#AND waste all that money. sure sounds like a great idea

[glassrowboat]

Silken Shadows Pt.1

Summary: You had many customers, many clients. Regulars even. They dragged you along to dinners, to drinks at bars as they chatted about something you couldn't care less about, and to parties of all sorts. All something that came with the job. What you weren't expecting, however, as you stood on the corner of a side walk cursing the chill in the air as you waited for the latest job to come pick you up was a fatui harbinger. Well, you were told it would be a big money job.

Word count: 3700+

Authors note: I'm not sure how long this is going to be but probably less than fifteen chapters? But someone had to give this old man some love, so I took it upon myself.

Links: Pt.2: tba Pt.3: tba

Shards sat around him like stars that glistened from the pale light streaming in through the large windows of his office, nonexistent constellations to be found in what was scattered around him. Bits and pieces as large as one's finger and others as tiny as diamond inlaid in a ring. The only difference being it wasnt gold encasing the shining jewel that shined under every twist of the wrist as it reflected a candle's flame, but a wooden floor. One he had taken great pride in picking out once upon after first receiving this office.

Time had scratched its lacquered surface.

How typical.

Another thing he can't control. Just like the natural instinct to grit his teeth so tight Pantalone can hear them grinding against each other in protest, crying out for some form of mercy. It made his jaw ache. Yet his lips still twisted into a smile. They had to. Even if Pantalone couldn't help but want to physically recoil at his own image, his reflection in the glass at his feet. An aged label with yellowed spots attached to what was left of the bottle, a XX17 vintage from Fontaine, the only thing blocking where his narrowed eyes would be in this warped copy.

That damnable woman.

Signora canceled on him. Right before a banquet that was supposed to be quite the occasion. It would have given him just the perfect chance to introduce the diplomat, his fellow harbinger, to a colleague when it comes to the exchange on mora. A fellow business man. Someone who also speaks in the turnover of gold from one hand to another. A man who could prove beneficial but all the ‘Fair Lady’ had to say, in as arrogant sounding voice as she could muster Pantalone was sure, was that she's being shipped away to Inazuma soon. For the gnosis in accordance with the last meeting's conclusion.

That didn't change the fact she wasn't leaving right away. There was time she could use, to leverage if she so wished, but now he was left with a tree that wished to bear no fruit. There would be no sweet taste of a win today, of another deal secured at this rate. A wasted opportunity. (Not to mention he was still expected to show up with someone on his arm in accordance with the invite marked with a check right on the box for a plus one.) All that right after La Signora didn't even bother to sit down and have tea to share this bit of information, rather she stormed in as Pantalone was drafting out a contract, unfortunately startling him in the process as the door slammed against the wall behind it. It was enough to have the ink scrawled out under his hand smudge as his hand curled around a black fountain pen at the idea her uncaring actions would leave a dent in the drywall.

Surprise. Never an emotion he cared for, but it was all he was being given today. Or at least that's what it seemed.

The floral scent of the ink he specially ordered to refill this pen the last time it emptied out from pages upon pages of tireless work that led to an ache in his hand was the only thing to sooth Pantalone's otherwise swirling mind as he figured out where to go from here. That here having led him to Columbina. Her sweet smile as he slipped into the music room something he was as well used to as a worn in book, just as the gesture of holding up her finger, asking for one moment more. The song on her lips quelled only when she was ready.

It would be unbefitting to ask her to stop with the nonsense already as her voice rose to the heights of the pure white room. If one could see the notes, the sheet music's ever perfect lines of five, from one's song they would surely be weaving around the columns until Columbina finally took her bow.

Pink and black hair covering her face still as his hands clapped together, metal bands wrapped around his fingers causing a small ring each time they collided. “Wonderful as always, Damselette.”

“I am always exultant to have a proper audience.”

Her head rose from its low hang with a grace only she could have. Like every action she took was akin to a bird flapping its wings to soar among the clouds. Fitting for a dove.

“As much as I would like to sit down and show proper respect and courtesy, Columbina, I am afraid I am too short of time for such a luxury.” The event is tonight at o'clock sharp. And while Pantalone has always heard it's fashionable to arrive late, it was never a practice he appreciated others participating in. He wouldn't deign to be the outlier to such a basic rule when there was no need for such. He didn't need to arrive late to get anyone's eyes to fall on him in rapt attention, the citizens of Snezhnaya knew what his time was worth. As for those that did? Simply put, not worth the precious minutes that could be delegated elsewhere.

“First and foremost, are you otherwise preoccupied this evening?”

Columbina turned her back to him with ease, fingers fiddling with the sheet music before her as she scribbled something down he could not see. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't the very notes she was just singing it would be an indent on the piece written in a language far older than he.

“Now, what would you want of me that requires I not be ‘preoccupied'?”

“That Marquess in the west has come to the main city for a short reprieve and is holding an event. One that does not require a show of a song, but I'm sure they would not deny it if you offered.” As Pantalone spoke he stepped further into the room, taking care not to scuff the white floors with his own black shoes.

A gentle series of clicks continued until he was standing beside her.

“So, you want me to act as your substitute plus one since the one you originally planned to invite canceled on you at the last minute. Is that it, Regrator?”

“A regretful circumstance I shall have to amend in the future. If you agree to my proposition, that is.”

“The Fair Lady truly pulled that lavish rug under you. Something I do not see often.”

Pantalone kept from looking down at her, instead keeping his eyes instead fixed on the musician's stand his gloved finger ran over. It would be lace covered eyes and ribbons galore as usual. Nothing he hasn't seen before at every harbinger meeting or the times they cross paths through the ornate halls of the palace, most of which have him catching the sight of her scuttling into this very room.

The faintest layer of dust now coated his finger that had Pantalone itching to grab the handkerchief tucked away in his pocket to wipe it off.

The Damselette always did tend to scare the maids off.

“As stated before, I am currently lacking of time. Your answer would be most appreciated.”

“Oh, right, that.” Columbina mused. “Steak dinners, champagne, maybe even chatter amongst people who are delightful company. Just like my plans for tonight with Arlecchino.”

Right, of course she didn't lead with that.

That means two possible options off his already lackluster list of those to invite along.

The last words Pantalone was given before he walked out with a bow of his head to the higher ranking harbinger was “I hope you find someone to fill the empty seat beside you tonight.” Only for the song to continue on like nothing happened, like nothing interrupted, like he didn't even come in at all.

He made sure to leave the door cracked open on his way out.

Sandrone was all the same, giving him a no. The only difference was she spit the words out like venom the moment his fist knocked on her workshop's door and she flung it open with a florist, covered in oil and the finest grinds of aluminum that flew in the air. It had him cleaning his glasses off as he walked away.

If it wouldn't reflect poorly on his image Pantalone would just show up alone. Wave it off and say his date was busy. Yet here he is, arm twisted. Social expectations are truly the bind that holds us all as he couldn't simply message the Marquess on the fly with something along the lines of ‘I couldn't dain to bring a date after my plus one canceled on me.’ Signed The Ninth.

If it wouldn't come across as poor care for attention, bringing his secretary along would be a viable option. That is if that very employee wasn't a married man who was only just rambling about plans to take his partner out for dinner earlier this very day. Some anniversary or another if Pantalone recalled correctly.

Dottore would at least prove to be an entertaining option. One segment or another would likely get stuck along his side, maybe even the one with the pink bow tie and looks like he's ready to bite the finger off anyone who approaches.

No, best not.

Little options left. If any.

At this rate his arm would get stiff as it's tugged and twisted into position.

Well, there's always the place that man mentioned last time. His whining was just the perfect pitch that made it hard to ignore as Pantalone's guards tore apart his shack of a house apart in an attempt at finding the funds he was due. Only a measly fifty mora that would prove no use in taking. One cannot pay if they cannot work as starvation tears them apart from the inside out. The excuse? He went to one of those houses in the area.

Exchange time for a woman's company. Nothing he hasn't heard before. Nothing he isn't familiar with. The Northland Bank served customers of all walks of life.

The name, however, was one that rang a bell in Pantalone's head. One that sold a woman's time over her body.

This is what he has been backed into? Truly?

Still, he called the guard that was stationed by the doors he just walked though, fingers snapping to get this individual's attention as Pantalone told them to find a messenger. The need to tell them to be quick about it would be nothing short of an unnecessary addition. They knew that well enough by now.

Steps filled the hall, old wood made for loose wood that creaked with every movement. That was enough of a warning for what was coming as a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you up off the stool you were sitting on. A shrill voice crying out to get your attention, scratched and broken from what was no doubt the cigarettes The Madame might as well switch out for her meals filling your ears.

A job.

It was no wonder then why a wet rag was being shoved into your face, trying to wash, or better yet scrub off the powder on your face. Messy blobs of green and pink having been painted on your eyelids the same way a crayon would a child's coloring book only becoming more of a mess to handle at this treatment.

“Wash this shit off your face and give it a real try, kid. Don't know why you keep letting the bucket girl apply makeup on you.”

Seems the house's favorite old hag is in as good a mood as any.

“And try do keep yourself lookin’ real good. This client has some big bucks to spend and I don't need you messing it up like last time.”

“You always know jus’ what to say.”

Snatching the rag from her, you wipe the eyeshadow off your face properly. Even going so far as to lean down to get a proper view from the vanity and its cloudy mirror.

“This ain't your usual crowd, kid, but you're going to high tail it out of here in your best dress and meet this guy two blocks from here so some carriage can pick you up.”

“Ahh, one of those guys. I'm on it. And do me a favor and don't bully the ‘bucket girl' while I'm out.”

It wasn't a surprise The Madame threw a quick “no promises” over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving you to get ready. Brush already in hand as the door slammed shut. Most likely her doing, but you chose to think of it as a simple draft of wind as the bristles brushed through a soft pad of pink.

How charming. Not.

The same pink of your currently dawned gloves that were surely hiding a dark color underneath, painting your fingertips and palms with proof of your skins agitation even as you stood at the usual spot for clients that needed to pick a girl up a few blocks away from the Marmeladova house. Sure, they had their reasons, but it always came across as the clients having no sense of decorum for a freezing lady. A frozen tundra of a nation, yet they still expected you to stand on the street like a hooker trying to call in her five hundred for the night.

It was when you were pacing back and forth, trying to generate some form of heat through your bones that it felt like they were going through the five stages of grief, did the rolling of the carriages passing by on the street lead to one stopping right before you. Wheels turned stock still as the lines behind painted a clear path right to you. Not an accidental pull over by some temperamental horses then. Though if you only looked, such a thought wouldn't have even crossed your mind in the first place.

A carriage with golden accents, horses with shining leather straps, a coachman in clothing that looked actually weather appropriate, and a fatui symbol stamped right before you. Like the sign to a haunted house as the other girls drag you inside, claiming it will be fun, only for you to walk out annoyed and grouchy at the lackluster experience.

Something told you this wouldn't end that way.

A footman, or at least you assumed that's what he was when he was wearing the fatui emblem and one of those masks you see the soldiers wearing so openly pulled the ornate door before you open. A hand held out to help you up along the steps that had a nice coat of snow dusting them. As for the inside? Your hand in this strangers as you ducked inside the red velvet walls, plush cushions greeting you as you sat down, was a man you've only ever seen in the newspapers. Most of which were fished out of the trash from nicer neighborhoods to use as kindling, but that face was unmistakable.

“Lord Harbinger.”

Oh motherfucker.

“A pleasure to meet you, miss.” The shock wasn't enough to hide the icy tune of his voice at least. It would give you a decent idea of where you stood in this dynamic.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Your hand was held out between you both on instinct, hanging there for a moment under the small lantern that lit the carriage with the curtains closed shut. Like a barrier to the outside world.

The shake was strong, sturdy. The gloves did little to help you figure out anything about this man the public didn't already know. An example being how he'd surely have a writer's bump. A man who's bread and butter is contracts surely knows how to hold a quill. How curious. Not as much, however, as the Lord Harbinger wiping his hand off on his jacket the moment yours left his. A folder occupying the other he was holding out to you.

“Read this over and try your best to memorize the names inside.”

Little choice then as you took it from him. The folder failed to bend back under your touch as you opened it, not even when your gloved fingers rubbed the material between them as the names were run over again and again in your mind. A long list. Far too long, actually.

“I expect you to remember as much as you can, but I'll be there to assist you all the while.”

“Assist me all the while?”

“I am to be attending an event tonight. Do I need to piece out more for you? I was hoping you would have enough of an ability to ascertain things for yourself.”

Something about his smile rubbed you wrong. You were once taught that if someone was truly smiling, out of joy or some bull along the lines of being a happy person naturally, their eyes would have wrinkles creasing at the sides. His lacked that. Though it was hard to tell exactly if that was the case when they were closed shut.

But could a smile so freely given from a harbinger be…? Best not to finish that thought. He's still your client.

“Don't doubt me just yet. I haven't even had the chance to prove myself.”

“Then please, don't disappoint. First however,” you could barely catch his eyelashes moving when the carriage started to move again. Whatever that meant would prove little to mull over.

You later learned that was him giving you a look, or as close to one as Pantalone could manage behind those thick spectacles of his you were tempted to break as he walked into a dress store, picked something off the rack, and said this is what you would wear tonight. No input from you, no double checking it fit. Not the mention the fabric had been irritating you from the moment it adorned your skin. How you wanted to claim it rested upon your body like silk.

It was anything but.

Pretty at least. Good movement as the Lord Harbinger dragged you along by the arm interlocked with his as you were met with new face after face. Some of the names you could recall reading only an hour prior, others not so much.

Giant grins.

Pretty women with ornate hair styles.

Champagne glasses. The moment you picked one up Pantalone plucked it from your hands and hissed as low as possible for only you to hear “I am not paying you to drink.”

This was nothing unusual, the event that is, Pantalone is a whole other story, but you have been to many parties of all sorts during your time. This was just another rich boy party with underhanded remarks and fancy cheeses.

One that dragged on too long.

At some point during the night you just barely caught the richest boy himself telling someone who asked about you that you were just a friend. One that once upon a time knew his parents. How you're only back in town for a short visit, that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bring you along.

He didn't want anyone to know what you actually are then.

Little ever did.

And it kept like that til the point you were tempted to peel the bandages off the back of your heels for they were slipping, peeling from your skin. Like a piece of string on a fine shirt just begging to be pulled. The thought of them still plagued your mind as Pantalone bowed to the same man you were first introduced to that night again, an individual who took no shame in the jewels hanging from his tailcoat and the golden ring with some odd emblem on his pinky. Wishes of a splendid night on both their tongues as the two of you departed.

It was only when you were both back in that carriage you suddenly have a lot more appreciation for as it gave you a chance to rest your aching feet did any words pass between you two again.

Pantalone, a man who was short and concise with you, but had plenty to say to those folks in the hall as they stuffed their faces with meat as they all sat around tables covered in cloth the same thickness as the blankets you use every night. Who made it clear before you even stepped past the threshold of the mansion (though it looked more like a cheap attempt at copying the opera house's structure) that you would speak only when spoken to. Interrupting the few remarks you did say when it was just the two of you during those sliver of moments someone wasn't coming up to sing his praises.

Not like you weren't used to being treated like arm candy. Maybe that's why you couldn't truly care less as he sat in the seat across from you and didn't say anything until you did.

“I was right about you, you are a rather smarmy individual.”

A soft sigh left his lips as Pantalone pulled his hand away from the curtain he was fixing, pulling it taught. You do the very same thing with wrinkled skirts and shirts in an attempt to see what it would look like perfectly pressed and ironed.

“How does an escort like you even know that word?”

“How does a harbinger like you end up with no options for a date besides a hired one?”

Oooooh boy. Shouldn't have said that outlook. Best to roll with the punches though even as you can see his head tilting towards you in such a slow manner it was obvious it was deliberate.

“What's your name again?”

He asked that like he wasn't sharing your name to anyone who asked all night. From prying eyes to, well, even more prying eyes in an entirely different way.

Roll with the punches.

Just as before you held your hand out, waiting for him to comply, to play along, and take it. And like a fool he did.

If he was going to wipe his hand off again this time, you'll give him a damn good reason.

Grip going tight so Pantalone couldn't pull away. Making sure just as he might with each Mora he pinches that there's no possible chance to slip between the fingers as you lift his hand up. Lips to one of the purple and silver rings of his as you looked up at him, daring Pantalone to say something.

That was the first time you've seen his eyes all night.

#Pantalone x reader #pantalone #genshin x reader #x reader #hoyoverse #genshin impact #fem reader #genshin impact x reader #regrator x reader

[withahappyrefrain]

Rhett Abbott has a biting kink pass it on ✍🏾

Yes he does and it goes both ways

You're not quite sure where he got the idea that he "wasn't much to look at". In fact, you want to have a stern conversation with whoever put that idea in his head (your money was on Perry).

Because right now, he looks absolutely beautiful underneath you, blonde hair ruffled from your earlier ministrations, lips parted as soft moans escape every time your hips rock down, those baby blue eyes of his almost black with lust.

"You're so pretty baby." Rhett can only groan at your words. He's clearly overwhelmed with how you're bouncing up and down on his cock, your tight walls squeezing him so fucking well.

He feels absolutely incredible. Every time you grind your hips down, it takes your breath away, how big he is, how full he makes you feel.

But you know he's been holding off. Always the gentleman, focused on you coming (multiple times).

Now it's his turn.

You lean over, hands roaming over his bare chest, making their way to his sun kissed locks. His head lifts up, mouth finding one of your breasts to latch onto.

With your fingers tugging on his hair, Rhett was in his ideal heaven; engulfed by you and only you.

"C'mon baby, want you to fill me up," you grunted, teeth nipping along his collarbone.

An obscene moan fell from Rhett's lips, "F-fuck, feel s'good."

His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips as he used his strength to bounce you along his cock. You sometimes forget how strong he was, until moments like this.

The only sounds in your bedroom now were breathless moans and lewd reminders of your previous orgasms.

As you moved your hips, your mouth trailer up from his collarbone to where his jawline met his neck.

Your teeth sunk into his skin, leaving a constellations of bite marks across his neck. In the morning, there'll be a painting of marks and hickies of varying degrees, pretty shades of red and purple swirling around your work.

He won't try to hide it. If anything, he'll find a reason to wear a Tshirt, showing off your art.

Rhett loves it, loves showing off your work. To him, it's a great reminder to not just him, but to everyone else that he's yours. A subtle middle finger to all those who said he was wasting his time pining for you.

His lips let out a gutteral groan upon your teeth sinking into his pulse point. After several uncoordinated thrusts, you felt him releasing inside of you, filling you with his warmth.

"Fuckin' hell baby," Rhett said after catching his breath, running his hand through his sweaty hair.

You simply grinned before placing a kiss on his ruddy cheek, "You love it."

"Damn straight."

#my writing #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbot smut #outer range #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott outer range

[greg-montgomery]

Ivy - Part 9

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Chapter summary: this one's angsty i'm sorry <3

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Penelope’s phone call came fast: your name was not on any hospital list from the area.

This information calmed Aaron down as much as it scared him. Where were you? All the possible and terrible scenarios of where you could be were already starting to build up in his head. Were you hurt? Had someone taken you?

The road was full of green lights, he knew he would be soon at Sean’s house but soon wasn’t soon enough. He decided to call him again.

“Did you find her?” Sean asked, as soon as he answered the phone.

“No. I just don’t wanna waste any time, that’s why I called again. Have you tried calling her friends? Maybe she’s with one of them,” he suggested.

“Of course I have, Aaron. Do you think I’d call you if I hadn’t tried this first?”

“Sometimes we don’t think about the obvious when we’re worried,” he replied, calmly.

He heard Sean taking a deep breath from the end of the line. “No one knows where she is. I can’t think of anything else.”

It was all becoming too real. The genuine worry in Sean’s voice terrified Aaron.

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He paused. “We’ll find her.”

“Okay.”

He remembered the last time Sean had called him for something that serious. He remembered of Sean standing in front of him and talking about a woman named Linda. Aaron knew almost nothing about her; his relationship with Sean back then was almost non-existent for him to have met his girlfriend. But he had seen her picture, and he knew she had been killed.

Was this their fate? To lose the women they loved? Were they both cursed to live this pain over and over again?

--

Sean’s hands were shaking as he opened the door. His eyes were red, making it clear to him that he’d been crying.

His phone was inside his hand and he showed it to Aaron. “I just got a call,” he said with a weak voice.

“And?” Aaron asked, his ability to breathe long gone.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,” Sean’s voice broke.

“What happened Sean? Is she alive?”

“They have her,” he answered, his tone full of regret.

‘They have her.’ She was alive.

“Who is ‘they’?”

“There are some things I haven’t told you.” Sean seemed to suddenly realize they were still standing at the door. “Come in, I’ll explain everything.”

Aaron did as he said, walking in with his heart beating like crazy against his chest.

