#this is perhaps my most ambitious post

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 13

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

OMG HEYYY!!!!!!! GUESS WHO'S BACK? IT'S ME!!

how are you all?? i hope you're all doing well. this has to be the fastest 12,000+ words i've ever written LMAOO. my god. this is the longest smut i've written yet. hopefully it's as good as i think it is... humble me <3 (i am kinda proud tho i won't lie eh)

so i listened to multiple different songs for this part lol. it ranged from j.cole, adele, noah kahan (I LOVE THIS GUY, please check out 'the view between villages extended version', it's my new obsession), rihanna, the weeknd, sam fender. like what. what a rollercoaster fam. ok, anyway, let me shut up!!

please enjoy this as much as i did writing it!! i'm so glad to be posting it finally - sorry it's like 2 hours after i said i would!! thank you so so much for reading and all your comments, likes & reblogs. i know i say this every time but i truly mean it. it means a lot to me. <3

warnings: smut, light choking, fluff, arguing, mention of adultery, MINORS DNI !

again, i've marked where the smut begins and ends with a big red *

VAMOS!!

Ben's fingers curled around his wand as his opposing hand reached up to pull his jacket over his head, protecting it from the rain that was starting to pour from above. He'd found himself outside your greenhouse, curiosity and perhaps a hint of suspicion twisting in his gut. After you'd mentioned that you were having a meeting with Professor Lupin after dinner, Ben knew this was the perfect opportunity. Ever since he saw you and Snape during your class, something just didn't sit right with him. He didn't like the way you were so friendly with that miserable git, nor the way he had his eyes glued to you like you were the only person in the room. Since when was Snape nice to people, especially Hufflepuffs like you? Surely, you'd be someone he despised. Everyone knew that Hufflepuffs weren't exactly the strongest, nor the most ambitious people.

So why did Snape seem to let you slide past his cold exterior?

Ben held his wand a few centimetres away from the lock on your greenhouse door and whispered, "Alohomora," and the satisfying click of the handle reached his ears, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

Before he slipped inside, he cast a cautious glance to the left and right, reassuring himself that he was alone, and not being watched. With a sharp inhale, he wrapped his wet hand around the handle and pulled it down, opening the door and creeping inside. The damp, yet mild air hit him rather hard. He forgot how muggy the greenhouses were. Ben grunted slightly as he slipped off his jacket and chucked it on the table in front of him; beady, inquisitive eyes darting across the room, searching.

It was quiet and dark, almost gloomy even. Only the patter of the rain against the glass roof rang out in the glass enclosure. Ben noticed a few vases of the bouquets he'd sent you were wilting on the windowsills, and the now-yellowing, sun-damaged notes were still attached to them. As his eyes flicked away from the flowers, he eyed your desk, standing idly as a tingling sensation suddenly tickled the tips of his fingers. He padded towards it, wand in hand, nosily reading the piles of parchment sat atop of it.

'Class A, First-Years, subject: Dittany', He lifted the next pile of parchment up, reading again. 'Class D, Fourth-Years, subject: Bouncing Bulb, Wormwood,' Ben huffed, and let the pile fall back down from his prying fingers, wandering around to your chair. On either side were two drawers, and this piqued his interest. Surely, there's something in there. And so, he pulled open one drawer, a defeated sigh falling through his nose as metal instruments amongst pens rattled in it. He slammed it shut, and opened the next one.

Notes...

Ben's brows furrowed deeply as he slowly dipped his fingers into the drawer, plucking a note from it.

'Y/N,

I have taken one handful of wormwood and a careful pinch of aconite.

S.S'

Ben drew a deep, slow breath as his eyes lingered on those two initials, sparking a burning fire of jealousy and anger within his chest. He flicked through more notes, his heart growing colder with every read.

'Y/N,

Potter thought it was fitting to forget his ingredients for today's class. I have regrettably had to take another handful of Billywig stings. He sends his most sincere apologies.

S.S'

His jaw clenched. Why was he leaving you notes?

'Y/N,

- One piece of cowbane

- Two stems of dandelion root

S.S'

As Ben reached the bottom, very familiar looking pieces of parchment laid there, stagnant. However, they were not in the same condition as Snape's were. In fact, they were slightly ripped, crumpled and there was a fingerprint ontop of it. Ben lifted it up from underneath the other notes, bringing it close to his eyes.

"Lumos," He muttered, aiming his wand at the parchment. That fingerprint was not yours. It was far too big. If it wasn't yours, whose the hell was it? Had someone else been snooping around your drawers as well?

Angrily, Ben shoved the notes back into your drawer, though he made sure they were in the same sequence as he had found them. He'd never felt so furious. Why were Snape's notes so well preserved, unlike his? Why were his ripped and shoved at the bottom? If anything, his should be at the top, you were dating him. Not Snape.

With this disturbing fact, Ben stormed out of your greenhouse, nearly forgetting his jacket in the fit of rage. He slammed your door shut, the windowpanes rattling from the force, almost shattering as he neglected to lock it, stalking back through the pouring rain to your quarters. He wasn't sure whether he was going to confront you about this, or just leave it be - maybe he'd just simmer on it, and make a decision later on.

The next morning had come agonisingly slow for you, but maybe it was because you laid awake for most of the night, tossing and turning, unable to find the sweet relief of sleep. Rays of blinding sunlight pierced through your window, gradually illuminating your room as it rose into the sky, painting the once-black-sky blue again. You rolled over to look at Ben who was sleeping peacefully, his dark brown hair strewn across his forehead, a few strands tickling his eyelids.

The thought of breaking it off with him slipped into your mind, and it was all too tempting. You knew he wasn't for you. He was becoming increasingly controlling, unbearably jealous and possessive. He was also arrogant - unrightfully so - perhaps if he was older, more experienced and lived up to his words, you'd let it slide. But he wasn't any of that.

You'd already vaguely planned how you were going to do it. On the day he leaves, you were going to take him to the pub in Hogsmeade, sit him down, and just break it to him gently, praying that he won't kick off. If he was the respectable young man you thought he was, he'd take it gracefully and leave, bidding you goodbye. However, just from how he'd acted with and towards you recently, unfortunately, you knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Would he even accept this? Would he fight back and make you stay with him?

With a quiet, frustrated huff, the bed creaked as you sat up, flipping the duvet covers off of your body. The cool, frigid air bit at your wiggling toes and instantly you just wanted to curl up back into your warm bed. Winter was definitely making itself known. You had to force yourself to get up, placing your bare feet on the freezing floor, dawdling over to your little kitchenette to brew yourself a hot cup of tea. Popping the kettle on, you reached a hand up to open a wooden cupboard that sat just above your eye-level, fetching a sage green ceramic mug and placing it lazily onto the countertop. The cold air began to make you shiver as you stood still, and so you quickly darted across the room to your sofa to fetch your green cardigan, throwing it on swiftly, a soft hum of satisfaction falling from your lips as you relished in the warm comfort of it.

Seconds later, groan sounded from behind you, indicating that Ben was stirring awake. So much for peace and quiet, you thought, scrunching your nose up. Throwing a glance to the right, you checked the clock and noticed it was almost seven o'clock, just two hours before classes began. You could probably nip down to your greenhouse earlier than usual and get ahead of marking some assignments, and selfishly, you could avoid talking to Ben and his prying questions. You'd feel bad about that, had he not treated you like a pet dog the other night.

Hot steam began to billow out from the spout as the kettle ticked, signifying it'd finished boiling. You quickly lifted it and poured the water into your mug, the satisfying sizzle of it piercing the silence in your room. Setting the kettle back down, you shuffled to the right to your small fridge and opened it, sticking your hand in to grab the bottle of milk, however, you found it empty.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself quietly, staring at the empty bottle unhappily, "no milk..." You glanced back at your steaming mug and sighed softly. Black tea it was... You weren't the biggest fan of milk-less tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You'd just have to bite the bullet and drink the bitter tasting beverage.

In the thirty minutes that had passed, you'd dressed yourself and unwillingly downed your bitter black tea, wincing and gagging as the foul taste swam in your mouth. And now, you were walking through the grounds of Hogwarts, on your way to your greenhouse, partly awake and ready for another day. The hem of your dress was slightly muddied as you walked across the patches of sloppy mud and wet grass, the heavy rain from the night before turning it into something like a used rugby field. You had almost slipped over more than once and your heart had shot into your throat as you threw your arms up to steady yourself, thanking Merlin that you didn't go crashing down; dirtying and ruining your dress.

As you began to near your greenhouse, you noticed that the door wasn't fully shut, nor locked, like you'd left it when you left late yesterday afternoon. A cold shiver ran down your spine and your heart pumped nervously in your chest. Had someone been in here? Or did you think you had locked it? Maybe you did forget to lock it up, you weren't the most heedful at times.

You walked toward it slowly, peering through the windows to check that it was empty, and there wasn't some psycho killer waiting to slaughter you inside.

Quickly fishing your wand from your pocket, you muttered, "Homenum revelio." Nothing happened, and so you felt at ease again, sighing softly. Ben's constant chatter about Black still lingering at Hogwarts had really messed with your mind. You should know better than to doubt Dumbledore - but when all you hear is 'Black's still here,' amongst other ridiculous things, it starts to slowly twist your thoughts.

Without another wasted second, you strode forwards and opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind you with a soft click. As you cast your eyes over your classroom, nothing was amess, and nothing seemed to have been tampered with, so you just assumed you'd forgotten to properly lock up yesterday. You needed to be a little more careful, aside from other dangers, you didn't want any students entering your greenhouse when you weren't around - God knows what they'd do.

Inhaling deeply, you stepped towards your desk and took a seat in your chair, reaching forwards to pull a pile of first-year assignments towards you and your quill that sat to the far right of them. You began to read through the first one, twiddling your quill between your fingers absent-mindedly.

'Dittany and Its Uses

Dittany is a powerful, magical herb that is dark green in colour, and is easily identifiable through its small, circular leaves. Another name for dittany is 'Burning Bush'. Dittany can be used in many areas, including wand cores, healing magic, and most importantly potion-making. It's most famous for being able to make fresh skin grow over wounds, making them seem more than several days old. Another fascinating fact about this herb is that it can also cure werewolf bites, but it cannot cure lycanthropy.'

You were thoroughly impressed with this student, considering they were only in their first year. They seemed to definitely have a flair for Herbology. Your eyes flicked curiously to the top corner of the parchment, reading 'Tristan Thomas'. Of course, that boy had been more than knowledgable in your class yesterday when you were asking about the healing herb. You scribbled some positive notes at the bottom of the essay, not needing to finish it as you were more than sure it was up to your standards. Lifting the parchment, you set it down to the right of you, and began reading the next one.

'Dittaney

Dittaney is a healing herb, also known as 'Burning Bush'. It's green and has round leaves, which is used to identify it. It's most commonly used in potion-making to make the Weggenwild potion, but can be used in other areas too.'

You winced slightly at the spelling errors and lack of description and depth, but you gave the student the benefit of the doubt, considering they were only in their first year. Perhaps they just needed some guidance... You glanced to the corner again, and took note of the name, 'Jayson Blackbell', making a mental note to focus a little more on this student. You wanted all of them to excel and succeed in your classes, whether they enjoyed Herbology or not. With a soft sigh, you placed your quill on the parchment and corrected the spelling mistakes, whilst also writing some encouraging notes on the bottom, avoiding the idea of scolding him. You weren't the type of teacher to reprimand first-years for simple mistakes, you knew how it felt to be ridiculed for misspelling something or even mistaking another item for something else.

"I never took you for an early bird, Miss L/N."

"Jesus!" You jumped, dropping your quill and watching it splatter ink over the bottom half of Blackbell's essay. "Severus!" As you picked it up, a frustrated grumble fell from your mouth. You glanced up sourly at his amused face, the corner of his lips quirking upwards wickedly. His hands were tucked behind his back as he stood still in front of your desk, that infamous black cloak falling around him.

"Still as skittish as ever," He mused, slipping his wand from his sleeve and flicking it gently at the mess on your desk to clean it up. "I thought you would have grown to be a little more aware of your surroundings." Severus added, his voice silky and smooth as he gazed down at your frowning face.

"I am, I just don't expect visitors at this time of the morning..." You sighed, a little vexed, avoiding his eyes. Severus's brows furrowed at your unusual flat tone. You hadn't been this irritable with him since before the two of you had kissed.

"Something on your mind, professor?" Severus asked lowly, almost cautiously as he looked away from you, glancing around your classroom. Everything seemed normal to him, so it was puzzling to him as to why you were so short with him.

"I'm fine," you huffed a little more dramatically than you wanted, "I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night. To be honest, I don't think I slept at all." You let your quill drop from your fingers as you sighed deeply, burying your exhausted face in your hands. Severus's eyes twitched as he observed you.

"Perhaps you needed a release." The Potions Master said jokingly, making your cheeks burn. You peeked up at him through your fingers and watched as he smirked, black eyes twinkling mischievously, clearly satisfied with making you blush so easily. "Or, need." He corrected himself, noticing how tense you were.

"Aren't you funny?" You hummed, a faint hint of sarcasm dripping from your words as you removed your hands from your face, cheeks still red. Severus cocked a brow at your attitude. "You know, I was thinking about paying you a visit last night after my meeting with Lupin."

Severus would have been pleased with your words had you not mentioned a meeting with Lupin. "Your meeting with Lupin?" He asked, his black eyes narrowing confusedly.

"Yes," you said, "I'd asked him to teach me how to conjure a patronus." Severus's whole body had stiffened uncomfortably at the mention of Lupin. He wasn't entirely happy that you were in a room alone with him. Severus knew the dangerous secrets that burdened that man.

"A patronus," Severus repeated, his fingers twitching behind his back as he stared at you, "and were you successful?"

"Yes, I was, actually. I might even ask for some more lessons." You smiled up at Severus, his muscles relaxing a tad at the sight of your happy face.

"No. I can teach you." Severus said plainly, rolling his shoulders back. You returned his arched brow, gazing at him curiously.

"You? You think you're as good as Lupin at teaching such spells?" You teased him with a cheeky smile, feeling a little brave today. His eyes narrowed slightly at your doubt.

"No," Severus hummed, and a brief silence ensued for several seconds. "I'm better." He said, a tiny smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and you giggled slightly, unsure whether to take him seriously or not. Of course, you knew Severus was a very talented wizard, but he was the Potions Master, not the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"But Lupin is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, you aren't." You frowned, a little tempted to playfully mess with him. His face soured slightly at your words - clearly this was going the way you wanted it to.

"Miss L/N," Severus stepped forwards, his legs pressing against your desk as he leaned down and rested his palms atop of it, staring at you with a wicked look strewn across his features. Your breath hitched as his eyes raked over your pinkening face. "Dark Arts teacher or not, I am far more qualified than Lupin could ever dream of being." He muttered, his mouth curling upwards as he watched you squirm. The power in the conversation suddenly changed to him.

You swallowed, shuffling in your seat as your eyes flicked between his glittering black ones, far too tempted to drop down towards his lips. "Is that so?" You whispered, poking the tip of your tongue out to wet your lips.

"More than so, Miss L/N." Severus whispered back, his hot breath tickling your red face, silently begging you to close the gap and kiss him. And you would, had you not been in an open, windowed room - an easy victim to unwanted, prying eyes. Merlin, the way he said your name really, really made you want to forget where you were.

Severus leaned back, leaving you wanting more as a gentle breath fell from your parted lips. He cleared his throat as he stared down at you, shoving his large, pale hands into his black pockets. "So," Severus drawled, "This evening after dinner?" He suggested, blinking slowly as he looked at you.

"Sounds good to me," you whispered, still stuck on how close the two of you had been seconds earlier, "this evening after dinner." You agreed, swallowing thickly once more in a futile attempt to clear the highly inappropriate thoughts that were currently clouding your mind.

Severus smiled at you with his eyes, nodding. His head stayed still but his eyes glanced around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone else was around. Your brows furrowed in confusion, though, they soon shot up your face as he reached out a cold hand to softly grasp your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched at his risqué act and your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"Don't be late." Severus said sternly, letting your lip slip back from the pad of his thumb as he released your chin. He turned away and swept out of your greenhouse with a swoosh of his black cloak, leaving you a blushing mess. 

"Bastard." You muttered to yourself as your heart pounded in your ears, picking your quill back up with shaking hands and returning to your task of grading assignments. Now, you just couldn't wait for the clock to strike eight o'clock.

The day dragged agonisingly slow, just as the past night had, and now you were in the endgame of your last class of the day. A class of mischievous third-years. Despite this class that you struggled to teach, you were quite thankful that Ben hadn't disturbed you much today, only popping in now and again to observe nosily. You could only do with so much stress.

"Mr Goyle, don't put your fingers into the mouths of the Mandrake seedlings!" You cried out as you watched him poke at the sentient plant, a growing ball of frustration building in your chest. This class was usually so well behaved, why were they choosing to act up today?

"Professor, why are we learning about Mandrakes again? We learnt about this last year." Ron Weasley asked curiously as he scrunched his nose up at you, looking awfully concerned.

"It's part of the school curriculum, I'm afraid, Mr Weasley," you replied, sighing, "aside from that, it's good to refresh the memory. I'm sure you can't remember how to tell when a Mandrake is mature?" You asked, cocking a brow expectantly. Ron stumbled for a moment, struggling to find the words.

"Erm... I suppose not, professor." Ron nervously chewed on his bottom lip, much to the amusement of his grinning friend, Harry Potter.

