a stranger to him and whose cousin might very well send him to an early grave. 

“Why are you so tense?” she asked, sitting her wine glass down and tugging her feet onto the couch. She pulled her knees into herself and rested her chin on them. The most captivating thing about Astoria was her eyes, and Draco couldn’t pull himself away from them when they were trained on him with such curiosity. “Is it because you’re sleeping on the couch?” 

Draco glared at her. 

“You could sleep in the bed if you wanted.” She picked up her wine and took another sip, while Draco tried to figure out if that was an invitation or simply a statement. “So why the French Alps? Did your parents honeymoon here?” 

“No,” he said softly, swirling his wine around his cup. “We’d vacation here when my grandmother was alive. She was fond of the mountains in the winter time.” 

Draco couldn’t remember much about his paternal grandmother since she died when he was nine. What he did remember was pleasant enough. Vacations to the countryside. Her jovial laugh when he did something that amused her or his mother said something funny. Her snow white hair braided intricately atop her head. 

“That must have been nice,” Astoria said. “I never knew my grandmother.” When Draco raised an eyebrow in question, she continued. “My father’s mother was gone long before I was born, and my mother . . . well, her mother died a few years after my birth, and my mother never discussed her.” 

My birth. What an odd way to think of one’s life and one’s coming into the world. 

“What about your mother and father?” Draco asked, leaning forward. “What are they like?” 

Astoria smiled coyly. “Your father hasn’t told you about my family?” 

He had. To say his father wasn’t fond of the Greengrasses was an understatement. He complained often of how deceptive Hyperion Greengrass could be and how he had connections that ran even deeper into the bowels of the Ministry than Lucius had at the height of his power. Despite his hostility toward Astoria’s father, Lucius rarely ever brought up her mother, who was once a Rowle. In fact, Draco couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard anything about Marianna Greengrass. 

“I thought I’d ask for a slightly less biased opinion.” 

Astoria snorted. “Well, my father is certainly less narcissistic than yours.” Draco glared at her, but Astoria just raised an eyebrow in challenge. “He’s smart, a Slytherin to the core really. Ambitious, cunning, proud. He wants me to climb as high as I’d like in the Ministry as long as I’m happy. Supportive I guess you’d call it.” She took a sip of her wine. “My mother’s a cunt.” Draco choked on his wine. “And she hates me. I don’t think she ever wanted me, but she adores Daphne. If I’m Daddy’s, then Daphne is Mother’s.” 

There was bitterness there, Draco realized as he wiped red wine off his chin. He had no idea what it was like to have a mother who didn’t want you, who preferred someone else to you. Perhaps, he was lucky in that sense. His mother had always openly expressed her love for him, often times louder than Draco would have liked. 

“That’s a rather depressing topic though,” she said. “Nothing you’d be interested in.” 

Draco was interested, but he was not courageous enough to ask any further questions. To keep his mouth shut, he took another sip of wine. 

They continued drinking in silence until the bottle was gone. Astoria stood up, wobbling slightly as she stretched. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes unguarded. Draco desperately wanted to keep her here, wanted to keep her like this. When she walked toward him and leaned forward, Draco thought he must be dreaming. Her hair whispered against his cheek as she smiled. 

“Good night, Draco,” she said softly. 

As she walked back to the bedroom, Draco wondered if it had been more an invitation than anything else. 

#

When Astoria walked into the Ministry, she immediately noticed the sideways looks that some of her coworkers were giving her. No doubt a result of page twenty of The Daily Prophet. Astoria didn’t mind overly much. People gossiped. Rumors went from mouth to ear. The world kept turning, and she still had a job to do. When she reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she turned left to head toward her office. 

