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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

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Good Girl - George Weasley

Title: Good Girl Pairing: George x female!slytherin!Reader Summary: George has been the reader’s enemy since their first year at Hogwarts together and now, in their final year the universe keeps throwing them together in ways that make the reader question why she ever hated George in the first place. Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!george, begging, slight orgasm denial, thigh riding, oral (Male and female receiving), throat fucking, fingering, masturbation, unprotected sex A/N: The summary is shit but it’s an enemies to lovers slow burn. Seriously this is 22k words I lost control. This is for @those-born-to-fight who wanted some enemies to lovers with a Slytherin reader! There’s two different ~spicy~ scenes and the tiniest touch of angst towards the end. Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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“God, do they ever just shut up?” Y/N grumbles, getting up to slam the door to her compartment closed. Adrian and Marcus laugh at her, but immediately stop when she glares at them, not wanting to face the consequences of annoying Y/N further.

There are very few things that Y/N outright hates. The list of things that mildly annoy her is quite long, but she reserves the word hate for only those special things that make her want to rip her hair out at the mere mention of them. Fred and George Weasley happen to be at the top of that list.

Like most students, Y/N had been enamored by the twins and their antics at first. Despite the fact that many of their practical jokes were aimed at members of her house and Snape, she found them quite funny. She had even thought about befriending the twins, the rivalry between their houses be damned. But after finding herself on the receiving end of a few too many Weasley practical jokes, she had begun to loathe them.

“I don’t know why you let them get under your skin,” Daphne comments, her tone dry and dull. Despite the fact that her eyes haven’t left the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through, Y/N knows she’s been watching her fidget as the Weasley twins got rowdier and rowdier from their compartment down the hall.

“Because they’re, they’re,” Y/N pauses, trying to find the words to describe just how vile the Weasley Twins make her feel. “There isn’t even a word in the English dictionary that perfectly describes how insufferable they are.” She flips Adrian and Marcus off as they laugh at her frustration.

Daphne rolls her eyes and finally puts her magazine down. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Just drown them out like everyone else does. Take me, for example. I haven’t heard a thing either of them has said since third year.”

“That’s because they leave you alone, Daph,” Marcus drawls, coming to Y/N’s defense. This isn’t the first time the four of them have had this conversation and it surely will not be the last. “It’s kind of hard to ignore them when they send bludgers at you hard enough to knock your head off of your shoulders.”

“It’s pretty easy to knock someone’s head off of their shoulders when there isn’t anything in it, Marcus,” Daphne teases, pushing his shoulder lightly.

Adrian pretends to throw up at their behavior, causing Marcus to hit him over the head while Y/N laughs. Adrian ends up hitting Marcus back, and the boys hit at each other for a few moments while Daphne rolls her eyes and Y/N eggs them on.

“The contents of Marcus’s head aside,” Adrian says as he plops down next to Y/N, his breathing heavy from wresting Marcus to the ground. “He’s got a point, Daph. You’ve never actually been the victim of a Weasley prank. So, frankly your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Daphne flips Adrian off and picks her magazine up again. “I’m just saying. There are better things for Y/N to focus her attention on than those stupid Weasleys.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’d like to see you ignore them after they charm your shampoo to turn your hair neon yellow. It didn’t go back to normal for weeks!” Adrian laughs at the memory, and Y/N punches him in the thigh. “Watch yourself, Pucey or I’m gonna put yellow dye in your shampoo.”

“Trying to get in the shower with me, are you?” Adrian teases, throwing his arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

“In your dreams,” Y/N responds, picking up the book she had discarded after a particularly loud shout came from one of the Weasley twins.

She can feel Adrian chuckle as she leans into his side. “I’ll see you there.”

Y/N had almost forgotten about the Weasley twins entirely until she feels something hit her in the back of the head during dinner. She picks a piece of mashed potato out of her hair as she turns around, her eyes like daggers as she searches for the culprit. Of course, Fred and George are laughing to themselves, each of them waving at her as they make eye contact.

“Nice to see your hair back to normal, Y/N!” One of them, Fred she thinks, shouts at her.

“Yeah, I reckon if your hair had been yellow any longer you’d have to join Hufflepuff,” the other teases, causing the Gryffindors around them to laugh.

Y/N goes to stand up so she can knock the grins off of their faces, but Adrian puts his hands on her shoulders and forces her to sit back down. “It’s not worth it,” he hisses into her ear. “Not in front of all of the professors. Be smart about your revenge.”

Y/N glares at Adrian, but she relaxes, nonetheless. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. It’s only the first day back, she doesn’t need to go and get detention and lose Slytherin a bunch of points. Not yet at least.

“Hey Marcus, do me a favor and knock them off their brooms first chance you get.”

“You’re awfully cheery this morning,” Y/N comments to Daphne as they head up the stairs towards the Great Hall.

“What isn’t there to be cheery about? It’s the first day of the school year. Our last school year,” Daphne responds dreamily.

Y/N snorts in laughter, rolling her eyes at her best friend. “Ah yes. The hardest year of school yet, that certainly is something to be happy about.”

“Oh NEWTS? Who cares about those,” Daphne says casually as they enter the Great Hall and head towards the Slytherin table. “You don’t need good grades in school to be a good wife and mother.”

Y/N scoffs, choosing not to say anything. Unlike Daphne and most of the other girls in her house, she plans on actually having a career of her own. It is common for pureblood families to marry off their daughters to the sons of other pureblood families and often times the mark of a good pureblood girl wasn’t her brain, but her ability to stay silent, look pretty and boss around a house elf.

Thankfully, Y/N’s parents hadn’t raised her with the same values. They didn’t believe in the same archaic things most pureblood families did, and they had raised Y/N to have loftier ambitions than to be someone’s wife and a mother. Y/N’s father always joked that she had inherited her mother’s smart mouth, so it would be impossible for them to marry her off anyway.

“Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Right, guys?” Y/N asks as they sit down, looking for both Marcus and Adrian to back her up.

“Are you guys on this again?” Adrian asks, rolling his eyes. Much like Y/N’s hatred of the Weasley twins, Daphne failing to take school seriously was a frequent topic of conversation in their friend group.

“No need to get your panties in a twist, Pucey,” Y/N teases as she grabs some toast. “Daph is free to sit back and spend her last year of school doing nothing, but I on the other hand plan on actually doing good on my NEWTS. So, feel free to slack off with her, or study with me, I don’t really care.”

Marcus chuckles at Y/N’s attitude. “Damn, Y/N tell us how you really feel.”

Y/N chucks a piece of toast at Marcus’s head before she reaches for her bag. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’ve got all of your schedules.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers, handing their designated paper to each friend.

“Wow, slacking on your Head Girl duties already and it’s only the first day of term,” Adrian teases with an easy smile.

Y/N flicks his ear. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t make Head Boy.”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he scans over the piece of paper. “Me? An administrative stick in the mud? I don’t think so.”

“Nah mate, you just were looking forward to spending hours alone with Y/N,” Marcus teases, causing both Y/N and Adrian to throw pieces of muffin at him.

“Moving on,” Daphne drawls, clearly tired of their antics. “What’s everyone got first lesson? I’ve got divination.”

When both Marcus and Adrian announce they have Arithmancy, Y/N frowns. “Guess I’ll be heading to Potions alone then.”

As Y/N heads down to Potions after breakfast she can feel her mood sinking. Potions is one of her favorite classes, and not just because Snape tends to favor Slytherins. She finds the art of Potions fascinating, and each lesson always tests the bounds of her knowledge. But class is always more enjoyable with her friends around.

Her mood only worsens as the Weasley Twins fall into step beside her, one on each side.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, Georgie?” the twin on the left, who is obviously Fred, says playfully.

“Looks like little Y/N is heading to potions, Freddie,” George responds, lightly knocking into her shoulder.

Y/N stumbles on the step despite the light touch. Both Fred and George have a good six inches on her, and their time as beaters on the Gryffindor team has obviously left them both toned and muscular.

“And without her little gang of friends, what a shock,” Fred adds with a laugh as Y/N finds her balance.

“Friends? What friends?,” George teases.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Y/N glares at each of them. “You two dimwits are in NEWT level potions? Snape must have lowered his standards.”

“Oh Y/N how you wound us,” George gasps, clutching his chest.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they enter the Potions classroom, determined not to let the twins bother her. Daphne did have a point on the train yesterday, there were other things she needed to focus on besides the twins and their stupid games.

She takes her usual seat at the front of the classroom, expecting the twins to slink to the back of the class, far away from Snape’s prying eyes. Her fist automatically clenches when they slide into the seats directly behind her, her nostrils flaring.

This year certainly is going to be the hardest yet, and not just because of the rigorous coursework, Y/N thinks to herself as Snape begins class.

“You look, how do I put this nicely.” Marcus pauses. “Flustered.”

Y/N glares at him as she flops down next to Daphne. Potions had been an absolute disaster. She could hardly focus on her Memory Potion, too busy picking out the Jobberknoll Feathers the Weasley Twins kept putting in her hair. She had managed to make something barely acceptable, and Snape’s disappointment was evident.

“Screw off, Marcus. I just spent an hour dealing with Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 standing behind me doing everything in their power to piss me off. So, unless you wanna end up with your head in one of those pots and dragon dung fertilizer up to your ears, shut your mouth.”

Daphne laughs at Y/N’s outburst. “I told you just to ignore them, Y/N. Although dragon dung fertilizer up to the ears does sound like the perfect revenge plan. Not that I’m condoning letting someone, or someones, get under your skin so badly that you need revenge,” she pauses, winking at Y/N. “But if I were I think that would be the way to go.”

Before Y/N can get too lost in the thought of burying Fred and George in Dragon Dung Professor Sprout is entering the Greenhouse and starting class. But she definitely pushes the idea to the back of her mind for future consideration.

“I’m going to fling myself off the top of the astronomy tower,” Y/N announces as she collapses next to Daphne in the common room. After her short break from the Weasley Twins in Herbology, Y/N had to suffer through a double transfiguration and a charms lesson with them both sitting too close for comfort.

“Could you at least wait until it’s closer to the end of term? We could probably get an extra week off at the Christmas holiday,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from the Quidditch playbook in his lap.

Y/N groans, putting her head in her hands. “I need better friends, none of you are sympathetic of my suffering.”

“If you need sympathy go hang out with some Hufflepuffs,” Daphne tells her, throwing her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “What did the twins do this time?”

Instead of answering Y/N reaches for her bag and pulls out her charms book, handing it over to Daphne. “Go ahead. Try and open it.”

Daphne gives her a look as she cautiously takes it from her hands. She shares a look with Marcus and Adrian, who were finally intrigued enough to pay attention, before she slowly opens it. As soon as it falls open there’s a whizzing noise followed by loud pops as a mini firework show starts to go off. Daphne squeals and quickly shuts the book, her eyes wide.

“What in the hell was that?” she asks, tossing it back to Y/N.

“Whatever it was it was kinda cool. Open it again,” Marcus says with a laugh.

Y/N glares at him and shoves the book back in her bag. “Fred and George did something to it, obviously. It scared the shit out of me when I opened it in class. Flitwick took 30 points! 20 for the interruption it caused and 10 for the curse word I yelled.”

Adrian and Marcus erupt in a fit of hysterics as they imagine the scene it must have caused, and Y/N gets up so she can beat both of them with a pillow. They both pick up their own pillows to retaliate, and the three of them spend the next several minutes hitting each other. It only ends when a spare pillow ends up flying over and smacking Pansy Parkinson in the back of the head, causing all four of them to collapse in fits of laughter.

Y/N is the first to calm down, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. “Oh, that was absolutely incredible. Just what I needed.” As the rest of her friends pull themselves together Y/N grabs her bag. “Come on, let’s go to dinner. I wanna catch Dimwit 1 and Dimwit 2 so I can make them fix my stupid book.”