"Hence why we are revisiting this topic." You smiled at the ginger-haired boy, and then cast a glance at Harry. "And Mr Potter," you said, watching as the grin fell from his face, "since you find this so hilarious, can you tell me the signs of a maturing Mandrake?"

"No, ma'am." Potter said, pursing his lips. "But I do know that they're irritatingly loud and whiny," he smiled proudly, pausing for a moment to lower his voice, "just like some students here at Hogwarts." Beside him, Weasley snorted rather loudly, catching the attention of the Slytherin students Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at the pair as she scribbled down some notes, keeping her nose out of the drama.

"Somethin' funny, Weasley?" Malfoy spat, his blue eyes shining maliciously as his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle, stood beside him with matching glares. You weren't exactly surprised at his venomous tone, you knew the blonde-haired boy was rather rude to anyone and everyone.

"No," Ron said, looking at Draco with narrowed eyes, "just your bloody awful personality, to be honest." Weasley and Potter grinned amusedly at each other as Malfoy almost exploded with anger.

"Why, you little-!" Draco began to stomp orwards with a menacing sneer, looking to potentially harm Weasley. That's when you decided to step in.

"Alright, that's enough, boys!" You held out a hand, raising your voice. The entire class looked up in shock at your sudden outburst. Never have you had to raise your voice in their classes - you weren't known for such things. "You're both lucky that I don't take points from your respective Houses. Now, please, get back to your studies."

The two boys apologised quietly, and you sighed softly, grateful that you were able to diffuse a potentially hostile situation. What had gotten into them? They weren't usually so wound up.

Soon, the bell rang and you'd never felt more relieved. "Since we only revised a topic today, I want a full parchment's worth of notes about Mandrakes, please." The class groaned at your words, and you gave them a disappointed look. "Would you like me to assign you a five page essay on Mandrakes instead?" You asked, receiving a chorus of desperate 'no's. "Notes it is, then." You smiled, watching as they all filed out of your greenhouse.

You hoped you wouldn't have to endure such a frustrating class ever again, though, life was never that fair.

"Ben?" You called out, stepping out of your bathroom in a dressing gown. You'd just showered, freshening yourself up after a rather mentally draining day at work. The second that hot water hit your body, it was like all the stress, tension and troubles melted off of you.

"Yeah?" Ben replied from your sofa, a novel in his hands. You scrunched your nose up as your eyes flicked to him, noticing that he had his shoes up on the couch.

"Just to let you know, I have a meeting after dinner tonight." You said, drying your hair with a spare towel you'd taken from your airing cupboard.

"Another meeting?" Ben sighed and you could hear him roll his eyes at you. "With who?" He asked nosily, letting his hands fall into his lap.

You held back a groan, already knowing what was to come. "Snape."

"Snape?" Ben spat, evidently very unhappy with your answer. This time, you allowed that groan to slip out. "What happened to Lupin?"

"Snape thought he'd be the better teacher." You replied, keeping your tone flat as you flicked your hair back, running a hand through the wet strands.

"That twat is far from a good teacher." Ben mumbled, and you spun on your heel a little harshly.

"You might not like him, but he's still my colleague, Ben, it'd be nice if you could respect Severus for once." You said rather sternly, narrowing your eyes into a glare. Ben scoffed at your behaviour, growing a little irritated that you were speaking back to him.

"Severus? Don't use his first name, Y/N." Ben almost gagged, and this only infuriated you more.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you scoffed, "Jesus, Ben, you're such a child!" You turned away from him, groaning and running a stressed hand through your wet hair. That reminded you - you needed to dry it properly. Padding over to your wardrobe to choose an outfit for dinner, you pulled out your wand and cast a quick spell to do so.

"I don't like that tone," Ben said, standing up from the couch, "you need to dial it back, Y/N."

"Excuse me?" You laughed in disbelief, twisting your head to look at him. "If you don't like it, Ben, leave! I won't have you disrespecting my colleagues like that. You don't hear me talking shit about your work mates, do you?"

"That's because you haven't met them." Ben rolled his eyes. You grit your teeth. "Besides, I've known Snape just as long as you have, so my opinion is valid."

"You can have your opinion about him, Ben, just don't express it in front of me."

"Why are you suddenly so pro-Snape?" Ben questioned, folding his arms against his chest, staring at you confusedly. "The amount of times we used to make fun of him when we came here as students - I mean he practically hated you, Y/N. You were always burning or destroying his stuff."

"It's different when you're both adults."

"Right." Ben snorted, though it wasn't out of amusement.

"Perhaps when you turn into one, you'll be able to see what I mean." You snapped, tired of his petty attitude.

"I don't want you seeing him." Ben stated matter-of-factly.

"Ben," You sighed, your voice becoming low, almost like a warning. "You can tell me to wear a dress you bought, sure, whatever, but you do not get to tell me who I can and cannot see. This is not going to work if you do that, so if you want a woman you can push around and control, go and look elsewhere, because I'm not her."

Another scoff left Ben, "Are you sure? Because you seemed pretty eager to please Snape the other day when he came asking for some silly ingredient one of his poor students forgot."

"You're joking, right?" You said slowly and narrowed your eyes, unsure whether he was making some crappy joke or if he was actually serious. "What, am I supposed to just ignore him when he asks for something work-related?"

"...No, but..." Ben clenched his jaw, staring at you with a stiff body, clearly unhappy and unable to support his silly accusation with evidence.

"But nothing," You said quietly, turning back to your wardrobe, a pretty green dress catching your eye. Reaching out, you palmed it softly, the smooth, silky material gliding through your fingers like butter. "I'm not going to stop seeing someone because you don't like them, especially when they're a colleague... I see them every single day of my life." Another tired sigh fell from your mouth as you turned your back to Ben, taking your dressing gown off in front of him to slip on the green dress. You weren't exactly bothered about Ben seeing you in your underwear - you did sleep together during the first month that you started dating, and it'd be a little strange if you told him not to look.

As you were slipping on the dress, Ben spoke again, though he sounded a little further away than before, so you assumed he'd sat back down on the sofa. "Fine," he muttered, "if it means I get to be with you, then so be it."

Those last words stung a little as your mind reeled back to when you'd first kissed Severus, let alone first slept with him. In his classroom, for goodness sake. Perhaps you should have waited a little while longer before crossing that line with Severus to end things with Ben so this didn't become so goddamn messy. You really didn't want this to get out, and you really didn't want your reputation to be ruined. Were you wrong for following your heart that night? Yes... and no. Were you wrong for sleeping with someone else whilst supposedly being with Ben? ...Yes. You didn't regret anything with Severus, at all, it was mainly just the guilt that came with it. It was all building up, and almost becoming too much at some points.

"I'll see you later on, okay?" You said, walking towards Ben with a sigh, and he quickly got up and cupped your face, placing a rather harsh, heavy and unflattering kiss upon your lips. Stunned at his bold act, you squeaked slightly, planting your hands on his chest and pushing against him lightly. Your eyes stayed open, shocked.

As he pulled away, his hands fell from your surprised face to hold your hands. "I look forward to seeing you later." A wry smile graced Ben's mouth.

You didn't exactly know how to navigate this situation. So you nodded, pursing your lips and forcing a smile. "Me too." You choked out the lie, the only thing on your mind being a very gloomy, brooding Potions Master.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said that." Ben suddenly said, again, taking you by surprise. What the fuck was happening right now?

"Erm, it's alright, I'm just glad we have an... understanding." You replied, attempting to hide your confused frown at his sudden change of heart.

See, had Ben not snooped through your greenhouse, he probably would have chosen to leave tonight. But, alas, he had found something intriguing, almost heart-wrenching, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. The man was going to confront you about the notes, and you were going to tell him the truth. He just wasn't sure when.

There you stood, waiting outside of Severus's office, a little nervous. He hadn't attended dinner this evening, and you weren't sure why, but you weren't going to poke him about it. He needn't explain himself - perhaps he just wasn't hungry. Wait, what if he was? Was he just too busy to come and eat? Shit, should you have brought him a plate? 

Just as you were about to become lost in your dominoing thoughts, his door opened by itself, revealing the Potions Master himself sat behind his desk, scribbling away with his quill.

"Punctual as always, Miss L/N." Severus drawled, setting his quill down as he glanced up at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You scrunched your nose up at his words.

"Was that sarcasm? Because if it was, I haven't been late, ever." You quipped, walking into his office and shutting the door behind you with a smile. You wandered over to his desk and perched yourself on the corner of it, facing him.

Severus hummed as he gazed up at you. "It seems you're forgetting about a certain detention with me, many years ago." He quirked a brow, making you glance away, your cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. Oh, yeah, you forgot about that. "I remember it well, you brewed a potion so detrimentally wrong that it burnt through the cauldron itself and ruined one of my desks."

"Um, whoops." You blushed, smiling awkwardly. Severus couldn't fight the amused smile that teased his lips.

He took a deep sigh before continuing, "Then, you thought it wise to be impeccably late to my detention. How clever of you." He muttered, feigning a disappointed tone that rattled your bones. Even though the two of you were work colleagues now, that tone still scared you. It will probably be something that haunts you to your grave.

You cleared your throat, sheepishly glancing at his twinkling black eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm sure I had something important to tend to beforehand..."

"Such as...?" He encouraged, tilting his head at you.

"I can't remember, it was years ago!"

"Perhaps you were too busy daydreaming about that Herbology hobby of yours."

"Hobby?" You repeated, narrowing your eyes. "Don't push me, Severus, who knows what I might do." A quiet laugh slipped through your smiling lips as you crossed your legs, watching as his eyes faltered for a moment as you readjusted your position on the corner of his desk. You gently nudged his knee with the tip of your foot.

Severus leant back in his chair, shutting his eyes momentarily as he lifted a finger to massage his temples. "Ah yes, what would you, our beloved Herbology professor, do to me, a far more accomplished wizard?" He mused, teasing you.

"Wow, you sounded a lot like Lockhart there for a second. Almost had me fooled." You said sarcastically, referring to when Gilderoy had misjudged you during the Duelling Club. An amused chuckle rumbled in Severus's chest, and it made a comforting warmth bloom within yours. You couldn't help but smile at him.

"I think we're getting a little sidetracked," Severus said as he stood up, his black hair bouncing. "You're here for lessons, no?" You looked up at him, blinking.

"Yes..." You hummed, a little disappointed that he cut your conversation short. You were beginning to enjoy it. "Alright then, teach me how to conjure a patronus." Standing up from his desk, you folded your arms against your chest and shuffled to the right, so you were opposite him.

"Close your eyes," Severus said softly, his deep voice never failing to make your skin prickle with goosebumps. You did as he said and shut your eyes, concentrating. "Clear your mind. Envision your happiest memory." He added, and suddenly, his silky voice seemed nearer than it was before.

And you were right, because the next thing you knew, Severus had pressed a gentle, soft kiss on your lips; his larger, aquiline nose nudging the side of yours sweetly. Instantly, you melted, your head instinctively leaning towards his to kiss him back. As he pulled away, a brief, disappointed quiet whine escaped you, and your eyes fluttered open. Severus stood in front of you with a small smile painted across his pale, worn features as he tucked his hands behind his back, his arms disappearing underneath the shadows of his black cloak.

"What was that for?" You asked softly, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you stared up at him with rosy cheeks.

Severus's smile widened a tad, "I'd forgotten what your lips felt like against mine." He said, inducing a rather adorable giggle from you. His heart swelled twice the size at the heavenly sound, and he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your sweet face.

"Well, it was worth the wait," you replied quietly, grinning, "am I going to have to wait another forty-eight hours for more?"

Severus chuckled as his glittering black eyes watched you, "Perhaps," he muttered, "it depends if you can successfully produce a patronus under my instruction."

"Oh, so your kisses are a reward now?" You laughed, observing the way his lips twitched upwards again cheekily. It warmed your heart to see such a mischievous side of the man who was known to be harsh and cruel, perhaps even heartless to some. However, you had been lucky enough to witness who he truly was.

"Of course not." Severus tilted his head, still watching you. "I prefer the word encouragement." He said, earning an incredulous look from you.

"That's basically the same thing." You feigned a playful glare at him, scoffing.

"No." Severus said, cocking a brow. 

"Yes it is," You stepped forwards and your heart skipped a beat as his eyes dropped to your smiling lips for a split second. "Well, to be completely honest, it's bribery."

"And does 'bribery' have the same meaning as 'reward'?" Severus asked, his eyes glinting with a smug flicker.

"No, but-"

"So then I am right." He smirked, evidently proud about proving you wrong as he watched you simmer in your frustration. Your arms folded against your chest again annoyedly.

You turned your head away from him and huffed, "Shut up." Your voice was quiet, but loud enough for Severus to hear as another heart-warming chuckle left his chest. You fought hard against the smile that tickled your lips, but your effort was in vain. There was no chance at hiding it, especially when Severus was the one that provoked it.

"You should respect your superiors." He teased, making your head snap towards his.

"Superiors?" You repeated incredulously, laughing, "Please, more like elders."

"Are you calling me old?" Severus questioned, his eyes narrowing at you in disdain. A year ago, you might have crumbled underneath such a cold, sharp gaze, but now, all you felt was the complete opposite.

"Does 'elders' mean young?" You quipped, stealing his words from earlier

"A little feisty today, Miss L/N." Severus mused, his shoulders rising and falling as he sighed, though you couldn't tell whether it was from exasperation or something else.

"I prefer the word, banterous." You mocked him, copy-catting his deep, languid voice. Severus scowled at you, quite obviously unamused at your poor attempt at mimicking him.

Severus hummed, pausing for a few seconds as he glared at you. "Should you ever lose your flair for Herbology, do the world a favour and avoid pursuing the career of an impressionist." He said with a roll of his eyes, but the grin that broke out on your face had softened his harsh gaze slightly. Clearly, he couldn't stay mad at you for very long. Gods, what had happened to him? For so long, nobody had made him feel the way you did. It was terrifying, but so exciting at the same time. As much as he wanted to push you away, just to avoid the impending heartbreak, Severus felt as if he shouldn't. There was something more to you.

"Alright, well, will you be able to avoid the undeniable temptation of kissing me, and teach me how to cast this spell?" You joked as another soft giggle left your mouth, setting Severus's heart on fire.

"I will try my best." He said as a little smile graced his lips. "Close your eyes again." Severus muttered, and so you did, awaiting his next instructions. "Think of your happiest memory, and keep it within your mind," He said from in front of you, his eyes flicking over your peaceful face. "Got it?"

"Yes," you replied, thinking about the same tender memory that you did with Lupin, "I do."

"Now, with that in your mind, you need to speak the incantation, 'Expecto Patronum'." Severus said, his voice faltering a tad at the end.

Instead of following his instructions, you whispered, "Is the temptation still there?"

There was a pause before he spoke again and anxious goosebumps littered your skin.

Severus sighed deeply before replying. "I'm afraid so." He muttered defeatedly.

Instantly, your eyes fluttered open as quick as a flash, a beaming smile spreading across your pink cheeks. You almost leapt from where you had stood, throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips against his. A muffled gasp fell from Severus as he crumbled like a poorly built sandcastle under your touch; your fingers latching onto the nape of his neck and tugging him desperately close to you. His body felt like it was on fire as you clashed together, and within seconds Severus had his arms around you. His hands clutched at your waist hungrily, as if he had been forbidden to touch you - which was partly true, in way.

Despite the clear show of desperation between you two, there was love sprinkled within it. Severus's hands held you so tenderly and dear, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh with such gentle care that you could almost feel the love radiating from his body. Both of you knew it, but both of you refused to acknowledge it. Maybe it was the fear of recognising something so significant and monumentous happening between the two of you, or maybe it was just pure ignorance. As of right now, neither of you wanted to think about it. You could deal with it a little later.

As he kissed you, he plucked a breathless "Sev," from you, and he held you a little tighter, fearful that you might just disintigrate in front of him and he would suddenly wake up alone in his cold bed. Your chests were heaving now, and you couldn't stop yourselves from becoming lost in one another's addicting touch; the feeling too strong and intoxicating like an expensive elven wine.

"I missed you," You whispered between kisses, your hands sliding from the comfort of his neck to the smooth yet cold surface of his cheeks, embracing him. "Gods, I missed you, Severus." Slowly, he pulled away as his nose suddenly felt wet. He opened his eyes to look at you, and his face fell as he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks, wetting your perfect eyelashes. His chest twisted at the sight - did he do this? Did he make you cry? Did he hold you too tight?

Your eyebrows twisted upwards as his finger caught your chin, tilting it up, but you avoided his eyes. "Why are you crying, my love?" Severus asked softly, careful to keep his voice gentle. The pet name had rolled so easily and casually off of his tongue that he almost didn't notice it. In fact, it seemed like you didn't either. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved, or a little hurt by it.

"It's not you," you sobbed quietly, sucking in a pathetic strangled breath, "well- it is, but it's not your fault, or anything- I just..." Another cry left you, and it was starting to upset Severus. "I wish we weren't in this whole... predicament." He had only seen you cry a couple times, and after that he'd hoped that he'd never have to witness such a heartwrenching thing again.

"We don't have to be." Severus murmured, lifting a hand to wipe away your tears with a tender thumb.

"I don't want him to hurt you." You sniffled, still refusing to look in his eyes, afraid of what you might see.

"He won't." Severus replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Promise me." You inhaled shakily and finally looked up at him, an ache in your heart as you saw his sad face. Your hands were still attached to his cheeks, and so you brushed your thumbs against them; a pleasant, homely warmth blossoming in your chest like a newly-bloomed flower in the spring.