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not where she had hoped to end up when she finished school. Originally, her plan was to work in the Minister of Magic’s office, and she had started out there. Only to realize that every change being made to any law was just sent up to the Minister’s office for approval or denial. The real changes were taking place in the bowels of the Ministry. So, she’d taken a pay cut and transferred to the DMLE. Her first job had been as a secretary processing paperwork, then she’d moved on to case decision — deciding which cases went to the smaller courts and which went on to the full Wizengamot — and finally moved on to work on policy that was passed through the Wizengamot for approval before moving up to the Minister of Magic. It was glorious. 

When she entered her office, her boss, the head of policy James Trimble, was already there, as was Harry Potter himself. 

“You’re late,” Trimble said. The head of policy was only fifty, but time had not been kind to him. He was partially bald with tuffs of white hair sticking out around his ears and the back of his head. There were several wrinkles across his face, reminding Astoria of the lumps that appeared in mash, and his eyes were always blood shot. Her coworkers swore that was due to alcohol abuse, but they could never prove it, and she never once smelled alcohol on him. 

Astoria glanced at the watch her father had bought her for her seventeenth birthday — a simple gold bracelet with diamonds encrusted on the case. “It’s ten o’clock.” She sat her briefcase on her desk and spun around to face the two men. “On the dot actually, which is exactly when I said I’d be back. I already told you I was taking all of my vacation hours, and I told you when I was going to be back. Which was at exactly ten o’clock.” 

Harry’s green eyes were sparkling with amusement while Trimble’s brown ones were drowning in annoyance. 

“Well after the eventful holiday you’ve had, I thought that coming back to work would be a nice change of pace,” Trimble muttered. That was when Astoria noticed the open copy of The Daily Prophet on her desk. 

She narrowed her eyes. Trimble was known to express his dislike of any portion of her and her coworkers’ lives that he found distasteful. Before she left for holiday, he’d muttered under his breath the whole time about Patrica Deman’s ‘unseemly’ tattoo that he couldn’t even see. Astoria hadn’t liked it then, and she certainly didn’t like it now. 

“Is there a reason you’re in my office, Mr. Trimble?” Astoria asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or do you just enjoy meddling in the personal lives of your employees? Shall I ring for tea and biscuits as you ask about all the juicy details?” 

Trimble had gone red in the face. Behind him, Harry was covering his mouth to hide his laugh, his shoulders shaking silently. 

“Mr. Potter is here to offer advice on the new law regarding minors and underage magic use,” Trimble snipped. “I’ve laid the papers on your desk.” 

Then he turned and stormed out of her office. When he was gone, Harry let his laugh finally burst out. Astoria shook her head and picked up the paperwork Trimble had left her. There were at least a hundred pages here. 

“When did you become an expert on underage magic use?” Astoria asked as she lazily flipped through the pages. She would go more in depth later. 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. Seems like I’m an expert on almost everything these days.” 

That much was true. Trimble wanted Harry’s name on almost everything, saying that he ‘consulted’ with policy makers on what was being written. What really happened was Harry vaguely listened as policy writers explained what they’d written and then either said ‘Yes, that’s a good idea’ or ‘No, you’re fucking barmy.’ As far as Astoria could tell, Harry found the whole thing tedious. When you saved the wizarding world though, she supposed everyone wanted your opinion on policies enacted. 

“So, did you sock Malfoy in the mouth after that picture was taken?” 

Astoria glanced up from her paperwork briefly before glancing back down. “No.” 

Harry hummed, and Astoria could sense his disapproval like a chasm between them. She and Harry worked together. Besides occasionally sharing lunch, they weren’t all that close, and her squabbles with Granger were enough to keep them from truly being friends. Harry was nice, though. They worked on the same level, disliked the same people — for the most part — and enjoyed making fun of those people behind their backs. When Astoria was fighting for something to be put into policy, Harry usually agreed with her. And when Harry saw something out in the field that was concerning, he’d ask her to look into it and see if there was something that could be done in the law. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. They almost never discussed their personal lives. 

“Did you need gossip to bring back to the Auror office?” she asked, sending him a smirk. 