When the four of them arrive at the Great Hall Daphne, Marcus and Adrian head towards the Slytherin table, while Y/N makes a beeline towards the Gryffindor table. “Oi! Weasley!” When three red heads whip around to look at Y/N she sighs. Only one of the twins is sitting at the table, and it’s a 50/50 chance she gets it right, so she decides to just take a guess at which one it is. “George!”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” George asks as Y/N reaches the table.

She smiles to herself, proud that she had gotten it right. Y/N had never taken the time to learn the differences between the two, but now that she’s examining George she can tell that his eyes are softer, like there’s some reservation behind them. She takes out her charms textbook and places it on the table in front of him.

“Fix it,” she demands.

“Fix what?” he asks coyly, a mischievous smile on his face.

Y/N clenches her fist and takes a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t play stupid, Weasley. Just fix my book.”

George laughs. “Who said I’m playing stupid? You’re the one that called me a dimwit earlier, and you’re right. I am a dimwit.”

Their exchange has caught the attention of the Gryffindors sitting around them, and they’re all watching Y/N intently, smiles playing at the corners of their mouths.

“Look, your stupid little prank has already served its purpose. It scared me and I lost Slytherin some points. Just fix the damn thing, will you?” Y/N is starting to get desperate, but she doesn’t let it show. She keeps her expression blank, not wanting George to know how truly bothered she is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I would be more inclined to fix it if you asked me nicely, Y/N,” his tone is teasing, so much so it almost sounds condescending. The students sitting around them laugh lightly, waiting to see what Y/N does next.

Y/N grits her teeth, weighing her options in her head. She could stand here and nicely ask George to fix her book, or she could walk away and send an owl home to have her parents send her a new one. And even though she is tempted to just take the easy way out, she’ll be damned if she lets a Weasley twin get one over on her.

She takes a deep breath and plasters a sickeningly sweet, fake smile on her face. “George, would you please fix my Charms book?”

A look of surprise quickly crosses George’s face, before he replaces it with an easy smile. “Of course, Y/N. Thank you so much for being a good girl and asking nicely.” The Gryffindor table is basically in full on hysterics by now, and Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up. As soon as George has pressed his wand to her book and muttered the countercharm she snatches it off the table.

“Thanks so much, George,” she forces out, before she turns to head over to the Slytherin table. “Fucking prick.”

She sits down between Adrian and Draco Malfoy with a huff, already trying to figure out what her revenge will be. The conversation she’d had with Marcus and Daphne in Herbology pops back into her head and a wicked smile forms on her face.

“Why couldn’t you get Daphne to do this? It’s freezing out here,” Adrian whispers as he shivers.

Y/N rolls her eyes as they tiptoe through the greenhouse. “And you lot call me dramatic.” They both freeze in place when they hear a creek, but when no other noise comes they continue on. “Daphne Greengrass, awake past 10 pm? Ms. Beauty sleep is a nightmare if she doesn’t get a full 8 hours, you know that.”

When they reach the container Professor Sprout keeps the Dragon Dung fertilizer in she turns to Adrian, giving him a mischievous grin. “Besides, you know you’d regret it if you didn’t come with me. Now quick, hand me the bags.”

After they get the required materials from the Greenhouse, she and Adrian quietly sneak back in the castle and head up towards the Owlery. It takes them longer than anticipated, since they have to keep ducking behind statues and into classrooms to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris, but eventually they make it. They both sigh in relief when they return to the common room 30 minutes later, the final part of Y/N’s plan in place for the morning.

“You kind of amaze me, you know that?” Adrian says with a laugh as they both head towards the staircases that lead to their dorms.

Y/N chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re only nice to me so you don’t end up on the end of one of my revenge plans.”

The next morning Y/N is up bright and early, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Despite the fact that the Weasley Twins have been pulling pranks on her since first year, this is the first time she’s decided to retaliate.

She could deal with most of their antics. Locking her in the toilets, charming her shampoo, hitting her with snowballs and every other little trick or joke they pulled, Y/N could just grin and bear it. But having to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and practically beg George to fix her book was her tipping point. She can practically still hear him calling her a good girl and it causes a shiver to run down her spine. After today Fred and George will certain think twice about messing with her.

“Hurry up!” she urges her friends as she races to the top of the stairs. The owl post will be arriving in a few minutes, and there is no way she’s missing the big show. Adrian picks up his pace to meet her, but Daphne and Marcus continue up the stairs slowly, caught up in conversation. “You lot are hopeless.”

Y/N practically skips into the Great Hall and after sitting down where she knows she’ll have the perfect view of what’s about to happen she rubs her hands together. Daphne and Marcus give her a confused look as they sit down across from her and Adrian, who thankfully shares her excitement.

“What has gotten into you, Y/N, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Daphne comments, sounding slightly concerned that her friend may have gone mad.

As the first few owls start to fly in, Y/N grins and gestures towards the Gryffindor table. “Shush, shush. Just look over there and you’ll find out.”

Y/N holds her breath as two familiar owls fly in, each of them holding a package. They soar towards the Gryffindor table, and instead of gracefully dropping their parcels in front of their recipients they drop them a few moments early. The brown paper bags explode as they hit Fred and George at the same time, Dragon Dung Fertilizer pouring down their heads and onto their shoulders and laps.

The entire Great Hall is silent for a moment, before nearly every student bursts into laughter. The most noise comes from the Slytherin table, and Y/N’s chest swells with pride. Adrian pats her on the back as Daphne and Marcus turn back to congratulate her on a prank well done.

Y/N can’t stop looking at the Twins, and her breath catches in her throat when they return her gaze. She sends them both a wink and a wave, giggles still falling from her lips.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” George asks Y/N as he and his brother slide into the seats behind her and Daphne in Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. She hasn’t seen either of them since they left the Great Hall to get cleaned up, but at lunch Astoria informed her that Ginny Weasley had told her that both boys were quite annoyed.

Y/N laughs but doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “Nice to see you boys managed to clean up.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” Fred says, leaning forward in his seat to ensure Y/N hears him.

She rolls her eyes, but still doesn’t look back at them. “What? You can’t take what you dish out? I thought you two were tougher than that.” Daphne nudges Y/N, gesturing to the front of the classroom where Professor Umbridge is now standing, clearly telling her to knock it off with the twins.

“Oh, it’s on. You have no idea what you’ve started,” George whispers at her. She imagines that he’s trying to sound threatening, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

As Professor Umbridge starts rambling on about her expectations, Y/N turns to face the twins. “Bring it on, bitch.”

“No magic? No practical lessons? She was joking, right?” Y/N rambles as they head towards the Great Hall for dinner. They’ve all just come from a dreadful Defense Against the Dark Arts class, where Professor Umbridge had made it very clear that they’d be spending the year doing nothing but reading from their textbooks.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Frankly I don’t see what the big deal is. She’s not wrong, our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been all over the place. I think it’s a good thing that we’re finally going to have some structure and unity.”

Y/N groans, looking to Adrian and Marcus for support. She frowns when they both refuse to meet her gaze. “That’s because you don’t care about doing good on your NEWTS. You don’t need an O on your exams to marry Marcus or whoever your parents have picked out for you to be with after graduation,” she spits.

Before Daphne has the chance to pick her jaw up off of the ground and respond, Y/N is turning around and heading away from her friends, needing to be alone.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N picks her head up from where she had buried it in her arms, surprised to see Ginny Weasley standing in front of her. She nods as she uncurls her body, stretching it out slightly. She had taken refuge on a random bench in one of the corridors and after sitting on the stone for a few hours her body has begun to ache. She moves down the bench a little and gestures for Ginny to take a seat.

While the Weasley Twins are Y/N’s least favorite people in the world, she actually doesn’t mind their siblings. She had gotten to know Percy quite well, since they had been Prefects together for a year before he had become Head Boy, and he had helped her out on quite a few transfiguration assignments during her OWL year. All she knows about Ron are the things Draco has said, but she doubts that anything that comes from his mouth is true. She’s never had a conversation with Ginny, but Daphne’s younger sister Astoria is quite friendly with her, so if she’s willing to befriend a Slytherin she’s alright in Y/N’s book.

“You seemed pretty angry earlier, before dinner. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Y/N fidgets with her school robes as her cheeks flush, she had been hoping that no one had witnessed her outburst. She had heard too often that Slytherins were mean and evil, so she always did her best to contain her emotions around others, not wanting to perpetuate the stereotype even further.

“You saw that then?” When Ginny nods she sighs. “It’s just been a frustrating few days and I love my friends, but they don’t always get it. That stupid Umbridge is really going to screw me over this year and I can’t fail now. Not when I’ve spent the last seven years working my ass off.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N that sounds awful. There’s going to be this, thing. A meeting or whatever. Next weekend during the first Hogsmeade trip,” Ginny pauses so she can tuck a piece of parchment into her hand. “Stop by, it might be, uh helpful to you.” With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder Ginny leaves Y/N alone.

With a heavy sigh Y/N starts to head to the common room. She uncurls the piece of paper Ginny had handed her, fearful that this might be some elaborate set up for one of her brother’s tricks.

Hogshead Inn, 12 pm, is all the paper reads in neat handwriting that Y/N doesn’t recognize. She shoves the piece of parchment into her pocket as she reaches the dungeons, trying to decide whether or not to go.

The rest of the week and the next pass by slowly much to Y/N’s dismay. Things between her, Marcus and Adrian returned to somewhat normal, but Daphne is still refusing to speak to her. No matter how many times Y/N apologized Daphne just kept ignoring her. The fact that the Weasley Twins were lurking behind every corner just pushed Y/N closer to the edge, so by the time Saturday arrived Y/N didn’t care if the note Ginny had slipped her the previous week was the bait for an elaborate prank. She just needed some sort of human interaction.

Due to her and Daphne’s still strained relationship and the first Slytherin Quidditch practice of the school year, Y/N is all alone as she heads to Hogsmeade. Normally she’d not even bother going if her friends didn’t accompany her, but her lack of company makes it easier for her to slip down the forgotten path that leads to the Hogshead Inn.

She looks the dim building up and down as she approaches, grimacing at its appearance. Adrian and Marcus had tried to convince her and Daphne to enter the pub with them during one of their first trips to the little village on the outskirts of Hogwarts, but the girls had overpowered them, and dragged them into Honeydukes instead.

She pauses briefly at the entrance, trying to prepare for the things that could be waiting for her on the other side. She enters through the door slowly, her eyes widening in surprise at the scene she’s met with. It certainly is not what she had expected. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace, with more than a dozen chairs facing them. Some are empty, while others are taken up by students that Y/N vaguely recognizes. Ginny gives her a wave when they make eye contact, motioning for her to take a seat.

Y/N sits down in a seat towards the back and fidgets with the sleeves of her jumper. She’s relaxed slightly since she entered, this clearly wasn’t some elaborate prank set up by Fred and George, but she’s still unsure of what she just walked in to.

“What are you doing here?” Comes a voice from behind her, causing Y/N’s shoulders to tense up. She turns around only to be met with Fred and George.

“Come to spy on us, Head Girl? Want to get all of our secrets and then run off to the greaseball you call Head of House to tattle on us?” Fred sneers as he and George push past her to take the seats in front of her.

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Clearly I’m here for the same reasons you are, moron. If I was spying on you why would I just be sitting here out in the open?”

Truly, Y/N has no idea what she’s doing there, Ginny had been extremely vague. All she knows is that this meeting will somehow make dealing with Umbridge better, and after the awful start to term she’s had Y/N is willing to do anything at this point.

Before either Fred or George can respond, Hermione is urging everyone to take a seat so they can begin.

45 minutes later Y/N is standing behind Fred and George, waiting her turn to sign the paper that will make her an official member of Dumbledore’s Army. Y/N was skeptical at first about getting involved in whatever Harry and Hermione had cooked up. But as Harry talked more, about needing real, practical knowledge Y/N couldn’t help but agree. She had always been so focused on school and her future career that she never even considered what lay waiting for them outside of Hogwarts’ protective walls.