Severus let out an amused huff as he smiled at your sweet gesture. "I promise. He won't hurt me, Y/N."

"Okay." You whispered, feeling a little more at ease as Severus's hands fell back to your waist, tugging you closer to him once more, a comfortable silence enveloping the two of you as you held each other. Severus's eyes flicked between your glossy ones, pausing to ponder over his words for a moment. 

"I never thought someone as beautiful as you would care so much for someone like me." He murmured, lifting a hand from the comfort of your waist to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear.

"Someone like you?" You giggled softly, earning a disbelieving look from Severus. You knew exactly what he meant, however, that was irrelevant to you now. The man he hid himself as, was not the man you had come to know. "What, because you act so cold and awful sometimes?"

"Perhaps," he mused, "but I'm not a good man, Y/N." Severus added, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his index finger sweetly.

"No, you're a brilliant one," You beamed, gradually leaning in towards his face to nudge your nose against his. His breath hitched slightly at your gesture, his heavy-lidded eyes watching you carefully, wondering your next thoughts. "Despite how we may have started out, you're one of the most brilliant men I have come to know." Your words made his cheeks flush a stunning shade of scarlet, and in turn, it also made yours do the same. He glanced away for a moment, flustered.

As he composed himself, he returned his dilating eyes back to yours. "Yes," Severus sighed, feigning disappointment, "despite my best efforts to push you away, you still somehow persevered."

"Unlikely for a weak little Hufflepuff." You joked, a tiny, bashful smile slipping onto your blushing face as you glanced down at his white collar, tracing it with your fingers. Severus took a moment to silently admire your beautiful face, the corners of his lips twitching as his eyes glazed over your soft features, his heart skipping a beat as the tips of your fingers tickled the skin on his neck.

He cleared his throat, murmuring, "You're far from weak. In fact, you might just be the strongest Hufflepuff I know."

"Is that because I'm the only one you've known?" You teased, laughing softly as you glanced back up to his sparkling eyes.

"Let's not ruin the moment." Severus quirked a brow at you, returning your teasing tone. You scrunched your nose up at him mockingly. "You still haven't matured yet, I see."

"Oh, shut up." You whispered, leaning up to hush him with your lips, kissing him with a smiling mouth. Severus's hand held your cheek as he pulled your face closer to him, his prominent nose poking it. Your hands rose from the collar of his black frock and settled happily around his neck again, fingers tickling the nape of it. A few goosebumps arose on his bared skin and he shivered, a breathy groan bubbling in the back of his throat. Severus's hands grew a little more hungry as you moaned into his kisses, grabbing you and gently guiding you to the surface of his desk.

*

With his lips still latched onto yours moving sinfully slow, he reached out an arm and brushed off the remaining things on top of the desk. He then glided his hands down your waist, towards your hips and finally underneath your bum, palming it greedily for a moment and encouraging a whimper from you. Severus felt his cock twitch in his tightening trousers at the sweet sounds falling from your swollen mouth, and so he swiftly lifted you up with no effort at all, his hands still full of your ass. Even though this was the third time he'd lifted you up like this, you were still impressed.

For a moment, he held you there as you wrapped your legs around his hips, securing yourself. Another throaty groan left his mouth as you rocked your body against his in a painfully slow manner, and Severus quickly laid you down atop of his desk, pulling away from your lips for a moment to stare down at you.

"I forgot to mention," Severus murmured, pressing a cheeky kiss against your jaw, trailing dangerously close to your neck. "That green dress suits you beautifully." He smirked against your hot skin, and you couldn't help but laugh. The raven-haired wizard felt the vibrations from your beautiful laugh through your throat as he licked it with his warm tongue, pressing soft kisses against your burning hot flesh.

"You're so painfully biased, Severus," you giggled, hands burying themselves within his thick, black hair,  "you have no shame at all." You added, gasping as his teeth grazed your lower neck, nipping you.

"Slytherin is the superior House, after all, Miss L/N." Severus said lowly as he ravished your neck with his wet mouth, plucking more breathy gasps and moans from your quivering one.

"Is that why Gryffindor is kicking their arse?" You panted, your heart doubling in speed as he began to near the top of your breasts. He trailed a hand up from your hips, and your chest heaved, your breaths becoming stuck in your throat as he brushed his thumb against the curve of your clothed breasts, drawing a whine from your parted mouth.

"And yet, Hufflepuff is nowhere to be seen." He quipped. Not that you could speak a cocky reply right now - his adept mouth and hands were doing a very good job at incapacitating your mind - you had set yourself up for that burn.

Severus teethed the neckline of your green dress, the rich, sleek material hiding the supple skin of your breasts that he so badly wanted to see. Instead of pulling it down or to the side, he continued downwards, his hands following him, gripping your waist as he pressed heavy kisses against your clothed stomach, stopping just below your navel. Your nails scraped at his scalp as his fingers dropped to the hem of your dress, slipping it up over your silky legs, stopping just above your knees. Severus glanced up at you, as if asking for permission to continue. As much as you'd rather him do whatever he wanted to you without asking, you truly appreciated the care and concern he took with you.

You leant up slightly to look at him as a hand of yours fell from the confines of his locks to his cheek and you cupped it softly, smiling and giving him a slight nod. Half of his mouth perked up into a faint smirk as he dipped his head back down, pressing his lips to the inner side of your knees, slowly working his way up your legs with hot, wet lips, kneading his cold fingers against the soft flesh of yours that he adored. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach as Severus neared your burning core, anxiously awaiting his mouth to press against it. You slowly fell back against the surface of his desk again, digging your fingers inside the mess of his hair, gripping it tighter with every inch he closed in on you.

The Potions Master hooked a finger underneath the string of your black panties, twisting it around his digit, tugging at it teasingly. As you were laid back, your eyes were seeing stars as a warm, wet sensation was suddenly braced against your clothed mound; the pointed tip of it tickling your clit that sat between your soaking folds. You whimpered as Severus licked at your panties again, this time a little heavier, the intoxicating taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your grip in his hair tightened even more as he continued this sinful rhythm, your hips bucking upwards rather erratically as Severus caught your sensitive bud here and there. With a growl-like groan, he grazed his tongue to the side of your panties, slipping it underneath the thin, lacy material, an uncontrollable moan falling from your lips at the sudden tongue-to-flesh contact.

"Shit-," you whined, hips bucking once more, "my God, Severus." Your words were nothing but breathy and broken as he continued licking at your perfect core, his heart racing as you further became unravelled beneath his gifted mouth. "Please, please," You begged as you felt yourself nearing your breaking point, your legs squeezing around his head. 

Severus groaned at your thighs sandwiching his head, and he placed his right hand on your outer upper thigh, squeezing it. "That's a good girl." He mumbled against your dripping centre, your arousal covering his lower face. You cried out at his words, the praise you so desperately desired from him almost sending you toppling over the edge by itself. Severus retrieved his other hand from your thigh and brought it to his mouth, wetting his fingers with his tongue before slipping two inside of you and curling them, pulling a rather loud, delicious sounding moan from your throat.

"Fuck!" You cried out as your body trembled, that familiar coil within you tightening again. "Sev, so close, I-" Severus could just about make out what you had said through your whimpers, and so he continued the pace of his fingers and tongue, though speeding up a little bit as your body began to rock against his mouth, evidently nearing your climax. 

And within seconds, all of your breath had suddenly been stolen, and you were shuddering beneath Severus once more as your mouth gaped open, your back arching. "Fuck, Sev-!" Your brows shot upwards as you cried out, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you rode out the tsunami waves of pleasure that rocked through you; a unruly and wild string of moans and whimpers slipping out of your mouth as Severus proceeded to continue fingering and licking against your twitching pussy.

Reluctantly, he removed his mouth from you, but not before peppering a few chaste kisses against the soft skin on your wet inner thigh. "I will never grow bored of those sounds leaving your pretty lips." Severus purred with a smirk, standing up from between your legs, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he looked at you, red faced, sweaty and breathless. He was rather proud of how effortlessly he had you crying out his name, and you obviously noticed, beginning to giggle. You were a little embarrassed at how easily he had made you cum, and so you hid your face behind your hands, peeking at him between your fingers. "Don't hide from me," he murmured, leaning down to pry your hands from your face with a smile, "there's no reason to hide such a beautiful face."

"Stop it." You whispered, giggling still, your eyes finding his softened ones as you allowed him to move your hands away from your face.

"Stop what?" Severus asked gently, frowning as he held your hand in his larger one; thumb brushing against your knuckles tenderly. Gods, you couldn't believe how well he'd hid this soft side of himself, and you were going to be more than careful not to make him conceal it again.

"Lying." You replied, another rush of heat flying to your cheeks as your eyes glanced down at your interlaced hands. Severus's black brow quirked upwards at your response, as if in disagreement.

"I'm many things, my dear Y/N, but a liar is not one of them." He tutted, lifting your hand to his lips to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. His words seemed familiar to you, but you couldn't put your finger on it at the moment; your mind too hazy from the previous steamy interaction between the two of you. "If only you could see yourself through my eyes." Severus added with a whisper against the smooth skin of your hand.

"Isn't that what I said to you?" You giggled, remembering how he'd replied rather bitterly a few nights ago. "You said something about me wearing 'rose-coloured glasses' or something." Mid-sentence, you deepened your voice to mock him again, and that same scowl returned to his features.

"You're awful at that." Severus grumbled, looking away from you as he leant back up. Letting go of your hand, he placed it on your hip and slowly slipped his fingers underneath the silky fabric, palming your bare skin; goosebumps erupting all over your body from his stone-cold yet sizzling touch. Your breath hitched once more as his fingertips neared the string of your black underwear, sliding underneath it.

"Severus," You warned, your voice low. Inside your panting chest, your heart was like a jackhammer against your ribcage as he tugged the string down over your hipbone, testing you. This was like a game to him it seemed, perhaps you should play along?

"Hmm?" He hummed in reply, his blown, black eyes flicking between where his hand laid and your reddening face. Gods, this man was pushing your limits today. "What is it? Use your words, Miss L/N..."

Your heart fluttered at his raspy voice.

"I'm not sure this counts as teaching me how-," You gasped lightly as his cool fingertips grazed against the curve of your ass. Severus's eyes instantly flicked upwards to meet your fluttering ones, smirking. "-How to cast a patronus." You finished quietly, swallowing as you tilted your head at him with your best poker face, trying desperately to act as if the way he was teasing you wasn't driving you fucking insane.

Severus hummed again as he had one side of your panties pulled down. "So, you do own a brain?" He teased whilst wrapping his other arm around your waist to pull your hips flush against his own, his desk shuddering a tad at the sudden rough movement. Instinctively, your arms flew out to steady yourself, your palms splayed out against the smooth wooden surface.

"So, you're still a dick?" You quipped cheekily, and Severus growled at you, one hand flying up to grab at your neck. It wasn't hostile, it was a light grasp, and yet it still undeniably lit a wild fire inside of you. Your hand had also flown up to hold the wrist of his hand that was wrapped gently around your neck.

"You need to keep that silly mouth under control." He tutted, giving your neck a light squeeze, and a loose moan left your lips, making a single brow of his shoot up in curiosity. Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to enjoy this.

"Evidently." You muttered, a faint and cheeky smirk lining your lips. "Are you going to keep talking or are you actually going to put that talented mouth of yours to good use?" You teased him, poking your tongue out from your mouth to glide along the bottom of your top row of teeth. As much as Severus hated being spoken to like this, he couldn't help but be turned on. It was undeniably hot, especially when you're usually so shy and sweet - he was actually wondering where the hell your bravery had come from.

Without any further delay, Severus kissed you harshly, the passion and frustration from your bold attitude fuelling his fire. The hand around your neck remained, however, his opposing hand snaked its way up from your bum to the small of your back, his fingers pressing into your skin, painting it red. You moaned at the roughness he was showing you, your mind becoming a jaded blur as he rocked his hips into yours fervidly, the prominent bulge in his trousers pressing into your panties. He swallowed a gasp that slipped out of your mouth as he kissed you, seizing the opportunity to dive his tongue in. You welcomed him eagerly, licking yours against his own in a brash manner. As you drew a throaty groan from Severus, you lifted your hand from his wrist to hold his cheek, tugging him impossibly closer to you. He released your neck from his light grip and slid his palm down your chest to cup one of your breasts with a harsh hand, plucking a whimper from your swollen, pink lips.

You panted as you threw your other arm around his neck, pulling him down over you as you fell back against his desk, lifting your legs to wrap them around his hips possessively. Merlin, you just needed him inside of you now, but this was almost as good as the actual sex. Severus's hands left your breast and instead found themselves settling on your hips, grabbing them roughly, pulling you into him; a muffled animalistic moan tumbling from his mouth as you grinded yourself on his raging erection.

He faltered slightly, his lips falling from yours, muttering a "Fuck," as his fingers dug into your flesh hungrily; his hot breath shuddering unevenly. "I need you," he whispered with an alarming urgency, a solitary hand slipping from your waist and dipping itself into your soaking panties, "now." And instantly, you let go of him to kick your underwear off to the ground, his hands flying to unbuckle his trousers with trembling fingers. Your hot touch was a burning contrast to his cool, pale flesh.

Severus inhaled sharply as you pulled down his boxers, the frigid air tickling his navel. Your eyes twinkled dangerously as you glanced up at him, a swirl of butterflies exploding in your stomach as he grit his teeth, your hand reached out to grab him gently, lining his solid cock up with yourself. In one swift motion, Severus thrust into you and you cried out at the full sensation, almost screaming with the overwhelming amount of pleasure and relief that seeped into your bones.

He stilled himself for a moment, evidently trying to adjust to the sudden welcome of your sweet, perfectly warm pussy. Severus panted, squeezing his eyes shut from the immense rush of pleasure surging through him. Watching his face twist, you giggled quietly from beneath him, placing a hand on his face, leaning up to press a gentle kiss upon his nose. His eyes opened slightly as a smile graced his sweaty features, gazing down at you with such tenderness and warmth that you were sure you'd fallen for him all over again. He looked so ethereal in this current moment, so much so that it reminded you of the first time you had properly stared at him in that corridor - just before you gave Lockhart a telling off. It was so vivid in your mind;the soft amber glow from the candlelight reminded you of the torchlights in the corridor that had bounced beautifully off of his perfect features.

A certain infamous three words tickled the tip of your tongue as you stared up at Severus. In fact, they were almost begging to be said, however, you refrained, afraid of how he might take them. You certainly didn't want to ruin this moment between you. It was far too special, and so you swallowed them down with a whimper as Severus kissed you once more, drinking every inch of you. He gradually began to move his hips and you whined at the delicious friction, clamping your legs around him tighter, encouraging him to quicken pace a tad. And so he did, going at a steadier rhythm, the only sounds echoing in his office being both of your ragged breaths and the sinful slaps of your flesh clashing together.

Strands of his jet black hair stuck to the sweaty sheen glazing his forehead, and you reached a finger up to tuck it behind his ear, planting another sweet, long kiss to his lips. The silent shows of affection through gentle, tender touches between the two of you soon made you realise that the pair of you weren't fucking, per se, but making love, and that was something that made your heart swell. An indescribable warmth began to engulf your trembling body as Severus shuffled a hand from your hip to your face, cupping it intimately, his forehead soon coming to rest against yours also. The remaining hand of his on your hip quickly made work and slipped down to your burning hot core, dipping in between your shining folds and rubbing an unceasing, circular motion upon your sensitive clit, prompting your body to jerk suddenly.

Your head fell back at the tingly sensation spreading through you, and Severus laid his warm mouth against your jawline, trailing wet kisses down your neck, nipping and biting it softly, careful not to leave marks - he was lost in the lust albeit not completely, he still had some remaining sense. And so he started to pluck more and more desperate concoctions of whines and whimpers from your quivering, parted pink lips as you felt the knot within your stomach tighten, telling you that you were almost at the edge of ecstasy.

"Sev," you whined, your hand slipping up into the locks of his hair, gripping tightly, "I'm- I think- I'm gonna..." You sobbed, the pleasure from his mouth on your neck, from his cock buried deep within you and from his masterful fingers circling your clit becoming all too much.

"Let it out, my love," Severus groaned against your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy and desperate as he too was on the verge of finishing, "that's it, it's alright... Cum for me, darling," At his last breath, you came, a wild cry cut short from your mouth as Severus kissed you once more, swallowing your moans. He pulled away briefly to bury his head in your neck, his climax taking a hold of his body, a strangled, guttural groan rumbling in his throat as he collapsed on top of you.

Your hands slowly retreated from the comfort of his raven locks and settled on his cheeks, encouraging him to look up at you. Severus quickly obliged, using the remaining strength in his body to lift himself off of you slightly. Though he was still inside you, he remained there - not that you minded - and suddenly a quiet, almost bashful chuckle reverberated within his strong, panting chest. Instinctively, you smiled up at him, your teeth poking out from underneath your swollen lips.

"That has to be the best sex I've ever had." You giggled, your legs loosening around his waist as he chuckled again. You let your foot glide down his outer thigh, caressing it.

*

A proud smirk tugged at his lips as he muttered, "I'm honoured."

Another sweet giggle escaped you and it tickled his heart. God knows how he's going to recover from you if you're ever taken away from him. The thought frightened him, and so he pulled you closer for a moment, planting a tender kiss against your shining forehead, that familiar warmth in your chest quickly returning as fast as lightning.