Harry snorted. “No. There’s enough drama down there as it is. Kirk and Wiley have broken up. Again.” Kirk and Wiley were two Aurors who were under Harry on his team. Though he’d told them not to many times, they insisted on dating, and, according to Harry, doing a shit job at hiding it. “I thought you said Malfoy wasn’t going on vacation with you?” 

Astoria put down her policy. “I didn’t know he was. Theo invited him and didn’t tell anyone til we got to Athens. We took our own trip from there.” She crossed her arms. “You going to lecture me now?” 

Harry shook his head. “No. Just curious. You know he’s not a good guy, right?” 

Astoria was aware there were things Draco hadn’t told her about the war — things that Harry probably knew — but she refused to believe that people were the sum of their past for the rest of their lives. If that were the case, she would be sitting at home reading because she was too coddled to get up and chase her dreams. If she could be more than the girl with the blood curse, then Draco could be more than a former Death Eater. 

“I know what he is,” she said. “And I’m not afraid of that.” 

Harry shrugged. “As long as you don’t invite him to our lunches.”

“I wouldn’t subject you to that type of torture.” 

“But you would your . . .” Harry picked up the open copy of The Prophet that Trimble had left in her office. “Insatiable paramour?” 

Astoria’s grin was feral. “Absolutely.” 

#

Astoria was quickly realizing that Draco Malfoy was not meant for the cold. He was wrapped in a dark coat, a scarf, a toboggan, and thick wool mittens. He kept tugging his scarf up over his face and his hat down over his ears. With all those layers, he looked so comical that Astoria had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Her outfit was much cuter, with thick wool leggings under a heavy blue dress and a brown jacket thrown over the top. Instead of a toboggan, she had opted to leave her hair down and cast a warming charm over her face. 

“I swear that shop was just around the corner,” Draco muttered. 

They were currently in the most charming town Astoria had ever seen, bright with lights and decorated with small wooden statues. It was the kind of town where families vacationed with their kids, not at all the posh getaway she imagined the Malfoys would seek out. 

“How long has it been since you’ve been here again?” she asked. 

Draco was silent for a moment. “Twelve years, but that is not the point. That shop should still be here.” 

Amusement swirled in Astoria like the snowflakes that were falling around them. Instead of arguing, she simply grabbed his hand and tugged him towards one of the shops. The sign above the door read ‘Ben’s Pastries,’ and that sounded good enough a place as any for breakfast. As the bell overhead dinged, Astoria was hit with the smell of muffins and coffee. It was a cute little shop, with a couple tables by the window as well as in the center of the floor. Astoria chose one of the window seats and dropped down into it. 

“I would have-”

“I’m sure eventually you would have realized you had no idea where you were going, and we would have found some place to eat,” Astoria cut in as she picked up a menu. 

Draco gaped at her for a moment before sitting down and tugging his scarf off. She liked that she could make him speechless. 

“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked as she stepped up to their table. 

“I’ll have your éclair au chocolat and black coffee, please,” Astoria said. 

“Just a scone and a coffee with cream and sugar on the side,” Draco said. 

Astoria raised her eyebrow as the waitress walked away. 

“No one makes my coffee correctly,” he sniffed. 

Rolling her eyes, Astoria glanced outside at the children playing in the snow. She liked this place, liked that Draco had childhood memories here before his life had been infused with hate. She still couldn’t say what had possessed her to agree to his scheme. It was ridiculous. Since she had been a child, Astoria had always been practical — impulsive maybe, but always practical. When her dormmate had droned on about finding a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest, Astoria told her she was more likely to be mulled by centaurs or get her head bashed in by a troll than find a unicorn. Yet, here she was, sitting in a shop in the French Alps and trying not to admire the sharp line of Draco’s jaw. 

The waitress returned with their coffee and pastries. 

“Are you going to spend the rest of your life locked up in Malfoy Manor?” Astoria asked. 

Draco abruptly dropped the spoon he was using to stir his coffee. It tinged against the rim of his cup loudly. “What?” 