Y/N hadn’t known Cedric well. A conversation or two during Prefect duties, idle pleasantries in the hall, but that was it. But she had spent much of her summer vacation thinking about him, and about what Dumbledore had said about his death. While her friends and many of her housemates thought Dumbledore was an old crack pot, Y/N trusted and believed him. Her parents did as well, and they had talked about the first wizarding war with her over dinner on several different occasions.

As she listened to Harry talk about what he had seen and what he has already dealt with, Y/N knew that she needed to be a part of whatever he was planning. Being able to get some practice with actual defensive magic would surely help her when it came to end of the year exams, but if they truly were getting ready for another war, it may just help save her life.

As she heads back towards school, she can’t help but think about a conversation she’d had with her father not too long before the school year started again. He had reminded her that she had been placed in Slytherin house because of her ambitions in life, and her willingness to do whatever it takes to get there. Before he had kissed her goodnight he told her that it wasn’t always what you know, but who you know and that the people she surrounded herself with was just as important as focusing on her studies.

At first she had scoffed at his thinly veiled digs at her friends. Y/N has been friends with Marcus, Daphne and Adrian since first year, and she had never felt the need to expand her circle. Her parents were quite familiar with the families her friends came from, and the values they held. She knew that her parents didn’t exactly like her friends but were still supportive of Y/N and the relationship she formed with them.

But now, after seeing how badly the Daily Prophet was slandering both Dumbledore and Harry and hearing directly from Harry what he’d been through, Y/N understands what her father was saying. The Greengrass’ and Flint’s had been suspected Death Eaters all those years ago and its likely members of Adrian’s family had ties to Voldemort as well. Her father had been encouraging her to seek out new friendships to try and protect her from the Dark Arts that seemed very attractive to members of Slytherin house.

She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t hear the Weasley Twins coming up behind her until they’re knocking into her shoulders as they pass by. She flips them off behind their backs, trying to ignore their chuckling.

“I can’t believe I just signed up to spend even more time with those twats,” she mumbles to herself as the castle comes into view. While she doesn’t mind having Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny on her side, she plans on staying as far away from the Weasley Twins as possible.

That night at dinner Y/N is listening to Adrian and Marcus bicker over what drills to run during their next practice when her mouth starts to tingle. Her eyes widen when she takes another sip of pumpkin juice and the sensation only gets worse. Adrian and Marcus give her a concerned look as she begins to fidget and from the corner of her eye Y/N can see that Daphne is watching as well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Adrian asks as Y/N slaps her hands over her mouth.

Except she can’t respond. Her tongue has started to swell in her mouth so much so that it’s trying to force its way past her lips. It feels like it weighs a ton and as the pain increases she has no choice but to let it slowly seep out of her mouth.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” she hears George shout from the Gryffindor table, causing groups of students to look over at her. She’s desperately trying to contain her growing tongue as she gets up to head to the Hospital Wing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she can hear Fred call behind her, nearly drowned out by the peeling laughter coming from the Great Hall.

When she gets back to the common room that night, Y/N is expecting it to be empty. But when she’s barely closed the door behind her a mess of black curls takes over her vision and arms wrap around her tightly.

“Oh, thank Merlin you’re alright. I thought you would have been back ages ago. What happened?” Daphne asks as she lets go. She leads Y/N over to a set of couches in the corner, where Adrian and Marcus are waiting for them.

Adrian pulls her down next to him and Daphne sits so close to Y/N on the other side that she’s practically in her lap. “Would you all stop fussing? I’m fine, honest,” she says with a reassuring laugh. While Y/N is fine, she can’t help but lean into Adrian’s side, feeling relieved that things are back to normal between the four of them.

“Let me guess, Weasley Twin revenge?” Marcus asks.

Y/N nods, smiling when Daphne curses them under her breath. “A creation they like to call Ton-Tongue Toffees. They must have managed to get it into my goblet or something, so it melted into my pumpkin juice. It took ages to get the swelling to go down but Madam Pomfrey managed it. I’ve just spent the last 45 minutes listening to Snape try and get the maximum punishment for them.”

Y/N knows that not many people like Snape, that it’s really only Slytherins that appreciate him. It’s no secret that he favors his house almost unfairly so, but she doesn’t really mind it when he’s advocating for them. The twins had technically poisoned her, which is something Snape had pointed out when McGonagall suggested only taking points away from the boys for a “harmless” prank. Snape had managed to negotiate on Y/N’s behalf, and the boys will now be serving a week’s detention with Snape.

“So, what are you gonna do to get back at them?” Daphne asks, causing all three of them to give her a look. “What?”

“What happened to all that crap about just ignoring them?” Marcus teases.

Daphne rolls her eyes. “To hell with all that. They want a prank war? Well then let’s show them what being a Slytherin is all about.”

By the time Monday morning rolls around Y/N is in such a good mood that she practically skips down the stairs to Potions. The fake Galleon Ginny had slipped her during lunch yesterday had burned red this morning, letting Y/N know that the DA’s first official meeting would be taking place this Thursday. So not only was she going to get some real defensive magic training, but after the Twin’s prank on Saturday evening her and Daphne were able to properly make up and she had her friends back.

She bites her lip as the twins fall in step beside her once again, determined not to let their presence ruin her mood.

“How’s your tongue feeling this morning?” Fred asks from her right side.

“Any bloating? Tingling? Lasting side effects?” George teases from her left side.

Y/N shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay boys, go ahead and make your jokes. I want you to remember how good you feel now, because once I’ve gotten you back you’ll wish you’d never messed with me.”

She can hear them both laugh as they enter the Potions class and take their respective seats. “Really? Already planning your next late-night trip into the greenhouses?” George muses.

Y/N turns in her seat so she can look each of them in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, sweet, boys,” she mocks. “When I’m done with you the dragon dung fertilizer you took to the head will seem like a shower of rose petals.” She gives them a sly wink, and turns back around, their shocked expressions still dancing around in her brain.

“So, you figured out what you’re going to do them, then?” Daphne asks excitedly after Y/N has finished recounting her conversation with Fred and George to her and Marcus in Herbology. Professor Sprout has tasked them with dissecting Shrivelfigs, so the three of them can talk freely. Even though her and her friends had spent most of Sunday trying to concoct the perfect revenge plan they had come up with nothing that was quite right.

“I guess you could say that.” When Marcus and Daphne give her questioning looks she giggles. “I’m not going to actually do anything to them.” When they both still look confused she rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to let them think that something big is coming. That way they’re always on edge when I’m around, always looking over their shoulders, waiting for some huge prank to befall them. It’ll drive them bonkers trying to figure out when and where it’s gonna happen.”

Marcus gives Y/N a look of appreciation. “Damn, that’s pretty brilliant, Y/N.”

Y/N bows at his praise, causing Daphne to chuckle. “What they got this morning is just a taste of what I have planned for tonight.”

Y/N sneaks out of the common room that night, not too long after dinner. She knows that Fred and George will be serving detention with Snape and that it’s the perfect opportunity to mess with them.

When she reaches the Potions classroom she pauses just outside the door to ensure that Snape isn’t actually still in the room with the boys. When all she can hear is the clatter of cauldrons and Fred and George’s soft voices, she decides to go for it.

“Excuse me, Professor?” Y/N asks innocently as she enters the classroom. “Oh, boys! What a treat, seeing you down in our ends this late at night.” Y/N walks further into the classroom and she can’t help but smile as the twins start to fidget.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Fred asks, eyeing her warily.

She puts the most innocent look on her face as she can, blinking up at the two of them. “I’m looking for Professor Snape. Is he around?”

“No, he left us alone quite a bit ago,” George responds. Y/N can tell he’s trying to hide how nervous he sounds. Fred seems like the one to never back down, so Y/N switches her tactic slightly. She starts to walk closer to George and she has to bite her lip to keep the smile off her face as he tries to subtly move away from her.

“That’s a shame. I have a question I need to ask him.” Y/N leans against the table, moving that much closer to George. “Did he say when he was going to be back?”

“He didn’t,” Fred answers, making direct eye contact with Y/N. She returns his gaze, not backing down until he looks away from her.

Feeling accomplished Y/N smacks the table with her palm and stands back up. “Well I guess I’ll leave you boys to it.” She heads towards the door. “Have fun.” With one final wink she’s out the door, laughing to herself as she goes.

Before Y/N knows it, Thursday has already arrived. She tries her best to contain her excitement, but as the first DA meeting approaches it’s getting harder and harder. She feels bad for not telling her friends about what she’s involved in, but she knows it’s for the better. They certainly wouldn’t approve of the unofficial club, and she doesn’t want to chance that they’ll blow the whole operation in to Umbridge.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N says with a wave as she heads to leave the common room. She told the others she had some Head Girl duties to take care of so they wouldn’t try and come with her when she left.

As she heads towards the room of requirement Y/N takes the time to glance over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure no one is following her. She had been the only Slytherin in attendance at the Hogshead Inn, and she doesn’t need to be trusted even less by bringing unwanted guests with her.

When she finally enters the room of requirement it’s a bit crowded, but she can tell that not everyone has arrived yet. Ginny waves at Y/N, motioning for her to come and join her and Hermione. She’s silently thankful for her invitation so she doesn’t have to stand there by herself and goes to join the two girls.

“Hey, Ginny. Granger,” she greets them both with an awkward wave. She doesn’t know much about Hermione, again, having only heard about her from Draco. She’s had to interact with her a few times due to Hermione being a prefect, but for some odd reason she trusts Ginny, so she figures that Hermione is alright to hang out with.

“Y/N I’m really glad you decided to join. Not only is it probably helpful to have the Head Girl on our side, it’s also really nice to have some house diversity,” Hermione says with a genuine smile.

Y/N can feel her cheeks start to heat up, so she clears her throat, giving her a moment to regain her composure. “Thanks, Hermione. I never really understood it, all of the house rivalry mumbo jumbo. I’m just supposed to automatically hate you because some hat put you in one house over another? Seems silly to me.”

She hears someone scoff behind her, and she turns to see George standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest. “What? Got a problem, Weasley?”

“That’s real big talk considering the fact that you’ve had some grudge against me and Fred since first year, Y/N,” he says, looking at her curiously.

“I don’t hate you and Fred because you’re Gryffindors,” she explains with an eye roll. “I hate you because you’re ungodly annoying.” She bites her lip, allowing herself to look him up and down. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N can’t deny that his arms look downright filthy. She had never truly looked at George, he was quieter than Fred, so he didn’t quite capture her attention like his brother had. But now that he’s standing over her, she can’t deny that he’s attractive. He is most certainly her mortal enemy, but he’s an attractive enemy at least.

“If anything, you and Fred are the ones who started our rivalry,” she continues a moment later when her eyes meet his again. “You locked me in the girl’s bathroom with Moaning Myrtle for three hours on the second day of school, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” George says with a laugh. “Forgot about that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Harry as he starts the meeting. He decides to start with something basic but effective, disarming. Y/N could disarm any witch or wizard in her sleep, but not everyone there is at the same skill level, so she’s willing to get some practice in.

They start to break up into pairs and Y/N looks around, trying to find someone, anyone to work with. Of course, George is with Fred, Ginny is already working with a Ravenclaw Y/N thinks is named Luna, and Hermione is with Ron. She ends up locking eyes with Neville Longbottom and she motions for him to come join her.

“I’ll work with you Neville.”

He gives her an appreciative smile, and as he crosses the room George nudges him. “Watch out for her Neville. You never know what she might be up to, this could all be a big ploy to take out the entire Gryffindor house.”

Y/N flips him off, giving Neville a warm smile. “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.” They both take their stance, wands at the ready. She has heard Draco and his cronies make fun of Neville for hours on end, so she’s not really expecting much to happen.

When Neville waves his wand and shouts Expelliarmus, his own wand flies out of his hand and clatters to the floor at Y/N’s feet. His cheeks turn a bright red, and Y/N can practically feel how embarrassed he is. He looks at her expectantly, like he’s waiting for her to laugh and say something rude.