"I..." You began, unthinking, your mouth staying open as you stopped yourself. Severus tilted his head at you, confused. There's no way you had almost let it slip. You fool. "I'm glad." You said instead, smiling.

"Hmm," he hummed, pondering, making your heart pound anxiously, "perhaps we'll start the actual lessons tomorrow." Severus stated, his smile returning. You nodded and a bashful blush painted your cheeks scarlet.

"Like you'd be able to keep yourself from kissing me." You scoffed playfully. Severus narrowed his eyes at you.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Perhaps." You mocked him again, grinning. He rolled his eyes at you and finally stood up, pulling himself out of you - rather reluctantly, might he add. Severus could have stayed in that position for the rest of eternity. In fact, he wished he could.

"You'll regret saying this tomorrow evening." Severus smirked, a mischievous glint twinkling in his black eyes as he used his wand to clean himself and you up, his hands buckling his trousers back up. He stepped forwards to pull the skirt of your dress back down. You offered him a quick grateful smile.

"Excuse me, who was the one was broke this evening?" You asked, scoffing hushedly. "Oh, yeah, you."

"Can you blame me?" Severus quipped, his fingers slowly floating up to grasp your chin, trailing them across your jawline and down your neck, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

"I guess I am irresistable." You joked, smiling coyly. Severus hummed at you again, slowly becoming lost in your glittering eyes. You looked so beautiful in this current moment, so beautiful that he found himself staring at you for much longer than would be considered socially acceptable. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." You giggled.

An amused huff left Severus. "I remember the days you'd cower in my presence, and yet, here you are, acting like that never happened." He said, smirking.

"Yeah, well, you were scary back then." You shrugged with a cheeky smile.

"Am I not now?"

"Not anymore, no."

"I suppose I've lost my touch." Severus mused jokingly, and you laughed at him. A kaleidoscope of butterflies burst inside of him at the sweet sound he adored so much. A year ago, he would have found it irritating, and now, he probably couldn't live without hearing it at least every other day. Gods, he still despised how soft he'd become towards you.

"I do hear some of the first-years talking about how they dread your lessons when they're in mine." You mumbled, looking down to link your fingers with his. You glanced back up at him, smiling bashfully.

"Maybe not then." Severus replied and quirked a brow.

"Definitely not." You grinned, lifting his hand up with yours to bring it to your lips, turning it to press a soft kiss against his fingertips. "You're still the scariest professor at Hogwarts, don't worry. I don't think anyone will be taking that from you any time soon."

"I should hope not." Severus joked sarcastically, finding it quite impossible to not crack a smile each time you showed him such tender affection.

There was a comfortable silence for a very quick moment before the thought of Ben returned to your mind. "I should probably go." You said with a solemn face, glancing away from Severus to the old, vintage-looking clock that sat against his wall. It was rather late, you must have spent at least two hours or more with him.

"Yes," Severus swallowed, and the smile that was previously sat on his face fell, "I'm sure Ben is worried sick." He added sarcastically with a scornful sneer, making you snort.

"So, same time tomorrow?"

"As long as nothing drastic happens, of course. Though, this time, we will have lessons."

"Lessons, or lessons, professor?" You asked, your tone flirtatious and shameless.

"Lessons, Y/N." Severus said sternly. "I do plan on teaching you that charm. Other things just... got in the way, this evening."

"Other things," you repeated, bravely leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, "I think I prefer other things, Sev." You joked, a faint, pink blush blossoming like a rose across your cheeks.

Sev. 

You called him Sev. And it was during casual conversation, unlike before. His heart skipped a beat at the affectionate nickname. Severus quickly cleared his throat, composing himself before he spoke, refusing to embarrass himself. "And I would prefer you able to protect yourself during another dementor attack, God forbid it happens again." He said, his face turning grim at the awful thought. He placed a hand against the small of your back as you turned around, heading towards his door. Severus followed you closely, his fingers caressing the back of you gently.

As you reached his door together, you turned around to face him. "It won't." You smiled up at Severus and pressed your hand against where you had kissed him, brushing your thumb across his high, prominent cheekbones. "Not with you around."

"Am I your personal bodyguard now? When was this decided?" Severus joked as he leant into your hand, though his partially blank face didn't show it. You giggled again, setting his heart on fire once more.

"Right now. That okay?" You teased, smiling, letting your hand drop from his face.

"...Yes."

"Perfect." Your smile widened as you noticed the corners of his lips turning upwards. "I don't want to leave you."

"Neither do I, but you must." Severus sighed softly, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

"I know." You pursed your lips, staring back into his eyes, and you leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing him once more; your hands flying up to cup his cheeks. Severus wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you flush against him, his whole body feeling like it was riddled with fireworks as tiny, exciting, colourful explosions erupted within his stomach as you kissed him.

One hand left his neck and you leant away from him to reach for the door handle, twisting it to open it as you continued to kiss Severus tenderly, smiling into the kiss as he tried to tug you close to him again. A giggle left your lips as he sighed and pulled away from your lips. Inside, he was fighting the urge to just shut the door and keep you here with him forever. Your aura was addicting, and he honestly couldn't get enough of it.

"Ahem," A female voice coughed from the his door, and you gasped out of fright, quickly jumping out of his arms. Severus quickly retracted them from you and tucked them behind his back, a bright red blush covering both of your faces.

"Minerva," Severus greeted, his voice flat, acting as if she did not just see the pair of your lips stuck together like a glue trap. You stood awkwardly still, terribly embarrassed that someone had seen the two of you acting out of hand.

"Don't act like I didn't see that, Severus." McGonagall scolded him, and he sighed heavily, avoiding her eyes. As for you, she glanced down, offering you a warm smile. "Y/N, what a surprise to find you here." She said with a mischievous glint in her wrinkled eyes, smirking faintly.

"Erm, yeah," you coughed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "I-I was just leaving, Severus was giving me lessons."

"Oh, I'm sure he was, my dear." Minerva chuckled, and you blushed even harder, going as red as a beet. Jesus, were you an idiot? Why did you word it like that?

"What is it, Minerva?" Severus asked rather impatiently, a little salty at how she'd interrupted your goodbye. From the way Minerva glanced at you, you assumed that it was a personal issue. So, you offered the two of them an awkward smile, silently bidding them goodbye. You caught Severus's eye, and he smiled at you warmly, his shoulders relaxing a tad. You smiled back, mouthing a 'bye' to him and turned around, wandering back in the direction to your quarters. As you were walking further away from the two of them, you heard muttering, and then a door shut. You quickly threw a glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. Though, you were sorely disappointed. Severus had disappeared already.

Despite that, another wide smile crossed your face as you folded your arms against your chest, thinking about what had just happened. You couldn't believe how gentle and soft he was with you, he was like a totally different man. A man that you adored.

No, a man that you loved.

this has to be my favourite part that i have written. i think. as of yet. :) let me know what you thought!! i really really would love to know <3

thank you for reading and have a good day/night, make sure you are taking care of yourselves. >:(

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[nanowrimo]

4 Alternatives to Popular Writing Advice

Some writing advice get passed off as something every writer has to do. The truth is, these tips might not work for everybody! NaNo participant Nicole Wilbur offers some alternatives to popular writing advice that may be a better fit for your writing needs.

While there are no definitive writing “rules”, there’s certainly writing advice so common it feels like it’s become canon. Most popular writing advice is generally good – but what if it doesn’t light up your brain? What if a particular tip doesn’t resonate with you?

 If this popular advice isn’t working - try these alternatives! 

Common advice: Make your character want something.  Alternative: Ask what your character is most afraid of.

Your character usually wants something – the MC’s goal driving the story is a common plot, after all. That something needs to be concrete, meaning the audience will know definitively when they’ve achieved their goal. 

(Is “found independence” concrete? No. Signed the lease on their first apartment? Yes.)

But if you aren’t sure yet, or what they want doesn’t feel motivating enough to support your inciting incident, start with a different question: what is your character afraid of? 

Katniss wants to survive, with her family, yes. But she’s terrified of helplessly watching them die. 

Common advice: Identify your story’s theme and stick it on a post- it above your computer.  Alternative: Use the character’s arc to create a main idea statement, and craft several related questions your story explores. 

English class really made ‘theme’ feel heavy-handed. In my grade nine English class, we listed the themes of To Kill a Mockingbird as: coming of age, racism, justice, and good vs. evil. 

While these are the topics explored in the book, I’ve never found this advice helpful in writing.  Instead, I like to use the controlling idea concept (as in Robert McKee’s Story) and exploratory questions (as in John Truby’s Anatomy of Genres).

A controlling idea is a statement about what the author views as the “proper” way to live, and it’s often cause-and-effect. The exploratory question is – well, a question you want to explore. 

In It’s a Wonderful Life, the controlling idea is something to the effect of “Life is meaningful because of our relationships” or “our lives feel meaningful when we value our family and community over money.” The question: How can a single person influence the future of an entire community?

Common advice: List out your character’s traits, perhaps with a character profile. Alternative: Focus on 2-3 broad brushstrokes that define the character.

When I first started writing, I would list out everything I wanted my character to be: smart, daring, sneaky, kind, greedy, etc. I created a long list of traits. Then I started writing the book. When I went back to look at the traits, I realized the character wasn’t really exhibiting any of these.

Instead of a long list of traits to describe your character, try identifying three. Think of these like three brush strokes on a page, giving the scaffolding of your character. Ideally, the combination of traits should be unexpected: maybe the character is rule-following, people-pleasing, and ambitious. Maybe the character is brash, strategic, and dutiful. 

Then – and this is the fun part – consider how the traits come into conflict, and what their limits are. What happens when our ambitious rule-follower must break the law to get what she wants? Sure, a character might be kind, but what will make her bite someone’s head off?

Common advice: Create a killer plot twist. Alternative: Create an information plot. 

Readers love an unexpected plot twist: whether a main character is killed or an ally turns out to be the bad guy, they’re thrilling. But plotting towards one singular twist can be difficult. 

Instead of using the term plot twist, I like thinking in terms of Brandon Sanderson’s “information” plot archetype. 

An information plot is basically a question the reader is actively trying to work out. It could be like Sarah Dessen's Just Listen where we wonder "what happened between Annabel and her ex-best friend?", "why is Annabel's sister acting strangely?" and "who is Owen, really?" Those all have to do with backstory, but information plots can be about pretty much any hidden information. Another popular question is "who is the bad guy?" - or in other words, "who is after the characters?" The Charlie's Angel franchise, for example, tends to keep viewers guessing at who the true antagonist is until the last few scenes.

Nicole Wilbur is an aspiring YA author, writing sapphic action-adventure stories that cure wanderlust. As a digital nomad, she has no house and no car, but has racked up a ridiculous number of frequent flier miles. She chronicles her writing and travelling journey on her YouTube channel and Chasing Chapters substack.

Photo by George Milton

#nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #writing tips #plotting #characters #by nano guest #nicole wilbur

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hi! I love your account. Sm. Like a lot. Would you be interested in writing something for lewis where he casually mentions in his gq interview that he has a longtime gf or wife. Or he recalls a memory of them introducing roscoe to her dog or cat?

Thank you so so much for the ask bestie! I drabbled something short, hope you like it ❤️.

PS: I'm still not over that interview btw, he's such a complex person and I'm so glad he's letting us see this side to him (a LVFH type of thing is something only someone like him could pull it off)

_____________________________________________________________

Lewis Hamilton’s drive to continually innovate and push the boundaries of his sport stems from a dual motivation. Firstly, he is determined to challenge and break the often conservative and traditional norms of Formula 1. Secondly, he is laying the groundwork for the latter part of his own illustrious career.

“I went through this phase of understanding that I can’t race forever,” he says, prompting him to cultivate those other passions. “Because when I stop, I’m gonna drop the mic and be happy.” “The difficult thing is I want to do everything,” he says, laughing. “I’m very ambitious. But I understand that you can’t do—actually, I take that back because I don’t believe in the word can’t. To be a master at something, there’s the 10,000 hours it takes. Obviously, I’ve done that in racing. There’s not enough time to master all of these different things.”

As our conversation progresses, Hamilton discloses that he has a kindred spirit who shares his compulsion to explore a myriad of interests. “I’m fortunate to have someone in my life who encourages me to embrace my spontaneous ideas and give them a shot. She might even be more adventurous than I am,” he chuckles. “She’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, and always so sure that you can dive into anything and learn as you go.” His eyes light up with admiration and affection as he speaks of her daring spirit.

The usually private Hamilton, who has been discreet about his long-term relationship, contrasts their differing approaches to life. “I need some more time to think things and really plan out how I want them to go. But she’s a jump now, ask later, so she’s most times hyping me to just try it. We balance each other. Sometimes I’m the strategist, and sometimes she’s the one taking the first bite.”

As for his future plans, apart from his endeavors in fashion and film, Hamilton prefers not to rush into anything. “She still has dreams she wants to pursue, so for now, I’m happy to be her supportive sidekick whenever I can. Perhaps in the future, when we both have more time our own family might be on the horizon, but not while I’m still racing.”

He quickly corrects himself though, referring to his bulldog, Roscoe, as his son, and introduces the adorable dachshund who frequently graces Roscoe’s Instagram posts. “My partner’s parents gifted her the little sausage dog a few years ago. Introducing them was a bit tricky as Tete is quite territorial. She wasn’t fond of me at first either, so Roscoe has a head start in winning her over. But now, Baguette gets along with everyone, and we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

Eager for more personal insights, I probe for updates on his personal life. However, when his response to my inquiry is, “Time will tell, when things happen we’ll make sure to update everyone when it feels right” I gracefully pivot to our next topic of discussion.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #elladrabbles #lewis hamilton imagine #ella asks #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[sugusoneandonly]

Quixotic - STSG - ch 1

satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto

next

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 !! pls don’t tho <3

cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent 😞 ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys 🥰

exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??

a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33

some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)

- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.

- takes place 2 years after their breakup

- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.

- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him

- NOTTT really real life accurate 🥰

Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you would’ve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).

Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that could’ve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguru’s been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.

You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. “Y/N!” his voice had drawn Suguru’s eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.

Now, you and Gojo hadn’t had a horrendous break-up (although it’s after affects on you weren’t quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadn’t included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.

It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person you’d expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Geto’s work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.

Geto’s brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then

“Hi.” slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasn’t to late to run out yet.

“Y/N? I heard lots about you” Suguru’s voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. “Good things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?” His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.

I wanna go home

©sugusoneandonly 2024

next

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #jjk suguru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #geto x gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #reader x geto #gojo x geto x reader #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader fluff #stsg x reader angst

[tomriddleslove]

Forgotten once again.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom isn’t capable of love, but you thought you could change that. Alternatively: Possesiveness and Love become the same thing.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because Tom’s character is sm fun to write. It’s interesting because despite my delusions I couldn’t ever imagine him being capable of loving someone, and if he did it would be like this. Also this is probably the last time i’ll post for the next three weeks!

Warnings: Toxic Relationships, mentions of manipulation, violence (towards others). Generally about a very toxic and unhealthy relationship so please do not read if you’re triggered by anything to do with this! My inbox is always open if you ever need someone to talk to 🫶🏼.

Songs: Leaving Tonight - The Neighbourhood

Spectre - Radiohead

Tom Riddle was many things.

For one, he was ambitious. He would achieve whatever he so desired. If he had the means to do it, it would be done immediately. If he did not, well...

He would find the means to do so. Because Tom Riddle achieved whatever he so desired.

He was also charismatic.

Tom had a natural charisma that drew people to him. Whether through his charm, intelligence, or a combination of both, he had a magnetic presence that captivated those around him. This charisma played a significant role in his ability to influence and manipulate others to further his ambitions.

Tom Riddle was brilliant. Gifted with a sharp mind and a keen understanding of magic, he excelled in his studies. His intelligence, coupled with his ambition, allowed him to delve into dark magic and ancient mysteries, seeking knowledge and power that others might shy away from.

Tom Riddle was many things, but there was only one thing he lacked.

Perhaps it was karma, some form of divine intervention, his hamartia, that it was this very thing that would be his downfall in the years to come.

Tom was many things, but loving was not one of them.

Tom Riddle was not loving. No - he was not capable of love.

Tom Riddle, was incapable of experiencing genuine love due to being conceived under the influence of a love potion, not true love. The circumstances of Tom’s conception were marked by coercion and manipulation, as his mother, Merope Gaunt, used a love potion to attract and bind Tom Riddle Sr. to her. It was artificial and devoid of true affection. This was a concrete and inexplicably tragic detail that meant Tom Riddle simply was not physically capable of reciprocating love.

Key word, reciprocating. For, it was very much possible for someone to fall in love with Tom. A cruel thing it would be, for one cannot simply love Lucifer himself and expect to be loved in return. Tom Riddle's incapacity for reciprocating love stemmed from a profound emotional void rather than an inability to elicit affection from others.

This fact was a cruel truth that you only chose to accept once it was too late. One does not simply get involved with Tom Riddle, and come out unscathed.

Tom never cared for love, really. To him, it was just some sort of transaction or tool, something to be manipulated for his own benefit. Love, in Tom Riddle's eyes, was a means to an end rather than an intrinsic value. It was a sentiment that he observed in others but never truly felt himself.

Love, however, seemed to be the most raw, human thing in existence. It was everything we hated, yet also everything we loved. It unravelled our deepest insecurities, it brought things to the surface that we had long pushed to the side. It required us to lay ourselves, bare, for the other to see. Love made us tolerate the very worst of things, love made us hate the very best of things.