“Sean, please talk to me, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“I got a phone call from some people I owe money to. I only borrowed five thousand dollars, but now they’re asking for fifty to give her back.”

“Do you know their names?”

“No. Only their first names, which I’m pretty sure are fake.”

Aaron took a deep breath in. You had been kidnapped for ransom, which meant they wanted you alive. You were their prize, if they were to hurt you they’d lose everything and that was something someone who’s after money wouldn’t risk.

He nodded, trying to calm himself down. With the help of his team, they would get you back. They would. You were going to sleep in his arms that evening…safe and sound.

“They said they’re gonna call again in two hours to see if I have the money ready,” Sean said.

“Did you ask if she’s safe?”

“They said she is for now.”

Aaron’s breaths were shaky; he made a fist, running his thumb over his fingers to calm himself down. “Okay. I’m gonna…” he paused, struggling to gather his thoughts. “I’m gonna ask my team to come here and we’ll try to trace the phone call when they do. Do you have any idea where they could be keeping her?”

“We always met in neutral locations. I can’t think of anything, I’m sorry.”

Sean was scared, and it was obvious that he was blaming himself for this. “She will be okay. They need her alive in order to blackmail you,” Aaron tried to comfort him – as well as his own self – while typing JJ’s number on his phone.

As they waited for them, Sean told him everything about the phone call: every little detail, every single word. By the end of it, Aaron was confident that these two men were amateurs. Just two pieces of shit who thought they could make money by doing something they had only seen in movies.

They used the classic lines “No police involved, or she dies,” and “You better have the money ready when we call you, or we’ll mail you her finger.”

Aaron was gonna get you back, he was certain of it. And if they laid a hand on you, he’d strangle these two men with his bare hands.

His mind filled with thoughts of you all by yourself in some kind of cold basement, breaking his heart. You weren’t familiar with criminals, like he was. You were scared and alone, wondering if he would come and save you.

He wouldn’t let you down.

“Why didn’t you ask me for money again?” he asked Sean, gently. “You know I wouldn’t say no.”

“She is obsessed with you, Aaron,” he said, frustrated. “Asking for money from the man your girlfriend is in love with is beyond humiliating.” Sean stared at him. “What, you think I didn’t know before last night? Please…she looks at you as if you hung the fucking moon.”

Aaron stayed silent.

--

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Hotch. It’s your family,” Derek said.

The team followed behind him; Spencer, Emily, JJ, Penelope, Rossi. They were all there for him…for you.

As they all greeted Sean and asked him questions, Aaron was left alone with Garcia.

“I’ve brought everything we need,” she told him, placing her equipment on the table.

“Sean told me what he knows about them. I don’t think they’ll be smart enough to try and make the call untraceable,” Aaron said.

“Then finding her will be a piece of cake, sir. We just have to wait for the phone call.”

His eyes were watery and he wasn’t doing anything to hide it. Penelope looked at him with one of those kind smiles of hers and placed her hand on top of his, squeezing it slightly. “We’ll get your sweet girl back,” she said. “Or…” she turned around to look at Sean, who was still speaking with the team, and then looked back at Aaron. “Sorry. Your brother’s.”

Aaron stared at her, without saying anything.

“Or yours?” she said, uncertain. “I’ll stop talking now.” Garcia sat down, and got to work.

--

“They’re late,” Sean said. “It’s been two hours and twenty minutes.”

He had been walking back and forth in the living room for half an hour, making everyone who looked at him nauseous.

“They’re doing it on purpose,” Derek said. “They want to scare you - want you to get worried, so you don’t have any second thoughts cooperating with them.”

“Well, they must be doing it right because I’m really fucking worried right now.”

Emily walked close to him. “Try not to fall in their trap,” she said. “We need you to be calm and concentrated for the phone call.”

“Why don’t we go over everything we said again,” JJ suggested.

“First rule: keep them on the phone for as long as possible. Ask questions, speak slowly; anything to make it last,” David said.

“Use her name a lot. Remind them that she’s a person with a name, a life and people who care about her,” Spencer told him. “They’re only in this for the money - not for the pleasure of torturing people - so there must be some kind of empathy somewhere inside them.”

“Do not mention anything that could make them feel threated. They’re delusional, thinking they suddenly gained power by having her. Let them believe it, let them keep their guards down,” Emily said.

“Aaron?” Sean called his name, staring at him. He was genuinely asking for his advice too.

Aaron had been silent, trying to conceal the fact that he had been losing his mind. If you were to get hurt, his whole world would stop forever.

“Ask for a sign that she’s alive,” he managed to say. “Try to get them to let her talk by saying you’re not giving them any money unless you know for sure that she’s okay.”

Sean nodded, looking like he was trying to memorize every rule. “I hope I don’t fuck this up too.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Aaron reminded him. “You had no way of knowing these guys would be this dangerous.”

“No, it is,” he said. “I’m the reason she’s taken. I’m the reason she’s all alone and away from us right now.”

Sean’s broken voice, his eyes struggling to hold the tears back, his shaky hands made Aaron feel weak.

He didn’t know if he could comfort his brother, he didn’t know if he should. But against his better judgment, he approached Sean and brought both of his hands on his brother’s arms. He expected him to push him away, to call him a name, but instead Sean fell into his arms, allowing himself to finally break.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said, as his brother’s tears soaked his shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

--

Almost an hour later, a phone rung, startling everyone in the room.

But it was Aaron’s, not Sean’s.

He wouldn’t pick up, but it was Jessica calling and he wanted to make sure his son was okay.

“Excuse me,” he said and took a few steps so he wouldn’t be heard by them - but would still know immediately if your kidnappers finally called.

“Daddy!” a cheerful voice came from the phone.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, doing his best so Jack wouldn’t trace any sign of sadness or worry in his tone.

“I know we said aunt Jess will bring me home tonight, but can I please come home early? I wanna see Y/N!”

Aaron couldn’t help from bursting into tears. He used his hand to cover the sound, his son’s sweet voice being the thing that finally broke him.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, Jack, you can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, innocently.

“Because, Y/N is working, she won’t be here until late,” he lied, hoping it was convincing.

“But last night on the phone she said she wouldn’t work today,” Jack whined.

“There was a change of plans.”

Jack didn’t say anything and Aaron could feel even in silence how disappointed he was.

“She misses you too, Jack. It won’t be long until it’s the three of us together,” he promised.

“Okay…” his tiny voice said.

“I love you, buddy. Now can you please do me a favor and give the phone to your aunt? I need to tell her something.”

--

The room was way too cold for the tank top you were wearing, and yet you had never been more thirsty in your life.

You would ask for some water, try to reason with them, but your mouth was taped making it impossible for you to speak. There was no way to even signal it to them, since your hands were tied behind you, like your legs were on the chair.

Tom was the name of the man that was guarding you. He was the same man that hid himself in the backseat of your car, and the same man who pointed a gun to your head, forcing you to drive where he wanted.

His partner kept coming into the room, only to stay for a few minutes, laugh at you and leave again. Tom kept calling him Paul, but one time he slipped, referring to him as Jeremy and then quickly corrected himself. They couldn’t even hide their real names right. This was their first time kidnapping someone for sure.

As much as these two seemed like idiots, you couldn’t help but fear them. There was no way to know what they were capable of. And there was no way for Sean to be able to find the amount of money they were asking from him so fast.

Would Sean step on his pride and call Aaron to ask for his help? Would they save you? Or were you going to die alone in a cold and empty room away from the people you loved?

Aaron…

You closed your eyes, travelling to him with your mind, desperate for a place to feel safe.

He was smiling at you. Standing tall, towering over you and looking down as you were sitting on the carpet of his living room. You bowed your head to look at your lap and found your right hand holding an Iron Man figure. Turning your head to the side, you saw a little boy holding his own superhero. It was Spider-Man; that same toy you had gifted Jack with when you had first met him.

Jack grabbed another superhero and stretched his arm towards Aaron.

“Come on, daddy! Play with us,” he asked him.

“Okay, okay,” Aaron chuckled and sat down next to you. Taking his own figure in his hands he elbowed you, wearing that grin he always did when he teased his loved ones. “Okay but if I have Captain America, then which one of us will be the villain?”

“We’re all good guys dad!” Jack exclaimed.

“We are?” Aaron acted surprised.

“Yes, I couldn’t choose who would get the bad guy,” he explained. “So no one gets him.”

“Well, maybe all the superheroes can have the day off today and just have fun, right Y/N?” Aaron asked you, playfully.

You tried to open your mouth to reply to him, but you couldn’t. You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make a joke about how Spider-Man could have a tea party with his friends, you wanted to see Aaron and Jack giggle, but you couldn’t, there was tape over your mouth.

Your eyes opened and you were back to that cold room.

“Time to call your beloved, princess,” Tom said mocking you. “Or maybe not so beloved, considering you spent the night at a different house.” His laugh was disgusting and you wished your hands were free so you could cover your ears.

His partner was back in the room and they walked in front of you, putting the phone on speaker. They did it to torture you, there was no other explanation, since they wouldn’t let you speak anyway.

You remembered the first phone call they made to Sean; his desperate voice, his scared words. This time it would hurt even more.

“Hello?”

It was Sean. You wondered if Aaron was in the room with him, silently guiding him through his answers. Just the thought of it gave you comfort.

“Hello, Sean,” Paul or Jeremy - or whatever that asshole’s name was - said. “Your girlfriend is getting lonely here without you.”

“Is Y/N alright?”

“Is the money ready?” Paul answered instead.

 “I have them here with me.” There was a pause. “But…I need to know that my girlfriend is okay, before I agree to anything. I love her and I’m worried.”

“I hope you haven’t talked to the police, or we will be very, very angry with you,” he said, ignoring his question.

“I haven’t. You said no police and I did exactly what you’ve asked me too. So please, can you at least let me talk to her for a second?”

There was no way they would do that, and you knew. You had been the one driving, which meant you knew exactly where you were…which meant they would in no way let you speak, risking the possibility of you revealing your location.

“No,” Paul said.

“How can I meet with you and give you the money if I don’t know for sure that Y/N alive?”

“Well I guess you will simply have to trust us,” Tom answered.

“Okay…Alright. Where do you wanna meet?”

“Hmm…” Paul said, leaning close to you. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, looking into your eyes. “She’s a pretty girl. Way too pretty to only be worth fifty grand, don’t you think, Sean?”

“What are you saying?” he said from the other line.

“I’m saying we should double the prize. A hundred thousand dollars for your one and only,” he spoke loudly as if he was making an announcement. “Sounds fair to me.”

The room was suddenly silent. Would Sean give up on you?

“Fine,” he said, taking you by surprise. “A hundred thousand dollars. Tell me the place and I’ll bring them to you.”

Part 10

ivy tag list:

@preciousbabypeter @buckysmainhxe @galaxyofmyown @ssamorganhotchner @romanogersendgame @elhotchner @louderfortheback @northschild @iammirrorball @rousethemouse @kishie8 @save-the-sky @ssacharcoalgrey @realdirectionx @itsmytimetoodream @art-and-thoughts @red-red-rogue @dellalyra @feetgypsy @stella95827 @katieslotherford @jazzymariexoxoc @quietlyignoringyou @justarandommom @sebastiansstanswhore @lelifesaver @aaron-hotchners-girlfriend @whyamihere96 @sylvieofasgard @redbleedingrose @222brooke @xoprincessmel @girlintheredscarf @radical-gecko @yeehawbitchs @jazzerbelle14 @jayxox @adrienette715 @fudosl @sardonic-courtney @emlynblack @kizzywh @formulapierre @crocodilefeet2707 @mojo366 @spicysimpura @twelfthnightorwhatyouwill1998

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #sean hotchner x reader #hotch 🪐 #ivy

[dittanyinbloom]

Fate Aligned

This is a bit strange for me to post here, but it is a second part to this George Weasley x fem!reader fic I made on an old account. Sebastian Sallow heavily influenced me with ideas for a part two. If you want to know why George and reader aren’t going to the Yule Ball with everyone else, read that one first! It’s cute! I promise!

George Weasley x fem! reader. Rated T for a brief make-out session and a few curse words here and there.

summary: You and George manage to lose a total of eighty house points on the night of the Yule Ball which you were not planning on attending because George gave all his money for dress robes to Fred so that at least one of them could go.

(also, the lockets mentioned in this are a little Easter egg for a SebastianxMCxOminis OT3 fic I may or may not be working on called Lover’s Lockets. It’ll probably come out in early summer, but the inspiration to write this first hit me like the Hogwarts Express)

.🍬✨🍬

The younger students that were not able to attend the ball had long since traveled home for the holidays. With everyone else draped in their best and headed for the Great Hall, you and George had the castle to yourselves. The possibilities were endless. Should you sneak into the faculty tower and see what the professors’ rooms looked like? Perhaps you would break into the Headmaster’s office and search for priceless Hogwarts artifacts. Maybe the librarian left the key for the Restricted Section at her desk while she was whisked away to the ball.

Of all the places they could go, George had chosen not only the most boring, most dangerous, but also the most unromantic of them all. Filch’s office was just off the Entrance Hall, which happened to also lead to the Great Hall. Only a couple sets of doors separated the two from being caught.

“Must this be done tonight?” You whispered from behind a giant Christmas tree that decorated the center of the Entrance Hall in front of the doors that lead outside. The Grey Lady was weeping at a statue perched on the upper tier, just a few feet from the door to the Reception Hall where you would find Filch’s office as well as a few stragglers taking a breather outside the Ball.

“They’re candies. We need to get them back and sell them before they go bad. This might be our only opportunity. When else is he going to be this distracted? He bought Ms. Norris a new collar. They’ll both be at the ball.”

“And we’ll both be in detention if your plan goes wrong, which they often do.”

“No, those are always Fred’s plans. Mine work like a charm,” and as he said the last words, he waved his wand and disappeared. The disillusionment charm was something you were becoming to be quite familiar with as of recently. Two boisterous redheads may or may not be the cause of it. You followed in suit, tugging your school robe over your hair and using the charm effortlessly. George smiles at how easily you complied before throwing on his own hood to cover his fiery hair and whispering, his voice low and thick as honey, “Good thinking.”

As soon as the Grey Lady wandered off, the two of you crept up the stairs and peeked through the giant set of wooden doors. The Reception Hall was startlingly empty. The faint sounds of orchestral music looked from beyond the Great Hall’s doors. The display of House Points seemed to have eyes on your back, judging you for your unapproved adventure. You tried not to dwell on the guilt, knowing Gryffindor’s house points would suffer greatly if you get caught.

“Look at that, not a soul in sight. Come on, then. Let’s not waste our luck.”

With the help of Alohomora, the two of you found yourselves in the tiny, dusty space Filch called his office. The walls were lined with cupboards. Knowing the twins had found the Maurader’s map in here their first year, you were sure more extravagant enchantments were stuck inside those drawers, collecting dust and begging to be used. Feeling safe now, you took off your charm and let George see your excitement. He matched your smile and immediately joined you at your side to start sifting through anything and everything.

“Ack!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from the second drawer.

George leaned over you and then laughed at the sight. “Dead rat? Probably lots of those. Ms. Norris does live here too, ya know.”

“Lovely.”

After a few more drawers, you found the familiar, warm brown briefcase the twins had been keeping their experimental treats in. “George, I’ve got them, now we can get the hell out of here.”

“Hold on, look at these!”

“George, really. We should take our winnings and go before someone-“ but the words die on your lips when George pulled the twisted chains of two lockers out of the drawer.

“Lumos,” he whispered to better show off the intricate floral pattern imprinted in the metal. “Think we should have a little reward for our venture, don’t you?”

“I agreed to help you find your treats, but stealing things that aren’t yours, Weasley-“

“Hush. You sound like a Ravenclaw. Always doing things by the book. Pft. Live a little, love.”

Completely derailed and flustered by his nickname for you, you didn’t have the mind to protest him further. Though looking back, you really wish you had. He untangled the lockets and bestowed one upon himself before inching closer to you.

“Be careful!” You whisper yelled. “What if it’s enchanted? Filch must have confiscated them for a reason!”

“Like he stole our taffies for no good reason?”

“He had reason. First years with ten-ton tongues were enough to justify them being taken.”

George flicked open the locket to study it. “Just a compass. Nothing evil about it.”

“Hmph. Well. Fine. I guess. . It would be nice to have a little souvenir.”

“See?“ He gently put the chain around your neck and took a step back, finally letting you breathe only to steal the air right back out of your lungs with his words, “So beautiful.”

The tiny office now felt unbearable. Earlier, you had confessed your feelings for him in not so many words. Whether or not he reciprocated, you weren’t sure. George hadn’t really had much time to respond or even take in your confession before your friends had come back. Since then, you had easily fallen into your usual pattern of playful pranking and chatter. It was easy to forget about your confession until his alluring compliment. The word had fallen off his lips almost breathlessly, a sultry whisper that had your mind alight and playing the moment over in your head.

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful…

It was all you could think about. Your heart ticked nervously and your skin went warm. Did he really think you were beautiful, or was this just the typical Weasley charm the boys often used on girls, and even professors to get people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. You wouldn’t call the twins manipulative, they just... Okay, they could be quite manipulative, but never with malicious intent. Flirting as a way of buttering people up wasn’t exactly a bad thing. You surely didn’t complain when they used their charm on you.

But that was before you had confessed your feelings to George. If Fred had been the one to say it, the word would have rolled off your back like water without a second thought. George, however, was now in the know of the feelings you had been harboring. You almost felt betrayed in a way that he would whisper a sweet nothing like that so carelessly after knowing where your heart lies. Did he just not care? Had he forgotten in the moment? Or was it somehow possible that he returned your feelings and this flirting was now more meaningful than his usual antics?

“We should go,” you said rather stiffly, immediately hating how rude it came off. In your rush out of the office, you forgot how careful you two had to be going in and found yourself bursting into the Reception Hall without even trying to be quiet. “We should get this to safe keeping and then we can do something that’s actually fun.”

“And what might you have in mind?” Professor McGonagall called out from across the hall. She was standing with her husband who had traveled to the castle for the night to accompany her to the ball. His eyes were soft and kind, but he also had an all-knowing smile that was thrown your way. He patted Minerva on top of her hand that he had been holding and then excused himself back to the festivities, letting his wife deal with her troublesome students.

“I-uh.” The briefcase of candies in your hands suddenly felt hot and heavy.

George’s hand landed on your shoulders as he dipped down to whisper right by your ear. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Piss off-,” you uttered back, elbowing him in the stomach rather ungraciously.

“I will take that.” And with the wave of her wand, McGonagall had the case of candies in her hands. “I would send the two of you back to the common room, but it sounds as though I shouldn’t trust you to stay there until the Yule Ball is over.”

“Professor, we-“

“Ten points from each of you for rummaging around Mr. Filch’s office. And since I think it best I keep an eye on you for the rest of the evening... “ She pointed her wand at you with a curt wave. The fabric of your clothes began to wiggle and tickle your skin, swishing all around and changing color until you ended up in a long ivory gown with golden embroidery. George’s clothes were next to change into an ivory button down with a deep red vest decorated in gold buttons, the same gold as your dress. One final silent wave of her wand, this stroke alarmingly familiar… it was Expelliarmus. Both of your wands floated into her open palm.

That night, George had been wearing his only school robe that was still long enough after his recent growth spurt. He couldn’t afford to lose it, in the most literal sense since the price of new robes had gone up greatly over the holiday season and all of his money had gone toward Fred's dress robes for the ball. The loss of that set was detrimental, even in exchange for these fancy clothes. “But, our robes. .”

“If you should wish to have your school robes and wands back before classes, I suggest you find me after the ball. Now, don’t dawdle. In you go.”

Jokingly matching your professor’s air of elegance, George spoke in as proper of a tone he could muster, “If you insist, Professor, but I must have a word with my partner first.”

“Do not make me come looking for you, Mr. Weasley.”

As soon as McGonagall exited into the Great Hall, George’s serious face turned into a bright and mischievous grin, as if you hadn’t just been caught by your Head of House. He dipped into a regal bow and held out a hand to you

Voice still posh and dropping even lower, George kissed your hand and spoke, “It seems as though fate has aligned-“

“Why are you still talking like that?” You giggled.

“Because it’s fun. You must know what fun is, shall I remind you?” Then he was pulling you in close and twirling you in circles, humming along to the faint music coming from behind the grand doors.

“I think,” you managed out between laughs, “-this is exactly what McGonagall meant when she said not to dawdle.” With all you might, you dragged the boy to the doors where he planted his feet and refused to move another inch. “George, what are you doing now?”

“We can’t go in there, silly. I haven’t even asked you yet.”

Those pesky nerves were bubbling back. You tried to swallow them down. “You’re ridiculous. We’re here. McGonagall’s forced us into these clothes. You don’t have to ask at this point. We aren’t- it’s not like we’re going by choice, I mean-“

Ignoring your endearing mumbling, George gently took your chin to make your eyes meet his as he asked, “Will you do me the honors of being the only bloke you dance with at the Yule Ball?”