“Malfoy Manor,” she said. His eyes were as wide as the saucer that his cup sat on, and he was looking at her like she’d just told him she was half centaur. “You know, the mansion your parents own.” 

“I know what you’re referring to,” he snapped. 

“Well, are you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Astoria nodded and interlaced her fingers in her lap. “I like you.” Draco’s eyes met hers sharply at that, like she had just punched him square in the gut. “I think you know that by now. I’d like to continue . . .” She didn’t know what they were, but she knew there was a spark between them. Perhaps it could become a flame if they allowed it to burn. “This, but I’m not going to do it in secret, and I’m not going to be sequestered at Malfoy Manor whenever I want to see you.” 

There. It was all laid out on the table with their pastries and coffee. Vulnerability didn’t come easy to her; it never had. Astoria found it much easier to have sympathy and compassion for others and hold a stiff upper lip when it came to her own emotions. Draco was almost worse than her though, and if she waited for him to do something about that spark between them, then she’d have grey hair by the time he’d sorted something out. 

“You’re not worried about what everyone will say?” he said softly. “I’m still a former Death Eater, you know. No matter how far removed from polite society.” The words might as well have been acid, he sounded so bitter. “People will talk. They’ll accuse you of things, turn their noses up at you.” 

“People already turn their noses up at me.” She thought of his mother when he said that, though that wasn’t who he meant. “And you’ve forgotten that my cousin is a former Death Eater, Draco. Everything isn’t so black and white.” Astoria knew all about shades of grey. Her whole family was colored in those grey tones. 

Draco looked away from her, outside then. He looked so ridiculous with that toboggan he hadn’t taken off. Reaching across the table, Astoria yanked it off his head, ruffling his hair in the process. He glared at her. 

“Are you going to ignore me or give me an answer?” When he didn’t say anything, she continued, her pride getting the better of her. “Or if you’d rather not do anything about this, then we can forget I ever-”

“Will you shut up?” he snapped. “Merlin, do you ever just close your mouth and think before opening it again?” 

Astoria glared at him, annoyance thumbing through her. She was stupid, she realized, to ever think that this could work. Draco was still healing from the wounds that the war and his parents had inflicted on him. There was no hurrying that along. He wasn’t ready. Fuck, she wasn’t even sure she was ready for a relationship. There was her curse to think of. She stood up, ready to bolt, only for Draco to snatch her upper arm and yank her around to face him. 

“You have the most vexing habit of running away, did you know that?” he spit acidly. 

“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” she snapped, unable to stop herself from pressing closer to his warmth. The fury in his eyes was intoxicating as was the way his fingers were wrapped around her arm. His breath fanned across her face like it had that night on the balcony after the first time he’d kissed her. He had shocked her then. Anticipation was rushing through her veins now. 

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered. 

“Then why’s it feel so good?” she said. 

As he glanced down at her lips, Astoria felt goosebumps rise along her spine. 

Someone cleared their throat. Astoria and Draco stepped away from each other, and she spotted the waitress looking pointedly away from them. Quickly, Astoria sat back down. 

“Alright,” Draco said after he was settled. 

“Alright?” 

“I think we could work something out.” 

“Like a date?” 

He was squirming in his seat, and it made Astoria wonder if he’d ever actually tried this hard before. 

“Yes, like a date.” 

#

“Draco, come here.” 

Draco closed his eyes in annoyance before heading back toward the sitting room. He found his mother curled in front of the fire with a book resting on her knees and her mouth pinched into a tight line. His mother’s silence had hurt the most over the last two days. When his father had been thrown into Azkaban, Narcissa and Draco had walked through the Dark Lord’s inferno of rage together. She’d done her best to protect him from the harsh reality of what it meant to be a Death Eater. Still, it hadn’t been enough. 

“Where are you going so dressed up?” she asked. Draco would hardly say he was dressed up. He’d merely thrown on a pressed button down and some black trousers, then tossed a nice jacket over the two. He didn’t even have a tie. “Are you going to see that girl?” 