She sends him a smile and grabs his wand. “That was a really good try, Neville. The first time I tried to disarm someone I nearly blinded Professor Quirrell when my wand shot out of my hand and flew across the room,” she reassures him with a laugh. When Neville laughs too she hands him his wand back. “Here, try moving your wand like this.” She shows him the proper wand movement before she takes her place again. “Ready?”

Two hours later when Y/N is heading back towards the Slytherin common room, she feels accomplished. Neville had managed to get her wand to wiggle in her grip by the end of it, and she could tell he was proud of himself.

Y/N is thinking about all the homework she has to do tonight when someone falls into step beside her. “Alright, give it up, what’s your deal?”

She looks up at George before she examines the rest of the hallway. “Where’s your brother? I thought you two did everything together.”

“He’s down in the kitchens getting food, not that it’s any of your business,” he adds quickly. “And stop dodging the question. What’s your deal?”

She rolls her eyes and stops walking. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” George turns to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She mirrors his stance, looking up at him.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes again. “So, what because I’m a Slytherin I can’t participate in clandestine clubs? Your sister is the one who invited me to that meeting, so go and ask her why she did it. All I did was show up. I liked what Harry said and since Umbridge isn’t doing anything to help us with NEWTS I signed up. That’s it.”

George doesn’t respond immediately, instead he studies Y/N’s face, trying to see if she’s lying. He goes to say something when someone interrupts them.

“Mr. Weasley! Ms. Y/L/N!” They both jump as Professor McGonagall comes down the hall towards them. “What are you two doing out past curfew?” Y/N and George look to each other with a worried glance, not entirely sure what to say. “Never mind the reason, you shouldn’t be out of your common rooms at this hour. I’ll have 15 points from each of your houses and I’ll see you both in detention tomorrow evening!”

Y/N gives George one last glare before she stalks all the way back to her common room.

“What exactly were you doing standing in a hallway with George Weasley past curfew anyway?” Daphne asks Y/N the next day at lunch.

Daphne had just finished explaining the evening she had planned out for them when Y/N informed her that she’d be stuck in detention with George for the beginning portion of their girl’s night.

Y/N shrugs, trying to act casual. “I finished up my Head Girl stuff and was going back to the common room when I saw him sneaking around. I followed him, figuring I could catch him doing something. I confronted him and McGonagall saw us and gave us detention.”

“Maybe that was his plan all along, maybe he was trying to get you in trouble,” Daphne suggests.

“Yeah but he got in trouble too, Daph,” Y/N reminds her with a laugh.

The other girl shrugs, taking a bite of her Yorkshire pudding. “I didn’t say it was a smart plan.” Marcus and Adrian arrive then, taking their respective seats next to the girls.

“Who didn’t have a smart plan?” Marcus asks as he starts to pile food on his plate.

“George Weasley,” Y/N answers, batting away Adrian’s hand as he tries to steal her roll. “I caught him sneaking around one of the hallways after curfew and McGonagall rolled up on us and gave us detention.”

“Detention? On a Friday night? What about our hot date?” Adrian teases, making another attempt at stealing her roll.

Y/N flips him off and lets him have it. “The only hot date you’re going to have tonight is your right hand.”

Y/N groans as she picks up another teapot to clean. Her and George have been serving their detention in complete silence for twenty minutes and her brain feels like it’s going to mush. “Is detention always this boring?” she asks, not really expecting George to respond.

“No. But mostly because I’m usually with Fred, not you,” George replies dully.

“Oh, how you wound me, George,” she responds, mocking the tone he had used with her on the first day of term.

They work together in silence for a few minutes before George puts down the teapot he had been scrubbing and tosses his rag to the side. “So, I asked Ginny,” he says, turning to look at Y/N.

Y/N gives him a look as she turns to face him as well, discarding what she had been doing. “Asked Ginny what?”

George rolls his eyes at her, clearly annoyed that Y/N had forgotten the conversation they had in the hall the previous night. “Why she told you about the meeting at the Hogshead, about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Oh,” she responds softly. When she had said that to George last night she hadn’t expected him to actually ask, she was just trying to get him to leave her alone. “And what did she say?” George gives her a look, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. You’re the one that brought it up.”

George chuckles at her frustration. “Aw come on, I’m just kidding.” He pauses. “She said that Astoria Greengrass talks about you a ton, about how you’re different than other Slytherins. She said something about how you got into a fight with your friends, and she decided that if she talked to you and you were cool enough, she would invite you.”

“So, I’ve got the Ginny Weasley stamp of approval? I’m honored,” she says with a laugh, her surprise evident in her tone. “Does that make me alright then? Since I’m different than other Slytherins? Whatever that means.”

George shrugs his shoulders. “I think I know what she means.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him he continues. “Oh, come on don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re nice.”

Y/N scoffs, lightly shoving his arm. “Slytherins being mean is just a stereotype, George. Tons of the people in my house are nice. Daphne is nice, and so are Marcus and Adrian.”

“Cut the crap, Y/N,” he chides. “Daphne, Marcus and Adrian are nice to you and the other members of your house because you all share that in common. But you’re nice to, well most people honestly. Everyone even, except maybe me and Fred. But we aren’t nice to you either, so I understand it.”

Y/N opens her mouth to respond, but George puts his hand up to stop her. “Take yesterday, for example. I saw you, with Neville. The way you made him feel better about his failure, how you encouraged him and helped him improve. Daphne or Marcus or any other Slytherin wouldn’t have done that. They’d have laughed in his face and you know it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits softly, a slight blush on her cheeks from George’s kind words.

“So, you’re so worried about your NEWTs that you’re willing to spend hours practicing a spell you mastered in 2nd year? Thought you were top of our class?” he teases.

Y/N plays with her fingers and fidgets in her seat. She knows the question is innocent, but it feels like George can see right into her soul. That’s he looking at all her worst fears. “I am, yeah. I need at least an Exceeds Expectations on my defense against the dark arts NEWT to be a Healer and I’ve already worked so hard, I can’t screw it up now, not when I’m this close.”

George is silent for a moment and he turns in his chair so he’s fully facing Y/N. When she does the same he speaks. “I didn’t know you want to be a healer.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Weasley. What is it you said? I’m not nice to you and you’re not nice to me. It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah I guess so,” he admits. “I never imagined you as a Healer, if I’m honest. But I think you’ll be amazing at it.”

Y/N blushes and looks down. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, since I was a little kid. I used to pretend to Heal my dolls all the time. My parents even gave me a muggle doctors coat for Christmas once, I wore it like, every day,” she reminisces with a laugh.

George laughs along with her. “I fear that I may have seriously misjudged you, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, lightly shoving his shoulder.

George blushes and Y/N finds it endearing. “I figured you and your family were like the other pureblood Slytherin dynasties. That you cared about your grades to make you a more appealing bride or something.”

Y/N nods in understanding. “Yeah I don’t blame you on that one. That’s what most people think. My parents were raised like that and they hated it. All the stupid rules, the lack of freedom. They’re lucky, they were able to find genuine love with each other. And they’re still so in love, it’s actually pretty sickening,” she says with a laugh. “But they agreed that when they had kids they wouldn’t raise them like that. That they’d let them think for themselves, find their own way in life. It’s been so hard, not to send an owl to my dad and tell him all about Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Really? He’d approve of it?” he asks, unable to help how surprised he sounds.

“Oh yeah,” she confirms with a laugh. “He was so angry all summer, with what the Daily Prophet is saying about Harry and Dumbledore. He even not so subtly suggested that I expand my horizons, make some friendships and connections with people from other houses. I think he’d be really excited about what Harry’s doing.”

“That’s actually really cool. I guess I definitely misjudged you then.”

They both get back to work then, but Y/N doesn’t feel as awkward anymore. She’s never bothered to have an actual conversation with either of the Weasley Twins, and she is quite surprised to find that she actually really enjoyed it.

When Y/N and George leave the transfiguration classroom a few hours later she’s exhausted and silently thanks Merlin that she is a Witch, because cleaning the muggle way is dreadful. Despite the late hour Y/N is surprised to see that the hallway isn’t empty. Adrian and Fred are leaning up against the wall across from the transfiguration classroom a few feet apart, glaring at each other.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks with a soft laugh, altering both boys of their arrival.

“I wanted to make sure George was alright. You’ve been spouting about your grand revenge plan all week, I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and pull anything while you two were alone,” Fred answers, finally looking away from Adrian so he can glare at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you, Weasley. I don’t care why you’re here.” When Fred flips her off she returns the gesture.

“To answer your question,” Adrian starts as he walks towards her. “I came to accompany you back to the common room. A gentleman never lets a lady walk alone at night.”

“Well then where’s this gentleman?” she teases, looking around the hallway.

Before Adrian can respond Fred laughs. “Yeah, I don’t see a lady either.” George’s laughter joins his brothers and Y/N flips them off again.

When Adrian starts to move closer to Fred, Y/N grabs his arm and pulls him into her chest. “Not here, Adrian,” she whispers. “McGonagall is right in there,” she reminds him, gesturing towards the open classroom door with her head.

“You are so lucky, weasel,” Adrian practically growls at him. Y/N wraps her arms around Adrian’s waist and starts to pull him down the hall away from Fred and George. Adrian glares at them one last time before he turns forward and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “You should have let me hit him. One good hit would have been worth a month’s detention.”

“Not this close to quidditch season it’s not. Smack a few good bludgers at him instead,” Y/N pauses and she looks up at Adrian with her best puppy dog eyes. “Piggyback ride? Please?”

Adrian sighs heavily but crouches down in front of Y/N, nonetheless. She squeals in delight, climbing onto her friend’s back. Adrian grips her thighs tightly as he stands. “Ready?” Once he feels Y/N nod he sets off towards the common room. “You’re lucky I love you, brat.”

When Fred and George slide into their seats behind Y/N in Potions on Monday morning they don’t say a word. When she saw them enter the room she had tensed up, just waiting for whatever snarky comment they were bound to make. So, when they take their seats without a word, Y/N can’t help but turn around to look at them.

“What’s wrong with you two?” When neither of them responds, Y/N waves her hand in front of their faces. “Hello? Earth to Nitwit 1 and Nitwit 2.” She expected her insult to get them to at least look at her, but both of their focus is on the blackboard in the front of the room. She huffs in annoyance. “Whatever be pricks. I don’t care.” She turns back around and crosses her arms, trying to convince herself that she in fact doesn’t care that they’re ignoring her.

“Will you stop staring at them? It’s weird,” Marcus scolds Y/N that night at dinner, kicking her shin under the table to get her attention.

Y/N kicks him back, finally tearing her attention away from Fred and George. “They’re planning something,” she insists.

Daphne rolls her eyes and throws a carrot at Y/N. “First you complain that they’re always loud and bothering you and now you’re complaining that they aren’t bothering you. Will you just give it a rest? Be thankful that they’ve finally decided to leave you alone.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at Daphne before she takes a bite out of the carrot she had thrown at her. She knows Daphne is right, but she can’t help but be bothered that Fred and George aren’t even trying to annoy her. As much as she hates to admit it, she misses their antics. Y/N had really enjoyed George’s company during their detention and part of her had hoped that maybe their newfound acquaintanceship would have carried over once they were no longer the only people in the room.

So, she had found herself quite disappointed that he hadn’t said a word to her all day. He hadn’t even looked at her. Y/N thought she had felt his gaze on her during Charms, but when she turned around to check he was focused on Flitwick.

“Daph is right,” Adrian whispers in her ear, bringing her thoughts back to the present. “They’re finally leaving you alone, you should be happy.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her gaze falling upon Fred and George once again. “I am happy,” she lies. “I just know them too well. They’re planning something big. They’re trying to throw me off.” She flips her friends off when they all groan.

“What makes you think they’re planning something?” Marcus asks. “Did something happen between you and George during detention? You didn’t say too much about it.”