“As long as you promise to crash us into all the Slytherin couples with your atrocious leading.”

“That’s a given.” He held out his arm for you to hold onto before walking you into the Great Hall where you were very fashionably late.

Decorated from enchanted ceilings all the way down to sparkling floors, the Great Hall was completely transformed into a winter wonderland. The ceiling was cloudy with snowflakes trickling down, sadly designed to never fall. It was always astonishing how the magic encapsulated the exact look of the weather, but never the temperature. Perhaps the frigid cold of the snow would have been welcome tonight because the hall was surprisingly warm from all the bodies dancing about.

The four center tables had vanished in favor of a large dance floor. The platform professors sat at was being used as a stage for a live band that was currently playing a jovial waltz. The corners of the hall were filled with refreshment tables and smaller, more personal round tables for groups to have a break from the excitement.

You scanned the room for your friends but immediately regretted doing so when your eyes landed on Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet. It seemed you had witnessed a rather intimate moment of Lee kissing Alicia’s knuckles, and then the back of her hand, and then her inner wrist, and then. . You quickly looked away, clearing your throat.

“You’ve got to be joking,” George muttered to himself. He was patting down his vest and dress pants. Turning his pockets inside out, he was presented with piles of sand. “It seems McGonagall transfigured away the dungbombs and fireworks as well.”

“Oh no,” you replied sarcastically, “How ever will we survive?”

“I suppose we will have to dance to pass the time,” George played along as he dragged you to the center of the hall. Once there, he adjusted the hold on your hand to one where your fingers were interlocking. While many other dance partners were doing the same, it still felt strikingly intimate, even more so when his other hand landed on your hip to draw you in close. You lightly placed your free one on his shoulder, mimicking a very cordial and proper stance.

You weren’t able to maintain your posture long, because George whizzed across the dance floor at an alarming speed. Your hand had slipped from the feather of a touch in his shoulder down to his bicep where you clung on for dear life. His hand was meant to stay on your hip had snaked to the small of your back, making it much easier to swing you to and fro. How he had managed to step on other couples’ toes but not your own was a mystery.

Actually, it was probably deliberate considering two of George’s victims had been a Slytherin boy from your year and a boy from Beauxbatons that had both previously asked you to accompany them. The true mystery was how George managed to find out who exactly you had turned down so that he could target them.

Then you were being pulled to him to avoid your backside slamming to the Durmstrang Headmaster. There had been no warning, so you stubbled into George ungracefully with your cheek pressing into his chest as you let out a string of bubbly, nervous laughter. The hand on the small of your back had drifted all the way to your opposite hip now, holding you up, but also holding you so tightly against him that you had nowhere to go. Not that you could step back even if you wanted to with your faulty feet.

“S’cuse us,” George slyly offered to the terrifying man as he brisked you off in another direction.

“Sorry!” You had to call to the man over your shoulder since George had you gone in a flash.

George mumbled only for you to hear, “No need to apologize to him. You never actually ran into him. I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe so, but we did give him a heart attack. And if you’re so aware of your actions, then why did you nearly just have me expelled?”

“All a ploy to get you closer to me.” His hand squeezed your hip for emphasis. “See? I can be quite romantic.”

“Falling into you is hardly romantic.”

“Oh, so you’re falling for me?”

“Did I not already make that obvious?” You had planned to play the words off as a joke, but George’s stiff reaction made it difficult. The tension only worsened when you found yourself at a standstill in the middle of the dance floor. George let go of your hip. You tried to escape your interlocked hands, but George tightened his grip, not letting you step too far away.

“We should talk about that,” George rarely sounded as serious as he did now, and the times when he had were never for good reason.

You winced at his tone. It was clear to you now that George didn’t feel the same. All the dancing and touching, it was all just in good fun. Nothing he ever did was meant to be analyzed. There was no reading between the lines. You were foolish to even try.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry to bring it up. I was only joking.” But the tightening feeling in your throat set in. It broke your heart to lie.

“You responded too quick to be joking, and besides, I-“

“Please, forget it. And forget what I said earlier,” Your voice diminished to nearly a whisper and you looked down at your feet lamely. “-I didn’t mean it, okay? Let’s just go back to having fun.”

George finally released your hand so that he could cup your face on both sides, forcing you to look back up at him. His brows softly pulled together. There was even a hint of a frown across his lips, a very foreign look on the prankster. “You’re an awful liar.”

“I’m not-“ you choked on your words, trying to hold back the sobs bubbling in your throat. “Just dance with me, George.”

“Ridiculous,” he huffed in disbelief. His hand wrapped around your upper arm to guide you toward the courtyard adjacent to the hall. You were still fighting the tears, refusing to let anyone see how much of a mess you truly were.

“You’re here! Brilliant!” Fred popped up just before the two of you made it out, placing both his hands on George’s shoulders to shake him in excitement. This in turn caused George to let you go, so you were thankful for Fred's intrusion. “Let me guess, you saw him run out to the courtyard too? Thinks he’s sneaky, that one. Well, he can’t escape all of us, eh?”

Fred and George did not disagree often, but this was one of those rare times George was putting his foot down. “This isn’t the time, mate.”

“This is the perfect time! What’s he gonna do to us with all these people as witnesses? Bagman doesn’t have the balls to pull something here.”

The name seemed to change George’s demeanor. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction. You knew of the antics Ludo Bagman pulled on the twins at the World Cup. This would be the perfect time to approach him, Fred wasn’t wrong. He just had absolute shite timing.

“Let’s go get his arse,” you proclaimed, jumping at the opportunity to avoid the awkward ‘I’m just not that into you’ conversation that George was no doubt planning to have with you out in that courtyard.

Fred’s grin spread across his face wildly. “Oh, how lucky Georgie is to have you. Angelina is livid I’m doing this. Knew I should have asked you as my date instead. And you clean up nicely too, I mean, look at you two.” And Fred did take a moment to give your dress a proper once over. His eyes landed on the locket around your neck and then flickered to the matching one his brother was sporting. “Now where in Merlin did you two nick those?”

Normally, George would jump at the opportunity to brag, but he was being oddly quiet. You spoke up in his place, “Filch’s office. McGonagall caught us stealing back your candies. She took those, but I don’t think she knew about these. . .”

Fred whistled lowly, clearly impressed, “You two have been busy. And I’ve just been here trying to dance like a babbling, bumbling, baboon!” His McGonagall impression was getting quite good.

You promptly followed Fred toward the courtyard. George seemed to drag his feet behind you. Eventually, you made it to the array of carriages the guests had arrived in that evening. A few groups of people were scattered about, chatting in the fresh air. Goosebumps instantly littered your arms and shoulders, but you welcomed the sensation. It was like jumping in a cold shower after that heated moment between you and George.

Fred wasted no time approaching his enemy with his arms raised in a faux welcoming stance. “I don’t believe my eyes! If it isn’t Ludo Bagman, old friend. How have you been?”

Bagman had been talking to an older, gruff-looking wizard you did not know. They both examined Fred quizzically, intrigued that a student would approach them in such a way. You moved to stand beside Fred, but George had stepped in first, crossing his arms and smiling at the two older wizards as if that alone was a threat. And it seemed to come across that way with how painfully obvious it was that his smile was forced.

George was quick to join in on Fred’s jovial greetings as well, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. When was our last chat? Remind me, Fred.”

“Oh, George, I do believe the last time we saw Ludo was during the Quidditch World Cup. You remember, don’t you?”

“Ah! Yes! I remember that night quite well. We won a pretty hefty bet, didn’t we, Fred?”

“That we did, George. That we did. Say, George, we still haven’t gotten the money from that, have we?”

“You would have been paid if you didn’t cheat,” Ludo sneered.

“We didn’t cheat,” George said through his teeth, immediately offended that he would even need to defend their honor against such a statement.

“You just want to keep the money for yourself,” Fred threw in offense.

Bagman’s eyes narrowed. “If the Weasley clan was known for their integrity, perhaps I would take you at your word. Now, quit wasting my time with this.” He looked to his companion and then nodded for the doors. They both turned to leave. Fred reached into his pocket for his wand, but you caught his wrist.

“Snape,” you whispered as the professor sauntered out into the courtyard.

“Bastard,” Fred murmured. You dropped his wrist, assuming he would put away his wand so as to not draw suspicion. Instead, Fred lifted his wrist and cast the disillusionment charm on himself. The motion was automatic at the mention of Snape. All you could hear was his hushed whisper. “What are you two doing? Let’s go before he questions us.”

George met your terrified eyes, looking rather pale himself. McGonagall had taken your wands. It seemed as though you were going to have to face Snape head-on.

“Fuck it,” George whispered as he grabbed you yet again, heaving you into the nearest carriage. You scrambled in with George following so close behind that he was nearly on top of you. The skirt of your dress had twisted and risen from all the movement. George planted himself on the bench next to you, mumbling apologies for nearly squashing you.

“How the hell are we-“

“Whisper!” George uttered. No wand, no ability to cast muffalo. The two of you would have to wait this out in silence. He pressed his ear to the side of the carriage and then looked very alarmed as he whispered, “Can hear him talking with Bagman and that other piece of muck.”

You tried smoothing down your skirt, but it was tangled horribly underneath you. Instead of offering to help or apologizing for the inconvenience, George merely followed the frantic movement of your hands. His eyes lingered over your exposed knee.

The sheer stupidity of your night was hitting you hard. Your jaw clenched in annoyance. If you hadn’t followed Fred to the courtyard, if you hadn’t made that stupid comment while dancing, if you hadn’t gone with George to Filch’s office, if you had never admitted you wanted to go to the bloody ball with him in the first place. .

“Lift yourself up,” he whispered, elbowing your arm.

You pouted in confusion, but gently lifted yourself up with both palms pressed into the bench of the carriage. George swiftly smoothed the fabric under you, meaning his hands had to skim over your backside and underneath you. Your breath caught in your throat at how nonchalant he acted. Once the underneath was straightened out, he pulled down the top to finally hid your exposed knee.

“Better?"

“You should warn a girl before grabbing her arse, Weasley.”

“I only did it so you’d stop fidgeting. Snape will know someone is in here if the cart is shaking.”

Any response you might have had died on your lips. Images of what sort of actions would make the carriage shake flashed across your mind. Your face felt uncomfortably hot, embarrassed that you couldn’t control the thoughts you were having about your best friend whilst sitting right next to him.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft and sincere, only making you feel more guilty for your own track mind. “I really should tell you-“

“Save it,” you begged. Merlin, you couldn’t hear the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech while you were shamefully thinking of making the carriage rock. You would die of embarrassment if he turned you down at this very moment.

“I don’t want to save it,” he seethed. “Don’t know where you got the bloody impression that I’m going to turn you down but damn it, I said I would have been the first to ask you if I had the money for robes. I didn’t mean that in a platonic way. Thought that much was obvious.”

He sounded cross with you, but his words were a confession of sorts. You studied his features. His hands were opening and closing. He was biting the inside of his cheeks. His eyes couldn’t meet yours for more than half a second before darting to the floor of the carriage.

“You like me,” you whispered in awe.

George didn’t seem to notice you shift closer, too lost in his own demise. “Look, I know I’m a fucking idiot. You said you wanted a night of fun and dancing, the ball gets dropped into our lap perfectly, and I go and ruin it by getting you stuck in a carriage. I’ve been told my whole life I don’t know when to quit. It didn’t mean shite to me until now that it’s affecting you. I got us into this. I should have told Fred to bugger off, but he and I just feed off each other’s insanity and-“

Your hands guided his face toward you so your lips could feverishly crash into him. From the shock of your hold, George’s hands wrapped around your wrists almost like he might pull you off. His entire body shivered from the feeling of your lips over his. It was heated and messy right from the start because his mouth had been open from talking.

George melted into you, matching your fever and even raising the stakes by taking your bottom lip between his teeth. He was being gentle, playful even, but it still had your arse lifting off the bench and rolling onto your knee so you could lean in further to his pull. His hands moved in quick now that the opportunity arose. They trailed down your back, smoothing the dress over your backside much slower this time, deliberately stroking to get their fill before reaching the underneath of your thighs where his fingers shamelessly pressed into your soft flesh to pull you closer until you were dragged onto his lap.

You broke away to gasp with your hands landing on his shoulders to steady yourself. His mouth went for your exposed collarbone, kissing from one shoulder to the next and swiping the chain of your new locket out of the way to thoroughly get every inch of skin. You thought he would go for your neck next, but instead, his lips traveled down toward the exposing, sweetheart neckline of your dress.

The door to the carriage swung open on your right. Professor Snape glared at the two of you. George had not removed his hands from your waist, so you just smiled sheepishly at your potions professor from George’s lap.

“What on earth do you think you two are doing? Out. Now.��

Rather reluctantly despite the ridicule, George helped you off of him so the two of you could crawl out of the carriage. As soon as your feet were on solid ground, Snape was firing off punishments.

“Thirty points from each of you. A week’s detention with Hagrid tending to the Forbidden Forest should be enough to make you regret this awful choice you’ve made. Back to the Great Hall, now.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laughter threatening to burst out and double your detentions. Snape keenly watched the two of you drag your feet back to the ball. “Hands to yourself, Weasley,” he drones when George had tried to put his hand on the small of your back to guide you. Once the two of you were heading inside, Snape moved to the next carriage to end a different couple’s impromptu snog session.

“That was horrifying,” you grimaced at the thought of facing Snape in your next class.

“Was my kissing that bad?” George mused.

You playfully slapped his chest, “Sod off. You know what I meant. I’ll never be able to look Snape in the eye again.”

“I’m sure he’s witnessed worse. Hell, he probably is witnessing worse as we speak. The others were in their carriages far longer than we were.”

And yet George still managed to look like a complete mess. His lips were bright red, matching the flush he still wore on his cheeks. His hair was staticky and wild, not at all fitting for the ball you were walking back into. You waved him over, insisting, “Come ‘ere. You can’t go back there looking like this.”

A lazy smile plastered across George’s rosy cheeks. His eyes shamelessly studied your serious look of concentration as you tried to smooth down his wild locks. “Think people are gonna know what we did no matter how long you play with my hair.”

His fingers swiped over your collarbone, pressing harder on the red, sensitive spots that were definitely going to bruise later. A shiver ran down your back. You would have to remember to down a healing potion tonight that way you didn’t wake up and go about your day tomorrow, forgetting how scandalous you looked.

“Quit making them worse.” You smacked his hand away. “I can’t believe you did that while I’m stuck in this stupid dress with no robes to hide it. You’re devious.”

“You’re the one who started it,” George challenged.

“Must all your comebacks be childish?”

“You find them endearing,” he teased. “Merlin, can’t believe we could have been doing that ages ago. Do you think McGonagall would notice if we slipped back to the common room to make up for lost time?”

“I’m not taking any chances while she still has my wand. Besides, we hardly got to dance!” You took his hand and pulled him into the hall. “There are more Slytherins that need to be run into.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #Yule ball #my writings #harry potter main series #George is so fun to write for because I feel like tender more serious moments can happen and he is still in character #but with Fred I just can’t take him seriously #still love Freddie too though don’t get me wrong #George had just always had my heart

[shinobufied]

one thing I dislike about the take that Dutch has ~always been that way~ and just kinda acted sane (as far as that works) for +20 years is that it paints Hosea as a complete fool.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Hosea is completely untouchable, out of this world, a god amongst humans but he isn't stupid. As far as we are concerned he is a master at seeing through people, he reads them and tricks them like no other.

He's very smart and observant, often the one to take a step back and think things through thrice before investing into them and somehow you want to tell me he looked at loud, boisterous, energetic (supposedly manipulative) Dutch at the very beginning and thought "my god this guy is full of shit"?

Now, we don't really have any insight on how they really were before Blackwater or even years back when they took in Arthur but I truly and utterly believe that Dutch was making a real effort to do good, from the bottom of his heart, that he really tried to be better and ultimately failed. (and yeah, surely partly bc it stroked his ego but nonetheless)

Like, the first time we see, or rather hear that Dutch may be a little silly is in Colter, right after Blackwater when it was revelaed that he killed an innocent woman. This was also the very first severe stress situation we have "seen" Dutch in. He got lead on, maybe even set up after what sounded like a long period of luck and success and now him and everyone tagging along is in danger and everything has gone to shit.

The one that then seemed increasingly concerned and insisted on knowing what happened was Hosea. My thoughts are that Hosea knew that Dutch tended to act rash in stressful situations and that there was something nagging on his conscious, telling him that something went horribly wrong. Because he knew Dutch.

Dutch on the other hand started to grow desperate. He didn't just lose a ton of money and got the law after them all once again, but he also lost 3 members of the gang. 3 people to who he promised freedom and a good life gone just like that + he also started to feel the others losing hope and maybe he was confronted with the idea that maybe what he was doing wasn't as good and great as he has thought throughout all these years.

So he grows defensiv and even reckless because no, it can't be, him facing the fact that his time was not only over but he probably wasted all these years was a tad too painful, both for his ego but also for his being.

As time goes on he keeps slipping more and more since everything he does just seems to blow up right back into his face. The more he tries to fix the more to shit it goes and the desperation just seems to grow and grow.

So he clings to every little thing that keeps on making him believe that his cause is still good, that he's still doing right so he comes up with nonesense plans like Tahiti.

But most importantly, his probably biggest reminder still was Hosea. As long as Hosea was still there, still by his side it would be alright. Yeah, Hosea nags him all the time and they bicker and fight all the time, but he's still there, so that means he still believes in Dutch. With Hosea he could do it.

And then Hosea dies.

And the failure at the bank is so much worse than all the ones before because this time it wasn't Dutch that set things up, or Micah, or anyone else but it was Hosea. The very person that grounded him, that he clung to desperately to show him that his efforts are not in vain.

The disaster at the bank didn't only cost him Hosea, his life long partner, the person he trusted the most, but also the trust from the rest of the gang. John was already doubting him for some time now and now the others started to, too.

And maybe, maybe him doing all this what he thought of good these past years, saving and taking in people, wasn't the best for them at all. Maybe he doomed them more than anything.

But no, Micah is still at his side. And Bill. And Javier.

Well, if there's some people still believing in him then there has to be some truth to it, no?

Maybe Micah is right, maybe John is the rat. Or Abigail. Or Arthur.

Maybe all the others are just ungrateful. Maybe he gave them all and the moment he slips and fails they just leave?

Hosea woulnd't have. Hosea stayed with him.

Micah stayed with him.

And as he was on that mountain, looking at the boy he raised as his own, barely able to breath and all beaten up, telling him "I gave you all I had", that was the first time the realization of him not being as great, as good, as he hoped to be, as he tried to be, fully hit him and now he couldn't do anything but accept it. No denying it anymore, no deluding it. Just the cold truth.

#character study #kind of? #dutch van der linde #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #tbh i dont think him hitting his head was the cause of him going silly #he was always just a little insane and just wanted to proof himself #this is not a dutch defend post btw any of u accuse me of that and im taking ur grandmas kneecaps #he was quite hot when he drowned bronte tho ill give him that #also tbh maybe him hitting his head was kind of part of his madness but absolutely not all of it #annies brainjuice #i wrote this in my free period looking like a piece of trash so if u see any mistakes in this or something go die idk

[littlesniggy]

Monster

Hellooooo....it's been a minute but I'm kinda back with a new story. It's a mafia AU with Mihawk and Crocodile. I'm still thinking about turning this into a multi-chapter story with smutty content later but not sure yet. Also, wanted to see your reaction if anyone is even interested. Please let me know how you liked it! Warnings: mention of torture, threat of death, waterboarding, mention of blood, reader is in great danger, mention of other bodily fluids Charakters: Dracule Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Buggy the Clown, female reader Word count: 1.5k

Part Two

The impatient thudding of the tips of his long fingers against the dark wood of his mahogany desk was the only sound you could hear over your heavy breathing and the blood rushing in your ears. You were soaking wet; water was running down your face, your neck and disappearing into your soaking clothes. Strands of wet hair clung to your cold skin and your entire body was shivering. You felt dizzy. 

Next to you stood a man with a big cigar between his lips, holding a half-empty canister that was previously filled to the brim with water. His lips were forming a sadistic smile at your pathetic sight and he was more than ready to place the dirty towel back over your face and start the torture once again. 

“Are you sure you have no idea where your people hid the money?” his piercing amber eyes, that seemed to be almost yellow depending on how the light fell, looked at you almost bored yet observant and his voice matched that expression; his tone was nonchalant but had a certain edge to it that would not permit any kind of defiance.