Her words dripped with disdain, like she’d just tasted rotten fish. 

“Her name is Astoria,” Draco said gently. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his mother. 

Narcissa snapped her book shut. “I don’t want you to see her.” 

She might as well have pushed one of Aunt Bella’s knives through his heart. Draco had expected his father’s disapproval, even his rage, but he thought that his mother would have some sympathy for him. Instead, she was sitting in front of him with the most cold expression on her face, like he wasn’t an adult but a child who needed correction. 

“Why?” he said. 

“Because she is a disgrace,” Narcissa said bluntly. “She comes to events throughout the social season only to drink, she has the most crass mouth of anyone I have ever met, and she’s violent. She nearly crushed Blaise Zabini’s foot before his wedding for absolutely no reason.” Draco had been there, and Blaise had deserved a lot more than having his foot crushed. “And I haven’t even gone into her views on Muggleborns.” 

Anger coiled inside Draco in Astoria’s defense. As far as he knew, Astoria had never said an unkind word about his mother, yet here Narcissa was blatantly attacking her. Mrs. Greengrass and Narcissa were not close, so all of the accusations she was throwing around were all gossip. His mother didn’t want to get to know Astoria, he realized, no matter how much her son cared for her.

“I’m going to see her,” Draco said coldly. “I do not care if you do not like her.” 

Then he turned on his heal and left his mother to boil in her anger. 

#

That anticipation had been prickling under Astoria’s skin since that day in the pastry shop. It was the third day of their impromptu getaway, and Draco had been the perfect gentleman, save for a few burning looks and soft brushes of his fingertips against her back. Astoria was a patient person — she had to be to work in policy — but Draco was pushing her to her limit. The worst part was, she was sure he had no idea he was having that effect on her; he would have taunted her for it if he did. 

So, Astoria was left staring at him as he fought to get the cork off a particularly stubborn bottle of wine. 

Even though she’d propositioned him that first night, Draco had remained on the couch, never once trying to press the issue. She was sure his back was not thanking him for it either, judging by the way he was slow to get up every morning. Or maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. Astoria didn’t know because he’d never made good on her offer. How much more obvious could she get? 

“Do you want me to try?” she asked. 

“No,” he snapped, twisting the wine opener farther into the cork.

Merlin, he was stubborn. If she couldn’t see his biceps flexing under his jumper, she might have used a spell to get that cork out. As it was, she was enjoying the show. The past few days had been revealing. Draco didn’t have as much of a stick up his ass as she originally thought; it just took a while to coax the fun loving side out of him. A side effect of the war, Astoria was sure. Ironically, unraveling all the intricacies of Draco Malfoy did nothing to cool her desire for him. 

“If you’d just-”

“I can just on my own.” 

Astoria rolled her eyes. Her gaze snagged on the way his hand was gripping the bottle to steady it. It was his left hand, the one with the Mark. Did he always keep it covered? What did he do when he was with a girl? Did he just not take his shirt off? Astoria wanted to find out. Abruptly, she snatched the unopened bottle from him and sat it roughly in the sink.

“What are you-”

Astoria didn’t give him time to answer as she invaded his personal space. His eyes were blown wide, his hands starting to rise into the air. Taking his face in her hands, she brought his lips down to her own. It was like waking up from a deep sleep. She’d forgotten how his lips softened against her own, how his hands firmly grasped her hips, how oak and vanilla invaded her nose. Kissing Draco gave her a high that marijuana never did. 

While her body pressed completely against his, she pulled her lips away from his, inhaling the air he exhaled. He gasped her name softly, and Astoria never felt so desperate in all her life. Draco pressed her roughly against the counter, the granite biting into her lower back. As his grey eyes ran over her body, her hands fisted into the coarse fabric of his jumper. 

“What are we doing?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Something bad,” she answered before crashing her lips to his once more. 