Y/N bites her lip. She hadn’t said much to her friends about her detention when her and Adrian arrived back in the common room that night, just that it was mind numbingly boring. She didn’t want them to know that she had not only had a conversation with George Weasley, but she had actually enjoyed it.

“No, nothing happened. We sat there cleaning teapots for hours, McGonagall came back and she let us go,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “He didn’t even say two words to me.”

“Exactly, so chill out. Enjoy the peace,” Daphne says.

When Y/N finally collapses in her bed that night she can’t seem to fall asleep despite how tired she is. She tosses and turns, her mind wandering to George and why she’s so bothered by the sudden lack of attention she’s getting from him. Her stomach lurches, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.

I have a crush on George Weasley.

Y/N spends the rest of the week avoiding both Weasley Twins. She sits as far away from them as possible, refuses to look at them and even goes as far as to hide in an empty classroom when she sees them heading towards her one afternoon. Y/N is determined to extinguish whatever positive feelings she has towards George. She’s spent the past seven years hating his guts, and she is not about to let herself reverse all of that over some stupid crush. Unfortunately for Y/N, on Saturday morning her fake Galleon burns red, letting her know that there will be another DA meeting that night.

Which is why she’s currently heading towards the Room of Requirement, her stomach a pit of dread and despair. “Get it together, Y/N,” she mutters to herself. Y/N is standing just outside the room of requirement and she takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

Y/N pulls the door open and goes to head in, but she runs smack into the chest of someone trying to leave. An involuntary squeal leaves her lips as her body tenses up, preparing itself to hit the ground. Except she doesn’t even fall. A pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s pulled into the other person’s chest.

“Woah there. Watch where you’re going.”

Y/N doesn’t have to look up to know that George Weasley is holding her in his arms. She can feel her cheeks heat up and she pushes away from him, needing to get away from him as fast as possible. “I could say the same to you, Weasley,” she sneers.

Even though her tone is crude Y/N can feel her heart fluttering in her chest and her skin is tingling from his touch. She looks up at his face, letting her eyes linger on his lips for just a second. She tries not to think about what it would feel like for him to grip her waist as they kissed.

“No need to be so feisty, Y/N,” George teases, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts.

She rolls her eyes and steps aside so George can leave, Fred following close behind him. “Maybe if you weren’t trying to mow me down I wouldn’t need to be,” she responds, watching as Fred flips her off behind his back.

She watches them walk away for a moment before heading into the room of requirement. Her palms are sweaty even from that small interaction with George and Y/N tries to subtly wipe them off on her skirt as she joins Ginny, Hermione and Ron in the back of the room.

“Where are they off to?” she asks after they’ve been talking for a few minutes, not wanting to seem too interested in George’s movements.

“Filch has been sniffing around for Umbridge, she knows Harry is up to something. So, Fred and George are going to slip him something that’ll put him out of commission for few hours,” Hermione explains.

Y/N nods. Hermione had made a few complaints to both Y/N and Miles, a Ravenclaw in her year that was Head Boy, that Fred and George had been spending their free time making an array of joke products and then testing them out on first years. “Despite the fact that I have been the victim of a Weasley product, I can’t say I feel bad for Filch.”

Once Fred and George slip back into the room of requirement and give Harry a thumbs up, he starts the meeting. They’re going to continue working on disarming, and Y/N immediately searches for Neville in the crowd. Neville certainly isn’t the most talented wizard, but Y/N can tell that he’s full of determination and she likes working with him. When Harry sets them off to work Neville joins her.

“You better watch out, Y/N, I’ve been practicing,” Neville says with a laugh as they take their stances.

“Alright then, Longbottom, let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Y/N leaves the Room of Requirement later that night, she can still hear Neville chattering to his friends happily as they head back to Gryffindor tower. It had taken him most of the meeting, but Neville had finally managed to get her wand to fly out of her hand. She was extremely happy for him as the other members of the DA came around to congratulate him, and not just because George had pressed up against her back as he patted Neville on the shoulder.

“Sneaking away without saying Goodbye, Y/N? I’m hurt,” George scolds teasingly as he comes up behind her.

She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh, so you’re speaking to me again?” she says as he falls into step next to her. He’s standing so close that their arms almost brush, and Y/N swallows down the butterflies that come up her throat.

“Aw, did little Y/N miss me?” George teases, shoving her shoulder.

“No,” Y/N responds far too quickly, trying not to get flustered from the contact. “Just surprised that you managed to go a whole week without annoying me that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”

She bites her lip, trying to contain her glee. Cut it out, she scolds herself. George Weasley is nothing more than an annoying git, you do not like him.

“Why are you following me, anyway? Last I checked Gryffindor’s common room is in the other direction,” she questions as they head down towards the Great Hall.

Y/N watches George shrug out of the corner of her eye. His face is blank, but Y/N can tell that he’s nervous. “Making sure you’re not getting up to anything is all.”

“Or you’re distracting me while your brother sets up some kind of trap,” she responds.

Suddenly she feels George’s hand wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her into a nearby broom closet. As he slams the door shut behind them Y/N can’t help but notice just how close they are. Her back is pressed up against the wall and George is standing only a few inches away, his hands on either side of her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Y/N demands, hoping that her voice doesn’t shake. George is towering over her, and Y/N can see the muscles on his forearms bulging in her peripheral vision. It is taking every ounce of willpower in her body to stay still.

George leans down as he chuckles and his warm breath tickles Y/N’s cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. “I think what you mean to say is thank you because I just saved your ass from serving another detention with McGonagall.”

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “McGonagall? I didn’t see-.“ Y/N’s sentence is cut short as George places his hand over her mouth to silence her. Her breathing involuntarily speeds up and she hopes that George can’t feel the blush on her cheeks. Y/N can hear footsteps approaching the broom closet and she closes her eyes in fear of being caught in such a compromising position with George.

Thankfully the footsteps disappear just as quicky as they had come and Y/N sighs in relief when George takes his hand away. “Thank you,” she mutters. Y/N can still feel the imprint of his hand on her mouth and it makes her stomach feel queasy.

“You’re welcome,” George says, sounding pleased with himself. “We should probably stay here for a moment or two longer, just to make sure she’s gone.”

Y/N nods, her head tilting back so she can look at George’s face. She examines his features closely, trying to commit them to memory. After her realization earlier in the week she had spent every moment trying not to think about George, but now that they’re standing there so close he’s the only thing she can think about.

George clears his throat suddenly, breaking Y/N from her thoughts. “We’re uh, we’re probably good to go.”

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, trying not to let the disappointment she feels seep into her voice.

George lingers a moment longer, before he pulls away and slowly opens the door to their hiding spot. Y/N watches as he checks the hallway and follows him out when the coast is clear.

“Well um. Thanks for that,” she stutters, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” Y/N starts to walk away, but she pauses when George follows behind her. She turns to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“You might still be up to something. I should follow you, just to make sure,” he responds confidently.

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anymore, not wanting her giddiness to become noticeable. They walk side by side silently with Y/N glancing at George every few steps. As they reach the landing Y/N goes to turn down the corridor that will lead her down into the dungeons when she runs smack into someone for the second time that night. Except this time, it’s much less enjoyable.

“Professor Umbridge! I am so sorry,” Y/N apologizes as she fixes her balance. She may hate the woman, but she’ll be nice to her if it’ll get her out of a detention.

“Oh Ms. Y/L/N it is quite alright,” she practically squeaks while smiling at Y/N. Y/N imagines it’s meant to seem sweet, but it looks more like an evil grin. Umbridge’s eyes suddenly narrow as she looks past Y/N at George. “Mr. Weasley! Out in the corridors past curfew again I see. That’ll be detention with me, Monday and Tuesday evening.”

Y/N can hear George sputter behind her, and she turns around, cringing at the angry look on his face. “What about Y/N?” he asks angrily. “She’s out past curfew as well!”

Umbridge tuts, moving past Y/N as she heads back towards her office. “Yes, but Ms. Y/L/N is Head Girl I’m sure she has a good reason for being out in the halls.” Umbridge puts her hand up to stop George from responding. “Now that is enough out of you, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you head back to your common room before I make your detention a whole week.”

They both watch as Umbridge walks away and when Y/N turns to look at George, he’s already watching her. “I’m really sorry about that, George,” she says quietly.

George scoffs. “Yeah whatever.” He stalks off then, and it takes everything in Y/N to not follow behind him.

As Y/N enters the common room her plan is to stalk off to her dorm and get in bed as quick as possible. She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours and all she wants to do is fall asleep, so she doesn’t have to feel any of them. All of that changes however, since when Y/N finally steps into the common room there is music blaring and people are everywhere.

Y/N makes eye contact with Adrian across the crowd and he clumsily waves her over. She slowly makes her way through the crowd. The air is heavy and hot from all of the people and it smells of firewhiskey. When she finally reaches Adrian, he stumbles over his own feet as he pulls her closer and she notices Marcus is seated on the couch with Daphne sprawled out across his lap; all of her friends are clearly very, very drunk.

“Y/N! You made it!” Daphne yells happily when she notices Y/N’s arrival. She wobbles as she gets out of Marcus’ lap and practically falls into Y/N, giving her a tight hug.

“Someone’s having a good time,” Y/N says with a laugh. Drunk Daphne is one of Y/N’s favorite things, and it’s rare that she gets to see it. Daphne is always prim and proper. She never has a hair out of place and she rarely lets herself goof off with her friends; she’s always their voice of reason. So, when she lets loose, she really goes for it, and it always leaves Y/N in hysterics.

“Where’ve you been? Party started ages ago,” Marcus says slowly, his words slurring together. He grabs Daphne’s hands and tries to pull her into his lap, but they’re both so drunk that they end up falling over, and Daphne somehow ends up on the ground with Marcus on top of her.

Y/N and Adrian burst out in laughter, with Adrian leaning on Y/N for support. His drink sloshes in his hand, and Y/N takes it from him to avoid it spilling everywhere. She eyes his glass warily, trying to decide if she wants to join her friends in drunk land. Her plan had been to sleep away her emotions but drinking them away will work just as well.

“I guess I have some catching up to do then.” Y/N downs the entire glass in one go, her warm bed long forgotten.

A few hours and far too many glasses of Firewhiskey later the party has died down and Y/N is slumped over in the corner of the common room, cradled in a large pile of pillows that Adrian had assembled for her. Daphne and Marcus had disappeared several minutes ago, probably to make out somewhere and once they had Adrian moved from the nearby couch to join Y/N. He’s laying on his back, head in Y/N’s lap as he listens to her complain about George Weasley.

“He’s just so annoying,” she drawls, her words coming out fairly jumbled. Y/N has said the same sentence at least five times in the past 10 minutes, but she’s too drunk to remember or care. She’s been rambling on about George and every mildly annoying this he’s done since the moment they’ve met and she’s having a hard time remembering what she’s already mentioned. “And his face, don’t even get me started on his face.”

When Adrian groans she smacks him on the forehead. “Can’t you talk about something else,” he murmurs. “Anything else, please.”

Y/N smacks him on the forehead again before starting to run her fingers through his hair. It’s his only weakness and she’s hoping it’ll keep him quiet. “There is nothing else to talk about,” she says, her tone condescending. “It’s empty up here, no thoughts,” she giggles, hitting herself lightly in the head with her free hand. “No thoughts, just George Weasley and his face. His pretty, pretty face. And oh god his lips. They look so damn soft. D’you think their soft?”

Adrian hums, not really paying attention to the words coming out of Y/N’s mouth. She’d started to lightly scratch his scalp as she talked, and any ability he had to comprehend the English language disappeared. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

Y/N sighs dreamily, thinking about what it would be like to kiss George. “Bet he’s really good at it,” she muses. “And his hands,” she adds a moment later, practically moaning. “They’re so big and strong. He’s got good fingers too. Bet he knows how to use them.” Y/N rubs her thighs together involuntarily as she feels herself starting to get turned on. Y/N’s eyes start to close as the copious amount of alcohol she drank starts to catch up with her. “You wanna know something funny? I don’t hate George Weasley anymore.”