“Of course, she knows where the money is! She is the one who fucking stole it!” that voice you knew. Next to the big desk was a fancy-looking sofa where the supposed head of this organization was sitting. You (and really anyone you knew) have been under the impression that he was running everything. Sure, he didn’t look like a lot but he had practically an army from thugs to clod-blooded murderers underneath him, so he was certainly not someone to mess with. But when he was silenced with a single glare from the man in front of you, you weren’t so sure anymore who actually was in charge.

“If you can’t behave, I suggest you leave, clown.” The man mumbled but it had the desired effect – Buggy was silent. Now, his attention was all back on you and you couldn’t say you were particularly happy about that. 

“I am still waiting for an answer. Or do we have to waste some more water on you?” A shuffle next to you put your whole body back on edge.

“I don’t know anything! I’m just the driver!” the words tumble over your tongue hastily, hoping to escape another round of waterboarding. 

“Yes, that’s what you said before yet somehow I don’t believe you.” The man in front of you mused. He glanced to his partner who was standing next to you. “How about you, Crocodile?” 

You’ve heard that name before but never had a face to it. Sir Crocodile – nobody knew his real name – was notorious, even among people in the underworld. If you didn’t have a particular death wish you made sure to stay clear of his business. But why was he here? 

“I think our little guest here knows more than she wants to admit. But this one is your call, Hawkeye.” 

You suddenly felt nauseous, your blood ran cold, bile started to threaten up your throat, and your entire body started shaking uncontrollably.  Hawkeye. Why was he here? As with Sir Crocodile, you had no idea what Hawkeye, Dracule MIhawk, really looked like but apparently, he was sitting right in front of you. If luck wasn’t on your side before with Sir Crocodile next to you, it had now outright abandoned you and thrown you to the wolves altogether. You balled your tied hands into fists, trying to wrench yourself free from your restraints but to no avail. 

Mihawk sighed seemingly defeated and nodded his head quickly in affirmation. 

“No!” You yelled but the towel was pressed onto your face once more, the chair was pulled back and immediately water started pouring out of the canister and onto your face. 

Hawkeye watched as the other man attempted to drown you, his fingers non-stop tapping against the dark wood. He didn’t know if he should believe you or not but quite frankly, he didn’t really care. Even if you told the truth and were some oblivious little girl – you were still part of the group who stole his money. And that was something he couldn’t let slide. 

He watched passively as your body convulsed under the water; how you tried to turn your head but the towel clung to your face like a second skin. He knew Crocodile wouldn’t kill you unless he gave the OK so he averted his gaze to his right where Buggy was still sitting, his eyes glued to your struggling form. 

“Get out.” Mihawk simply said. Buggy’s head snapped towards him with a venomous glare but was quick to rethink his next words carefully. 

“But-“ 

“I said get out. Or you’re next.” Without saying another word, the clown got up and left the room through a side-door which lead to another office. 

Mihawk’s attention was brought back to you when you started coughing violently as Crocodile removed the towel, the canister still filled to a quarter. He was glad he thought ahead when deciding on their new operating base. This room had a concrete floor with a drain in the middle. The expensive carpet that usually embellished the cold floor was neatly placed at the far end of the room. 

Your lungs were burning and your vision was blurry. Your knuckles had turned white from how fiercely your hands clawed at the armrest of the chair you were tied to. “Please….” You whimpered between coughs.  “I don’t know anything. Please, believe me.” Your pleading was met with silence from Mihawk and an amused chuckle from Crocodile.  

Your eyes started to focus again and you looked at the man in front of you, begging him silently with your eyes to believe you, to stop hurting you, and to please let you go. 

“Please, let me leave.” You whispered; tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”  uncontrollable sobs left your body and you started crying shamelessly. Your head hung low as you were shaking your head over and over in denial but that wouldn’t save you. 

Hawkeye got up from his chair and slowly walked around the desk until he stood beside you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see his black boots. You instinctively inched away when he crouched down beside you, holding a knife in his one hand while the other one played with the sharp blade. 

“Please…” you tried again but MIhawk shushed you. 

“You see, I’m quite in a predicament here.” He started and he traced the blade of his knife over your leg, cutting through the thick denim of your jeans in the process. A whimper escaped your lips. “Don’t…”

“If you are lying and I’m letting you go, that would give people the wrong impression of me. If you are not lying and I let you go, people would still get the wrong impression of me. You might not be the one who stole from me but someone else from your organization sure did and it would let people believe that I am easy to steal from. So, the only option where I at least would keep my good name would be to simply kill you.” The pressure on your leg increased and you screamed in pain and at his words.

“If you don’t know anything, you are worthless to me and if you do know something you probably won’t tell me. Either way, I have no use for you anymore.” 

“No, no, please!” panic took over your mind and body and you’d do anything to survive this ordeal. “What if I do know something!” you tried to bargain, knowing fully well that you knew nothing. 

Mihawk’s lips were pressed into a joyless smile, his eyes were looking at you almost pitiful. Almost. 

“I’d kill you faster as a reward.” His voice could’ve sunk the titanic by how cold it was. Your heart sunk to your stomach, all blood that was still in your head also seemed to leave as you looked at the man, the monster, in front of you, telling you calmly that he’d end your life no matter what. 

Your brain was unable to grasp the thought of death as you suddenly felt extremely tired. It was as if someone put a warm blanket over your head that slowly drained out the last bit of light. Were you dying? But where was the pain? There was something warm running down your legs so were you already bleeding to death? It felt soothing. Your breathing became slower and slower, Mihawk’s face became nothing but a blur and then there was darkness. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

“She passed out.” Crocodile noted amused as he pressed his cigar out in the ashtray on the desk. Mihawk nodded and got back up, his eyes looking at your unconscious form.

“And she peed herself.” 

#One piece #op #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #hawkeye #taka no me #mafia au #op mafia au #one piece mafia au #mention of water boarding #female reader #op sir crocodile #one piece sir crocodile #one piece buggy #littlesniggy

[kasagia]

Our little game

~Part 2~ ~Part 3~ ~Part 4~ ~Part 5~

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x witch! reader Summary: You and Klaus have been playing this game between yourselves since your first meeting. One day, you two would fight with each other like dogs, and the next day, you would flirt and act like people completely mad with love. But whatever was between you two, you would never lose this game and admit that you fell for him. He would only use you for your power, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself all this time. Words count: 4,2k

I had no idea what I was doing here.

Wearing one of my fancy black dresses, I was staying in the middle of Mikaelson's compound in New Orleans, with hundreds of people surrounding me.

I was definitely making a huge mistake.

But a few hours ago, when my Mystic Falls gang tried (and failed) to kill these crazy heretics who came to our town two weeks ago, I could only think about coming here.

I needed to find a safe place to stay until Damon or Stefan called for my help.

But after hours of driving here, I wasn't sure if I still wanted to be a part of their group. Yes, I loved them all, especially Bonnie, who became my main "witch-teacher" after I found out I was like her, but sometimes I felt used by them. My power was stronger than any typical witch's. Even Bonnie was surprised to see the things I was able to do until my strength was exhausted and my nose started to bleed.

One day, Damon said that I was their greatest weapon. Then I burst out laughing. Now I'm not so sure how much the black-haired man was joking and how much his words were true. But I had to keep the promise I gave myself and stay with them, if only for Bonnie's sake. She would have killed herself trying to protect her friends, and I wouldn't let that happen. After all she did for me, I have to repay her debt of gratitude.

I turned on the radio while driving to nowhere and heard one of my favorite Mikaelson's, beloved, old songs, which was "better when it played at ball without this strange background sound." That's when I remembered Rebekah and her last words before leaving for New Orleans with her brothers: "You know, if your gang falls apart, you can always come to me. It would be funnier to have a partner in crime against Nik."

After a lengthy moral debate within me, I decided to fuck Salvatore's opinion of me and visit their nemesis. If Damon was so smart to make and realize his own crass plan without telling anyone, I could do something really stupid too and spend a week (or more) with Rebekah. After all, no one could control me.

Then it seemed like a very good plan.

Now with so many people around me, I decide that I have made a great mistake.

I totally forgot that four days ago, Bekah told me about the "engaged party" of Katherine and Elijah. (Thank God for my magic. At least I could turn pants and a T-shirt into a pretty dress.) I sent my gift to the happy couple with separate, joking congratulations to Katherine for "entrapping her Mikaelson after a long couple of centuries" without actually intending to attend the party.

Elena and Caroline would skin me if they knew that instead of buying them fancy birthday presents, I spent my money on something special for my best friend's big day.

In retrospect, I'd like to see their faces. They would be invaluable. Especially Damon's.

"My God, look who arrived!" a familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Hi Beks." I turned around to face her.

"Hi Beks? You appear here without telling me or Katherine anything; you hide in the crowd with a mean expression on your face, and all I get after months apart is a simple "hi"?"

"Well, in my defense, I was thinking about bringing you wine, flowers, cake and saying, "I'm sorry, baby,"  but I figured it would be only a waste of time and my money because you're going to yell at me anyway. Also, your boyfriend would be jealous." she started laughing and pulled me into a hug.

"I haven't seen you for too long."

"Bekah, we were talking yesterday morning."

"You called her yesterday and didn't call me?!" I heard Katherine's resentful voice behind me.

"You look gorgeous, honey. Engagement suits you." she gave me an unimpressed look. "Oh, c'mon. Don't be angry. I'm here now, ready to give you compliments and fight with your fiance's brother, who loathes you. Now, show me the ring. I want to see how much money Elijah was willing to spend on you." she burst out laughing, waving her ringed hand in front of my eyes.

"You realize you're not getting off so easily? Besides, something must have happened for you to suddenly decide to come."

"We can talk tomorrow. Tonight, it's about you and your undying love for her brother." I pointed to Rebekah.

"Talking about my brothers. We'll use some help with Nik's composure for the rest of the evening."

"It is so bad?"

"Yes. He's been following Elijah and trying to convince him to change his mind since this morning." Katherine complained. "He doesn't leave us alone, even for half a second."

"Do you two really think I'm able to "charm" him for the rest of the night?"

I asked, doubts about his supposed affection towards me. Since our first meeting, I and an original hybrid have had a kind of love-hate relationship. At the beginning, we only had short, verbal skirmishes, then it evolved into an open war (he tried to hurt Bonnie, so I gave him a headache and snapped his neck. After that, he used one of his hybrids to crack my car, so I convinced Rebekah to steal his car keys and give them to me. He gave up after two weeks of our teasing and after I (with little of Damon's help) ruined all his dark plans. The original hybrid bought me my own car, trying to bury the hatchet between us.) After a month of these events, the hatred between us began to develop into a kind of mean-companionship. At least no one had tried to gouge out the eyes of the other one anymore. Our "game" developed so much that one day he began to tease me with flirtatious phrases. And it's not true that I choked on my drink and blushed like a teenager from a romance book when he called me for the first time his "innermost, darkest pleasure," whispering it with his seductive tone, which he undoubtedly used for many women before. It was at our school party in the style of the 20s. Since then, I've figured out how to play by his new rules. I couldn't be worse than him.

"Well, you're doing your job even now. He's been staring at you for about five minutes, and you haven't even used any magic. I think we all know why, but you're too stubborn to admit it, so you might as well use his soft spot for you as reparation for your silence for 3 days."

"It's not a soft spot or any other stupid feeling you assume. This is a game."

That was our way of communicating: by circling around, lulling the other person's vigilance, and attacking when he least expects it. At the end of the day, I was just a toy for him—a mortal witch who was never scared of a 1000-year-old hybrid. He proved it after he moved with his family to New Orleans, and I never heard from him again.

"I like spicy stories, but please, keep my brother's kinks away from me. BOTH of you. It's just disgusting." Rebekah shuddered.

"I'm not…"

"Did I hear something about kinks? Y/N darling, it's a pleasure to finally see you here!" Kol suddenly appeared from nowhere. He got closer to me and gave me a strong hug.

"What the bloody hell? You should be on Hayley's tail!"

"Relax, sister. Our brother's formal one-night stand peacefully came back to her husband and wolves. Which means I'm free for the rest of the evening.     Y/N do you want to dance with me?" without waiting for any response, he took my hand and led me to the dance floor, where other couples were dancing.

"Alright, what did you do?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I have no idea what are you implying. I just wanted to dance with a friend I hadn't seen in a long time."

"Kol."

"Y/N."

"Okey, okey. Don't look at me like that. In a nutshell, there is a girl." Oh, I've heard about her. I was curious how much of the original's interest in this girl was genuine.

"My God. I never expected to live to see the day Kol Mikaelson finds his epic love." I cut him off with a smirk.

"She is a hag like you, by the way." he continued, ignoring my taunt. "She doesn't want to know me, but she loves me. I just need a little magic of jealousy, and voilà, I'll be kissing her at the end of this night."

"And you didn't think, Sherlock, that acting like this would make her think that you only play with her?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. The gears in Mikaelson's head began to turn.

"F*ck. So what should I do? I've tried everything. Flowers, jewelry, old grimoires, unexpected almost-dating, puppies, cats, and all of this modern stuff."

"The idea of coming to me with a "love problem" is as ridiculous as expecting an answer, but I will try my best because you are kind of my friend and seem desperate. I don't know if you thought of it, but speaking with her and making a true confession seemed too simple, didn't it?" I said it sarcastically.

"You mean… "L" word?" he cleared his throat, ashamed.

"For the love of God, Kol Mikaelson! Do you love her?"

"Of course."

"Then get out of my eyes and tell her, not me." he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving me alone in a sea of people.

"Little bastard." I said it to myself while trying to get out of there.

But someone made sure I wasn't left alone for too long.

"Hello, my love."

I would recognize that voice even on my deathbed, and I undoubtedly knew that he would someday be the reason for my death.

"Hello Klaus." I turned around to look him in the face. He had grown more handsome since the last time I saw him, which worried me a lot. I tried to hide my unwanted emotions behind a sarcastic smirk.

"If you're wondering if Stefan or Caroline sent their regards, I'm going to have to disappoint you."

"Actually, I'm wondering who I have to kill." I frowned, not understanding him. He swept me into his arms and whirled me about the dance floor as the orchestra played. "I knew you were planning not to go to this party. Katherine was very upset about that."

"So you must have had an enjoyable couple of days." I can't stop myself from interrupting him. He gave me a small smile, shaking his head in amusement. I was so close in his arms that I could feel his every breath adjust to mine.

"You don't usually change your plans, so it's obvious that your bunch of stupid friends must have done something impressively dumb. And quite possibly, it has to do with the emergence of competition vampire's group in Mystic Falls."

"You seem quite well informed, especially for someone who doesn't care about anyone but his family."

"Ouch. As mean as I remembered."

"And you're as irritating as always. It looks like no one changed."

I sighed as I looked around the room. Mission successful - Katherine talks to Elijah. The only problem was that they looked like they were gossiping about me and Klaus…

"Tell me, did you miss me?" Klaus' taunt diverted my attention.

I thought for a moment about how to answer his question. Of course, I missed him. I frequently found myself recalling memories of us in locations where I was at the time. But as I said to Rebekah and Katherine, there was no bond between me and Klaus. We were just two bored souls who were looking for entertainment. We liked messing with people and making fun of them. That's all. There is no feeling involved. But it doesn't mean I will miss my chance.

"Yes." I whispered this while staring into his ocean eyes, never taking my gaze away from him.

He was surprised by my bold, direct statement. He leaned slightly closer to me. His gaze was moving from my eyes to my lips.

"I was bored as no one was trying to hurt me or my friends. Fortunately, Miss Salvatore came back with her own, special family." I got a little closer to him so I could whisper in his ear. "And then we had a new member of our group. Enzo. He's incredibly handsome and was an excellent substitute for your company."

He moved his hand slowly as he extended his arm to encircle my back. Then he dipped me deeply, looking at my eyes all the damn time.

"Be careful, my love. You may fall for him, of course, if you have a heart." he whispered, tightening his grip on me. I held my breath, too enchanted by the moment to respond to his taunt.

I should feel uneasy, distrustful, and disgusted that I am at his mercy, for he could drop me at any moment. Instead, all I could feel was being hypnotized by his blue eyes until he helped me get back on my feet again.

"Every girl would love him. He has dark hair, plays the guitar, and speaks with an English accent. Everyone's type, espessialy mine." I said, when I came back to my senses. If he wanted to tease me, I'd make sure I was a worthy opponent. I just had to keep my emotions under lock and key.

"So your "type" has to have an English accent? It's good to know."

"Yeah, but not as old as some of the people who live here. Also, not this one who wants to get closer to me only to use me for my power."

"You really think that little of me?"

"Is it truly important what I think about you?"

"No, not if you want me to remain a stranger to you. Not at all. But I'd like to think that we are more than we're willing to admit."

"Are you drunk?" I asked, taking a step back to examine him more closely. He began laughing at my reaction, drawing me closer to him once again.

"No, my love. I'm honest. But I'm not sure if there's a big difference between these two."

"You're honest only if you know it's in your interest. Clearly, you want something for me because you've been nicer to me than you have in the last few years. But you have to know I'm not that stupid to let you control me." I got out of his arms and went out in search of a room free of anyone.

"Running away isn't a solution, Y/N! I hope you know that." He shouted as he followed me. We came to a halt as we entered his art studio. Of all the fucking places in this huge villa, it had to be the den of the big bad wolf.

"Katherine has managed to escape you for more than 500 years." I said this without giving him a single, damning look. I much preferred to admire his works.

"Yes. Because she wanted. I'm not sure if you share her desires." He grabbed my arm, turning me to face him.

"What kind of fucked-up game are you playing right now?!" I yelled, yanking his hands away from me. He confused me. We never crossed that unspoken line in our banter. Few months apart, and now he shares the attitude of our crazy friends. That kind of playing wasn't fun at all.

"Did I bring up a sensitive topic? You're not ready to finally stop lying to yourself?" I laughed, mocking him.

"I've never claimed to be a saint." I growled at his face.

"You also never admitted being a sinner."

"That's good I've always wanted to be an anti-hero, then." I whispered, looking into his mesmerizing eyes, not even realizing that as we talked, we were getting closer, as we were suddenly a foot apart. I felt his hand slip around my waist like a snake. He pulled me closer and then I found myself pressed between his warm chest and cold wall.

"If only you weren't such a paranoid woman and suspected me of using you whenever I wanted to get closer to you. Maybe you would understand who you should be scared of and what is truly between us."

"Said the man who murdered his biological father because he was afraid Ansal would endanger Hope."

"You seem quite well informed, especially for someone who doesn't care about me."

"Katherine and Rebekah are gossipers. You can't blame me for listening to them."

"You have an excuse for every circumstance, don't you?"

"It's not my fault you can't accept the truth. Whatever you've been taking today, you'd better take less of it. It's damaging your immortal, ancient head." I started to turn towards the door, but he stopped me by grabbing my hand.

"Don't turn your back on me, love." he threatened, keeping his firm grip on my wrist.

"Or what are you going to do? Dance with me again? You're right, it's so dangerous and horrible that I can't take it anymore." I ignored his warning and tried to leave the room.

He used his vampire speed and pinned me against the door. He leaned in, his eyes closed, and rested his brow against mine. In a silent, peaceful room, our hard, synchronized breaths were the only sound I could hear. My world shrank to just the two of us. The party outside was long forgotten by me.

He rubbed the tip of his nose on mine. I shivered as I got close enough to him for the first time to feel the warmth of his lips (and yet they were so far from mine).

"You have no idea… what you're doing to me."

His deep, hoarse whisper reminded me of who was standing in front of me and why I couldn't give in to my inner, treacherous desire. Before his lips could catch mine in his intoxicating trap (and possibly destroy me for any other men), I wrapped my hands around his neck and pinned him against the door, keeping a decent distance between us.

When he felt a piece of wood on his back, he opened his eyes, looked at me, and gave me an impressive glance. He giggled sinisterly, sending a shiver down my spine.

"For your own good, if you're not ready for a fire, don't play with it, love." I leaned slightly toward him, still catching his gaze with mine.

"Who said I wouldn't be the one to burn you?" I whispered against his neck, placing a burning kiss on it.

His soft, strangled moan after I gently bit into his skin was enough reward for my patience and a sign to stop before things got deeper.

I slowly took my hand from his arm and put it on the doorknob. I smiled on his neck because he was too preoccupied with the feeling of my lips to notice anything. I decided not to tempt fate anymore. Hybrid could easily take control from me (which wouldn't be good for me at all). So I pulled the handle and opened the door. The original nearly fell down because of my sudden, unexpected move.

I left Klaus behind in my haste, casting a quick glance behind me. It was definitely worth it. His look of indignation will stay in my mind for a long time. This battle was mine. We gonna see what future bring.

I walked into the room in a magnificent mood and took the glass of wine from one of the waiters.

"Can everyone get together, please?" Elijah caught everyone's attention. "Thank you. I wanted to thank everyone for coming to our engagement party. Me and my beloved fiance are very happy to see people around us who are wishing us a long, beautiful future." the crowd began to applaud, interrupting his speech for a moment.