Many things can be complementary in life. Love was not one of them. It was overpowering, consuming. It changed who you were.

Love was the beginning of life and the end of it. Love was part of being human.

Tom lacking this fundamentally crucial aspect of the human experience may have been the very thing that led him to despise his humanity.

When Tom had met you, it was slightly different. A puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but intrigued him nonetheless.

You were undeniably talented, a mind that had its worth. You had this air of arrogance, and whilst Tom hated unbacked arrogance, you had the means to justify it. You were self-assured, and he found it to be somewhat refreshing compared to the other people he knew (who unashamedly sucked up to him.) You didn’t fall for his tricks immediately, which made him all the more agitated, and intrigued. Rather, you seemed to enjoy being with Tom most when he’d drop the ‘perfect and polite’ facade he had. You valued honesty and bluntness, two things Tom did not do (After all, how would he gain the trust of others if he truthfully told them he planned on using every single one of them?)

However, the more time he spent with you, the more he found that he fed into what you liked. And somehow, to his dismay, he found some sort of sick satisfaction in it. He enjoyed seeing you actively seek out his presence, and as much as it went against what Tom believed, he liked the validation of having people want to be associated with him. It was a testament to how he longed to be known, to be admired. He observed, learned, and dissected your intricacies, seeing you not as an individual but as a canvas upon which he could project his desires.

He soon grew very used to you, and he didn't absolutely loathe you. As the days unfolded into months, and the months unfolded into years, a semblance of tolerance took root. He played the part, masking his true intentions beneath a veneer of charm. Tolerance morphed into a twisted form of acknowledgement — an acknowledgement that you held a role in his future ambitions, his ultimate goal.

After all, that's all he ever did anything for, right? His goals, His desires. His needs.

The evolution was subtle but insidious. What began as a detached fascination transformed into a possessive need. Tom, driven by an insatiable hunger for control, found satisfaction in manipulating the threads of your existence. Obsession seeped into every crevice of his thoughts. Your every action became a challenge to him, something for him to understand, something he wanted to have control over. His infatuation stemmed from a desire to have control, to claim your very being, to possess you like some sort of artefact in his prized possessions.

Whilst you may have been immune to Tom’s charm when you first met, you certainly weren't without your weakness. After all, Tom always got what he wanted, and if he didn't have the means to do so, he'd find it.

He became fluent in his ways of understanding you, observing every little thing you did. He dissected the very core of your being till he was sure there was nothing he wouldn't know. Casual conversations about schoolwork in the depths of the library turned to confessions about your life as the hours passed. Tom preyed on your vulnerability, sowing seeds of doubt into your mind.

He agreed with you when you expressed your frustrations at your friends, he encouraged your rash actions. He told you what you wanted to hear, and made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As everything he did, each word he spoke was carefully calculated, a thread sewn in the fabric of your fucked up relationship, binding him inexplicably closer to you without even realising.

He pointed out things, seemingly from a place of concern, making you distance yourself from your friends. He highlighted instances where your friends might have let you down, carefully framing himself as the only steadfast pillar in your life. Tom was everything you could have needed; he understood you, and he made you feel seen.

He was selective about what he let you know. He let you know he had grown up in a children’s home, and that his mother had died. Trust was a two-way thing, and you were smart enough to detect when it wasn’t being reciprocated. He let you see what he wanted to see, for no human was perfect, and he needed you to see he had his imperfections if he wanted you to trust him.

He needed to make it seem as though you made him feel seen too.

Tom had been sitting in your room, working with you on a transfiguration assignment you both had been set. Cross-legged on your bed, he still remembers how you had sat down next to him, visibly frustrated.

Tom, ever attuned to you, asked whether you were ok because that's what someone who cared for you did. He didn't care greatly though, not in a selfless way. Rather, he needed you to know that he was the only person who knew you, the only person you needed.

You opened up about what had happened, explaining how your friends had betrayed your trust, and how they seemed to misunderstand you, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable. Tom, feigning empathy with expert precision, listened intently, absorbing every detail like a sponge. You began crying because it all became too much.

You never thought Tom would comfort you. You believed he'd perhaps pat your back, or assure you it was all fine. What you didn't expect, was for Tom to draw you in, to wrap his arms around you, and pull you into his chest. You didn't expect him to soothe you, and rub your back as he uttered words of comfort into your ear, seemingly shielding you from the emotions that had been weighing you down.

You didn't expect to feel safe, to feel protected. If only you knew the only thing you needed protection from, was Tom himself.

You felt special. You knew it was not in Tom's nature to do so. You had no idea how vile of a person he truly was, but you understood he was avoidant of sentiment or affection. For him to have been so tender, made you feel loved.

It was only ever bound to go downhill from there.

It was only natural that you had fallen in love with him. From there it all somewhat became a blur. In between the lines, the illusion of love was beginning to waver. Graduating from Hogwarts, you no longer held those ambitions you once had. Your plans seemed now to be a distant memory, a past life. You had Tom, and that was all that mattered.

Tom had gotten his job at Borgin and Burkes. You moved in with him. You ignored the pleas of concern from those who were near and dear to you, who Tom hadn’t managed to isolate you from.

Tom convinced you that they did not have your best interest in mind, that they didn’t like him because he was a poor orphan, working a salesperson job. He had earlier convinced you he had his insecurities about his past, and he used that to make you believe the people around you were prejudiced, that they didn't care for your happiness but rather their status being affected by who they associated with. No one would want to be acquainted with the girl who loved the charity case.

You believed him. You couldn't fathom why they didn’t like Tom. You shut them out.

It was rather terrifying seeing how quickly Tom could snuff out your fiery flame, and reduce you down to someone who became dependent on him. You rarely left the house, your life revolved around what Tom wanted, and how Tom felt.

He left you teetering on the precipe of unhappiness, fulfilling your needs to the point where you couldn’t complain for fear of seeming ungrateful, unloving.

He would neglect you, coming back from work to lock himself in your bedroom, pouring over books and writings. He wasn’t who he used to be, caring, affectionate, loving.

Shame on you for assuming you could make Tom capable of love.

His neglect pierced your soul, and when you mustered the courage to voice your needs, he snapped at you for bothering him. Tom's transformation into an emotionally distant stranger left you in a state of perpetual uncertainty.

At times, you resolved to leave him, but Tom had a knack for sensing your unrest. As though he could read your mind, he returned with offerings and apologies, painting himself as the troubled victim and casting you as the ungrateful perpetrator. Guilt became the shackle that bound you, and his apologies only deepened the wounds.

Tom, in those fleeting moments of remorse, would momentarily embody the man you had fallen in love with. You cooked dinner together. He’ d play with your hair as you read, and he fucked you as if he truly did love you. Yet, the morning after, the bed would be empty, and the reality of your entangled existence with Tom would once again sink in.

He began leaving for work earlier and coming back later. You began to doubt whether it was because of work, the day he came back reeking of dark magic.

You were undeniably clever, after all, that was what had sparked Tom’s obsession with you in the first place, and so it didn’t take long for you to connect the dots. Tom’s friends back in Hogwarts seemed more like devotees than anything else. This, coupled with him spending countless hours reading through books he wouldn't let you see, and his sudden late hours suggested to you he was dappling in dark things.

You weren't wrong, per se, but Tom was far beyond dappling in dark things. He had become the image of corruption itself.

The cycle persisted, a disheartening repetition of highs and lows that left you questioning your worth and the authenticity of the connection you had with Tom. His intermittent displays of affection, punctuated by periods of neglect and manipulation, became the norm. The more you yearned for stability, the deeper you sank into the quicksand of your toxic relationship.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where neglect turned into heated words. Arguments turning more and more intense. Slammed doors became broken porcelain, yet the remorseful embraces remained the same.

The outside world, once filled with friends and dreams, now seemed like a distant echo. Tom had successfully eroded the foundations of your past life, isolating you from the support systems that could have provided a lifeline. His poisonous whispers had convinced you that only he truly cared for you, painting the rest of the world as indifferent or antagonistic.

The empty mornings and hollow apologies continued, and you slowly began to realise the love you once believed in had become a warped caricature, and the person you had fallen for had let his obsession manifest into your relationship, seeping through the feeble foundations.

The crisp air of Hogsmeade offered a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the shared home with Tom. As you strolled through the quaint village, a familiar face caught your eye – Elizabeth, your closest friend from Hogwarts. A twinge of nostalgia mixed with apprehension as you approached her.

"Hey, Elizabeth," you greeted, attempting a smile.

Her response was guarded, her eyes revealing a mixture of concern and wariness. "Hello. Long time no see."

You sensed a tension in the air as you tried to engage in small talk, but Elizabeth's words soon cut through the facade. "Look, What happened? You dropped off the face of the earth, and it's like you vanished after graduation. In our last year, you completely ignored all of us."

A knot tightened in your stomach as you fumbled for an explanation. "I... things have been complicated. I've been busy."

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she sighed. "Busy? More like completely consumed. We all missed you, you know? But you acted like we don't even exist. What happened to the person we used to know?"

You frown, crossing your arms. “Missed me? I only stopped talking to you because you all acted weird around me.” You respond, defensively.

“No, we didn't. You got angry at us when we told you we were worried for you. You rarely went out with us, you were always too busy elsewhere.” She corrected, and you felt a frustration bubble within you.

“No, it didn’t really seem like that. You all isolated me and the only person I had left was Tom. It was only natural that I wouldn't want to go back to being friends with you after that.” You snap.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, sympathy replacing her earlier frustration. "Tom? Are you serious? He's the one who isolated you, not us. We've been worried sick about you. You're not the same person anymore."

Who did she think she was? She knew nothing about the two of you, let alone what your relationship was like. Tom was right, these people had it out for you. They didn't care for you, not at all.

“You don't know what our relationship is like Elizabeth, so I suggest you stop making assumptions.” You hiss, glaring at her.

"We cared, but you pushed us away," Elizabeth explained gently. "You were so wrapped up in whatever was going on with Tom that you stopped caring about anyone else. It's not healthy, and we were genuinely concerned."

Elizabeth reached out to comfort you. "Listen, I know it's tough, but you need to reevaluate your situation. Staying with Tom isn't healthy, and you're not alone. My door is always open if you need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to.” She says, fumbling around in her pockets. She pulls out a receipt and hastily scribbles down an address, thrusting it into your hand. She gives you one last look of pity, and you feel enraged. You immediately apparate back home, you didn't have time for this foolishness.

You apparate back home, the confrontation with Elizabeth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. The hastily scribbled address clutched in your hand feels like an unwanted invitation, an intrusion into the carefully constructed reality that Tom has woven around you.

As you step into the shared home, the atmosphere is unsettling. Tom is hunched over a dark tome, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as you enter.

"Where have you been?" he questions, the softness of his tone belying the underlying intensity.

You toss your coat aside, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Out. I needed a break from all this," you retort, the words laced with the anger that has been building up.

A dangerous glint enters Tom's eyes, his composure slipping. "A break? Is that how you see it? Is it a burden to you?"

"Yes, Tom! I don’t know what’s gone wrong? One day you’re fin and the next you’re acting as though i’m a nuisance to your being," you snap, the resentment in your voice cutting through the room.

His posture stiffens, and a quiet threat laces his words. "Oh really?"

Your anger flares, a defiant fire pushing back against his dominance. "Guess who I saw today, hmm?" You seethe, venom lingering in your tone.

A momentary confusion flickers in Tom's eyes. "Who?" he questions, wondering how this could be relevant to the conversation.

"Elizabeth," you declare, watching his reaction closely.

Tom's expression darkens, and a cold tension settles in the room. "What does she have to do with anything?" He retorts, stepping closer to you.

"She told me a few things, Tom. About how I've distanced myself from everyone, how they were worried, and you know what struck me?" you press on, your anger finding a new target.

His eyes narrow, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "What?"

"That I believed it was my friends who had abandoned me, but in reality, it's been you isolating me all along," you accuse, the realization fueling your rage. You jab your finger into his chest as you speak.

Tom's composure wavers, but he quickly recovers. "I've been protecting you. You can't trust them. They're trying to pull you away from me."

"Stop. Stop it, Tom. Have the decency to acknowledge I'm not that fucking stupid. I know what you're trying to do,” You say, voice cracking. You resist the urge to shield your ears, his words burrowing their way into you as he attempts to trivialise your worries, making you out to be the irrational one.

Tom frowns, and the sight of you beginning to doubt him had bile riding in the back of his throat. H reaches out, hands holding onto your shoulders as he urges you to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. They’re trying to pull you away from me again! Can't you see this? Why do you believe them over me?” He says, voice pleading with you in fake desperation, the lengths he was willing to go to to ensure he could continue to possess you were unthinkable.

“Enough. Im fucking done. You’re so fucked up, Tom. You never loved me, did you? You only ever wanted to own me, to control me. Tell me, was it worth it? Was it ever fucking worth it, spending 5 years of your life weaving this tapestry of bullshit just so you could keep me locked up in here?” You snap, grabbing your coat.

Tom's pleading expression transforms into a cold mask, and a sinister calm settles over him. "You think you can just leave? You're mine, and you'll stay. I won't let you go." He utters.

The realization of his true nature, the toxicity of the relationship, fuels your determination. "Watch me,” You hiss.

As you move toward the door, his grip on control slips further, and an unsettling mix of rage and desperation flashes in his eyes. "You'll regret this. You'll come crawling back. You always come back." He says. You take a single look at him before slamming the door and walking off.

One cannot simply dance with the devil, and change him. He always changes you.

Tom Riddle was far beyond the devil.

You wondered if for once in your life God had been on your side when you had that chance encounter with Elizabeth. Despite your harsh words, she had accepted you into her home with open arms. The weight of the past five years settles heavily on your shoulders, and the enormity of what you've lost becomes painfully clear. You were young, so damn young, and you’d been living as a glorified prisoner, trapped by the very thing that was meant to liberate you.

But love was ugly, wasn't it? It made you tolerate the bad, it made you irrational. Love could bare its teeth into your neck, and you'd let it, for love was ugly.

It was ugly, but it was not macabre.

Tom knew where you were. Tom always did. It was already established that Tom always got what he wanted. He wanted you, and he found a way to ensure that.

At first, he did not bother you.

He believed you would come back to him, as you so often did. But when a week had passed and you had not reappeared as you always did, beautiful face flushed red, eyes glossy with tears as you wordlessly stepped in and fell back into normality, he began to worry.

If it came to any relief to you, which it might have, Tom believed he loved you. What you had was a far cry from love, an echo of what it should have been. But in the mind of he who cannot love, this is what he believed it to be. One could only wonder whether everything would have been different if he actually knew what love was. But he didn't, and he never would, so he was left with some sort of fucked up obsession that he believed was love.

Tom felt a gnawing emptiness that only intensified with your departure.

Again, he loved you, if one could call it love. It was a sick, twisted version of affection that demanded ownership. In his distorted reality, your existence became an extension of his own, a possession he couldn't bear to lose. The mere thought of you breaking free ignited a desperate panic within him.

He needed you like a drowning man gasping for air, clinging to the last vestiges of sanity.

Schopenhauer believed that the will, a blind and irrational force, dominated human behaviour. Love, according to Schopenhauer, was an expression of the will's desire.

Tom felt this indescribable gap in his life without you there, as though he simply wasn’t complete without you. The old him would have hated to admit it, but he needed you, and his need for you grew from a sickly infatuation to a desperate yearning. Love, in his distorted reality, meant ownership, and he was losing his grip.

It was a rather bleak evening, and you had a horrible feeling in your stomach as you sat on the sofa of Elizabeth’s living room, where you had been presiding for the past week.

How cruel it was, that you and Tom were so attuned to one another.

You somehow knew it was Tom without needing to see them.

As Tom had resonated with the words of Schopenhauer, you had resonated with the words of Plato. For you, love could not be controlled. Instead, it was a divine madness that took hold of individuals, transcending rational thought and choice.

You had often thought that was a beautiful thing. However, when it was love that was causing your demise, it no longer felt beautiful.

Elizabeth comes down the stairs and raises a brow when she sees you perched on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly off into the distance. She eyes you apprehensively as she opens the door.

That voice. It simultaneously sent dread coursing through you, and butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Come back now. It's been far too long.” Tom says, his voice oh so tempting.

“Seriously? You think you can get her back with that bullshit?” Elizabeth snaps, standing at the door.

Tom, however, remains fixated on you, as if Elizabeth's words were mere background noise. Ignoring her comments, he continues, his eyes piercing into your conflicted gaze.

"Stop this. Come back. It's where you belong," he urges, the words carrying a persuasive weight that had once held you captive.

Elizabeth's frustration peaked as she turned to face you, pleading in her eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's toxic, and you don't need that in your life. You deserve so much more."

Tom's eyes bore into yours, his tone silky but insistent. "You don't belong in our business, Elizabeth. You’re as meddlesome as you were in school. She knows where she belongs."

You remain silent.

"He's killing you. Can't you see that?" Elizabeth's voice held a mixture of concern and frustration.

But Tom's voice slithered through the air once more, persuasive and relentless. "Come to me.” His words echoed a twisted sense of possessiveness, yet held such allure, spoken tenderly, enough to convince you it would be fine.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your skin. You stand up, letting out a shuddery breath. You walk towards the door.

“Fuck, stop! You don't need to go! Don't act like you have nowhere to go! I've given you my home, I’ve let you stay. Stop going back!” Elizabeth says, frustration laced in her voice.