“Is that so?” Adrian mumbles, starting to drift off as well.

“Mhm,” she hums. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

The next morning Y/N is awake far earlier than she’d like to be. Adrian’s elbow was digging into her back, and she tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but eventually she just gave up and pulled herself off of the floor.

Her head is pounding, she feels groggy and she desperately wants to crawl into her bed. But her stomach grumbles loudly and so instead of dragging her body down the staircase that would lead to her dorm, she drags herself towards the portrait hole, still in the clothes she had on yesterday.

When Y/N finally makes it to the Great Hall she practically crawls over to the Slytherin table and plops down in the first open seat. Thankfully it’s still early, so not many people are around and it’s fairly quiet. She starts to grab random food, not really caring what it is. She’s cursing herself for challenging Adrian to a drinking contest as she goes to grab the pitcher of orange juice, but a large hand beats her to it.

“George?” she asks in surprise when she looks up.

He doesn’t say anything as he fills her goblet up for her. He takes a seat across from her and fills his own goblet before he starts to pile eggs on his plate. “Yes?” he answers casually, as if he eats breakfast with Y/N every morning.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N watches George as he begins to eat, her eyes searching his face for some kind of hint of what he’s up to. George shrugs as a light laugh tumbles from his mouth.

“Eating breakfast?” he asks, gesturing to his plate like it’s obvious. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, watching as he grabs an apple. She watches as his fingers wrap around it and she practically drools. A tingle runs down her spine as she imagines his fingers wrapping around something else.

“Obviously I can see that you’re eating,” she says a moment later when her thoughts become PG. “I meant what are you doing sitting here. With me. At the Slytherin table.”

George smirks at her. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” His lips wrap around the apple as he takes a bite, and Y/N has to take a bite of her muffin to stop herself from moaning right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

George’s hair is ruffled from sleep, and he looks cozy in the homemade jumper he’s wearing. His eyes are soft, and his lips look even softer. Y/N is dreaming about what it would feel like to lean across the table and kiss him, when she realizes that he asked her a question.

“Not at all,” she says, her voice shaking. “It just isn’t like you, that’s all. Besides last night when you left it seemed like you were angry at me,” she trails off, her voice soft. She looks down at her plate to avoid his gaze.

“I’m sorry about that, Y/N,” George admits sheepishly. Y/N’s skin tingles when he nudges her leg with his foot under the table. She looks up to meet his gaze, instantly returning his warm smile. “It’s not your fault Umbridge is a toad.”

Y/N laughs, completely entranced by George. “I should have said something. Made up an excuse for you.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving away her apology. They both just look at each other, the food on their plates long forgotten. Y/N lets her gaze wander to George’s lips again as she thinks about kissing him. She starts to involuntarily inch closer and to her surprise, George starts doing the same thing.

“Uh, Y/N?”

Y/N and George jump apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. Y/N looks over to see Astoria standing next to her, clearly surprised by what she had just witnessed. Y/N feels her cheeks heating up, and she fidgets in her seat.

“Hey, Astoria. What’s up?” Y/N asks, trying to sound casual, like her best friend’s little sister didn’t just catch her about to kiss George in the middle of the Great Hall.

“Daphne is asking for you. She’s throwing up in the dorm bathroom.”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a huff. “Of course, she is, poor girl can’t handle her alcohol.” She stands suddenly, nodding awkwardly at George. “Weasley,” she says curtly. She gives a wayward glance to Astoria before she heads for the exit, trying to walk as quickly as possible without looking like she’s running away.

“And you don’t remember anything?” Y/N questions Adrian as they head up to breakfast on Monday morning. After she fled the Great Hall yesterday morning she’d spent the rest of the day with Daphne going between the bathroom in their dorm and her bed, with Astoria sneaking in food for them. As she sat holding Daphne’s hair back Y/N had a chance to replay the events of Saturday night, and all of the things she had said to Adrian about George became clear to her. She was panicking all night, hoping that he didn’t remember any of what she had said.

Adrian nods. “Not a thing. Last thing I remember is you challenging me to a drinking contest. Everything after that is completely blank. Probably due to the 10 shots we took,” he says with a laugh. “I was so confused when I woke up in the common room.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. She’s barely come to terms with the fact that George Weasley is no longer her mortal enemy, but someone she truly cares deeply for, so she is definitely not ready to share that with her friends.

“Why do you care so much? You confess your love for me or something?” Adrian asks as they enter the Great Hall.

Y/N lets her eyes scan the Gryffindor table, a pink blush forming on her cheeks when she spots George. He looks prim and proper in his school robes and his hair is neat. She bites her lip, imagining what it would be like to fuss up his hair with her hands with their bodies pressed together so tightly that their uniforms wrinkled. When George suddenly makes eye contact with her she looks away, bringing her attention back to Adrian.

“Nothing like that,” she insists, shoving him playfully. “I was just rambling on and on. I sounded like an idiot, most of it didn’t even make sense.”

“What didn’t make sense?” Daphne asks as Y/N and Adrian sit across from her and Marcus.

“The things I rambled on about in Adrian’s ear on Saturday after you two disappeared,” Y/N says with a laugh. She reaches for the orange juice, a small smile appearing on her lips as it reminds her of George.

“Aw you were rambley drunk? How cute. I’m sad I missed it,” Marcus teases.

Y/N throws a grape at him. “If you weren’t so busy sucking face with Daphne, you could have witnessed it.” Marcus and Daphne both blush at that, causing Adrian and Y/N to laugh. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Pucey. You were cuddly drunk. I ran my hand through your hair, and you were practically mewling.”

Adrian blushes and bats at Y/N’s hand as she pinches his cheek. “Thank god I don’t remember that then.”

Unlike last week, Y/N spends most of her time on Monday and Tuesday trying to get close to George. She heads to meals a tad earlier than her friends, hoping that he’ll join her briefly. She gets to class early, hoping that he may arrive on his own and they can talk. But every time she tries she either doesn’t happen to run into him or he’s too busy messing around with Fred to notice her presence.

“Oof. Sorry,” Y/N grunts as she runs into someone. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects is sick, so Y/N volunteered to spend most of her Tuesday night patrolling the halls of the castle. Patrolling was one of her favorite duties as a Prefect, since it gave her time to just be by herself and think. She had let her mind wander to George, and she was in the middle of quite the raunchy daydream.

“What are you doing? Trying to mow me down?” the person asks with a chuckle.

“George, hey,” she greets airily. Y/N takes a step back so she can look up at him, a dopey smile on her face. “What are you doing out here? Kinda late, innit?”

“Maybe I’m here to see you,” he responds, causing Y/N to look away and blush. “I was serving my detention with Umbridge,” he reminds her, gesturing towards the corridor he had just come down.

She glances at her watch before looking back to him. “And she just let you out now? What did she have you do, polish all those weird cat plates?”

George chuckles. “Writing lines, actually.”

“Must have been enough to fill a book with how late it is,” she jokes as they start to walk together. George fidgets beside her, and she gives him a look. “You alright?”

George hums and absentmindedly brings a hand up to run through his hair. Y/N’s eyes widen when she notices the back of his hand is bleeding, and she grabs it before he has a chance to hide it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbles, trying to pull his hand away.

Y/N tightens her grip, too focused on his injury to think about how perfect his hand feels in hers. “What is this, George? How did this happen?”

George sighs. “Umbridge had me use her special quill to write my lines.”

Y/N ghosts her finger over the wound, giving George an apologetic look when he winces. As she examines the wound she can make out what is it, the wound in his hand spells out ‘I must not break the rules’ in his messy handwriting. A sudden wave of rage washes over Y/N and she releases George’s hand so she can stomp towards Umbridge’s office.

“Y/N what are you doing?” George asks as he follows, though he’s pretty sure he knows that answer.

“I’m going to go give that toad a piece of my mind. That’s how she punishes people. Torture? That’s mental.”

George catches up to her quickly, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her into his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. She breathes in his scent, wanting to just melt into his embrace. But she resists the urge and struggles against it, desperately trying to get out.

“Let me go, George,” she grumbles, wiggling in his grip.

“Absolutely not, Y/N. What good is yelling at her going to do? All that’s going to do is get you in detention as well and I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

Y/N wiggles against his grip for a few more moments before she gives up, her anger deflating. She relaxes in George’s arms and buries her face in his chest. She feels lightheaded as she takes slow, deep breaths, enjoying being this close to George. They stand like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being in each other’s presence, only breaking apart when they hear the door to Umbridge’s office open.

“Shit,” George whispers. He releases Y/N from his grip so he can grab her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Quick, follow me.” George leads them down the hallway and through a few different corridors before he stops in front of a tapestry.

“What are you doing?” she asks as the sound of footsteps echoes through the empty space.

George shushes her, and Y/N watches in amazement as he taps his wand to the tapestry, and it swings to the side, revealing a hole in the wall.

“Woah, this is so cool,” she comments as George pulls her in behind him. The tapestry immediately closes behind them, and George waves his wand so the torches that line the walls light up. “How do you know about this place?”

George shrugs, leaning up against the wall. “Fred and I have explored the entire castle. There isn’t a secret passageway or hidden corridor that we haven’t found.”

They stand there in silence while Y/N looks around the small passageway. She can feel George’s eyes on her and she’s doing everything she can to not return his gaze. Her body feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of George’s grip on her shoulders still fresh in her mind.

“You know if you want to spend time alone with me all you have to do is ask,” she teases a moment later, finally looking at George. She’s leaning on the wall opposite him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She starts to fiddle with a stray string on the bottom hem of her skirt, needing to keep her hands busy to avoid wrapping them around George’s tie to pull him close. “You don’t have to keep pulling me into dark rooms.”

George looks Y/N up and down, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that so? After you practically ran away from me at breakfast on Sunday I didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.” He sounds confident, but Y/N can tell that there’s an underlying tinge of insecurity in his voice.

Y/N frowns and pushes away from the wall so she can take a small step towards him. “I tried to catch you alone all day yesterday and today,” she says softly. “But every time I tried you were with your stupid brother.”

“Well every time I tried to catch you alone you were with your stupid friends,” he says with a chuckle, copying her frustrated tone. George takes a small step towards her, so there’s only a few feet between them.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For running away from you the other day. Astoria startled me and I panicked,” she pauses, taking another small step forward. They’re standing so close that Y/N can smell him, and her brain goes fuzzy. “I should have stayed,” she admits quietly.

George licks his lips as he takes a final small step forward. They’re now only a few centimeters apart, and he grips Y/N’s hip softly. “What would have happened?” His eyes flick down to Y/N’s lips before meeting hers again. “If you had stayed, what would have happened?”

Y/N can feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her face is warm. “I. I would have.”

But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. George leans down and presses their lips together, kissing her sweetly as his other hand comes up to rest on her neck. Y/N feels lightheaded as her lips start to move with George’s, her arms winding around his neck. George backs them up as he deepens the kiss, pressing Y/N up against the wall. She moans as her back hits the hard stone, allowing George to lick into her mouth.

“I would have done that,” she finishes once George pulls away, her breathing heavy.

George chuckles before kissing her again briefly. “You sound so fucking hot when you moan,” he teases, kissing her again as her cheeks flush pink.

Y/N returns his kiss eagerly, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as both his hands come to rest on her hips. Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything that’s happening. She wants to commit it all to memory, in case this is the only time it happens. She’s thinking about how good of a kisser he is, and how perfectly their mouths fit together when George pulls away.

“Bet you would sound even hotter moaning my name,” he whispers in her ear, before he starts to trail kisses down Y/N’s neck.

A soft whine leaves Y/N’s lips as she tilts her head back, giving George more room to kiss. She tugs his hair and the groan he lets out against her neck goes right to her core and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach. His grip on her hips tightens as he begins to suck a mark into her neck. “George,” she moans, her eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N can feel George smirk into her neck before he pulls away and reconnects their lips. He pushes their bodies together tighter, shoving her legs apart with one of his own. She instinctively grinds down against it to get relief from her aching pussy, causing both of them to moan lowly.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” George growls as he breaks their kiss. He looks over her as she continues to grind against his thigh, in awe of how beautiful she is. Her face is flushed red, her lips are swollen from his kisses and breathy moans are falling from her mouth as her hips move back and forth.