Draco groaned against her mouth, and all that anticipation that had been building up was finally bursting from her body. Her hands found his always tidy hair, and Astoria immediately set about messing it up. It was softer than she expected, like silk almost. When she tugged on it, Draco groaned against her mouth again. 

“Astoria,” he rasped. 

Her hands fled from his hair and found their way under his shirt. His skin was soft, too, though nowhere as soft as his hair. While Astoria explored his stomach, his lips traveled down her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Why hadn’t they been doing this sooner? Quickly, she detangled herself from him. 

“You’ve done this before right?” she asked urgently.

Draco looked exasperated. “I told you-”

“Not kissing,” she said. Then she tugged on his belt loops for emphasis. 

His eyes went wide, the grey swallowed by the black. “Yes.” 

“Good.” 

Then she slipped out from between him and the counter and pulled him toward the bedroom. When they reached the bedroom doorway, Draco stopped in his tracks and Astoria spun around to face him. He looked adorably rumpled, his hair standing up in different directions, his lips swollen bright red, and part of his stomach peeking out from under his jumper. 

“Shouldn’t I take you on a date first?” he muttered. 

“You don’t have to take me out on a date to fuck me,” she purred. 

When he roughly took her face in between his hands and smashed his lips against hers, Astoria gasped. His tongue pressed into her mouth, savagely running over her bottom lip. Her hands frantically found his belt and started to undo it while he tugged her shirt over her head. As their lips separated for him to get the shirt over her head, his eyes landed on the black lace of her bra. It was see through. Astoria managed to get his belt off while he stared. Then she pulled his jumper over his head. 

“Are you just gonna stare?” she asked when she dropped the heavy fabric to the floor. 

“Get on the bed.” It wasn’t a request. 

Slowly, Astoria backed away from him, dropping onto the edge of the bed and lifting her chin in defiance. Draco didn’t comment, just stepped forward and dropped into a crouch between her legs. A thrill shot up Astoria’s eyes as he racked his eyes over her body. He brought his finger up and ran it over her collarbone, then down between her breasts, over the center of the lacy fabric of her bra, across her stomach, until he reached the button of her jeans. Leaning back on her elbows, Astoria watched as he undid the button and pulled down the zipper. When he raised his eyebrows, she pressed the balls of her feet into the floor and lifted her hips up. He got rid of her jeans but left the sheer underwear. 

Once her jeans were gone, Draco’s hands slid up the outside of her calves to her thighs. Her breath swooshed from her lungs as he kissed the inside of her knee, his eyes finding hers as he rubbed his cheek against her soft skin. Astoria was going to combust before this was over with. Leisurely, his hands slid up her thighs until he reached her panties. She thought he might take them off, but he only dropped his hands from her hips and pressed them into the mattress. As he rose up, Astoria was able to catch a good glimpse of the pale skin of his chest and the Dark Mark that stood out on his left arm. He was beautiful, she realized, as he bent down to kiss her over the fabric of her underwear. Astoria’s hands found his hair, and she yanked. Surprise filled his eyes as he pressed up onto his hands. 

“You can do that later,” she said. 

“There’s going to be a later?” he asked. 

Astoria rolled her eyes and tugged him on top of her. 

His hand snaked down her body and under her lingerie. 

“Fuck,” he swore as his hands dipped into her wetness. 

“Told you.” 

All her arrogance disappeared when Draco smashed his lips back to hers. He started to push her panties down, and Astoria reached down to help him. When they were gone, she worked his trousers and pants off as well. His callouses brushed against her back as he unhooked her bra. Though they were both completely bare, Astoria felt the need to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious and afraid he wouldn’t like her. It was silly. He was a man, and she was a naked woman. But she wanted him to like her — to find her attractive and beautiful — because she was her, not just naked flesh. 

That was when he muttered her name against her neck. Over and over. 

Astoria’s heart fluttered stupidly in her chest. 

Pressing himself onto his elbow, he looked down at her, concern suddenly filling his gaze. 

“Have you done this before?” he asked. 