How easy it is to claim you simply need to just “stop”, and it would all be fine.

It was never that simple. Tom's presence was poison, yet it was also the air you breathed. You had only known Tom for what felt like aeons, and you had shut everyone who questioned you out. All you had was Tom, all you ever would have is Tom.

He was home, a twisted kind that keeps you warm while slowly suffocating the life out of you.

As you walked back into his outstretched arms, a sense of numb acceptance settled over you. The outside world ceased to matter; the only reality was the one with Tom.

It wasn't love as the poets wrote or the philosophers pondered. Yet, in its ugliness, it was the only reality you knew.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around. Like a serpent, his embrace constricts around you, possessive and suffocating. You lean into him, feeling the coldness of his touch seep into your skin. It's oddly warming though, as paradoxical as it seemed.

"Where else would you go, my love?" he whispers, the sweetness of the endearment masking the toxicity beneath.

The serpent and its prey, bound in a perverse waltz of dependence and decay, disappear into the shadows, and the world outside is forgotten once again.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic #tom riddle angst

[mewtwoandme]

Alright, a bit of an update regarding the arc....unfortunately not a good update in my opinion.

I don't think I'm going to finish all of Blu's Arc in time for Christmas :(

I tried...I really did, I thought I could, but honestly, I should've known better. Getting 3 major parts completely finished and ready to post with less than a month left??? Yeah, I dont think that's happening. Plus, with it being the holidays, things have been busy IRL with family, work, and all that "fun" stuff. Perhaps I may have been a bit too ambitious. I haven't been getting my right sleep either for the last couple of weeks, so that's been interfering with my motivation and ability to draw during the only times I'm able. Now I know I've said many, many times that it's okay if Blu is late and doesn't actually arrive by real-time Christmas, that's still fine. If he's late, then he's late. If he comes in January or February, it won't matter. He'll still be a winter baby, at least, and his birthday will still be on Christmas in the story, so be it. But...this was more of a personal goal I wanted to set for myself, and I kinda feel a little disappointed in myself that I likely won't be able to meet it...

And let's be honest...I'm not the fastest artist XD I'm slow as hell when it comes to making comics. It's taken me weeks to a month to just get ONE out on a few occasions (usually, that was because they were very long, but still).

I'm saying all this now just so ya'll won't be disappointed later, most of you probably seen this coming anyway XD I think it's safe to say I wont be focusing on the Christmas deadline anymore, but I'm still gonna try to get the arc finished in a reasonable amount of time, without disregarding my health of course ^^

#mod announcement #mod speaks #update

[dulcewrites]

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.” 

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

#this weirdly being one of the fav things Ive written and I did it in like a couple of hours wimfksnf #like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

[wttcsms]

wttcsms wags blind bag, one shot collection ;

about poking fun at blind items & wanting to explore wag culture (and also looking for any reason to write about hot anime athletes), this fic collection's theme is inspired by/based off of... well, blind items about wags!

you're what i wanna love on, shugo meian

at the height of peak stardom, you're not just japan's pop princess — you're everyone's. with it comes controversy; your infamously short dresses, the late night parties you attend after every concert, your outrageously expensive concert tickets and merch, your racy performances that have concerned mothers going on social media saying you're a bad influence. adding to your list of typical pop star transgressions, you also have a hot, successful, wildly successful and just barely controversially older boyfriend!

but it would've been fun (if you could've been the one), tooru oikawa

from high school rivals to long-distance college sweethearts to perhaps the couple that got eloped way too early, it's no surprise that you and oikawa end up divorcing soon after getting married. while in your case it seems like love might be a losing game, you and oikawa both only play to win. when the olympics brings you two together once more, there's a good chance you two can reconcile and get your relationship back and better than it was before — or, go down with this sinking ship. with either outcome, at least you two are doing it together.

something to lose, shoyo hinata

heartbroken, jaded, and convinced that all men are garbage, you don't plan on anything happening when you're invited to an after party for a profession volleyball team in order to boost said team's publicity. you don't plan on making any friends or meaningful connections, and you certainly don't plan on getting the number of one of their star player's, shoyo hinata. then again, a lot of things don't go as planned when he's involved, and you don't expect yourself to be happy about these turns of event, but for once you are; happy, that is. and it's all his fault.

easy like sunday morning, wakatoshi ushijima

wakatoshi ushijima is notorious for his devotion to two things: volleyball and his family. during his post-game interview where he's been away from home for nearly two months, interviewers are asking him if he's excited to attend the rowdy after party to celebrate. ushijima's answer? he's taking a flight directly after this interview to head back home. he plans on celebrating the only way he knows how to: by finally being able to tuck in his sweet kids to bed, and then show his beloved wife how much he's missed her.

it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender, koutarou bokuto

before he gets scouted by the msby black jackals and becomes one of japan's most famous athletes of all time, he's a struggling athlete trying his hardest to get a contract. during the off-season for recruiting, he decides to make some extra cash by using his looks and charms to become a contestant on a reality dating show, where he meets you: beautiful, intelligent, ambitious you, who is so clearly out of the league for anyone. you adore him, and you two have the strongest connection out of everyone on the show, so when he ends up picking someone who's not you, you're shocked. you don't know that he thinks he's doing you a favor because he believes he'll only ever hold you back. when the show invites you two for a reunion episode special, bokuto can only hope your feelings haven't changed.

burn out season, michael kaiser

what do you do when suffer a potential career-ending injury? hopefully not get diagnosed with depression, find out that because you devoted your whole life to your sport, you now have no sense of what to do without it, and then realize the only person who really Gets You is the only person who can irritate you like no one else does. hopefully you don't start to spend your newfound free time with him, and hopefully, you don't start to experience all the fun firsts in your life because of him and with him. or, maybe hopefully you do.

life could be a dream, yoichi isagi

getting together was no easy feat, and yoichi wants to show you how happy he is that you're his. he showers you with presents, shows you off at any given chance, always has a hand on the small of your back or around your waist. his possessive streak only grows when he finally slips that expensive engagement ring on your finger, and he shows you just how good married life is going to be for you.

i was supposed to sweat you out, michael beckenbauer

michael beckenbauer doesn't give a shit about japan, or the other subpar racers who have the nerve to get behind the wheel of the cars just to lose by a wide margin to him, or about how he's perceived by the media. he just wants to finish out this season, return home, and maybe find some worthy competition. he doesn't care if it's your job to try to brighten up his image; he never asked for a publicist, and in typical michael fashion, he's going to go out of his way to get you to quit. he has a bad tendency to underestimate his opponents, though, and off the track, you just might be his worthiest competition yet.

#this was silly and 4 fun ok #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #mf ghost x reader #blue lock x reader #meian x reader #oikawa x reader #hinata x reader #ushijima x reader #bokuto x reader #michael kaiser x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #michael beckenbauer x reader #masterlist #reader insert

[copperbadge]

Royals/Ramblers is DONE. I split the difference and made two epilogues from the five, and one of them just looks like it's part of another chapter. I am devious in my ways.

I'm letting it marinate for the rest of the day; I'll give it a quick pass tomorrow, then let go of it for a few days so when I come back I'll be ready for slightly deeper editing. Aiming to post it perhaps October or November, we'll see how life goes.

It meant I could finalize a lot of dates in the timeline that I've been building. I've had to shift some things around, so now the trick is to figure out timing for the stories now in the pipeline, based on my notes. There's ten, more or less, and whether I end up writing them all is dubious; it reminds me of plotting out Laocoon's Children, an extremely ambitious task, but unlike Laocoon's Children, I control the canon and I don't have to deal with anyone's stupidity but my own. And I'm really only focused on five of the ten right now. Which, given I wrote four of these books in fifteen months, plus three books' worth (Royals/Ramblers) for a total of "seven" books in less than two years....I guess we'll find out. Might take a break at some point to write something more literary, that's up to the ADHD I think.

Anyway, it's not necessarily the order in which I'd like to write the stories, but I've been holding off on some of these for a year already, they'll keep. I think the slate coming up is:

2023 Autumn - The Football Novel, which is already 2/3 written; it will run through spring 2024.

2024 Spring - The Chicken Salad Wars, Simon's novel, pushed out from this year to next; it has to end in August, because of Plot.

2024 Autumn - The Roman Ruin story, aka Classics Nerds In Love; this has to come relatively soon because it's prior to Jerry finalizing the dissolution of his estate. There's no set ending for this one, but it will likely need to cover at least until late spring 2025.

2025 Spring - The Let's Legalize Psychedelic Davzda story. Not ideal to push this one so far, but it's possible when I get there I could swap it with the Roman Ruin story, though that could make certain plotlines awkward.

2025 Summer - Ofelia's story, which culminates in Galian elections in early fall.

Fortunately most of them should be less work and words than Royals/Ramblers, which is a bit of a sweeping familial epic. Those five are all more-or-less unrelated to the royals directly.

The rest of them are either barely conceptions or can be set at any time (like the Quaker Whaler novel that happens in the past anyway). Which is kind of nice; I now have both a specific agenda for the immediate future and resources that I can build out once I get closer to the end of that agenda.

Phew. What a ride, and I'm still in the middle of it.

(I'd post a bit of story from Royals/Ramblers but for the last 4-5 chapters it's all spoilery.)

#shivadhverse

[marielschism]

Please do talk about the Marquis, all plot bunnies, how an eventual relationship with him would turn out. Any thoughts are most anticipated! 👀

FR?????????????? okay!

so i'm currently working on patron of the arts, a marquis de gramont x artist!reader fic where he is an art patron/cultural sugar daddy who is horrendously down bad for you, an artist in their flop era. i'm making an hc post for it over at my writing sideblog [@marielserif] so if anyone's interested 👀 i'll post it some time next week!

pairing: marquis de gramont x reader note: i think i made him unbearably ooc. whatever warnings: some mature themes/content; unedited; not an entirely healthy relationship (vincent has issues!!!!!!)

general relationship hcs

side note: these hcs operate under the assumption that the reader is unaware of his work.

i am deeply fascinated by yandere stuff, so every time i think of marquis de gramont, i can't help but sprinkle a bit of obsessive yearning on his part (because i honestly think he's the type to do so! he chased john wick all over the world! that should be me!). he is ruthless, ambitious, and determined, and i think this, too, translates into how he deals with his relationships.

i think that he's the type to fall hard for someone, but is also the type to deny the feeling initially, trying to stamp it out of his brain as hard as he can, constantly pretending that he is unaffected by you. he does not need you. he wants you. he has lived through most of his life without your presence, surely he can live through more.

his dedication to denying his feelings leads him into a great number of sticky situations: perhaps he dismisses you a bit too much, and it puts a significant strain on your relationship. he might even end up with you hating him.

he is used to being feared. he is used to being hunted. but he will never get used to the feeling of your hatred, so that could easily force him to act on his feelings before he makes things worse. it is a wake up call for him: he does not want to lose you because of his own pride.

good for you!

when the marquis is in it, good god, he is in it.

i think that marquis de gramont is an incredibly selfish man. if he loves you, you become an extension of himself — and in turn, he will ensure your safety and your joy. you deserve it. you're his.

he's a patron of the arts — he'll get along with you better if you have some appreciation for art and culture. your conversations with him will be longer, too, and sometimes more heated. vincent is very opinionated, and he'll defend his opinions to the death. he'll take you to museums, renting out entire scenic cultural hotspots just for you (and him) to enjoy at your own pace. he is prone to over-explaining when he is excited, so expect that you'll be doing a lot of listening.

if he senses that you're actually listening to him and he's feeling particularly generous, he'll reward you. you know what that entails.

there are times where you're feeling tired, and you're just not in the mood to listen to him ramble about his least favorite painting in the musee d'orsay. he does not fault you for it, but you feel the mild disappointment radiating off him in waves. you'll have to...make it up to him somehow.

he'll appreciate it very much.

anyway, vincent will take you to the ballet, dress you in the finest of things, and take you to the swankiest of establishments. you deserve nothing but the best.

if you inform him that you are uncomfortable with being spoiled like this, he will try to tone it down a little. the code word here is try. he will go back to sending you swarovski-embellished fountain pens in two weeks.

despite this, he's not above accompanying you to places like gas stations or grocery stores. sure, he'll take at least three bodyguards with him to ensure your safety, but he'll be there for you. he's capable of being normal!

(forgot to mention that vincent de gramont is territorial and overprotective at times. what's the use of all of his power if he can't use it protect the one he loves?)

(his brand of protection can feel almost like a prison at times. you'll have to clearly communicate with him about what you want, and you have to be very firm with him if you don't want to feel like you're a bird in a gilded cage. you have to make sure that he knows you won't just take it.)

(you need a backbone to love him. that's the truth of it all.)

vincent is also touch-starved, though he denies this constantly.

he can be an incredibly greedy kisser. he kisses you like he's starving, and he'll hold you like you'll turn into dust if he lets go.

he can be gentle, too — easy does it, and he takes it as slow as you want. languid, lazy, like you have all of the time in the world.

he's also a horrific tease. he's a smug bastard. he'll do everything except kiss you — he'll bite your earlobe, let his lips travel to your pulse, and kiss the corners of your lips. when you whine, he'll pull away with that smirk of his, and leave you to your racing heart. you're flustered as hell, and he looks unaffected by it.

(it's a lot harder for him to keep his composure if you're the one teasing him.)

he reaches out for you in his sleep, even if he is alone. a tired vincent will always reach out for you, no matter what stage of sleep he's in. in his sleep, he'll end up wrapping himself around your entire body like a boa constrictor no matter your size. one time, he fell asleep on top of you, and you had to elbow him awake because he was suffocating you.

(he owns a weighted blanket for when you're not around.)

if you play with vincent's hair, he will complain about you messing up the handiwork of his treasured coiffeur, but he won't say a word. when you pull your hands off his hair, he'll actually whine, and place your hands back. you have to clear your schedule if you want to play with his hair; he will not let you out of his presence until he's dead asleep.

if you really want to see a very stressed vincent, you can deny him your touch for weeks on end. but why would you do that? 😊

he's prone to taking drastic actions to get what he wants. a desperate vincent de gramont is someone you do not want to meet; a desperate vincent de gramont gets results.

so god help those who will try to take you from him.

plot bunnies

i really need to finish this because i have a 7-page paper due in 42 hours

i desperately wanted to write a ballet dancer!reader x patron!marquis de gramont instead of an artist!reader but im going to be completely honest with you i have zero knowledge of the world of ballet and i would NOT be able to do the idea justice.

(your rival dancer goes missing because of your patron. you investigate. things do not go well.)

also another plot bunny: leverage!reader

the marquis keeps an eye on you as leverage over your father, who is under his employ. think caine and his daughter.

he threatens your safety to keep your father in line constantly — but he's grown fond of you, strangely. you have a harmless hobby. it is soothing to watch you work. he is not going to hurt you.

(vincent even has his men protect you from harm. their presence in the area deter would-be muggers. you do not know this.)

at one point, your father grows stubborn, and vincent has to take a very drastic measure to ensure his cooperation.

he kidnaps you. of course he does.

strange things happen.

assistant!reader! you are his faithful assistant, and you get hurt in the line of duty. oh noooo. what happens next??? :OOO

#marquis de gramont x reader #jw4 #marquis vincent de gramont #hello anon thank u for sending me this ask 😭 i desperately want to talk about him more #you unlocked something in me #anon #so little MVDG fics im gnna be sick. i had to add to it! i had to! #even if i am terrible at writing! #vincentposting

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter thirty one: treachery

prev < masterlist > next

marga's notes. sorry this took years to post i was dead (inside) jk lol pls blame my uni for burning me out

Perhaps, I was too ambitious to think this would be a plain sailing journey. How ironic, it's the exact opposite of what is happening. Doubt and confusion presents itself as soon as I decide to fight our fate. My mind only has perplexity and skepticism. How could it not? I mean, what do you even do when somebody claims to be your fated one but your soul rejects the notion?

The sound of the television's static travels to your ears as Kiyoomi scrolls through his phone to find a good movie to watch for the night, accompanied by the sound of your mother chopping the ingredients of your family's dinner from the kitchen, albeit somewhat muffled. Your fingers remain hovering over the laptop's keyboard, unsure if you should still continue writing when once again, various things distract you, most of them unwelcomed. As if on cure, your phone chimes for the nth time, signaling that you've received yet another text. You only let out an exasperated sigh and pick up the device, reading the message.

[7:15] Hajime: Hey, wanna vc? Just ate dinner, hope you did too :)

For some reasons you don’t know, Iwaizumi just can’t leave you alone from the moment you got off the plane, went outside the airport up until now, where you’re spending your time with your father and brother after being away from them for so long. It was heart fluttering at first, really; how excited he was to see and to be with you. However, some things are just too much sometimes, especially when all you wanted to do was watch said movie and catch up with your family. It was peace: something you craved for as of the moment because in the back of your mind, you knew that the following months would become chaotic.

The gray screen gets filled with vivid colors when Kiyoomi finally finishes setting up a random romantic comedy movie. Quickly typing out a response, you hit the send button. 

[7:17PM] You: That’s good to hear. We already ate as well. Currently watching a movie with ‘Omi and Dad right now so I won’t be able to reply after this. Have a good night :)

[7:19PM] Hajime: Ah.. okay then. Good night, soulmate <3

You pause to read his last message before finally turning the do not disturb mode on and lightly tossing the phone to the side. Heaving yet another sigh, you catch the attention of your brother who was sitting beside you.