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth to try and contain the noises that are creeping up her throat as she works towards her climax. Her hips move sloppily, giving her clit the perfect amount of friction against George’s muscular thigh. “Fuck,” she breathes and opens her eyes so she can gaze into his, a moan falling from her lips when she sees how dark his eyes are.

George kisses her for a brief moment, his cock starting to harden in his trousers. He craves the feeling of her lips, but the noises coming from her mouth are too intoxicating to cut off. “You look so pretty, darling, getting yourself off on my thigh.”

George’s words only turn Y/N on more and she starts to move her hips faster, desperate for her release. “George,” she moans, tugging on his hair again. “Please, please, George,” she begs.

George presses kisses to Y/N’s jaw as his grip on her hips tightens. He pulls her down harder against his thigh and smirks when she whines loudly. “What do you want darling? Hm?”

“I’m so close,” she gasps. “Please, George. Can I,” her words turn into a moan as George forces her down harder against this thigh again. Y/N can feel her climax approaching and her body feels like it’s on fire. “Please, let me come, George. Please,” she begs breathily.

George’s cock twitches in his trousers and he groans as he realizes what Y/N is begging him for. Permission. “Go on darling, come for me.”

George’s voice is husky, and as soon as the words leave his mouth Y/N’s hips stutter as she reaches her climax, George’s name falling from her mouth. She tugs his hair lightly as she comes, pleasure washing over her like a wave. George rubs her hips and presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck as her hips start to slow down.

“Oh my god,” Y/N pants, resting her forehead against George’s shoulder. Her legs feel like jelly and a moan falls from her mouth when she shifts on George’s thigh and her sensitive clit rubs against her panties.

George laughs lightly and brings a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. He removes his leg from between hers but keeps a tight grip on her hip to make sure she’s steady. “Like really fucking hot, Y/N. Holy shit.”

Y/N buries her face in George’s neck, pressing a few light kisses to his skin. “No, it was embarrassing,” she mumbles. She’d never felt the need to ask for permission to come with any of the other people she’d been intimate with, but there was something about George. Y/N felt comfortable with him, she felt safe enough to let her walls down; to be completely vulnerable to him.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. George waits for Y/N to pick her head up and look up at him before he continues. “You will never have anything to be embarrassed about with me. Ever.”

Instead of responding, Y/N kisses him desperately and reaches down to palm his hardening erection through his trousers. George groans into the kiss, his hips automatically rolling to meet her movements. Her lips start to kiss across his jaw and down George’s neck, nibbling lightly.

Y/N pauses her kissing so she can lean up and whisper into George’s ear. “Your turn,” she teases. George curses softly as she removes her hand from his crotch, and she places a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes him away slightly. Y/N slowly sinks down to her knees and starts to work at the button of George’s trousers.

“God you are gorgeous,” he says dreamily as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

Y/N can feel the blush creeping up her face as she undoes George’s trousers. She looks up at him as she pulls his trousers and boxers down together just enough to free his cock. Y/N slowly wraps her hand around the base of his cock, a smirk forming on her face when he groans.

George’s grip on her hair tightens as Y/N begins to slowly stroke him. “Merlin that feels good,” George moans, causing Y/N to increase her pace.

She leans forward and takes him into her mouth, her hand continuing to stroke what she can’t fit in her mouth. George is quite well endowed, and Y/N rubs her thighs together as she starts to bob her head, imaging what he’d feel like inside her.

“Such a good girl. Sucking my cock so well,” George praises. His breathing starts to get heavier as Y/N’s tongue starts to swirl around his sensitive head and when she looks up at him he has to look away to avoid coming right then and there. Y/N looks absolutely sinful with her lips wrapped around his cock, and George is sure that image will be imprinted in his brain forever.

George’s grunts echo throughout the passageway as Y/N starts to move faster, wanting George to fill her mouth with his release. She takes him down even further, gagging slightly when the tip of his cock hits the back of her throat. George uses the grip he has on Y/N’s hair to help guide her head, his hips starting to slowly meet her movement.

Y/N hums in approval and pulls her head off of his cock for a moment to catch her breath. She strokes him with her hand for a moment, her thumb circling his sensitive head. “Fuck my mouth George, please,” she begs, before swallowing him down again.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you Y/N?” he teases as he wraps his hand in her hair, gripping it tightly. “Such a slut for my cock already, hm?” He lets out a groan as he starts to move her head on his cock, his hips meeting each stroke. “Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels amazing,” he moans, starting to fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl,” he praises as she gags around him.

Y/N can’t help but slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, letting her index and middle finger toy with her clit. George’s cock is heavy against her tongue and his dirty words are sending shivers down her spine and into her core. She’s still sensitive from her previous orgasm, and she moans around George’s cock as drool drips down her chin. She starts to work her clit faster, her second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Getting close, darling,” he grunts. “Gonna shoot my load right into your pretty little mouth.” George watches as Y/N squirms, a wicked grin forming on his mouth. “Are you touching yourself darling?” A shiver runs down his spine and he slams his cock into the back of her throat harder when she hums around him. “Such a dirty little girl you are, Y/N.” His tone is patronizing, and it only turns Y/N on more. “Love having my cock in your mouth that much, hm?”

Y/N whines around his cock, her hips moving in time with her finger’s movements on her clit. She brings her free hand up under her shirt and bra so she can massage her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple. Her climax is building rapidly, and Y/N looks up at George her eyes full of arousal and desperation.

George bites his lip as he looks down at Y/N, knowing exactly what she needs. His strokes become shallow as his own orgasm approaches, a low moan falling from his lips. “Go on, darling. Be a good girl and come for me.”

Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, her second orgasm even stronger than the first. Her lips clamp down around George’ cock even tighter, bringing him to his climax as well. He pulls her hair as he empties himself into Y/N’s mouth, her name spilling from his mouth in hard pants. She continues to toy with her clit lightly as aftershocks of pleasure continue to roll through her body.

George loosens his grip on her hair as he slowly pulls out, his mouth running dry as saliva and some of his cum dribble down Y/N’s chin. He watches as she swallows his release, his cock twitching at the sight. He tucks his cock back into his trousers, wincing as the head brushes up against the fabric. Y/N looks up at him as she wipes the drool from her chin, looking far too innocent after what just happened. Her lips are red and swollen, almost begging for him to kiss her.

He releases her hair and helps Y/N to her feet. His arms wrap around her waist and he brings their lips together. They kiss slowly and messily, both of them too tired to care. George licks into her mouth, not caring that he can taste himself on her tongue. They stand there kissing for a few minutes, only breaking apart when the need for air becomes too much.

“You think the coast is clear?” Y/N asks with a giggle, her voice hoarse.

George chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I certainly hope so, because I’m absolutely knackered and if I have to spend another minute in here with you after what just happened I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly for Y/N’s liking. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but when Daphne starts to shake her awake it feels like she hadn’t even slept at all.

“Five more minutes, mum, “ she groans. Her throat feels raw and Y/N can’t help but blush as the memories of last night run through her mind. She had wanted to confess everything to George as they snuck out of the passageway, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. As they stepped out into the empty hallway the haze of sexual tension around them broke, and when George headed off back to his dorm with nothing more than a wink and a kiss on the cheek Y/N’s stomach sank.

Y/N had felt nothing but pure joy after her and George’s activities and her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She knew that she was in love with him, and after he had been so tender with her she was sure that he returned her feelings. But after he left her behind so quickly, she couldn’t help but think it had all been in her head.

“Five more minutes will turn to 10, which will turn into you missing breakfast. And you know how you get when you’re hungry, so get your ass out of bed,” Daphne scolds lightly.

Y/N groans but rolls out of bed, her heart heavy and her knees aching.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Daphne whispers to Y/N as they enter the Great Hall, gesturing towards Fred and George.

Y/N allows herself to look quickly, her heart rate increasing as her eyes pass over George. Memories of last night swim to the surface, and she swallows hard, willing them away. The twins have their heads together and they’re talking feverishly, clearly up to something. “Dunno really,” she answers, tearing her gaze away. “Probably planning their next prank or something.” Y/N and Daphne sit down with Adrian and Marcus and she grabs some toast, not really feeling up to eating.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Daphne asks as they start to eat.

Y/N gives her a look. “What am I gonna do about what?”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Come one, it’s been what, two weeks since the twins have done something to you? They’ve gotta be over there cooking up some grand scheme against you.”

Y/N goes to respond, but she suddenly feels sick as George’s actions over the past few days start to make sense. He wasn’t in love with her, he was trying to embarrass her? Use her? Get information on her for him and Fred to use against her? She wasn’t exactly sure, but her heart sinks into her stomach. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good.

“I think I’m gonna head to Potions early,” she says suddenly, standing up. Adrian, Marcus and Daphne give her a look.

“You haven’t even eaten anything,” Adrian says, trying to pull her back down.

She bats his hand away and gathers her bag. “I’m not really that hungry. I’ll see you guys later.”

Without another word she’s heading out of the Great Hall, her friends and George all casting her back worried glances.

Y/N spends all day ignoring George despite his efforts to get her to pay attention to him. He spends all of Potions throwing rolled up pieces of parchment at her back, he tries to pull faces at her all during lunch and he spends most of charms slipping her notes. It had taken all of her willpower not to let him break her down. She’s so desperately in love with him that she’s almost willing to let him break her heart just so she can be close to him again.

“Finally, I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

Y/N doesn’t look up from her Herbology assignment as George takes a seat across from her. Her friends had been giving her worried glances all day, so after a quick dinner she tucked herself away in a corner of the library to avoid the confrontation she’s sure she’d get in the common room. She had figured she’d be safe from George as well, since Y/N is sure she’s never seen him, or Fred enter the library in the seven years they’ve been at school.

“What’s going on with you?” George asks softly when she doesn’t say anything. He’d been looking forward to seeing Y/N in the morning, and after her weird behavior at breakfast he had tried everything to get her attention.

Y/N glances at George quickly before she turns back to her assignment. “I could say the same to you,” she says coldly. When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and puts her quill down, finally looking at George fully. “What were you and Fred talking about this morning? During breakfast.”

George taps his fingers against the table, his eyes starting deeply into Y/N’s. “He was asking me why I got back from my detention so late last night.” His cheeks are flushed pink and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“What did you tell him? Did you tell him how easy I was? How desperate I was for you? How I touched myself? That I asked you for permission to finish?” she sneers, suddenly filled with rage.

George’s jaw practically drops to the table, his eyes widening in shock. “What? Why would I say any of that to him?” George asks, watching as Y/N starts to gather up her things.

“Because last night was just some big joke to you, wasn’t it?” she asks, as if the answer is obvious. “You don’t have feelings for me, you were just trying to get me into bed so you could have blackmail material or something. And I fell for it. Because I’m a big dumb idiot who is too in love to realize when she’s being played.”

Before George can even process what Y/N has just said she’s gone, tears streaming down her face and her heart broken in her chest.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” Daphne asks, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

She isn’t completely surprised that Daphne had come to find her. When Y/N returned from the library, she was full on crying. She had ignored her friend’s attempts to talk to her and stormed right to her dorm room so she could crawl into her bed and sob. Daphne starts to stroke her hair, and Y/N wipes away some of her tears.

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N mumbles into her pillow.

Daphne’s hand pauses. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with George Weasley,” Y/N huffs, turning over so she’s facing Daphne. Her whole-body tenses, waiting for Daphne to laugh or make some kind of snide comment. But it doesn’t happen. Instead Daphne starts to stroke her hair again as she wipes away some of her tears.