"Such a diva." I whispered under my breath as I sipped my wine. Rebekah somehow heard this and tried to hide her laughter.

"But I didn't gather you all here just to talk about my luck. We wanted to announce who, from our closest friends, will be the second-most important couple at our wedding. My best man and Katerina's maid of honor, I don't think it will surprise you that my best man will be my brother Niklaus."

Klaus stood on the stairs next to the couple, wearing his trademark sly grin. He scanned the crowd. His gaze lingered directly on me, and he didn't want to take his eyes off me. The little bastard must have been up to something.

"I've been thinking about this since the day we got engaged, and to be honest, the decision wasn't as easy as it seemed to be. It was my desire to have this person as my maid of honor, but circumstances indicated that, unfortunately, my dream would not come true. You don't know how happy I was when I heard a few hours ago that she agreed. So without further extensions. My chief bridesmaid and best friend, Y/N Y/L!"

Applause erupted around me. It took me a second to recover from the shock and climb the stairs. I was standing right in front of this smug son of a bitch.

"Thanks for asking." I said to Katherine when Elijah ended his speech and people spread around.

"Klaus didn't tell you?" she asked, looking at her future brother-in-law.

The original just shrugged.

"Don't worry, Kath. I won't make a scene. I'm not going to play according to the script of this drama queen. It will be a pleasure to be your maid of honor."

"I'm not a drama queen." the hybrid interjected, frowning.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I responded, giving him a small look.

"If you're so worried about my good sleep, why don't you join me in my bed, love?" he asked, coming to my side, so I had to give him my attention.

"Ha ha. Not even in your wildest dreams."

"In my wildest dreams, we don't need a bed, love." he said, casually adjusting the strap of my dress on my shoulder. His icy fingertips brushed against my heated skin, right next to my collarbone.

"You're the thousand-year-old father of a little girl. You don't think it's time to act like an adult and not a horny teenager?" I asked, grabbing his hand and pulling it off me.

"Ouch. But then you wouldn't even notice me." he pretended to be offended. He also tightened his grip on my hand without thinking of letting go. I fell into his trap with my own fucking wish.

"Believe me, it's impossible to miss you. I've tried. Many times." I growled, trying to free my hand from him.

"Aw, is that your way of telling me I'm special to you?" he asked, clearly amused by my annoyance. I've never seen such a huge smile on his face.

"Yeah, like a plastic, red punch cup at a school party," he laughed, reluctantly releasing my hand.

I turned to say something to Kath, but then I realized that she had left us in the middle of our conversation. I sighed as I was alone with him again. It's going to be a very long week (or month).

"By the way, when are you going to tell me I'm Katherine's maid of honor?" I asked, favoring him with my look again.

"It must have slipped my mind when you were passionately kissing my neck, love."

"Oh, I remember. You were moaning for me like a street lady."

I turned to leave, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his hard, well-built chest. He placed my head on his shoulder and cupped the tip of my right ear with his lips. His fangs came out, reminding me of his superhuman strength. Sometimes I forgot that the man I was teasing could easily break me with a flick of the wrist. Of course, if I let down my guard and drop my magic for a moment. We both knew that was impossible.

"Maybe I should return you a favor, and then we will see which one of us is making the most tempting moans?" he whispered suggestively and placed a small kiss under my ear. "What do you think about it, love?" he asked, rubbing his nose against my neck. He took one deep breath before placing his revange-wet kiss there.

And then, when I was burning for even his littlest touch, he just walked away like nothing happened.

I stood there, frozen in shock, watching his receding silhouette (definitely with a proud smirk on his face).

There was only one thing in my head.

1:1 motherf*cker

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson #klaus x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus oneshot #katerina petrova #katherine pierce #tvd fanfiction #tvdu imagines #tvd #klaus x y/n #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #davina claire #the originals #new orleans #vampire #kalijah #Spotify #kasagia

[hhighkey]

Snakeskin // Chapter Four, family matters

Shinazugawa Sanemi x OC (female)

Rating: mature, general for now

Story Contains: sanemi is tasked to be a bodyguard, unhealthy relationships, family issues, violence, shitty men taking advantage of OC, mutual pining, she falls first he falls harder, strangers to lovers basically, hurt/comfort, sanemi tries really hard to be nice, OC is dense because she's been locked away most her life to be married off, loss of innocence, assault, eventual smut, dom sanemi, size kink, over protective sanemi, easily jealous sanemi, really really slowburn

Word Count: 2259

Tags: reply to be tagged

Masterlist

-

The sound of sharp knuckles piercing the wooden door made Sanemi go on alert, reaching for his nichirin sword out of instinct. His fingers grasped the hilt with force as his movements became silent as he crept towards the door. He'd just finished getting ready and was going to head to Neon's room before the interruption. But he soon relaxed as a familiar voice made itself known. When Sanemi opened the door, Daisuke stood on the other side with a content look on his face.

"Mr. Mitsui wants to meet with you, you ready?"

"Yeah." Sanemi just grunted in return.

Daisuke nodded for him to follow, taking great pace down the halls, "advice, don't speak your mind. Only if he asks for it. Don't tell him how stupid of an idea it is to try to buy demons or whatever. It'll just anger him."

"Figured."

"Don't even try to back up my decision to bring you in. Just say you'll keep Miss Neon safe and leave."

"Got it." none of Daisuke's advice bothered Sanemi. He didn't care, he was here for Master. And the pay. If he had to catch his tongue every once and a while- so be it.

Sanemi continued to be awed by the sprawling mansion, more rooms and halls than he imagined a place could have. Surely bigger than his own estate by the butterfly mansion. Still, he memorized the paths they took by markers like the unique artwork. Soon the aura in the air changed, the amount of guards increased and windows became few. An eclectic door was at the end of the hall which Daisuke motioned him towards, alone. Sanemi had no care as he walked towards the door under careful eyes, he strode in as if he owned the place, couldn't be bothered. Then density of pure evil smacked him right in the face as he entered the room.

Mr. Mitsui was a surprisingly short man with pitch black hair. It was growing out from a once shaved style Sanemi could tell. He wore a loose robe with a pipe in hand that he smoked with dark eyes. A solemn glass sat half full with an amber liquid with round ice cubes, crackling from the cold touching room temperature liquid. His study was large, books and souvenirs lining the walls. Swords, artwork, vases, statues... expensive materials surrounded him to flex money. Men stood by his side and by the door, stoic faces clad in matching uniforms. Sanemi felt no fear towards the mafia boss or any of his thugs, knowing he could slice them to the ground in seconds. It almost amused him how hard they tried to show strength.

"You must be the hashira of the demon slayer corps." the mafia boss's voice was gravelly as he began to speak, "Daisuke insisted you'd be needed for my daughter. I assumed I should meet the boy who'd be with my daughter for the next couple days."

Sanemi felt anger flare in his chest from the sly remark, he was no boy. But he stopped himself from reacting and giving him a piece of his mind.

"What's your name?" Mr. Mitsui continued as he brought the pipe to his mouth.

"Shinazugawa Sanemi."

"And you hunt demons yes?"

"Yes."

"So regardless of demons, you can protect my precious Neon from people I assume?"

"Yeah." Sanemi crossed his arms, curious as to where the conversation was going. He wasn't surprised the mafia boss was straight to the point, not wanting to waste time. But Sanemi's answer wasn't exactly the truth- yes, he could easily protect her from any weak ass human, as they all were in his mind outside of hashira. But he certainly would make it no goal of his to slay a person unless it were in self defense. No.

"There's always threats on important families during the black market portion of the auction." he began to explain. "it would be nice to have the confidence that I wouldn't need to worry about her. You see, I keep my daughter hidden away so hardly anyone could recognize her. For her safety of course, my daughter is a light to me, for this family in a way." Mr. Mitsui stood up from his desk, gliding across the room to pour himself another class of liquor, "I want you to take care of my daughter like your life depends on it. They say having a boy is the biggest gift of all, but for this line of work a daughter is equally as good. As a daughter brings opportunity through marriage."

What the fuck, screamed in Sanemi's head.

"Now I would never deny her this auction, she looks forward to it each year. But this year, to increase our status as the monopoly merchant family because, even 'mom and pop' businesses will not do- I want demons. Their blood. Old slayer artifacts are of hot commodity right now, which don't worry nobody wants something from one that's alive." he chuckled cruelly, "I'm sure you think it's an insane idea; but, money wins over all and if I can successfully buy and transport demons under my care, it would be a masterful feat."

Sanemi felt like his head was going to pop off, smoke escaping from his ears. He almost felt dizzy from the ridiculous words that rolled off the tiny man's tongue. So he hears of the danger yet avoids the warnings? A real man knows when he's beat, when to listen, and stop. Yet these men who lead mafias of their country had no regard for innocent people and their families, feigning worry about them whilst enacting a death wish on them. Sanemi almost found it funny that Mr. Mitsui spewed love for his daughter but was making her vulnerable by doing this. Fuck, Sanemi felt determination run through him to just make sure Neon had a good time this weekend before her life seemingly falls apart before her father gets into demon trading. Pathetic.

It infuriated Sanemi thinking of his own past- that he would have done anything to keep his family out of harms way from demons, never fathoming bringing demons into their lives for power. In a selfish way, Sanemi hoped this backfired on Mr. Mitsui and he can learn like the rest of society that came in contact with demons.

Mr. Mitsui fished around in a drawer beneath his desk, pulling out a clothed bag, "this is filled with gold and silver coins, for each day of the auction you'll be given a new one for Neon to spend."

The tiny purple bag with drawstrings at the top was slid across the top of the desk. Sanemi just nodded and took it, feeling the weight of it burn his hand by the incomprehensible amount probably inside, "okay."

"I suggest you don't let her do the bidding." Neon's father chuckled, "she sees too much good and honesty in people, you've probably already seen. She's precious, isn't she?"

Sanemi swallowed hard, just staring at the shorter man without a response. He tried to rid of the flames in his eyes or how clear his face showed his anger, he needed to seem like he couldn't care less, "is there anything I need to know to do my job?"

"Hm," the mafia boss grunted, "day two is when the underground auction begin, Neon should stay in when the sun goes down. Some are worried that demons could make their escape."

Strange that Master didn't find the situation to warrant multiple Hashira in the area- unless he was just left in the dark about such plans, "how have... the demons managed to be captured?"

"From my understanding, strong metal bars lined with wisteria. And they're also weak demons in general, only having consumed a person or two. Is this information important?"

Perhaps that was why Master didn't see Sanemi needing backup, "yeah, never heard of anything like it before."

"As night falls that's when the underground auctions will begin, security will be tight but with the uniform I've given you, you will have no issues going anywhere. Any buildings that hoist symbols of crows signify the difference.."

It was like he talked in riddles and Sanemi took every word he spoke to register it in the back of his brain, "I see. We'll steer clear."

It angered Sanemi that someone could endanger their family the way Mr. Mitsui did, with no thought to his actions having consequences. People should appreciate and care for what they had better, not how the Mitsui's did.

Sanemi could tell if was time for him to take his leave, the guards shuffling and the conversation fizzing out. So the demon slayer turned on his heels to leave,

"One last thing before you go."

He stopped, looking back, "what."

"Limit who talks to Neon, especially men."

"Yeah sure."

Sanemi couldn't have cared less about his last comment, the man needed to relax about his daughter's social interactions. He huffed as he left the office, escorted out by the guards and pointed in the right direction of the kitchen and then Neon's room. Sanemi prepared himself for another day with the talkative, happy-go-lucky girl.

-

Neon was bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for Sanemi to arrive— and when he did, she practically bombarded him with questions. For a girl hardly allowed to go anywhere she was dressed and ready as if she would be seeing everyone in the town. Hair pristine, makeup, and not a wrinkle on her kimono.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Sure." he responded dryly, staring down at the tiny girl as she rocked back and forth on her heels in front of him. God she was so tiny...

"You don't sound too positive."

"I'm not a positive person." Sanemi countered as he stepped past her and to take a seat. He knew she wouldn't mind as he plopped himself down at a table.

"I am."

"I've realized."

"Well," she huffed with a pout sensing his lack of interest in talking, "once you see the auction in full swing you'll have a change of heart. I want to look at everything."

"What is it you even want? Can't get everything."" Sanemi asked casually as he leafed through the book's pages that sat on the table in front of him. It was a historical flower booklet.

"Well I love fragrance, so anything along those lines. There's supposed to be a really rare one for sale on day two," her eyes were sparkling as she talked, rambling on and on as Sanemi listened intently (until it became to much to bear, "so basically I am willing to do anything to smell it, because if it doesn't smell good on me why would I want it?" he didn't understand as she talked about layers within perfume or which ingredients she preferred. To be honest, it bored him.

"Okay well, guess we'll find it."

"We can look for things you're interested in too." Neon said absentmindedly as she skipped towards her bed to hop up.

"What?" he was thrown off by her statement, which rarely ever happened, looking at her with blank eyes.

"Is there anything you'd like?" she reiterated.

"I don't know what gets sold at this auction. So I don't care." he grunted.

"Hm but consider it my thank you?"

"I'm getting paid to be here." he told her that yesterday but apparently it didn't seem to get through her thick skull.

"Still." she grinned looking back at him, eyes squinted as she seemed genuinely excited. Which annoyed him.

Sanemi was in a worse mood than usual as his thoughts were stuck on his conversation with Neon's father. He understood when he took the job what it was, but hearing it from that man's grimy mouth sent shivers down his spine. A man like him didn't deserve to live. Those involved with this underground market didn't deserve their lives as they threatened others with the outrageous need for power. And power over demons never worked.

Neon recognized that Sanemi wasn't an outwardly kind person, a harsh exterior and personality that wouldn't mesh with hers in the slightest. Yet, she liked him! He'd come around to her the more they talked she was sure, he was the only person she had to spend time with for now. And there was no way he wouldn't warm up to personality as she planned to figure out his interests, to try to do something to show her appreciation.

"You know Sanemi-san, there'll be ohagi for dinner!" she squeaked feeling excited for dinner, liking being able to do things for others.

He couldn't deny the fact he was looking forward to that, but he wouldn't tell her, "Mhmm."

Sanemi was proving to be tougher to crack than she imagined after they were able to get along fairly well yesterday. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed! So Neon figured she'd let him have his quiet as he nonchalantly fiddled with his uniform sleeve still sitting on one of the couches. She studied him as she would glance up from the pages she couldn't seem to finish reading. Even with the scars he was incredibly pretty, he looked strong, and something about his eyes seemed so honest. As someone who wanted to be useful for the people in her life, Neon hoped to brighten up his a bit as he was constantly surrounded by the darkness that came with demons.

#sanemi shinazugawa #bodyguard sanemi #kny sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #sanemi headcanons #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer #kny x reader #AO’s snakeskin #hurt/comfort #innocence #coming violence #buildup

[polutrope]

Oh my God Daemags + ice skating pretty please?

Here you are @imakemywings and @i-did-not-mean-to! 1.1k words of everyone's favourite nerdy gays. No warnings other than a couple soft expletives and one suggestive remark. Context: In this AU, Daeron is Luthien's brother. Daemag have the "And they were roommates" arc. This is about 6 months into their romantic relationship.

“I think we should go on a date.”

Daeron stilled the chopsticks supporting a cascade of rice noodles over his steaming bowl of pho and wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t this a date?”

“Like an actual date. This is just us being too lazy to cook.”

“Dates are expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh no no. I told you I don’t like it when you get all charitable.” Daeron glared and lifted the noodles to his mouth. “I have money,” he grumbled around a slurp.

“Great,” said Maglor, exasperation mounting, “then why do you care if it’s— never mind. I thought we could go skating at Ivrin Square.”

“Skating?” Daeron’s face twisted in disapproval. “Oh come on Mags, that is so silly. Not to mention what a waste of energy it is cooling the ice… you know temperatures are 3 degrees above average this winter?”

Maglor reached across the table and smacked his boyfriend’s arm affectionately. “Get over yourself, Dae-bae. I’m taking you skating and you’re gonna have fun.”

*

Shrieks of glee and the scrape of blades against ice filled the square as a crowd of skaters looped round and round the large Christmas tree in the middle of the rink.

“Someone is definitely going to crash into that thing,” said Daeron, tipping his chin in the direction of the tree. “Dammit, these things are so uncomfortable!” He shoved a foot into his rental skate.

Maglor snugged Daeron’s scarf around his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. Daeron made a sound of protest but didn’t push him off. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute when you’re cranky,” said Maglor, then affecting a posh British accent, “Dost thou require help with thy boot, Prince Daeron?”

Daeron snorted. As he laced up his skate, he muttered teasingly, “You’re such a nerd.”

“So says renowned local history podcaster Daeron Singh-Goel! Oh, and please remind me which of us studies Aramaic on work time?”

“Akkadian, not Aramaic.” Daeron tied a bow on his second skate. “I’ve told you this like a hundred times.”

“Whatever, they’re both equally dead.” Daeron opened his mouth to protest but Maglor leapt up, dragging Daeron with him. “You ready?”

They shuffled awkwardly to the rink entrance. “So,” said Maglor, bracing himself with one arm on either side of the gate, “when was the last time you went skating?”

“Uuh, I dunno, Lúthien dragged me to Aelin Uial when it froze over last winter. Maybe February? Why?”

“Mmhm. And are you… good at it?”

“I mean I know how to stop and skate backwards and stuff.”

“Cool.” He slipped Daeron a smile and grasped for his hand. “Come on, then!”

“Maglor. Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure!” Maglor fixed an enthusiastic grin on his face. “How hard can it be?”

“Oh my god,” Daeron said, as he was dragged onto the ice. Almost immediately, he was straining to hold Maglor upright.

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to skate!” Daeron shouted, guiding Maglor to brace himself on the flimsy plexiglass fencing. “This was your idea!”

“Yeah, and I know how much you love being better than me at something.” Maglor yanked him into am embrace. “See? I’m already holding myself up.”

“I am holding you up,” Daeron said, “which is really not easy considering you’re half a foot taller.”

“More than half a foot, I think. Come on, Dae, show me your fancy tricks.”

Daeron groaned, but slid his hands down Maglor’s arms to clasp both hands, then began to slowly pull him backwards. “All right, good. No, no! Keep your feet together. Yes, like that, toes in. No, not that in. And look at something that’s not moving— no, don’t look at me.”

“You love this,” Maglor whispered.

Daeron ignored him. “All right, we’re gonna turn now, easy. Just keep your weight balanced— wait, no!— aaahh! Ow!”

In an instant, they were horizontal on the hard ice, Maglor laughing gleefully and Daeron sputtering a string of curses that only made Maglor laugh harder, especially considering the number of small children dodging them.

“You did that on purpose!” Daeron cried, scrambling to one knee. “Get up, get up!” He yanked Maglor to a seated position. “That’s dangerous! We have knives on our feet. Get up! And stop laughing like a madman, someone is going to think we’re drunk.”

But no one seemed to be under that impression as far as Maglor could tell. The other skaters wobbled and glided past them with amused smiles. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll do better staying up for you.”

“Oh my god.” Daeron rolled his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Of course not. I’m just having fun.”

Daeron took both his hands and looked at him with resigned affection. “You’re so crazy. Come on,” he held out an arm to act as leverage, “get up.”

It was only once upright that Maglor registered the smarting of his hip and knee, so he stuck to the sidelines for a while after that. Daeron, as predicted, could not resist the temptation to show off a little. Maglor smiled as he swooped past him, throwing in the occasional flourish with his arms. And as it turned out, once you got the hang of it, skating round and round wasn't that difficult.

It was also rather boring after about ten minutes, and Maglor found himself singing along to the carols blasting on the speakers.

“You know I can hear you all the way on the other side,” Daeron said, sliding up beside him.

Maglor raised his voice in answer. “A beautiful night, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland.”

A passer-by whooped and clapped. “All right!”

“…to sing a love song, while we stroll along…” Maglor reached for Daeron’s hand.

“Now you’re showing off,” Daeron said.

“Come on, Dae, I need a harmony— He’ll say, ‘are you married?’, we’ll say, ‘no man, but you can do the job when you’re in town!’”

Daeron pursed his lips in a way that said he was trying very hard to resist joining in.

“Later ooon, we’ll conspire, as we dreeeam by the fire, to face unafraid, the plans that we’ve made.”

Daeron relented, and together they chorused the last lines: “Walking in a winter wonderland.”

A family on the sidelines cheered and applauded. No more able to resist the draw of an audience than Maglor was, Daeron smirked and guided Maglor in a cautious twirl.

They both laughed as Maglor narrowly avoided another fall.

“So, are you having fun?” Maglor asked.

Daeron huffed and said, “Yeah, yeah. I guess,” then gave Maglor a quick kiss before gliding backwards and launching spiritedly into the next song.