"Do you not like this movie? We can change it if you want, it hasn't been that long anyway," your brother suggests, an eyebrow rising when you shake your head. Your dad was long asleep by the couch he usually relaxes on, probably fatigued from the week's work. You turn to your brother's gaze.

"No, just thinking…" you trail off, "what do you think of Iwaizumi?"

Kiyoomi merely shrugs, “eh, he’s fine.”

You huff, “at least give an effort to think about it more. I’m asking a serious question here, you know?”

The frustrated expression on your face causes your brother to ponder over the query a bit more before sighing, “this is difficult. We’re not even that close for me to comment on him. But he looks decent, like he can take care of you.”

His brows furrow when he perceives the slight disappointment on your face, almost as if you were expecting to hear him say negative things instead, “what’s up with you?”

“You really think he’s good?” you lightly say, eyes wandering as if lost further in your own thoughts. He hums, “yeah, something like that. But then again, you don’t need him to take care of you. You can do that yourself, and even if you can’t, you have me, or Osamu.. And his brother, Atsumu.”

He takes note of the way your face subconsciously lights up at the mention of the blonde’s name. Instinctively, it’s always him. 

“O-okay,’’ you stutter with a light blush. 

He ignores it though, it’s a topic set for another time and goes to ask instead, “mind filling me on why you suddenly ask about Iwaizumi-san?” 

Your somberness returns and once again, you look confused, doubtful, “well, he said he was my soulmate…”

Kiyoomi’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe what he heard.

You don’t notice it as you continue to ramble on, “and I don’t know why but I just find it difficult to believe him and I feel guilty about that. ‘Cause I try to think about it, he doesn’t have any reason to lie to me, right? Especially since you yourself said he was a good guy. But, ugh, this is so complicated.”

“Come again?” He asks through gritted teeth, his fists starting to clench in anger. You look at him oddly, which turns to a glare in a second, annoyed that he wasn’t fully listening, “I said… I find it difficult–”

“No, not that. The one before that.”

“Ugh, I said Hajime told me he was my soulmate before. You know, the one I can’t remember? Well, at least that’s what I thought but apparently, he thinks it was a malfunction with the soulmate system. Because I can clearly remember him as my friend and yet, he insists that maybe the system distorted my memories or something like that,” you finish talking, expectantly looking at him, lurching backwards when you see his reaction, “Hey… you okay, ‘Omi? Okay.. I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to search for him anymore nor entertain soulmate stuff.. but you know how impo–”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he abruptly stands up from the couch and quickly makes his way upstairs. You scramble to get up, “hey! Where are you going? Omi! You said you wanted to watch this movie…”

You only hear his bedroom door close as a response. 

“Geez, what got up that weirdo’s ass? So much for a movie night.. one falls asleep right away while the other has very bad mood swings,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you go back to the living room, picking up your phone and trudging upstairs to your bedroom. You unlock your phone and see messages from Osamu and another from Hajime. 

[7:30PM] Samu: Tomorrow. Here at our house. I don’t accept a no. Good night ^_^

[7:35PM] Hajime: Oh, by the way, do you want to go out tomorrow? (:

“Sorry, Haji. Don’t really want to disappoint Samu,” you whisper as you type out replies for the both of them, the guilt of not minding if you disappoint Hajime instead becomes a fleeting thought.

Before you can even raise your fist to knock, the familiar wooden front door opens widely and you are welcomed by the sight of your gray-haired best friend. He pulls you in a tight hug and mumbles curses as he buries his face in your neck, “You took too long… way too long, idiot.” 

“It was only a few years, you dramatic ass. Never took you to be a clingy type of friend,” you hug him back with the same tightness before letting him go and walking inside their humble abode. He excitedly leads you to the living room, “wait here. Let me just get my brother.”

“Uhh… what?”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, we’re going out with him. You know, like what we used to all do when we were–” his eyes widened as if he remembered something before lightly coughing and continuing to speak, “I mean… like what we both used to do, you know? But this time, with him. It’s been a long time since he came home too… and this could be a chance for you two to get closer to one another.”

He finishes rambling, internally praying you don’t catch the nervousness in his voice due to his slip-up a moment ago. He curses when he sees you slowly nod. With so many years of knowing you, Osamu already knew from your expressions that you caught even that minor mistake, how you’re currently scrutinizing each and every word they all speak ever since you came back and how you’re starting to get suspicious about everyone around you.

He doesn’t know if he should thank or curse Kiyoomi for giving him a heads up about your plans to find your soulmate. It makes him so conscious, so nervous he might accidentally tell you that the very person you’re trying to find is his dearest twin brother.

At the present, however, he only gulps and prays instead that you just pretend you didn’t notice anything. You do exactly that when you shrug and tell him, “alright then. That’s no problem for me.”

“G-good,” he says a little too loudly, mentally slapping himself to get it together, “I’ll… get Atsumu now hehe.”

You narrow your eyes at his weirdness, shaking your head before bringing your phone out to check your socials. You hum with interest as you open a message from Hajime.

I like to believe that I’m trying– that I enjoy the idea of being his soulmate, that I look on with favor to partaking in this play pretend, this fantastical theatrics of trying to work things out the way they are– me as his fated one, him as mine.

[9:09AM] Hajime-kun: Good morning, soulmate :) I’m a bit bummed we couldn’t go out. Anyway, enjoy your day with Osamu. Hopefully, it’ll finally be my day tomorrow?

[9:10AM] You: Good morning, Hajime-kun. Sorry again about that hehe but sure, I think I’m finally free tomorrow haha 

[9:12AM] Hajime-kun: Great! Also, I told you to drop the honorifics. You feel so distant when you use it *sadly sighs*

[9:13AM] You: Silly. I just respect you that much, okay? 

You hear multiple footsteps coming down so you quickly type out another message for him.

[9:14AM] You: Anyway, I have to go now. See you tomorrow.

You type out the word soulmate at the end of your text, only to delete it as soon as you pull on your heart. 

But I’m no actress. It’s all treachery. Whenever I try to give him  a chance, I feel like a traitor. It’s almost as if I was betraying someone, like I’m unknowingly breaking somebody else’s heart, my soulmate’s heart, somebody who my heart believes was not him. So I step back and hesitate, maybe I should just stop this. To prevent any more complications, to not feel guilty towards anyone, not to you and not to him. 

Before you can drown deeper in your thoughts, the twins come into view. You give Atsumu a shy smile as a greeting, feeling your heart skip when he returns the gesture. Osamu looks back and forth at the two of you and thinks, I guess the soulmate system really is a scam, huh? Even fate can’t handle these two. So obvious.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “What are you two? High schoolers? You could do better than those shy smiles.”

You both awkwardly chuckle, both cursing the gray-haired lad in your minds. 

“Fine, fine. It’s nice to see you again, Atsumu-san,” you genuinely smile and Atsumu’s heart skips. So pretty, he thought.

“It’s also nice to see ya again.”

Welcome home, YN, the blonde thinks with relief and solace filling his soul.

“Waah, it’s been so long since I came here,” you exclaim as your eyes take in the view of the very familiar and busy street market of your hometown. Atsumu looks at you fondly, hands itching to just grab yours and pull you to his arms while you stroll around the area but his thoughts don’t let him get too far as his twin calls him. “You’re too obvious, boy. You look like a lovesick puppy,” Osamu snorts, hands in his pockets as they watch you excitedly talk to the stall owners, “she wanted you to look at her that way for so long, yanno? Too long.”

“Yeah… I still regret that,” Atsumu sadly smiles, “Nothing much I can do about it now. Our fate’s passed.”

“Or so you think,” his twin shrugs when the blonde looks at him with confusion, “YN… even without her memories of you, is still YN. It’s funny, actually. Even fate couldn’t control her. Even after all that has happened, she still wants to find you. So don’t be a coward, Tsum. You don’t need to ask the world nor the gods for a second chance. YN… she’s giving it to you herself already, even without you asking.”

Atsumu looks at you once more, heart painfully throbbing at your smile as you call the both of them over to where you are. 

“She doesn’t realize it, neither do ya but… she still looks at ya the same way as she did before,” Osamu finishes as he pats Atsumu’s back before walking to you.

“Hey! You two walk so slow,” you comment, pointing to the stall in front of you, “they have ice cream there. Want some?”

“I’ll get it,” Atsumu says as he brings out his wallet.

“I’ll have mint chocolate,” Osamu says. You open your mouth to say your order but the blonde beats you to it.

“Vanilla with chocolate drip and those colorful sprinkles on top. Your favorite, right?” Atsumu says without looking up while he tries getting some coins out. You and his twin become silent, shocked at his familiarity. Osamu internally screams at his twin, this idiot! 

On the other hand, you freeze. How did he know such a very specific detail about you?

Realizing what he just said, Atsumu stops as well, the gears in his head turning to think of an excuse, “Uhm… that was weird for me to know, huh? It’s just that Osamu complained so much about it when I was abroad. Guess it just registered in my brain hehe.”

Nice save, he thought.

“Oh…really? Haha, that’s… interesting to hear haha,” you awkwardly laugh.

“Yeah… anyway, I’m gonna–” he gestures to the stall before practically running to it.

As soon as you thought he was already far enough from the two of you, you grip Osamu’s arm and pull him closer to you and threateningly ask, “This is a question that requires an answer if you want to live through the day– who was Atsumu’s soulmate? Why is his thread also cut off?”

He yelps and stutters, “W-what? What soulmate… I have no idea!”

You tighten your grip on him, “Oh, please, Miya Osamu. I know you have an idea.”

He gulps, “I-I swear I don’t. We never knew because Atsumu couldn’t see the thread.” 

You weren’t fully satisfied with his answer yet you had no choice but to let go of him as you see Atsumu coming back. You look at Osamu with a stare that tells him you were definitely not done with the said topic yet. God, she can be scary sometimes, the lad thinks and shivers in fear.

The blonde hands you your ice cream and smiles before looking around, eyes stopping at another stall.

“Oh, look! They sell waffles there, I think? I remember it’s also your favo–” he stops talking before correcting himself, “I remember Osamu saying it’s also your favorite, am I right?”

“Oh… uhh… yeah, you’re right,” you watch them argue with their eyes, frowning. 

“I’ll buy it this time!” Osamu squeaks out, rushing off and leaving you two.

“He’s so weird,” you comment as you stand beside Atsumu, giggling when he agrees.

“I know right. The gods know how much I’ve put up with that ass,” he shakes his head before sighing, “But he’s put up with me so much as well and probably more… humbled me for so many times already. I’ve made a lot of dumb decisions in my life, yanno? But for some reason, he’s the one always anchoring me, bringing me back and reminding me I could try again,” he pauses and says thoughtfully, “that it’s never selfish to take a second chance at things… or the people I love.”

You look at him and find him already looking at you, melancholy swimming deep in his eyes. You feel another painful twist in your heart and find your eyes welling up. A tear falls down which makes you gasp, hand reaching up but Atsumu beats you to it, his palm was already on your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping the lone tear. Realizing what he has done, he starts pulling back his hand, “sorry. I should’ve asked for your conse–”

He halts when you wrap your hand around his wrist, placing it back.

“You know, Atsumu-san. Looking at you hurts like hell,” you start, closing your eyes as you feel more tears coming down, “whenever I look at you, my heart does this painful thing where it almost feels like I’m about to have a heart attack. It’s excruciating but… it makes me feel so alive, so full at the same time. It makes me think– what if… what if you were my soulmate and I just forgot?”

You open your eyes and sadly chuckle, “I think I’m weird like Osamu too.”

You bring down both of your hands and intertwine it, “Sorry for this.”

Your heart skips yet again when he grips your hand tighter after squeezing it, all while mumbling, ‘it’s okay… I think.”

However, there's also a chord of restlessness that sits within me, eager to fill the gaps in my mind even if the universe and our fate is against doing so. Maybe, this is a taboo. Something that must remain unexplored, untouched. The complexity of it all must be left unknown, for ignorance is a bliss, they say right? Unfortunately for them, for me, and for you… the gravity that pulls me towards him is too great, too satisfying to not acknowledge. So, how can I, a mere personification of hope, not consider that blonde hair and amber eyes to be the house of the soul I’m searching for?

Treachery? Betrayal? A traitor to my soulmate? None of those matters. 

Not when you make me feel different, Atsumu.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #atsumu smau #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi hajime

[einsatzzz]

[Project] (KH)Re:born!!!

I've been wanting to do a pinned post talking/rambling about my projects, so I'll do it now while I've still got some free time!

Anyway, for various reasons including wanting to keep it simple (for goldfish brain reasons), @amiahoshi and I decided to call this project "Katekyo Hitman Re:born!!!". We call it either Re:born!!! or KHRe for short. I also tried editing a title logo out of it some time ago (inspired from the og logo) for whenever it will be necessary!

Actually, I've just been tagging posts under this project under #khre (since mid-2023) because when I type #khr, I'll immediately remember to also type #khre. Anyway, more info below! (Ein from the future: it will be long)

Note: For any typos/grammatical mistakes, sorry not sorry this is just me rambling, so no beta we die like Tsuna did every time Reborn shoots him in Daily Life Arc.

TLDR: This project has become like my creative sandbox playground. The KHR brainrot is still going VERY STRONG, and has been for the past two years. I can't believe I didn't discover this series earlier. I am so normal about KHR.

It's also inspired from T//oky//o Gh//oul's title, where it had "T//G:re". And it really just emphasizes the "Re" on "Reborn", meaning "again, do over".

In KHR, besides being named after our fave baby hitman Reborn, this concept also connects to a lot of the themes in the show, especially with Tsuna and his Dying Will Mode. Then there's also the whole Vongola 10th generation, who seem like the reincarnation or the "second coming" of the Vongola 1st generation. I'm sure there are others I haven't noticed yet or just forgot to mention here!

Anyway, KHRe is sort of a similar universe to canon, but not exactly the same. There will be additional characters, which are mostly our OCs from the Oniyanagi yakuza family for now, then there will also be modifications/additions to the story/lore as well (e.g. certain arcs/chapters will be rearranged, certain events will happen earlier). Tsuna retains his protagonist role in KHRe as well (im so fond of him), but he will also be joined in this role by the twin bosses from Oniyanagi, Kana and Kurumi.

Kana and Kurumi's addition here really puts the emphasis on the "Re", because their individual overarching stories provide more interpretations to the word itself "Reborn", which adds onto Tsuna's.

The tldr of the premise so far is that Oniyanagi and Vongola are business partners, so shortly after Tsuna met Reborn and Gokudera, the twins and Yui (their right-hand man) transferred to Namimori. This is so that they can help each other to grow and with their respective training as well to become future bosses of their Family (Tsuna doesn't want to become one of course! lol).

Along with Kana & Kurumi, three of their guardians (incldg Yui) tagged along with their move to Namimori, while two of them remained in their previous city of residence (Tokyo). In their guardian line-up, they currently have an empty seat for the Sun Guardian and they're still actively looking for the one fit for it. Perhaps they'll find them in Namimori? (Spoilers: Yes, they will. Their full line-up is here.)

So far, the major ambitious projects I have under this one are as follows:

Oniyanagi Wiki: This is a wiki site I made in Miraheze. I'll put it in public mode once I finish cleaning up Kurumi's character profile. We plan on compiling all character/group/story infos here for KHRe, which will also include AUs and alternate timelines. If there will be a lot of story divergence with certain canon characters, we'll also make a page for them there too (from the top of my head, so far, it will be Tsuna, Hibari, Enma, Kyoko & Haru). This is the project I've made most progress on so far, I learned a fair amount about making wiki pages hahaha.

KHRe Webcomic: A webcomic that features KHRe's story. Just like canon, it starts with Daily Life Arc. Right now, I'm just thinking of drawing intro chapters for Kurumi, Yui and then Kana for it. But I'm also tempted to just go full-fledged webcomic retelling of majority of KHRe lol like just for deadass committing to the bit. I just really think it will help me improve my art a lot because it will force me to draw other stuff I haven't tried to seriously learn how to draw before (like have you seen the improvement in TOG Webtoon's art style??! Damn...I want that too.) KHRe also has stories that continue past KHR's final arc. I want that high school, TYL and alternate future timeline content too y'know! I think I want to finish drawing at least one chapter by Q4 2024, I'll have a lot of time to focus on this after my exam on June.

Into the Looking Glass: This is a Horror RPGMaker game in the planning stage and it features a prequel story for Kurumi's childhood (around 8-9 years old). Long story short, it does follow the classic formula of a small kid exploring a scary/creepy place by themselves. Don't worry, she will also have a companion or two here! (So...just like Ib.) The title is very much still subject to change, but I referenced Alice in Wonderland for it. Because it's Baby Kurumi (Alice) stumbling in an otherworldly place (Wonderland) and the events that take place moving forward changes her life. I already have a plot and ending(s) in mind, just need to write a script. This will take a very long time to complete, but I wanna finish it eventually because I'm also a big fan of Horror RPGMaker games and I've always wanted to make one (this is my chance! I alr have a story! Just need to write and execute it!). Here's a very old concept art of the baby! I'll draw a new updated one when I get the time (the only biggest change here will probably just be the eye pupils, which really isn't much).