Astoria rolled her eyes. “Yes, Draco. Don’t worry about my honor. I have none left.” 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never had any.” 

She laughed at that before pressing her lips to his again. His fingers found her center again, pressing into her this time. She gasped against his lips, her fingernails digging into his back. Urgently, her fingers ran down his back, over his oblique, and down his stomach until she grasped his cock in her hand. Pulling away from her mouth, he hissed, and Astoria smirked. Fair was fair after all. She quickly twisted her hand over him before guiding him down to where his hand was wickedly curling into her. After pressing his fingers up into her once more, he pulled them out, and Astoria guided him inside her. 

“Draco,” she gasped, arching her back. 

“Astoria,” he muttered, resting his forehead between her breasts in reverence. 

He was pulsing inside her, every ripple of his muscles shaking her to the core. Astoria had lovers before, but not like this. Draco had bared part of his soul to her, and he was holding her like she was something precious now. Guilt pooled in her stomach as she realized she hadn’t been honest with him, not completely. 

“Draco,” she repeated, taking his face in her hands. He looked at her like she was water in a desert. Pressing her lips to his, Astoria poured her remorse and pleasure into that kiss. He started to move then, slow and calculated, long strokes that had her toes curling. Gently, he pulled away from her and started to kiss down her jawline then her neck. She turned her head to allow him better access, one of her hands fisting in his silky hair. When she opened her eyes and looked between them, she saw him slowly disappearing inside her, and it was probably the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. 

Draco lifted his head and followed her gaze. “Yeah.” 

His hand drifted downwards over her breast, stopping to lightly pinch her nipple, down her stomach, stopping just above her clit. 

“I swear, if you tease me right now, I’ll just get myself off,” she hissed. 

She saw him smirk before his fingers ran gently over her clit. Pleasure zipped through her, snapping across her stomach, zinging into her nipples, and causing a moan to escape her mouth. Draco’s mouth was there to catch it, his breath ghosting across her face. 

“That’s it, Astoria,” he muttered, his fingers slowly circling her clit. “I want you to say my name when you cum.” 

“Holy fuck,” she swore as she glided toward the edge. “Dr-Draco.” 

As she clenched around him, Draco hissed, his rhythm stuttering as he followed her. 

When they managed to catch their breaths, Draco rolled them onto their sides and brushed a sweaty piece of hair out of her face. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were good at that?” she asked. 

He smiled faintly. “It’s not a topic of polite conversation.” 

“It should be,” she mumbled as she cuddled into his side, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Briefly, he tensed before gently wrapping his arms around her, and it occurred to her that he may not be used to this type of affection. As she drifted off to sleep, she resolved to change that. 

#

Astoria clasped the halter top of her dress together, discreetly covering the love bite that was standing out harshly against her skin. Her hair was pulled up into a twist, and she’d spent the last hour and a half on her makeup, making sure everything looked just right. Draco had said that he would pick her up at the front door at nine. It was eight fifty now, and Astoria was starting to get antsy. What if he’d backed out? What if he’d changed his mind and fled the country? 

It was ridiculous to worry about that. Instead, she applied another layer of red lipstick and headed to the living room. After pacing her flat twice, she finally plopped down on the couch. He was coming, she reminded herself. They’d spent a holiday together. She was being paranoid. 

At five til, there was a knock at her door. She rushed over to it and found Draco on the other side of it, looking as put together as always. She had half a mind to tug him in here and make him messy. If she hadn’t spent so much time on her appearance, she might have. 

“Nice dress,” he said. 

“Nice suit,” she replied as she stepped into the hallway and closed the door to her flat. “Are you ready for our first date?” 

He ran a knuckle over her cheek. “Only if I get to bring you back here after.” 

Astoria raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have sex on the first date, Mr. Malfoy.” 

“Just before it?” he shot back. 

“Just before it.” 

#drastoria #draco malfoy #astoria greengrass #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #cruel summer series #my writing