#daeron #maglor #daemags #daemag #holiday prompts #modern au #beleria au #my fic

[alianarepasa]

MISSION 8, 9 and 10: Eggdog vs Beeg SMG4, Buy! and NOTHING vs Not sure, let's look it up!

NOTE: Sorry for a delay post, timezone happen, needed some sleep, but anyway, since I skipped two, I am now going to make this as one HUGE post!! So seat tight everyone!!

MISSION 8: Eggdog vs Beeg SMG4

We may already know the winner, but Imma still analyze it anyway

Eggdog

Ah yes, our precious little Eggdog, while he may not be good as a weapon, he is good as like a distraction for the guards! afterall, he did save his dad and SMG4 into the gang's snitch punishment, with Beeg4's help.

Beeg SMG4

Our little menace child...pet? Anyway, Beeg4 is a good asset as a weapon as he is more aggressive than Eggdog. Not much to say other than he can turn into A MOON.

Final Verdict

While Eggdog did won, if the vote is still on going, I think both of them are good in their own way, with Eggdog as a great distraction, while Beeg SMG4 is a great asset.

Marty's Merch

uhh... there is nothing to say here, so all I can say is... WHY YOU WASTE SMG3'S MONEY?! /nm /lh Anyway, moving along...

MISSION 10: NOTHING vs Not sure, let's look it up!

he he, Snowtrapped

NOTHING

While it may sound good idea to say nothing, remember that it also may not also a good idea to not say anything about it, Afterall, this is a Trivia Show, meaning we have to sadly answer the questions, or worst-case scenario could happen.

Not sure, let's look it up!

As a person who knows what happen in Snowtrapped... yea... it has to be said, but think about it, what if they play "that" scene in front of Shroomy's audience? I think that not only it will be a great escape to those two and continue their heist, but it also distract the audience as a whole. So... yea

Final Verdict

It has to be done, it needed to be done... Let the public in SMG4's universe KNOW what happen in the igloo lol

#smg4 #smg4 wotfi 2023 #smg4 wotfi #wotfi 2023 #missionpreparation #eggdog #beeg smg4 #marty merch #nothing #not sure let's look it up

[batbirdies]

Throwing this out into the world to see if anyone has any ideas… I have this food thing.

Specifically I made myself soup last night, a red Thai curry flavor with veggies and paneer cheese as the protein. It was enjoyable if not my favorite thing.

I then went about my evening and a couple hours later was feeling hungry again so thought to have a little more soup. But I took two bites and immediately knew I couldn’t eat it. It wasn’t the taste and the texture doesn’t bother me. But I had an immediate aversion to eating it that made me want to gag upon swallowing.

Tried again tonight to eat the leftovers and had the same experience.

This doesn’t happen every time with leftovers. I often eat all of them over the course of a few days and it’s great! But occasionally this happens and I’m left with a ton of food that will probably go to waste because I can’t make myself eat it.

Already struggling with cooking and energy levels making food I can eat again is really helpful to me and a huge waste of money when it turns out I can’t actually eat it again.

My thinking currently is that there’s some ingredient in the soup I maybe have a food sensitivity to?? But it didn’t upset my stomach or anything so I’m not sure. But I’m feeling frustrated over it 🙄

In the past I’ve tried freezing leftovers like this to have in the distant future and have found the aversion to it never goes away. At least not within 3 months, at which point I toss the frozen leftovers.

I’m still thinking food sensitivity probably but I’ve never read about this kind of reaction before so I’m curious if anyone else has experienced this or if it sounds familiar??

#food issues #food mention #currently in the process of trying to figure out my diet #so I’ll probably write down all the ingredients and try to see if there’s commonalities the next time this happens #but UGGGHH it’s so frustrating 😩 #the last time was with an enchilada casserole thing #trying to remember if there was anything in common with this beside onions #which I eat in everything

[surftrips]

love at second sight — part one.

pairing: jj maybank x reader (they are baristas! how cute!)

series summary: when jj is hired at the cafe y/n works at, memories of a night they spent together arise and so do their feelings for each other.

word count: 1354

author's note: this was originally going to go in a completely different direction and be an angsty oneshot but then i stumbled into writing this meet-cute and i had to make this a series. i promise i'll have the strength to publish some angst one day, but alas, that day is not today. i hope you all enjoy and lmk if you want to be tagged for part 2!

"Hey, Y/N, heads up, we have a new hire coming in today. Mind showing him the ropes?" 

Great, you thought. Just another thing to do that I’m not getting paid for. "Sure, of course," you said to your manager, in your best customer service voice. 

The thing about working at the local cafe was you often got new hires for the summer, who left as soon as school started or their vacation ended. You didn't mind training new employees, but you felt like you were wasting your time knowing most of them would quit in a few months. 

"Don't sound too excited," your manager joked. You had been working there (legally) ever since you turned sixteen, and before that under the table. He knew your family came from the cut and you could use the extra money, plus you were always a hard worker. 

"Sorry, but it's not my fault you seem to purposely hire people with no work ethic!" 

"Listen Y/N, some people just need a temporary job. No one stays at a place like this for long."

"Except me." You wouldn't admit this out loud to anyone because you knew they would judge you, but you didn't mind working at the cafe. Your dream was to open your own place one day, but even in your head it sounded silly to you. There was never much room to dream on this side of the island. 

"Yeah, that's why you've been employee of the month for the past two years. Now get back to work, the coffee isn't going to brew itself!" 

—

You were finishing up a latte for a customer when you heard the bell ring at the register. "I'll be with you in just a second!" 

"Take your time," the voice responded. You smiled to yourself, making a mental note to take some extra time perfecting whatever drink this customer would order. You always appreciated it when customers let you work at your own pace. 

Wiping your hands on your apron you walked over, only to be greeted by a familiar face. You faltered for a second, not sure if it was actually him. The last time you saw him was when you got wasted at a frat party. You weren't sure that he even recognized you, and not just because you were in your work clothes. (It was really dark in the back of your Jeep). 

You decided against asking him if you've met before. "Hey- what can I get started for you today?"

"I'm actually the new hire. The manager said to speak to Y/N?" He glanced at your name tag. "Which I assume is you?" 

"Are you sure you picked the right profession? The FBI could really use someone like you," you smiled at him.

"Oh, I checked with them first but unfortunately they didn't have any openings."

"It's okay, being a barista is basically the same thing. Half of the customers expect you to be able to read their minds and the other half complain about problems that are out of my jurisdiction."  

He laughed, "Damn, I thought you guys just made coffee." 

"Oh, trust me, this job is much more than that. Come on, let's get you a name tag.... Speaking of, what is your name?"

"If you're really as good as you say you are, shouldn't you be able to guess, detective?" 

You chuckled, you had some idea of what his name was but you didn't want to run the risk of being wrong and embarrassing yourself. Jay? JB? It was something along those lines. 

“Actually, it's agent. Detectives work for the police, not the FBI."

The boy put his hands up, "Oh, my bad. Didn't know I was speaking to an expert on law enforcement here." 

"It's alright, it's your first day. You'll get the hang of things soon...?"

"JJ. That's my name." You were relieved that he didn't make you try and guess his name because that would've put you in a very awkward situation. 

"Oh, cool. What's it short for?" you asked.

"Nice try, agent. It's going to take some military-level torture to get that information out of me." 

You laughed, it was rare that you hit it off with people this quickly. You were known to be a little overbearing and too sarcastic at times, but JJ didn't seem to think so. You wondered if he knew you two had met before, but didn't want to hurt your own feelings by asking. 

Instead, you led him to the back where the extra name tags were. You handed him one and a marker and watched as he carefully wrote his name down. You couldn't help but admire his features, his strong arms and the way his blue eyes darkened when focused. 

"Quit staring at me!" You blushed, not knowing that he could feel your eyes on him. 

Still, you regained your composure enough to make a snarky comment. "Sorry, am I making you nervous?" 

"Yes, I am feeling a lot of pressure right now and I haven't even started behind the bar yet." 

"Come on, it's just a name tag. It doesn't have to be perfect." You looked over his shoulder to see him drawing... something. As cute as he was, he was not the best artist. "What are you drawing?- Sorry what are you attempting to draw?" 

"A coffee cup! You really can't tell?" 

"Oh...." you said in the same tone as you would be speaking to a child who had just handed you their art project. "Sure, I can see it. If I hit my head against the wall and squint really hard." 

"Stop! It cannot be that bad." 

"I just hope that you're better at making coffee than art." 

—

You spent the rest of the day training JJ in between serving customers. Luckily, it was a weekday so you weren't super busy and as it turns out, JJ was a quick learner and he was in fact better at making latte art than whatever he was doing on his name tag. 

"Wow! That looks like an actual heart this time!" you complimented his work. 

"Thanks, made it just for you," he winked, looking up at you. Despite only (really) knowing each other for a few hours, JJ was already comfortable flirting with you. You hated that you felt butterflies rising in your stomach. 

That night at the frat party, you were wasted because you found out your ex had cheated on you. Ever since that day, you vowed never to let your guard down again. Well, ever since that night, because technically, you had let your guard down with JJ. You couldn't remember much, apparently not even his name, but there was definitely some making out and second base stuff, all of which you chalked up to being drunk and not the result of actual feelings.

However, for the next few weeks, he was all you could think about. Your friends kept trying to get you to see him again, but you had no desire to leave your house, let alone get back in the dating scene. All you wanted to do was admire him from afar, where it was safe. 

Besides, the more time you spent with JJ now, the less convinced you felt that he remembered any of it himself, so bringing it up would simply be self-sabotage. 

Even so, meeting him again felt like fate in a way. Like love at first second sight. 

"Hellooooo? Earth to Y/N?" JJ was waving his hands in front of your face. Shit. You didn't realize you had spaced out. You didn't want him to see you flustered so you tried to pull yourself together as quickly as possible. 

"Sorry, it's been a long day. Let's wrap up, shall we?" 

He stayed later to help you close the store that night. As you turned the lights off and shut the door behind you, you couldn't help but feel like something had changed. Like the universe had given you a second chance for a reason. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let your guard down again.

TAGLIST: @severa-kane (let me know if you would like to be added!)

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x you #love at second sight fic

[hollybell51]

One - you have beautiful eyes

Masterpost, five times the Corinthian didn't say what he was thinking plus one time he did

The Corinthian x gn!Reader

The Sandman (2022)

Word count: 2225

Summary: handsome stranger enters coffeeshop, flirts shamelessly, you know the drill. But this is not an ordinary stranger, and you have no idea what you're getting into.  

Content: flirting, petnames, referenced/implied violence (the Corinthian's hobby), maybe a little of a creepy vibe from our favourite nightmare, planned murder etc.

Notes: I’m Aussie and have no idea how American money/cafes/coffee works I am so sorry (I did try though so I think I deserve at least a participation medal)

The Corinthian really didn’t know what had drawn him to the little coffee shop on the corner of the street. He didn’t even feel like coffee, and he certainly wasn’t after the company. After all, it was the middle of a week day and the place wasn’t exactly a hive of activity. In fact, it was completely empty as he pushed open the door, the bell jingling cheerfully. 

A laugh sounded from behind the door labelled “staff only”, and a second later a figure emerged, tying an apron firmly about their waste and still smiling at whatever their coworker had said. 

“Can I help you?” they asked, leaning forwards on the counter.

Oh God, he thought. The server – (Y/N), from the nametag – had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Bright and full of life, sparkling with mirth and real genuine friendliness. And the colour, oh the colour! Rich and shifting in the light dancing off the bell above the door, swirling with depth he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He longed to reach across the counter and take them for himself right then and there, taste what went on behind them and carry those memories, thoughts and feelings with him forever. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him, looking at him like that. 

“Well ain’t you just the prettiest thing I’ve seen all day,” he said, recovering himself. 

Your cheeks coloured faintly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s sweet,” you said. “I’m sure all the other baristas think so too.” 

“Not at all.” The Corinthian flashed his signature grin and scanned the menu. If you thought it was strange that he hadn’t removed his glasses you didn’t show it, though he supposed you must have gotten all sorts of people in here. 

“What’ll it be?” You straightened, pressing your hands to the counter. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well that’s the thing,” he confessed, “I don’t really know. Perhaps you could recommend something?” 

“Well, our mochaccinos are a bestseller and,” you leaned forward, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “they’re damn good.” 

“Mochaccino it is,” he smiled. 

“Mochaccino it is,” you echoed. “That’s all?” Then, at his nod, “great, can I get a name?” 

He only hesitated a moment, then; to hell with it. “Corinthian.” 

You raised an eyebrow, but wrote it on the cup anyway. You must have gotten a dozen stranger monikers, it was a large city after all. “That’s $2.70. Cash or card?” 

“Cash.” He fished in his pocket for a moment, then withdrew a handful of coins and placed them on the counter. There was more than the required amount there, but that was alright. “Anything left over is a tip,” he told you. 

Your eyebrows shot halfway up your face. “Thanks,” you smiled, counting out $2.70 for the cash register and slipping the rest into your pocket. “That’s nice of you.” 

The Corinthian simply shrugged, stepping back to watch you work. Your hands moved deftly and with the ease of long practice as you made his mochaccino, your movements neat and precise. He tried not to stare at you, but there was something mesmerising in the little furrow between your brows, the light flush still lighting your cheeks as the machine hummed and hissed steam. He was down right enraptured watching your expression of complete and utter concentration as you dusted the foamy top of the drink with chocolate powder. 

You looked up as you pressed a lid over it, sliding the whole thing over towards him with a smile. “Biblical or Greek?” you asked. 

He frowned. “Pardon?” 

“Corinthian. Biblical or Greek?” 

Oh. His name, right. “Neither,” he grinned. 

“Architecture?” It was your turn to frown now, and wow, you even looked good doing that. 

“Not quite.” 

“Huh,” you mused. “I’m outta guesses.” 

“Too bad,” he sighed. “You were getting real close.” 

Your face lit up, intrigued. “Was I?” 

“Not really. Aw come on,” he went on at your exasperated eye-role. “You sure you don’t have any more?” 

“Mm, not right now.” You cast your lovely eyes away, down to where your fingers were tracing patterns on the benchtop. “I’d have to do some more research.” 

“In that case, mind if I come back some time? Just to check in on how that research is going.” 

“Or,” you smiled, a bold gleam flashing across your eyes, “you could swing by in three hours when I get off here and I could report back to you over drinks?” 

Did you just…? Yes, yes you very much did. The Corinthian was only at a loss for a fraction of a second, then he was grinning ear to ear. He’d usually be the one to initiate something like that, but here you were practically serving yourself to him on a platter. 

“That sounds like a hell of an idea,” he said.

“Three hours, then.” 

“Three hours.” 

~~~

You watched him leave, slightly awed at yourself. Had you really just asked out the hottest guy you’d ever seen and had your invitation accepted? If the mock salute he was casting you was any indication, yeah, you had. 

“Woah,” you whispered. Now you had to think up all the meanings of the word “Corinthian” in three hours, and you were at a loss. Sure, it was hardly the weirdest thing you’d been asked to write on a cup, but something about it, him, drew you in. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything. 

~~~

Three hours dragged by as the cafe got busier with the stream of people returning home from their office jobs, and it wasn’t too long before you and your coworker were both frantically making coffees and shovelling cakes into paper bags. You counted down the minutes until the clock ticked over to five pm exactly, your finishing time. The bustle had only really lasted through the three to four-thirty bracket, so you were totally free to go. 

Corinthian, as he had been dubbed in your mind in the absence of any other name, was waiting outside for you when you emerged, apron stuffed hastily into your bag, your face freshly splashed with water and your hair hastily styled the same way. He was leaning against a light pole, arms folded over his chest, the picture of just… wow. Words actually failed you. It wasn’t like he was dressed up or anything, he was wearing the same pale coat and tan shirt as he had when he’d first come into your cafe, the same dark glasses and jeans. But something about the way he was standing made your stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine, which was utterly ridiculous because you didn’t even know the guy’s name – assuming, as you were, that Corinthian was a pseudonym.

“Hey there,” he said as you approached. 

“Hi.” Curse the breathlessness in your voice. 

“You ready?” 

You nodded, slipping your hand onto his proffered arm. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” 

“Oh yeah,” he said. His accent made the words sound like they were dripping from his mouth like syrup. “Somewhere real nice for you, sweetheart.” 

Holy shit, you thought. Did the man have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, you reflected as he led you down the street, through the growing crowd of the city’s night owls. 

It wasn’t a long walk to the bar he was taking you to, you discovered, and the conversation was pleasant. He asked about your cafe which you were more than happy to talk about, he laughed at the sort-of-jokes you made, he flirted lightly with you and you flirted right back. It was nice. He was nice. 

“What are you having?” he asked as he scanned the menu displayed behind the bartender. 

“Not sure.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, truly unsure of what you wanted. “What do you think?” 

“Whiskey,” he supplied. “On the rocks.” 

Yeah, that checked out. He looked like a whiskey kind of guy, with his coat and his glasses and his accent, perfect blonde hair and tanned skin. Everything about him made you think of leather and cool vintage-y cars, milkshakes and those fancy record players. You were willing to bet he could rock a suit too, you could picture him in one right now. White shirt, beige waistcoat, dark tie, the pale coat…

“Hey there, you alright?” 

“Huh? Yeah.” You blinked, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, lots of options. Can I just get a… Moscow Mule?” 

Your date raised his eyebrows, nodding appreciatively. “So,” he said when the bartender slid the two drinks across the bar, “got any more guesses?” 

You nodded sipping your drink before answering. “One.” 

“Better make it a good one, then.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” you groaned. “It’s a bit of a stab in the dark.” 

“Lucky I like that.” He grinned, teeth gleaming. He had a really great grin, straight and white and oh so charming. Suave, in a word. He was suave. “Stab away.” 

“You know the city Corinth, how it was all supposed to be luxury and…” you felt a faint blush rise over your neck, “dissolute?”

“Hm, smart too.” 

You laughed. “Not quite, just got a lot of trivia floating around.”

“Knowledge is power. Go on.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s it. Decadent, fancy…” you trailed off, shrugging. “Like I said, stab in the dark.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, then, “That’s actually one I don’t hear so much.” 

“You do this with a lot of people?” You tried to keep your tone light, swirling your drink in its glass. It was really good, way better than you’d been expecting. 

Behind the glasses, his eyebrow’s shot halfway up his forehead. “Jealous?”

“No,” you said deliberately. “Curious.” 

“Well they say curiosity killed the cat.” 

You looked down, watching the ice spin in your glass, listening to the clinking. “But satisfaction brought it back.” 