KHRe Test Game (no title yet): Less ambitious than previous three. This will be a very short RPGMaker Game with Tsuna as MC. This is just me testing and learning the features of RPGMaker before I go do more work for Into the Looking Glass. The game is just about Tsuna being invited to the Ninomiya Estate by Kurumi and he has a very "fun" time there 😂👍✨ (just like a normal Daily Life Arc episode~). It won't be horror, but maybe for Tsuna it will be 😀 So far, I managed to make a map for Tsuna's room (and some other parts of the Sawada Residence) for the intro scene hehe

As for other projects that are less ambitious and more doable in a shorter time, I do have MV Projects for KHRe plus a few shorts (like this one) I plan on drawing them in. I listed my priorities here (along with the major projects) and will try to update when I can (ideally, at least monthly...but definitely not for June 💀).

That's all for now! THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK!! (seriously...because this turned out so much longer than I thought it would be 🗿...I will now proceed to hide under the rock again).

Any questions are always welcome and very very appreciated! 👀✨I really just love talking about this series, OCs (mine and others') and my projects!

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khre #khr oc #oniyanagi #sawada tsunayoshi #ninomiya kurumi #ninomiya kanako #einart #einproject #i typed all of this while trying not to pass out from being eepy #i did pass out in the end but i finished it #hahahaha #had to go do hand-to-hand combat vs my anxious brain just to click post on this one bruh

[apollosrambling]

Cold rain, warm comfort.

@real-levyanno Asked: Heyyo so I was reading a few of your posts and I am in awe of them. I was wondering, when and if you had the time, if you could do Slytherin-depressed-former prefect Reader x Twins? Maybe Pansy finds out Reader isnt a pureblood like everyone thought and so they all turn on him. He becomes depressed and his prefect badge given to Draco. No one seems to notice how affected he is until the twins find him trying to drown in the black lake and that's when they decide to help/confess their feelings?

It’s truly a mystery how long this has been sitting in my inbox. Sorry I made you wait 🤍🖤 also sorry it’s more of a warm up, I haven’t written anything other than AP style in years.

It’s been noticeable, the shift in your mood. The way you haven’t gotten up early to make sure the first years are awake and heading to breakfast, once of your favorite morning rituals. The way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, or the way you brush off compliments like they’re meant to be deflected.

It’s impossible to know when it started, but the catalyst was that night in the common room, surrounded by your fellow Slytherin’s as the highlands rain beat on the windows.

“You’re a mudblood, aren’t you?” Pansy Parkinson had looked so proud of herself. The quiet laughter and chatter of your peers dying out.

Rather than answer, you stood and left. Only the cloak of night sheltered you, but it was two boys with red hair and blinding smiles who found you perched on the high docks of the lake. Teetering on the edge as you contemplate letting the wind push you into the black glass below.

You’re close to falling when a warm hand grabs yours, nearly searing after the cold that’s settled into your bones.

“What are you doing?” Fred Weasley is holding on to you like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. Maybe you would.

George, who was holding a warm blanket, slides to your side. Before you can protest, you’re bundled and sat. All three of your legs dangling over the docks edge, far enough away to not worry about wet toes.

“Looks to me like our favorite person was about to become an icicle,” George answers. It’s been so long since anyone spoke that you forgot Fred had asked a question.

“Yeah, maybe. Or perhaps he was trying to become one with the merfolk.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d have prefer it been. The halfhearted kick at George’s feet does nothing other than cause the twins’ eyebrows to raise.

“We’ve noticed you’ve been a bit…” Fred trails off, as if he’s unsure the right way to deliver the blow.

“Sad? Quiet? Melodramatic and rather a downer?”

“That’s not helping, George.”

“Sorry, Fred.”

You watch them poke at each other. Reaching across you and shoving at each other as if their lives aren’t in danger. You worry they’ll accidentally knock each other off.

The absence of your head boy pin feels suffocating. You reach up to the empty space on your sweater, as if expecting it to come back. It won’t, though. It was now resting in Draco Malfoy’s hands, cold and stunned when you had wrenched it from your body and dropped it.

“I quit being head Boy”

The brothers freeze, looking at you with an uncharacteristically serious expression. George leans his body against yours.

“Why’d you go and do that?”

“Parkinson called me a mudblood. She’s right, I don’t even belong in Slytherin.”

The look on George’s face is downright foul. “That’s the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard. You’re one of the most ambitious, determined people I know.”

“Yeah,” Fred weighed in, letting go of your hand to gesture into the air. “Everyone knows you’re the best Head Boy in the school. The first years love you.”

“They did,” you laugh a humorless thing, “they wont anymore. There’s not much to love.”

Now the twins look truly offended.

George doesn’t answer, he just takes your recently freed hands. Pulls your fingers from where they had been picking at your nails, and gently kisses your finger pads.

Fred runs a hand through your hair, fingers brushing along your jawline and the touch of stubble that threatens to poke through.

Having their hands on you is nice. It’s grounding, warm and pleasant in the cold air.

“There’s plenty of you to love.” Fred’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

“Some ancient opinion from old, dead wizards means nothing to us. You, though.” George leans close, his hair nearly tickling you. “You mean a whole lot.”

You hope the flush on your cheeks can be excused to the rain that’s slowed to a drizzle, but you know it won’t be.

“You’re just saying that-”

“No,” George is still holding your hand, still caressing your finger tips. “You’re incredible.”

“So kind,”

“And funny.”

“Yeah, Fred and I think you’re going to change the world.”

“Or rule it,” Fred jokes, before his face tightens.

“I’m sorry we didn’t say it sooner.”

“Say what?” You ask, leaning back a bit as the cool wind nips your face and their heat keeps you from freezing.

“That you’re damn near the most perfect person out there.” George’s words are soft but his lips are softer. It’s surprising, in a way. You half expected them to be chapped.

When George pulls away Fred takes your jaw, gently redirecting you to him.

“You’re wonderful.”

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #fred weasley x male reader #hp x male reader

[rriavian]

Do you think Morpheus knows deep inside that Corinthian is his mirror? The reflection of his own darkness and desire?

Jessamy my beloved! I love getting asks from you! They are always the most interesting questions to really make me think about how to put my thoughts into words! <3 Sorry it took so long to answer this one (think I broke my record for time taken to answer an ask eek)!

I had this typed out nearly ready to post but got very distracted by Corintheus week! Can't believe it's February already, I hope you’re having a good New Year so far 😊

Does Morpheus know that the Corinthian is his mirror?

I think that Dream does, and that in some ways he holds himself responsible for the difficulty of it, because I think we can all agree that it’s a lot for any singular creation of his to embody. On the flipside of this you could argue that Fiddler’s Green is supposed to be a reflection of the light—the ‘heart’ of the Dreaming, a representation of pure life giving creation—with Gault as the fluid, transformative, link between all three of the major arcana. I think I’ve talked briefly about this before but it’s relevant again for this question.

Her place as a link between the two extremes, and her transformative powers, makes sense for why Gault would want to become a dream (and perhaps another reason why Dream agreed in the end) but it also suggests how complicated the facets of Dream’s identity are.

(I could probably make an entire separate post on this but! Moving on!)

All three major arcana reject him just as the rest of his creations do, are the last to return to the Dreaming and none of them do it by choice. Even Fiddler’s Green needs to first be tracked down. The Corinthian is found at the convention where Dream takes responsibility for making him the way he is, designating his rebellion as his own failure. The Corinthian was his masterpiece but I think Dream might now consider that as designing too ambitious a spec, the coding perfect but corrupted in the end. I think that assessment could be why he highlights the Corinthian’s purpose as being a dark mirror for humanity instead of one for himself, despite how closely those two things seem to be bound.

Not necessarily changing his mind, just changing the emphasis.

But, as I said, I also think Dream made the Corinthian for it. To be able to take it. Or at least hoped that he would—another reason why he might have said that he’d had so much hope for him, why Dream was so disappointed—not constructed to be given a burden, not supposed to be that at all. In many ways I think that’s why he’s a major arcana. But the Corinthian also has his own unique darkness, perhaps finding its origins in his creators but without its place in Dream’s larger puzzle it expresses differently, the exploration of what happens to a counterpoint to a dream that isn’t held internally.

The Corinthian is far more selfish with his darkness, lives out all that desire and need the way Dream can’t (and won’t), can embody it wholeheartedly because he’s not supposed to be balanced in the same way.

Yet in doing so he offers balance; can offer that to Dream, the same way he allows darker human impulses a chance to take center stage.

An outlet for it all.

All of Dream’s creations in some way seem to be that, a combination of the restriction of a role and the individuality of personality, might have a set purpose but have choices in how they carry out what they are. The same as Dream really. They are concepts personified, ideas and emotions that might originate in another, whether it be humanity or their creator, but they’ve been given their own voice.

It's no one way dictation…a dialogue with humanity because their function is to speak back.

So yes, I think that Dream knows that the Corinthian is his dark mirror far better than the Corinthian himself does. I think he knows how important he is in a way the Corinthian doesn’t see (the way the rest of his creations sometimes can’t see about themselves either).

I think the existence of a dark mirror (and other such representations) are a way in which Dream keeps emotionally healthy, just as they are a way for humans to keep emotionally healthy, and you could even argue that it’s how his creations keep themselves healthy too. Change and growth are certainly positive aspects of life, but like anything that’s not necessarily universal, because so is embracing what you are. Who you are. Without referencing my own neurodivergence too much, I think we can all understand circumstances where forcing oneself to change is far from a good and healthy thing.

Acceptance of the parts of oneself that we struggle with/have a tricky relationship with is a big part of what dreams and nightmares help humans to do.

It’s a big part of what a nightmare does.

Ok, this is getting long, so I’m going to make one final point. So I think that Dream could have spent centuries living vicariously through the Corinthian’s nightmarish nature and then finding that crucial mechanism corrupted, poisoned, when the Corinthian suddenly started killing dreamers in the Waking World. I don’t think that’s one of Dream’s desires at all, secret or otherwise, and I think it repulsed him to the point of potentially threatening to destabilise the rest of the system.

Perhaps Dream found his own darkness felt tainted by a reflection that (however intentional the rejection was) no longer wanted to mirror him.

In killing dreamer's the Corinthian was showing how he no longer wanted to mirror humanity (wanted to take from them instead, thought that a better match for what he was made for) and in doing so denied not only Dream, but his own identity too in no longer wanting to be what he was. For someone like Dream I think killing the dreamer’s would have been deeply offensive, an incredibly personal insult, a perversion of his function and an attack on what agency he has to fulfill it.

Whatever disgruntlement Dream may have with his role, he was then faced with the result of how instead of having a healthy outlet, those feelings could have been twisted/warped within the Corinthian's own unique mix of individuality and function. Perhaps in many ways it felt like being forced to kill his dreamers with his own hands.

And I think that was why when Dream found him in Berlin he was so quick to decide to unmake the Corinthian on the spot.

#thank you so much for the ask! #as always I took a while #but I will always always answer every ask #Jessamy my love <3 #the sandman #dream of the endless #corintheus #sandman tv meta #kinda #rria tries to write meta #show based as I'm more familiar with it

[jovenshires]

endless au edits: smosh theatre’s seasonal lineup (4/4)

the final show smosh announced is perhaps one of the most exciting. the company's very own kiana parker is taking on an ambitious yet classic show for their autumnal production - wicked. whispers about this show started last year, when a chemistry read between les miserables stars angela giarratana and amanda lehan-canto went viral online. fans began clamoring for a show that starred the two of them, and wicked had been suggested more than once. after the lineup announcement, parker took to twitter to say, "you asked for it, and thankfully, smosh let me do it. have a nice trip, see you next fall." parker, known for advocating for female crews and female-led productions, clearly has her ear to the ground, and, for nearly two years, has been lobbying to make this show a reality. although it could have gone either way, i, personally, am thrilled to see amanda lehan-canto as elphaba. though lehan-canto is often noted as a comedic actress, from last year's production of les miserables, we know that she can bring the house to tears. with her often dry, punchy humor and intense acting skills, lehan-canto is a perfect fit for the likable, yet misunderstood, heroine of the production. following the announcement, on her personal instagram, lehan-canto posted a photo of herself with giarratana, stating, 'unadulterated loathing <3 see you in november.' giarratana, who will be playing glinda, reposted this to her story, as well as posting on her twitter how 'excited she was' to be in this production, despite 'how much time' she'd have to spend with lehan-canto. giarratana is a bubbly, upbeat actress with an incredible voice - a perfect choice for the good witch. this is her first time leading a smosh show, and i could not think of someone more up for the task. rounding off the group of the strong actresses, kimmy jimenez is taking on the demure, yet devious character of nessarose. jimenez is known for being the heart of the theater, playing kind and caring characters, and while in some ways this role plays to her strengths, it also offers her a unique challenge i'm excited to see her take on. she and lehan-canto are close friends, and i am certain that factored into parker's decision to cast them as sisters. rounding out the cast are an often-linked comedic duo, jeremy elder and patrick mcdonald. mcdonald and elder are known for their incredible chemistry and comedic timing, and while they aren't necessarily partnered here, they are also certainly suited to their respective roles. elder's dancing background will make him a perfect fiyero, and mcdonald's work in character acting will lend to an excellent performance as boq. elder posted some of the choreography to 'dancing through life' on his story today - a sneak peek into what will be an incredible show. as with every show we've discussed in smosh's lineup, wicked looks incredible. it has one of the strongest casts i've seen this year as well as an amazing crew - including parker's stage head selina garcia, who has also been choreographing most of smosh's shows for the past few years. i am excited to see this show - and to see all of these shows. this is not the end of my smosh coverage; i am thrilled to announce my partnership with smosh theater, and that i will be covering all of their shows, from process to production. until next time. - mac kahey

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #smosh #rpf #fic #edit #smosh au #mine* #aued* #au #amanda #angela #jeremy #kimmy #patrick #kiana #selina #theatre au #hello all i am not dead i was just ill thus no content BUT we're back to our regularly scheduled bullshit #this is all on this au for now haha jk UNLESS? #might release the les mis cast if anyone's interested. a lil prequel type beat. #anyway someone called this good job #went back and forth on who to make who and this is my controversial hot take methinks.

[eorzeashan]

Long time no swtor thinkpiece, but.

Thinking about Eight in the IA class story and then who he is post-Alliance; going from a bold, daring and casually ambitious wildcard to someone who feels as if he's lost most of his zeal to become rather...listless. Empty. Not to say that he isn't fulfilled by his work in the Alliance (who all make exceptions to have him do anything but murder all day) but he starts picking up more mundane activities like, peeling potatoes for the Alliance cantina, or doing minor tasks that don't involve much thought on his own volition-- a stark change from a man who only cared about his blade and who it fell on. It's like he's been soundly defeated by the circumstances surrounding him.

Then there's the issue of his companions, who only knew him as their cunning leader who stopped at nothing to achieve his goals, even using some of them in the process, who now appears to be an entirely different person. One who quietly fades into the background, instead of being in the thick of it. He's changed.

His skills haven't waned, but his voice is flat, his eyes without gleam, his all consuming desire that drove him to accomplish the impossible by the day naught but simmering ashes by the time they reunite with him in KOTXX. He even apologizes to some, without explanation. This distresses Vector, in particular, who witnessed the worst of his sides way back in the day. "It's not me you should apologize to, Agent." Vector can only quietly say, "I have never held you in ill regard for the choices you've made, anathema as they were to my principles." It's a conversation that peters off, but one that Eight never had, never had soon enough --his firm refusal to rectify or acknowledge that Vector could choose him over his own ideals is one that gnaws at him on the inside for years, on his own belief that people cannot change what they truly believe in, and so there is no point in trying to make amends for what bridges he burns in the pursuit of his own wishes. This, and many other denials, compound over the years into a rather hurtful self-made solitude that follows him long into the Alliance. (A mother will never give up her son. There is no other way. I cannot change my nature as a weapon. Their rejection of me is something I must accept.) A punishment, but for who?

Perhaps he still feels he's failed the last mission Keeper entrusted to him. The one that asked him to become a real, living person, and not just a sword dressed in imperial colors.

Eight spirals during the events of the Eternal Empire. He watches his downfall happen in real time. There's little he does about it. His home is gone, as are the people he fought for--Keeper, Watcher 2, Intelligence--and this new age is only filled with allies he cuts down faster than he can imprint their names into his memory. He's alone in this fight at the behest of others who do choose their ideals over him, who, in the end, turn away in fear and disgust when he bloodies his blade in their name. He makes no effort afterwards to right his image in their minds. He plays the villain, if others will not. For the first time, he tires of killing.

This leaves him alone, an outcast even among friends. Eventually, amongst the ruin their failed Alliance leaves in its wake, someone asks why things turned out this way; his lack of a will in the greater fight comes to light and sets several alarm bells off. Lana reduces his duties on the battlefield. Others, out of shared guilt and a fear of the bloodshed he wreaked on their orders, give him a wide berth to live normally for a while. It's not much and does little to his disillusionment and estrangement with his allies, but...it's a start.

Eight the Assassin turns into just Eight. And Eight the former agent, ex-Cipher, killer extraordinaire who never once dreamed of the stars, turns into someone who quietly watches the sun set on a world he barely recognizes,l but still stays up to see it, potato peeler in hand.

#swtor #oc: orradiz #ooc #kotxx #this is just. rambling thoughts. #eight gets so damn lifeless after but he's...healing. living. what else is living but moving past your will to die #eight's weird complex about the ideals of others and people being unable to treat him as anything but a stepping stone for that #and he used to treat others like that as well #and wuh OH keeper still haunting him like a decade later #he's just. he had so much energy back in the class story and it all faded away #he's a lot wiser now but also has so much shit to work through and he has no friends. i said it #the retired and mysterious life of ex agents #HELLO? IS ANYONE OUT THERE DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND THISSSS