He really laughed this time, a short bark accompanied by that wonderful grin. It was like you’d caught him off guard, like he hadn’t expected that at all. “Yeah,” he chuckled, looking at you a little oddly now. “It sure did.” 

~~~

The Corinthian stared at his phone screen, frowning. The words “(Y/N) (barista)” stared back at him, almost as if they were taunting him. He hadn’t taken you to the dark, sequestered alleyway at the back of the bar as he’d initially planned. He hadn’t followed you inside your apartment after insisting on walking you home like he’d planned. He’d simply talked to you, watched you, listened to you, all the while creating plan after plan on how he would collect your eyes. But every time one formed, it disintegrated again. He simply could not do it.

Yet, he told himself.

His mind replayed how you’d smiled at him, resting against the doorframe of your apartment, holding out your hand. He’d been confused, then your smile had widened and you’d explained that you were going to give him your number, that you’d like to see him again, that he still hadn’t told you about his name. It had been too good to be true. He’d had to reassure you that yeah, he wanted to see you again too, and yeah, give that to me and I’ll put my number in it so you know to answer after a moment’s hesitation where doubt had flashed across your face, clouding over those beautiful eyes. But it had been fine, you’d been fine, and now here was staring at your name and profession and genuinely considering calling you. 

It was ridiculous, insane. He was a nightmare, he was the freaking Corinthian for fuck’s sake. He had seen a person with beautiful eyes who he wanted, he had taken them out and bought them a drink (he was a nightmare, sure, but he was also a gentleman), he had had it all laid out in his head and then you’d pushed it all off the table like a cat did to anything breakable with your talk about the coffee shop you worked at and your little half-jokes that realistically weren’t that funny but that he’d found himself laughing at anyway and then you’d gone and whipped out your trivia about his name? Well, it had been the nail in the coffin so to speak. 

He could still see you now, here the parting exchange in his ears. 

“So am I gonna be left wondering forever?” you’d called after him as he’d turned to go. 

“Wondering what?” he’d asked. 

You’d folded your arms across your chest, frowning. “Your name.” 

“Of course,” he’d hummed. “Biblical, Greek, or libertine?” 

Your cheeks had flushed at the word, and he’d found himself smiling. You were downright cute, there was no other way to put it. Even when you’d basically called him an immoral whore, you were cute. You’d simply nodded, watching him carefully. 

“You’re not too far off the money,” he’d said. Then he’d left you indignantly calling after him, throwing more guesses and asking for more clues. But no, this was fun. This little game was fun for him, and he didn’t plan on giving it up so easily. Maybe he’d tell you before you went, let you have that satisfaction as you crossed from your world into his. Yes, that was what he’d do. A last gift, the satisfaction that had brought the cat back. Ironic.

Taglist (join here):

@juniebugg

#the corinthian #corinthian #corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #the sandman (2022) #the sandman netflix #netflix sandman #boyd holbrook #fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #gn reader #x gn reader #gender netural

[myf00djournal]

Out on my morning walk looking like a well matched queen 👸🏻

Thinking about my peers on here doing some reflecting and setting of goals and pondering if I set concrete goals for myself this year. Retrospectively, yes I suppose I did! Things just kind of happened and I guess seeing them through was the persistence.

My brain dump looking back -

👩🏻‍🏫 Work - Hmm. Well I started in a role that will not exist next year which is a shame. I will still be in a similar role, albeit temporarily until the end of the year. Then, I am not sure what’s happening. My HSC class ranked 1st in our system so that’s pretty exciting. I made a lot of connections with my students and supported them through some pretty heavy shit…

📚 Study - …This then prompted me to start my Masters which I am 3 units into. I have been toying with the idea of pursuing this for ten years so that is a long term goal achieved for sure!

💵 Other work - I wrote freelance exam papers and did HSC marking for some side money 💰 I have said no to the exam papers for next year which I am so proud of myself for.

🏋🏽‍♀️ Training - I went to the gym 170 times which seems to average 3-4 times per week. Sounds right. Jan-Sept is hard because of netball, I was lucky to get to the gym 3 times per week during the season. My gym doesn’t open on Sundays either. Sept-Dec was a solid hit out during the challenge. I managed to lose 10kg, making my total loss since September 2022 16kg without any gains back. I didn’t suffer any major injuries in the gym and this contributed to my consistency and ability to push myself more.

🏃🏽‍♀️ Parkrun - I ran 33 parkruns this year. In April last year I set a goal to get back under 30 mins. I did it this year not once but nine times 🥹 all in the second half of the year. This was my biggest running year since 2019 due to lockdowns etc.

🏐 Netball - My rep and club team both finished 3rd 🥲 I had great seasons, particularly for club my shooting accuracy was the highest and most consistent it’s been for years sitting around 85-90% every game. That was my goal ✅ No injuries that sidelined me - except for my dislocated finger 🤣 briefly. Another goal ✅

💵 Monies - Without putting amounts out there it’s pleasing and also a privilege to get through the year comfortably. I got to travel with my bestie at the start of the year, book a holiday with Josh (Wednesday eee) and still save a good amount for my emergency fund, general savings and pay for my units upfront for uni (although 75% is subsidized thanks government). When I cleaned out my wardrobe I was pleased not too part with too much which means I haven’t overconsumed and wasted.

🏥 Health - I had my endo surgery which had been on my mind for about 3-4 years. ✅ I already feel so many benefits from it and regret not having it again sooner (last one was 2009!). Had another iron infusion. Generally, I do look after my health and try to do regular dental, chiro, GP visits etc. I only saw my psych once this year. I could probably have done with a top up because things got very dicey for me around April, but we made it through.

🥂 Alcohol - I stopped drinking between August-November and since have only had alcohol on 5 occasions (I use a dry days tracker). I’m sorting out when feels safe for me to drink and how much control I have. The reset has really helped me understand why I used to drink, sometimes alone, and that I put myself in unsafe situations when this happens. I still have some soul searching to go but I am on the right track.

My brain dump for 2024 -

👩🏻‍🏫 Work - Enjoy the year. Relax a little. Set boundaries. Know where you stand.

📚 Study - Complete 5 units

💵 Other work - HSC marking and that’s it

🏋🏽‍♀️ Training - Keep up with gym, average 4-5 times per week. Bench 60! Be nicer to people at 5am 🤣

🏃🏽‍♀️ Running - Attend as many parkruns as I can. Go under 28 (home PB). Volunteer more. Maybe do a half again in November? Depends on other factors.

🏐 Netball - Have already said no to rep (can you tell I am being so firm with my resources next year?). Will always play club. Goal - Win grand final again. Shoot at 90-95% accuracy.

💵 Monies - We connected with a financial advisor just before Christmas so plan to see that through and have a look at what we can do! Clearer goals will then form. I also want to stop shouting people things. I am overly generous with this and it needs to stop because a lot of the time it’s colleagues who never do a shout so it never comes back to me 🥲

🏥 Health - Find out what I am anaphylactic to on 28/2 😀 and hopefully don’t die during that test! Continue managing my endo and other factors that connect to all of that. Maintain my weight loss in healthy and sensible means (which I am confident in myself I can).

🥂 Alcohol - I want to continue to be mindful in my motives for drinking, how society has normalized alcohol consumption, etc. I want to be safe, feel healthy and not ruin next days for myself.

📷 - My bestie and I need to take more photos together

📱- I really need to reduce my screen time (cruise will help with this!)

📖- I really need to read more (2 books planned for our cruise!)

🧽 - I keep editing and adding to this lol. I want to maintain a really minimal space inside our home. We have done a lot of decluttering the last few weeks and I am really keen to keep it up. We have a council clean up booked for 2/1 and what better way to start the NY! Can’t wait to drag some of our old stuff out and say see ya 👋🏾

#gymlife #training #strength and conditioning #nutrition #food #personal #health & fitness #new year #goals #reflection

[curatoroffiction]

Ramshackle's New Student

Summary:

Yuu/The Main Character of the Twisted Wonderland series gains a new student while setting the groundwork for some major renovations on the Ramshackle Dorm. Based on a great concept written by fairytaleliving over on Tumblr. I was so inspired I had to write it. Sunny, the new student, is their concept, I just took it and ran with it.

Notes:

For @fairytaleliving

Inspired by "au where yuu gets a freshman" by fairytaleliving.

---

This was one of the first pieces I’d written in a really long time. It actually revitalized my passion for writing! This is just to explain that this is one of my older pieces, so the writing might be a little different than my usual stuff. I recently re-vamped it and am starting to add more chapters. It’ll come out a lot slower than my other stuff, because I wanna base it off of the series, and I’m an English player. As of posting this, the series has only released up to Book 4.

---

Warnings: Spoilers for Twisted Wonderland series Tags: Reader-Insert, Ungendered MC, OC Characters, Overblot, Twisted Wonderland, Ramshackle

Chapter 1 of ?: Rough First Day

"Hey, ___, You've been disappearing after classes lately. What's been up with that?" Ace asks as you and Grim come to sit down with your food at the table.

"___'s been working hard on our dorm!" Grim pipes up excitedly. This piques the interest of the lunch table.

"Working on your dorm? What does that mean?" Cater asks, curious.

"Oh yeah, I've got a system worked out with Crowley. I took over the expense reports and expenses for the Ramshackle dorms, he gives me a stipend every month to do so, and any money I can save from the month's budget will become mine. It also means I can save money for larger projects that I can't do myself, which would be a headache and a half for Crowley to oversee, which means the dorm property gets faster upgrades, so, it's a win all around."

Deuce's eyes sparkle at the idea. "So wait, you've been working on the property yourself?? How?"

"Oh, I used to do woodworking back in my own world. Re-upholstering isn't actually all that hard to learn, it's just the working with wood part that's a fancier problem. Even then, I'm pretty well trained in it."

"Can we come and see? That sounds really cool."

"Sure, but I warn you; The front yard's a bit of a warzone. I've started a personal fight with the chairs and couches of the dorm. They need some TLC. I'm gonna have to figure out a way to handle the waste from the projects, but that's a small price to pay to be able to have some pocket change in the near future." Nearby, a certain fiscal Hyena's ears perk up.

"How much is the budget anywho?" Trey asks, curious himself. The school has always typically managed these types of matters, so this is new information to him.

"Oh man, it's like 5000 Thaumarks. It's an insane budget. I figured the school was used to paying cost AND labor, but I didn't realize labor was such a high markup around here. Makes me wonder if they actually know how things cost when you take the time to take care of it yourself."

"Oh wow. How much are you saving on the budget?"

"Well, Instead of blowing the whole month's budget on replacing only a fraction of the chairs in the dorm, I've spent about... $500 Thaumarks on getting myself some necessary tools, and $500 more Thaumarks on tangible supplies for refurbishing the existing furniture. I estimate on that, I can get about half the chairs done on that alone, and the only stuff I'll really need to replenish is the wood and fabric for the next round of furniture. So, I'm using about 1/5th, maybe 1/4th of a month's budget to achieve what would have taken multiple month's budgets to achieve. I'm saving up the rest for the floors, which severely need to be replaced. It's gonna be a tall order, and I've still gotta shop around to see how much it'll take to replace the wooden floors we've already got."

Trey looks earnestly surprised. You're taking on quite a lot of responsibility for this project, but you've never looked more in your element than this moment. Everyone at the table is a little in awe of how readily you've taken to the management of the dorm's expenses. Nearby, a certain Hyena can't stop listening in on your conversation. At his table, Leona raises an eyebrow, glancing to him.

"Yo, Ruggie. I still need that drink."

"Gimme a sec, I've just tuned into a very interesting station." Leona looks around. Interesting? Well, he doesn't often butt his head into other folks' business, so he can't seem to make out what's so interesting that his drink has to wait. He watches the flicker of Ruggie's ears as he listens in on your conversation, and uses that to pinpoint that he's listening in on your conversation specifically.

"Oh wow! So you're gonna be making bank pretty soon, eh?" Ace grins widely.

"Tuna! We'll be able to buy tuna!" Grim dances in his spot at the table. You laugh, gently petting his head, lightly scritching behind his ears.

"It'll take a bit of time, but I estimate I'll be in the green sometime around... 5 months from now? After that point, it'll mostly be small-fry projects that the monthly budget will be more than enough to cover, and the bulk of the budget will just be saved up on the side for if there's an emergency. Like if a certain small monster chooses to set something ablaze. And if I spend a chunk of the budget on nicer tools, I can get even more done on the property. The externals are last, though the walkway's gonna need some serious repairs or replacement before then. I estimate I'll have to do some stonework if I really wanna make the property shine." You scratch your chin thinking on that last part. "If that ends up being the case, then I'll probably see some bigger expenditures after the bulk of the dorm is in good shape, just because landscaping isn't really one of my strongsuits either."

"Wow, where did you learn how to do all of this?"

"Eh, it's just stuff I picked up in my old world. My dad was a carpenter, so woodworkin' was easy to learn. The rest I learned to make money here and there. People would pay through the nose for the pretty kinds of things. Luxury has a cost, and I could be it's source."

Deuce grins excitedly. You've got a goal in mind and you won't settle for anything less than achieving it. It's admirable. "I'm excited to come take a look at it. Maybe today after our classes?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan." The conversation shifts to talking more about school projects, and Ruggie tunes out. Leona sighs, having already laid his head on the table to nap. Ruggie stands up, grinning to himself with his newfound little nugget of info. It's never a bad thing to know who has skills, and who has money coming in on the horizon. He pockets this information and goes to grab Leona his drink.

---

"Oh wow!" Cater's eyes widen as he sees the before and after of the furniture. "This is amazing! This would be so perfect to capture for magicam. People love DIY nowadays! May I?"

You laugh. "Sure. Thank you for the compliment."

"No but seriously, this chair looks like brand new." Ace looks it up and down. "And it looked like THIS before??" He points to the one next to it. It's a dingy old piece. The cloth has been worn through, sun-bleached, and the wood has lost its luster.

"Yeah. You just yoink out the seat, re-upholster it, and then tend to the wood frame of the chair. The chair legs have been the biggest hurdle, since some of them have gotten broken. Some of the chairs have a weave in the back that's also taken a rough beating, so I have to manually re-weave the strips of wood or re-make a chair leg from scratch, which is where most of the time on this project gets eaten up. But after that, I just sand down the old stain, re-stain the whole piece and let it sit in the sun while I'm working, and take turns wiping and reapplying until I get the desired color. Let it sit for a day, and then I can go over it with a lacquer to keep it scratch-safe. Then I just plug the cushion back in, and BAM- Good as new." You're proud of your work. It's hard not to gush about everything you've been doing.

The guys don't mind though. They're earnestly infatuated with your work. "It's like the work of a master craftsman." Trey comments, touching the finished product. "Well, you have my respect. This is amazing work you're doing."

You smile warmly, grinning sheepishly as you lightly scratch the back of your head. "Ahh, you're very kind. I appreciate it."

"No seriously, this is top-tier. I couldn't do this even in my dreams." Ace grins, moving to sit in the completed chair. "It's even comfy to sit in!"

"Y'know, we've been looking to get some personalized chairs for the Heartslabyul dorm.." Trey grins.

You laugh and shake your head. "Maybe we can figure out an order once my dorm's in good shape. Who knows how long I'll be here."

---

It's been a few months since you started working on the dorm house. Most of the furniture has been repaired in all the main rooms, and you've even been able to start repairing and refurbishing the bedrooms. Even if you don't live in them, it'd be weird to leave them in the sorry state they were in before.

Tonight is the first New Student ceremony since you got here. It's hard to think it's been a year. A lot has happened in that time, even amidst your dorm repairs. You were told by Crowley that as a Dorm Prefect, you'll need to attend the ceremony, even if it's only for ceremony's sake. He even sent you some robes for the occasion. You feel strange in the robes, considering that you weren't really keen on the pomp and circumstance of it all. What if they had another 'fluke' like you? Someone ripped from their world with nowhere to go? You've never believed in flukes. If anything, you almost expect it. Something's up with that mirror. You couldn't have been the only one. Still, arriving in the Hall of Mirrors, you find yourself a little shy.

There's a spot for all of the prefects to sit in, and everyone's already seated. Well, everyone except Leona.

As you move to your seat, you hear Riddle murmur to you "Prefects should always be 15 minutes early to the start of any occasion."

You glance to the empty seat next to yours with five minutes left to the time when students are meant to be piling in.

You raise an eyebrow and Riddle sighs, his eyebrow twitching. "Leona isn't someone to model yourself after."

You laugh quietly, sitting down.

The event seemed pretty normal. Everyone was getting sorted into their dorms, it seemed pretty evenly split amongst them. No new students for your dorm, which was expected, you suppose. It's not like your dorm was a real one anyway. You didn't have one of the great seven associated with your dorm, your halls were filled with ghosts, and the only active students who lived there were a monster and a magic-less human.

That is... Until the mirror calls out the unexpected, causing the entire room to quiet down. "Ah yes... You have the spirit of Ramshackle inside of you." Everyone in the room is quiet. So quiet, your new student turns around cautiously. No one else had been added to Ramshackle. Was.. Was it dangerous? Scary? Bad? Even Crowley is surprised. It even takes the headmage a moment to compose himself.

Your new student finds himself intimidated by this.

"Please continue to your seat, so others may be sorted." Ever the face of the school, Crowley doesn't want to let the student body realize he's just been shaken. No one's been sorted into Ramshackle in about ninety years. He knows this has to be because of the work you've been doing, but you have no magic. What have you been doing?

The other prefects are looking at you, but as Crowley tries to gloss over this strange occurrence, they begin to compose themselves as well, looking back to the mirror. The bewildered look on your face was already soaked in by all of the other dorm leaders though.

A student? Are you a real prefect now?

---

As the other students pile away after their dorm leaders, people keep giving you looks. You haven't moved from your spot. You're waiting until everyone's gone. Your lone student sits in their chair, looking around at all of the other students as they pass. Once the room is cleared out, you stand up and walk over. Crowley accompanies you.

"Ah.. hello. You're the Ramshackle student, right?" You ask, looking to him. He seems almost relieved that someone actually came to retrieve him. Though, looking you over, you seem so... Ordinary. One of the other prefects had horns. He was so sure that a dorm as exclusive as this one would be something wild and scary, but you seem so... normal.

"Yes. Are you my dorm prefect...?" He looks between you and Crowley.

You look to Crowley. "Am I?"

He muses, scratching his chin lightly. "Hmm.. I suppose you are."

You look back to your new student. "I suppose I am."

"Why.. why is it only me?" He asks, looking between you two. Isn't that the headmage? What's he doing weighing in on this matter?

"Honestly? We didn't expect my dorm to get any new students." You say, scratching the side of your head.

"Huh? Why's that?"

"See, we're not really a dorm. I mean, I suppose we are on paper.. But.. ahh.. Hmm."

Crowley sets a hand on your shoulder, pausing your explanation. "Ramshackle is a unique dorm. You're the first student who has been sorted into it for about ninety years." The student's eyes widen in surprise.

He points to you. "Then.. How does it have a Prefect..?"

"Well, your amazing prefect ___ has taken up residence in the Ramshackle dorms due to reasons that the universe has yet to enlighten us on. Even the mirror didn't know where to sort them."

You grin sheepishly. "I.. ah.. I'm not a typical student. I have no magic, and I didn't really come here of my own volition. I was scooped up from my world and taken here. I've been trying to get back ever since. That's why it's a surprise to have you, a student, now living in my dorm."

No magic? The student before you's eyes widen with more than just surprise now. "Wait, you don't have magic? And you're from another world? You can't even go back..?"

Crowley weighs in. "No, the world that ___ came from appears to be missing from even the mirror's eyes, which does beg the question of how it was able to collect them in the first place... But I assure you, ___ is more than capable to handle everything this school has to throw at you. You're quite lucky to be in their hands."

The compliments surprise you, though, it's probably just fluff to make the new kid feel more comfortable. You decide to speak your mind.

"Look, I know it's.. Not the most desirable arrangement. The other dorms probably still have room if you wanted to transfer. That mirror is all kinds of wonky as far as I'm concerned. You don't have to be trapped in this if you'd like to change dorms."

Your student furrows their brow. Everything they'd known about the mirror and this school tells them that if they were sent to your dorm, then that's where they're supposed to be. Just because it's strange doesn't mean it's wrong.. "Well, the mirror chooses the dorm that would best benefit our journey in learning, yeah?"

Crowley nods. "Yes, it listens to the heart of your magic and what dorm would best be tuned to helping you to succeed."

"Then, I guess I belong to Ramshackle. I'd like to at least give it a chance before I go throwing myself into something else."

Crowley grins. "Wonderful! Yes! Ramshackle has officially flourished under your tutilage, ___. Breathe in the rewards of your labor!"

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. Yeah, okay. "Alright then, come on. Let's head on over to our dorm. I'll show you the way." Your student looks around at all of the mirrors around. Which one could be yours? You motion for him to follow you out the door of the building. "C'mon. We don't have a mirror yet."

---

"When we get there, you're gonna meet everyone else who lives there."

"I thought it was just the two of us though."

You sigh with a chuckle, shaking your head. "Far from it. Grim is a monster that is a fellow student." A monster? Wait. As a student?? "Also, there's a few ghosts that live on the premises." Ghosts?? "Don't worry about them though. Everyone's pretty chill. Grim's a handful, but he's pretty relaxed if you get him some tuna or pet his belly. The ghosts just like to play tricks, but if it ever bothers you, lemme know." Just what exactly did he just get himself into, accepting this dorm as his own..?

As you reach the gate at the foot of the hill leading up to your dorm, he peers up at the abandoned looking building. "Oh god, please tell me you're hazing me."

"I promise, it looks a lot nicer on the inside." You laugh, opening the gate leading up. He follows after you, looking around. Cobwebs, dead plants, overgrown foliage as far as the eye can see. There appears to be a.. workshop..? Set up outside?

"What's that area right there?"

"Well, when I got here, it was a decrepit old shack of a building. I've been breathing life into it by using the dorm's upkeep budget to fix it up. Made a little arrangement with Crowley to be able to control the upkeep budget. I finally got to replacing the floors this last month, so things are lookin' real nice if I do say so myself."

When you go to open the door, your student is shocked to see how beautiful the interior is compared to the outside. "Wait... You did this? All of this? All on your own?? With no magic??" He stares at you, then back to the floors. To the furniture. If the nearby wall didn't have visible tears in the wallpaper, he'd almost not believe it. The majority of the room looks pretty brand new. The floors even sparkle from fresh oiling.

"Yeah. I mean, Grim helped a little here and there, and so did the ghosts, but they can only do so much. Their help was mostly just grabbing me tools and stuff from inside the house while I was outside because I couldn't be assed to clamber all the way inside to grab a screwdriver. I'm the one with woodworking training and the knowhow of shopping for contractors."

Your student is immediately enthralled by your handiwork, admiring the furniture. "You didn't buy this?"

"Nah. Just cleaned up and refurbished the furniture that existed here beforehand. Wanna see what they looked like before I got my hands on 'em?" You grin.

"Yeah!"

You tug out your phone, pulling up a picture of the couch that sits in the main hall. "Check it. That used to be this." Your student looks bewilderedly between your phone and the couch.

There's no way you did that.

"You're like an artificer!!"

"Hmn?"

"A craftsman of magic artifacts!"

"Oh yeah, I've heard of those. I've been looking into that kinda stuff recently, actually. Turns out, you can perform a lot of magic through crafting objects. Magestones are the magic-less person's magic craft. You just gotta charge the stones correctly and know how to build something out to allow it to best use the magestone's magic. It's a lot easier to research crafting magical objects, and I've been wondering if the path home is through crafting my own mirror to go home. I do have objects from my home that could act as a catalyst.." You get lost in your own thoughts, which your student can't really follow. But he can't argue with the results. Your work is amazing.

He's beginning to get the idea of why he was put into your dorm.

---

"This room here is mine and Grim's. All the other rooms on this floor have been cleaned out. The floors on this floor haven't been replaced yet, but we're working up to it. The ones downstairs have been replaced, but they're also pretty barren since I had to move all the furniture out. At some point this month, we'll probably have to move downstairs for a week while some guys come in and replace this floor's floors. So don't get too attached to how things are right now. Lots of changing in the works."

"Why do the floors have to be replaced?" He asks, looking around. Sure, the floors aren't new and pretty like the ones downstairs, but some TLC would probably do them some good. You kick the long hallway carpet aside to show him a massive hole in the floor where a chandlier was dropped by the ghosts when you first got here.

"We uh, don't go past this point in the hallway all that often. I'd like for new students to be able to walk anywhere in the building without worrying about their safety. The floors are pretty old anyway. I'm pretty sure they were old a few centuries ago. They're pretty overdo for replacement."

Sunny blinks. It looks like an impact. Did something happen here? Actually, now that he thinks about it, why is this dorm practically abandoned and filled with ghosts? Is there a story here they haven't told him yet..?

---

"Sunny, huh? My name's ___. It's good to have you around." You had to fill Sunny in on so much when he got here, that you've only JUST gotten to a formal introduction. He doesn't mind the informality though. You've definitely got a lot on your plate already with the renovations of the dorm. Though, it surprises him when you get up early enough to make him some breakfast the next morning. He shyly sits at the breakfast table, not really sure what to do. You give him a glance over as you start putting some food on his plate.

Setting the pan aside on a potholder, you reach over and fix up his tie. "We've only got three students who go on campus, so we've gotta try to be presentable. Let me know if you've got any problems adjusting. I know it can be pretty hard." Pretty hard is an understatement. You've probably gone through hell as a non-magical student. Sunny has been in awe of you since he saw the foyer. "Wash your dishes by hand and leave them to dry on the rack. We don't have a working dishwasher." You motion to a rack on the counter by the sink with a towel underneath it. You don't even bother to sit down, you scarf down your food while standing by the stove. Grim happily munches away at his tuna in a seat nearby Sunny as he looks around, beginning to eat his own food. It's all still pretty new to him, so you're not surprised he's taking a minute to adjust.

Still, you can't slow down much to help him. "I'm going to be solving a problem at the library today, so if you need me, I'll be there."

"Wait, what kind of problem?"

"Ahh, I think they have an infestation in one of the back rooms. Whatever the cause, Crowley was insistent that it was 'too much for him to handle' so he dropped it on my plate."

"You address the headmage so informally..?"

You laugh for a second, pausing for the first time since you got up. "Oh, yeah, dude, our dorm's unofficial name is 'Crowley's Bitches'. Every time he has a problem, he'll show up at our door and tell us to solve it. Grim, we've gotta go soon if we wanna get there in time to get to our classes afterwards."

"Our dorm acts as the Headmage's personal assistant??" Sunny's eyes widen again. That's a lot of responsibility.

"Yeah. Though, that's more of a me problem. It's because I'm staying here on his dime while I'm trapped in this world. You don't get things for free here, so, while my life incurs expenses, I pay them off by doing odd jobs. You don't have to worry about that. I mean, unless you'd like to help. I'll never say no to help."

Sunny wonders on that. With how much praise the headmage gave you upon his arrival here, being in his good graces would definitely be a positive. And, if you've got your thumb on all kinds of things in this school, he could push himself ahead by involving himself too. And no greater way to do it than to learn under someone so experienced. "Yeah, actually, I think I'd like to help out. Just consider me part of the team." He grins, flexing one arm and grabbing it with his other hand.

---

Upon arriving at the library, the librarian knows you and opens the doors, locking them shortly after you and your entourage come in. Sunny looks over the vast library in awe. It's his first time seeing it.

"Alright, so where's this.. infestation? That Crowley mentioned?" You ask, looking to the librarian getting straight to business.

"Follow me." He sighs, motioning for you three to follow him into the back. Grim glances around as you're led behind the desk. You keep your eye on him, but now you've got another person to watch. You don't know how Sunny will handle the pressure of these odd jobs, but it's nice to have someone willing to try. Did the mirror fuck up again? Or is he planning something? You catch yourself wondering on Sunny's motives, and you quietly laugh to yourself. It's funny. With how long you've lived here, you really have become accustomed to the way this world operates. Whatever the case, you're in charge, so you're sure you'll figure it out if something goes awry.

The librarian opens one of the doors in the back and you're greeted by a prompt book being jettisoned from it. You quickly dodge the projectile, seeing the dent it leaves on the wall behind you. Everyone looks to the Librarian, who stands off to the side of the room, avoiding looking in. Glancing inside, you see the disfigured face of.. A ghost. Suddenly, the headmage's request for you to get involved makes a lot more sense. The ghost screams and dives into the storage stacks of the room. You look over to Sunny to see he's frozen. Yeah, that tracks. Stepping forward, you start to walk into the room and Sunny grabs you by your sleeve. "Wait- You've got no magic-"

"Magic can only do so much anywho. C'mon. Unless... you're scared?" You give him a small, challenging grin. He's shocked. You're so relaxed. Whatever's in there is aggressive and doesn't want to be bothered, and will likely lash out at anyone that tries to get it to leave. Ghosts are one thing, but angry ghosts are another thing entirely. He's studied on them before, fascinated by the ghosts of the school. This is a bit more... exciting than he anticipated though.

You see the look in his eyes and you sigh, gently patting his shoulder. "Hey, just stay here, alright? No hard feelings if you can't go in there. Just watch." You look to Grim and he grins to you, putting on a  fierce expression as you two step into the room. "Remember, no fire Grim."

"I know!!"

"I really mean it. These books are priceless."

"I'm not gonna burn anything!" The librarian watches from the doorway next to Sunny, and Sunny finds himself.. fascinated by the expression on the librarian's face. He almost looks... guilty. Books fly at you as you step into the room. Trinkets you can only presume are valuable for studying are tossed against the walls and shattered. The floor itself begins to move as the wallpaper of the room begins to tear. The ghost splatters ink against the wall that screams the word "LEAVE" in the dripping stain.

You prepare yourself for the violence, batting away books with the bat you brought as you call out to the ghost; "Look!! You're a person! So let's talk person to person, eh!?" The ghost screams audibly as it flitters through the bookshelves. One of them begins to tumble towards you off of the wall and you scoop up Grim, jumping back. "You weren't always like this, right?!" You shout amidst the chaos. "Something happened, so talk to me!"

As you speak, the librarian seems to be fiddling with something in his pocket, his eyes glued to the scene in front of him. Sunny, however, can't seem to take his eyes off of the librarian. Sunny knows when someone's hiding something, and this guy's definitely holding back some vital information. It's when the ghost begins to scream again that it clicks to Sunny's mind. Every scream is accompanied by movement in the librarian's pocket. Almost as though he's got his hand on something that's causing the ghost to lash out. Without even thinking about it, Sunny snatches at the librarian's pocket, causing the librarian to jump back.

"What do you think you're doi-" The librarian snaps, interrupted by Sunny.

"What're you doing that's pissing off the ghost?" He calls out, garnering your attention. You glance over to see the librarian yank his hand away, the glint of something shiny in his hand unmistakable.

You call out to Sunny; "Grab the artifact in his hand!" And he jumps into action without even thinking about it. "Grim, help him." Grim, glad to escape the wrath of the pissed off ghost, rushes to Sunny's side to help him. After a tussle with the librarian that takes them out of your line of sight, Sunny and Grim manage to get an artifact out of his hands, and the ghost begins to calm down. The room falls silent, telling you that Sunny's hunch was right on the nose. The question is, though.. Why? After talking it out with the ghost, you learn that the ghost is one of the ones that helps in the library sometimes, but 'help' is the key word there. He wanted to leave, and the librarian tried to tether him to the library as a permanent captive.

Out in the main area of the library, the librarian begins lashing out at Sunny and Grim. His body begins changing in a familiar way, and Sunny can't believe his eyes. You can already tell from the ghost's story where this is going.

"Holdup, I'll be right back. Please, don't cause anymore damage while I'm gone."

"I just want to go home..."

"I'll need your testimony for the headmage so that the librarian is brought to justice." The ghost is sad, but resigns to it. Maybe after this, he can finally go home. You run out to the main area of the library, where Sunny and Grim went with the librarian, and you see the librarian finish his transformation. Overblot. That certainly seems to be a reoccurring problem in this school.

You immediately begin to bark orders. "Sunny, go get help. Grim and I will keep the librarian busy. This is WAY over your head." He can't help but be amazed by how quickly you step up to the plate, unfazed by things that he was sure would haunt him in his nightmares.

The librarian begins to scream about how he has too much work on his shoulders. How it all falls to him. How he can't handle it anymore. He lashes out, sending a blast of cutting air in your direction.

Grim is about to burst into action when you grab him and hoist Sunny out of the way of the blast. "GRIM. NO FIRE."

"HE'S GONNA KILL US, ___!"

"THE BOOKS STILL MATTER, AND I'M NOT INCURRING DEBT TO THIS SCHOOL BECAUSE YOU BURNED THEM ALL." Even in the midst of this chaos, you're aware enough of your surroundings to see your effect on the world around you.

Sunny stands slowly, stepping between you and the librarian's overblotted form. "Maybe my magic is better suited for this." He says, hovering his hands outward, pen in hand. You don't even take the time to ask if that's true or not, you just switch tracks. If the kid is willing to fight, and he's not about to set the library on fire, you say let him fight.

"Change of plans then. Grim! Get help! We'll handle this as best as we can!"

"No need to tell me twice!" Grim rushes for the door. The librarian lashes out at you three with another blast of air, to which you kick over a heavy table as a barricade to give Grim a cover to escape from.

Behind your makeshift barricade, you look to Sunny. "Okay. What type of magic can you perform?" You ask, glancing over the edge of the tipped table to keep an eye on the librarian between blasts of cutting air.

"Uh.. Mm.." He raises his pen, "You're alone, and you are scared, but the banquet's all prepared- Be Our Guest!" Books and debris around you begin to dance, moving around. The table itself begins to move, surprising you. You reflexively bark orders to the table to hold its place, and it.. Salutes.. you..? But it stands firm in its position, even moving its own legs to better leverage against the blasts.

You look to Sunny in earnest surprise. This is a powerful spell.

You can't help but let a large grin spread across your lips as an "Oh hell yeah" escapes your lips. "I can work with this."

Using guerrilla tactics and dancing book ends and library ladders, you two are able to lure the overblotted librarian deeper into the stacks, catching him offgaurd from multiple angles as you take control of the field. Finally, he gets so fed up that he just begins using his personal magic to try to hurt everything that comes near him. You couldn't catch the spell, but it looked like sand is engulfing everything. Where did the sand even come from..? Is this what higher level magic looks like..?

It isn't until Grim returns with Ace, Deuce and.. Rook? That the tide of the fight shifts.

Everyone working together, you're able to wear down the librarian enough that he's burnt out his emotions before his magic has been burnt out.

He passes out and you look around at the massive mess. Ace and Deuce are high-fiving and laughing as Rook is commenting on how dastardly the beast you just hunted was, and how beautiful and impeccable your teamwork was. Sunny is exhausted. He's spent more magic in just this morning than he has in most of the exercises he's ever had before this school.

You look to his pen and can see the cloudiness in it, and you rest a hand on his shoulder. "Stand down, Sunny. You did great. Relax and rest. I'll handle the rest." He watches you in awe as.. even though you've already spent so much energy running around in warfare amidst the bookshelves, you stand tall to thank the help that came along. Deuce and Ace both grin and demand you buy them lunch and you happily agree. Rook on the other hand is now more interested than ever in your prowess in the field, and keeps suggesting you'd make a great hunt. Sunny isn't sure what that means, but it doesn't seem to be a favor you're keen on giving him.

Grim cries out that he worked hard and deserves tuna, and you agree as you start moving tables back to where they belong. Sunny is exhausted, but he knows his spell would help a lot with the cleanup. Still.. he finds himself drifting off to sleep before he can swing his pen in any way to help.

---

Sunny eventually wakes up, this time in the infirmary. You're sitting next to him. Crowley is standing nearby as well. He can tell you both were talking about something before he stirred awake. Crowley cries out in joyous lament from the state of Sunny's awakening, saddened that such a student fell so exhausted and was put in such danger under his watch. You figure he's putting on a show to try to make Sunny feel responsible for getting involved in one of your little 'odd jobs'.

"How're you doing, Kid?" You ask him, nudging his shoulder.

Sunny tiredly looks to you, then to Crowley, rubbing his eye. "Nngh.. I'm beat.."

"It was really kind of you to help out with that odd job, but, the headmage here says it'd probably be best if you didn't help on those in the future." You grin sheepishly, but are startled as Sunny shoots up, gripping your forearm.

"But, I wanted to help!"

This surprises Crowley too. He figured you had pressured Sunny into it, but it seems he was a bit more boisterous than you BOTH expected. "I.. I liked being able to be useful. I learned a lot, and, and.." Sunny tries to explain himself and Crowley smiles. From your story, this kid is the primary reason that the school even still HAS a library. Maybe the mirror seems to know what it's doing afterall.

"Alright. Okay. I involved myself because I was worried that your first day was a little TOO rough, but it sounds like you're more tenacious than I expected. Your teachers have been made aware of the situation, so please, Sunny, take the rest of the day off." Crowley's less concerned about the backlash of the kid's parents, and more concerned about the darkness clouding his magestone. He doesn't really know how to hold himself back. He's a little too eager, and that concerns him. "Your magestone is quite clouded, so you need to rest more than anything."

You immediately step up to the plate, giving Crowley a silent confirmation that you'll help your student recover from this incident; "I'll go by all your classes to get the classwork for you, so, just consider today your day off. We'll start again tomorrow, fresh as a daisy." You grin, patting Sunny's shoulder. He tiredly nods, resting back in the bed. You get up. "If you feel ready, let the nurse know, and I'll come return to walk you back to the dorm. Alright?"

Today it was just exhaustion, but, you make a note in your mind that Sunny doesn't really know how to stop himself from pushing himself too hard. You'll have to keep an eye on that.

---

"What ever happened with the librarian?" It's been a few days, and the library's been inaccessible due to repairs. Sunny asks the question over breakfast.

"Ah.. yeah, Crowley was not psyched to find out what he'd been doing to the ghost that was helping in the stacks, but he also felt responsible for all of the problems that'd fallen on the librarian's shoulders. Still, given the level of damage he did, and the fact that he endangered multiple students, it's not likely we'll see that librarian again for a while, if ever. They're probably gonna get a new one, and give them more help than they did the last one. Can't have a teacher who overblots like that instead of communicating to the headmage about their struggles."

"You seemed.. so used to it. Like nothing about any of that surprised you. Is that.. Is it common for you to deal with that kind of stuff?" Sunny's voice is slow, almost not sure how to phrase the question.

You laugh. "Yeah, you could say that. A lot of people have overblotted at the school, and I keep landing in the center of those fights. It's never my fault, it just seems that a good chunk of the things Crowley doesn't have time for are things that need the most tending to."

Sunny blinks. "The more I learn about this headmage, the more I'm surprised he's allowed to run a school. He seems incredibly irresponsible."

"Hey now, Crowley bankrolls that breakfast you're eating, so you gotta play nice. But.. I getcha. It's exhausting. I figure he's doing the best he can, but it is awfully suspicious that he is always conveniently gone when overblotting starts happening. I've had my thoughts on the matter, but, eh, I've got enough to worry about. 'Sides, it's in the job description."

"Job description?"

You grin. "Y'know. Crowley's Bitches." Sunny laughs. He gets it now. ——– Chapter End. ——– You can read the rest of this series, and other works, here!: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37540159/chapters/93698119

#Reader-Insert #Reader Insert #Ungendered MC #Genderless MC #Genderless Reader #Fanfic #OCs #Original Characters #Writing #Inspired By Another Work #Ramshackle #Ramshackle Dorm #Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Twisted Wonderland MC #Twst MC #Sunny #Sunny MC #Fanfiction #Work In Progress #WIP

[toxicshipsincorporated]

I just don't get how people really think NATLA was good. Like...were there elements that were done well? Sure. I'm so so glad that they mostly kept the bright color pallette (but I wish they had been more...intentional about how the color washed things??? Sometimes if made sense other times it felt.....cheesy? Or just...clumsy I guess). I really like majority of the cast.

But....the plot and pacing is a mess. I get it, they condensed Book 1 into 8 episodes but....Book 1 and 2 had the same amount of episodes and Book 3 was even longer. Maybe Book 1 had more filler but that should have made it EASIER to condense it. The condensing made the show extremely confusing. It muddied the waters of a lot of the flow and pace of the show. A lot of people complain about Book 1 feeling slow and that's because it's kind of true to what is happening in the world. The whole world is locked into this....stalemate with the Fire Nation continuing its aggression and holding the weaker lands and areas while the strongholds are pretty comfortable in their holdouts. The world is on the precipice of...chaos but it isn't quite there yet. Aang's return and all the whispers of the Avatar is what awakens the people to fight back. Its this slow awakening of a world that seemed...compliant and comfortable in its own terror and violence so long as it didn't get any worse. And we don't get that at all in the live-action series.

1) I don't think condensing was a good idea. And I don't think they even did a good job of condensing the series. The battle with Koh should have been the s1 ending, it could have been the moment when Aang realizes that...idk maybe Koh has set Zhao on this path to disrupt the balance of the world to the point of total destruction and even tho Aang "defeats" Koh it doesn't matter because Zhao is already on that set path and Koh tells Aang that he isn't ready to save the world yet because he wasted a hundred years and still isn't a fully realized Avatar. While Koh spent 100 years preparing for this (maybe something in there about how he thinks the Firebenders, Sozin's line especially, are so myopic. Their destruction too human and petty. Their small mindedness is their own downfall but his destruction is happening on a cosmic level, one that will rattle the many realms). I think this opens up a whole different storyline and character motivation for the next half of the adaptation of s1.

2) are we all just gonna ignore that the reason why the first season had to be condensed is because Netflix doesn't actually care that much about making something good but making something that will get them money??? It is a mixed up and jumbled, tangled mess but they knew a lot of ppl would eat it up because a. "At least its not the movie!!!" or b. "Well they had to fit a lot in just 8 episodes!"

No they didnt. They could have made the decision to split the season in half. They could have made the decision to add more episodes. But Netflix is just in it for the money and they are cutting corners to make their execs as much as possible while screwing you, their cast, and staff over.

The other big flaw I saw was dialogue. The dialogue is so bad in this show. Like...all the really deep moments in the show sounded good because they had a great score and there was a lot of space for those moments to breathe but its like...every couple of minutes characters will just espouse nuggets of "wisdom" that pushes characters to act in a certain way to spur on the plot. The original show's dialogue which did have these moments of deep and thoughtful ideas and very emotional beats was interspersed with like....regular human bullshit talk. Iroh did have moments of great depth but it was balanced out by him saying just...fake deep shit sometimes too. Aang, Katara, and Sokka never get to just....talk like kids because they are too busy espousing messages of "be strong" and "this is going to make you stronger" "I have to get stronger!" "Its my responsibility to be strong!"

It's bad writing. Bad dialogue and it doesn't help that the cast seems to have been directed to deliver their lines in the most stilted and blad way possible (its the youtube scary vid voice, you know the one) and its such a waste of good talent. The only one who really gets it is Zhao (don't think I didn't clock that actor as the one from Rush Hour that I had a huge crush on. It was the villain-sexual awakening of my childhood lol. Good for you baby).

Also the fucking wigs are WILD. Wtf. Why. Idk if its wigs or hair pieces or if they just managed to put so much product in that it looks fake but wtf.

Also the costuming....some of it is a big miss. I wish they had just done a little more...well-fitting?? Idk. A lot of the cast looks like....they feel awkward or bulky in their costumes?? Its giving Party City babes.

Idk. I think a lot of yall are deluding yourselves or you've become comfortable with accepting shitty product from greedy companies. Idk.

#anti-natla