“Honestly that’d make me cry as well,” she says with a laugh, trying to get Y/N to smile. When it works and Y/N cracks a small smile Daphne continues. “So, what happened? Did he say something rude? Because if he did I swear to you I’ll have Adrian and Marcus break into Gryffindor tower and beat him up.”

Y/N can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. She sits up in bed, wiping away the last few tears. “I ran into him last night when I was doing my rounds. And Umbridge almost caught us so we ran and hid in this weird secret passageway and um,” she pauses, swallowing thickly. “We kissed. And fooled around a little. Or a lot.”

“And that’s why you’re crying? Was it bad? Did you fake your orgasm?” Daphne teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes as a blush starts to form on her cheeks. “No, that’s not it. It was quite enjoyable I’ll have you know,” she says playfully, shoving Daphne’s shoulder lightly. “It was what happened afterward.”

“He said something stupid, didn’t he? My offer still stands, I will have Adrian and Marcus go beat him up,” Daphne says her tone serious.

“He didn’t really say anything,” Y/N explains, choosing to ignore Daphne’s threats for now. “But you said it yourself this morning at breakfast. He was talking with Fred, probably planning some prank on me.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. “It was all probably just some prank or set up or blackmail or something. I mean why would he wanna be with me,” she says lamely, looking down at her hands.

Daphne scoffs and puts her finger under Y/N’s chin, forcing her to return her gaze. “If George Weasley doesn’t want to be with you then he is a big fat idiot. Y/N you are amazing. And beautiful and smart and way too nice for your own good. You may have questionable taste in men, but I’ve been snogging Marcus since third year so I’m not really one to judge.”

Y/N laughs and pulls Daphne into a hug. Her heart still aches for George, but she feels a tiny bit better knowing that she has Daphne on her side.

Despite the fact that Y/N has been ignoring George all day, she finds herself heading to the Room of Requirement on Wednesday evening for a DA meeting. There are nervous butterflies in her stomach as she approaches but she doesn’t turn back. The DA is one of the only good things she’s had going on this year, and she’ll be damned if she lets George Weasley ruin that for her. Y/N had felt his eyes on her all day, and she hates to admit that it made her feel lightheaded.

She stops outside of the room of requirement to collect herself. Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the thoughts of George from her mind. She’s semi-successful and she holds her head high as she throws the door open and steps inside.

“What the fuck?” she says, her eyes wandering around the room as the door shuts behind her. Y/N had certainly not been expecting the scene around her when she walked in. The room is dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from candles that are floating around the room. There’s no furniture or practice dummies in sight, and the only other person in the room is George. He’s standing smack in the middle of the room watching her, a small smile on his face.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone,” he says after a moment, reaching a hand out towards Y/N. “So, I had Hermione send an alert out to your Galleon and hoped that you would show up.”

Y/N walks further into the room cautiously, still unsure as to what exactly is going on. She stands a few feet away from George, resisting the urge to take his hand and fall into his chest. “Okay but why?.” She pauses, her eyes scanning the room again. “If this is some kind of elaborate set up and Fred is about to jump out of somewhere I swear to Merlin George I will kill you.”

George chuckles and shakes his head, taking a step towards Y/N. When she doesn’t flinch, he takes another one. “I promise you; Y/N. Fred is nowhere near here.” He bites his lip, looking at Y/N closely. “This is just me, desperately trying to fix whatever mess I got us into.” When she doesn’t say anything George continues, needing to fill the awkward silence of the room. “Tuesday night was incredible. Best night of my life, hands down. I thought, I thought things would be different with us, afterwards. But then you didn’t even look at me all day yesterday and last night in the library that stuff you said,” he cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I clearly did something wrong, but I’ve spent the past 24 hours thinking about everything I did, and I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she says quietly after she lets George’s words soak in. When George raises his eyebrow in confusion she sighs. “On Tuesday, after everything that happened,” she clears her throat, trying to will the blush on her cheeks away. “When we were leaving you didn’t say anything. You just kind of left. I thought that it was just a one-time thing, that it didn’t mean the same to you as it did to me,” she admits quietly.

Y/N lets her eyes wander around the room, needing to look anywhere except for George’s face. Y/N likes to keep walls up around herself. She makes exceptions for her friends and her parents, the people she loves, but she keeps them up around others. She doesn’t like to show weakness, she doesn’t want to give people the opportunity to hurt her. On Tuesday Y/N had let all of those walls crumble to the ground the second George had kissed her and it felt incredible. She felt like she could truly be herself around him, and as much as she wishes she could build those walls up around her again it’s too late. Y/N has no choice but to stand here in this room and let George in.

“And then I just got all in my head,” she continues a moment later, finally letting herself look at George. Her heart is fluttering, and she can’t help but notice how good he looks. “When I went to breakfast that morning and you were whispering with Fred it looked like you guys were plotting something, like a prank or something. And it made me think that Tuesday was just some stupid prank. That you were gonna use the things I said against me, to embarrass me or something,” she mutters.

“Darling,” George starts, taking the last few steps to close the distance between them. He cups her cheek with one hand while the other reaches for one of hers. Y/N lets him grab her hand, and he intertwines their fingers. “I should have said something that night. There was so many things I wanted to say. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you. After that night we spent in detention I started to feel differently towards you. I knew you felt something too, but I wasn’t sure if you had realized it yet or not. So, when we left the passageway that night I wanted to give you time, to process everything.”

“I feel like such an idiot,” Y/N admits with a small smile. “I should have just said something instead of letting myself overthink it. I don’t like letting people in. But for some reason when I’m around you I can’t help but let you in. That night in detention I told you things not even Daphne knows. And then Tuesday, some of the things I said, I did,” she cuts herself off, a shiver running down her spine. “I’ve never let anyone see that side of me before and yet a few kisses from you had me blubbering like an idiot.”

“Blubbering like a wicked sexy idiot, darling,” George teases with a chuckle. He leans down and kisses her briefly. “I’m sorry, for not being clearer with my intentions.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there’s a warm smile on her face. “And what are those intentions?”

Her eyes flutter closed as George kisses her deeply, both of his hands landing on her bum, giving it a tight squeeze. She moans into the kiss and lets George’s tongue in to explore her mouth. She wraps her arms around George’s neck and pulls him flush to her body. George pulls away suddenly, with Y/N trying to chase his mouth.

George chuckles when she pouts at him. “To answer your question, darling. First, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress over there like the dirty little girl you are.” George pauses, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips as a shiver runs down her spine. “And then I’m going to hold you close and whisper how much I love you into your ear.”

Y/N pulls George’s face down and presses their lips together hotly, kissing him desperately. She jumps up, her legs wrapping around his waist and his hands gripping her bum tightly. George carries her over to the bed that had appeared at some point in the past few minutes and throws her down on it. He loosens his tie and throws it off over his head and starts to work on the buttons of his shirt. Y/N watches his fingers move, practically drooling as his pale chest becomes more and more exposed to her.

“What are you waiting for? Permission,” George teases, his voice gravelly and his eyes dark. “Get naked,” he demands a moment later when she still doesn’t move. “Let me see all of you.”

George’s voice causes goosebumps to appear all over Y/N’s body and her core starts to ache. She can already feel herself getting wet, and the way George is looking at her as she rids herself of her clothes is only making it worse.

In a matter of moments, they’re both naked, and Y/N can feel her skin flushing under George’s gaze. He’s standing by the edge of the bed, slowly stroking himself as his eyes run over her naked body. Her body is aching for his touch, and she squirms under his intense gaze. “Please, George,” she moans, one of her hands coming up to toy with her breasts.

In an instant George is on top of her, kissing her messily as his hands touch every inch of skin they can. He bats away the hand that’s palming her breast so he can take over, his fingers starting to toy with her sensitive nipple. Y/N moans into George’s mouth, arching her back to press herself up into him harder. George practically growls at her actions and his other hand grabs her left thigh, forcing her legs apart.

“What do you want, darling?” he asks hotly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck. “My fingers?” He releases her thigh and starts to ghost his fingers up her it towards her folds. “My mouth?” He latches onto her neck and starts to lightly suck, causing a sinful whine to leave her lips.

Y/N tangles her fingers in George’s hair, tugging lightly as she squirms under his touch. “Both, please,” she begs, her breath coming out in hard pants. George’s fingers have finally reached her core, and his index finger has started to slowly circle her clit.

“Both, hm? What a needy little girl you’re being, Y/N,” he chides, his mouth continuing to trail kisses down her neck and over her chest. “But how can I say no? Not when you’re being such a good girl and asking so nicely.”

Y/N moans. George’s thumb has started to rub soft circles on her clit while his mouth wraps around her breast, sucking her nipple lightly. When George had called her a good girl at the beginning of term it had filled her with rage, but now as he slowly pushes his index finger inside of her tight walls she thinks she could come just from him calling her that alone.

“Fuck, George,” she whines, clenching around his finger as he curls it inside of her. She can feel his smirk as he kisses down her stomach. Her hips start to move off of the bed as he starts to slowly fuck her with his finger. His free hand flies to her hip and pins it down against the bed.

“Don’t be so impatient, darling. I’m going to take my time with you,” he scolds. He pulls his finger out slowly, and when he pushes it back in another has joined it, causing Y/N to gasp. “You sound so pretty, darling. Such pretty noises,” he praises.

George moves down the bed as his lips ghost over her hip so he can position himself better for what’s about to happen. He stops his movements on her pussy suddenly, causing Y/N to whine at the loss. He grabs her thighs and pushes them farther apart, so she’s spread open for him. “Such a pretty pussy you have, darling,” he groans, his eyes gazing over her dripping folds. Y/N tries to shut her legs, but George’s grip tightens on her thighs, keeping them open. “Don’t be shy, darling,” he teases.

Y/N is writhing in George’s grasp, one hand is toying with her nipples while the other grips the bed sheets. “George, please,” she begs again, needing him to touch her. George chuckles and suddenly his mouth is on her, lightly sucking on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she shouts, her hand leaving her breast to tangle in George’s hair.

George’s tongue starts to tease Y/N’s clit, wrapping around the bud slowly before pulling away and coming to lightly flick at it. He wraps his arm around her left thigh as she begins to move her hips, forcing her back down against the bed. “Gonna need to get some rope to tie you up, keep you nice and open for me,” he murmurs before putting his mouth back on her aching core.

“Holy fuck, George,” Y/N moans as he suddenly plunges two fingers into her heat. She can’t help the sounds that are coming out of her mouth as George pleasures her, images of George tying her up floating in her mind. George hums in laughter as his fingers curl and brush up against Y/N’s sweet spot, causing her to moan again.

Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, can feel the arousal building in her stomach. She wiggles her hips, trying to move away from George, and a squeal falls from her mouth when he pulls her even closer to his face. She grips his hair tightly and her toes curl as her orgasm approaches. Y/N yanks the sheets hard, her mouth opening and shutting unable to form a coherent thought due to George’s relentless pleasure.

“George please,” she sobs, her eyes screwing shut from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through her body. Her legs are shaking as George licks at her core, his fingers hitting the spot inside her that drives her crazy with every thrust. “I need you. I need you to, George, please,” she begs. She’s teetering on the edge of her release, just needing that one final push that only George can provide.

“Need me to what, darling?” he asks coyly as he pulls his face away from her pussy. His thumb takes over the assault on her clit his tongue had been doing before, starting to rub it in hard circles.

“Please,” she begs again, tears starting to leak out the side of her eyes. Y/N has never been this turned on in her life. Her body is trembling, her need for release overwhelming every part of her.

George presses a few kisses to the hot skin on the inside of her thigh to hide his smile. Y/N looks absolutely ethereal as she wriggles in his grasp, begging him to let her come. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow behind her, and her neck looks like it’s begging to be bit. Her whole body is flushed, and a sheen of sweat has appeared over her skin.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Y/N,” he compliments as he situates himself on top of her again. He leans on his forearm and presses their lips together briefly. “Such a good girl, darling. Go on be a good girl, come for me.”

George kisses her again as she comes, groaning as her walls tighten around his fingers. Y/N’s whole-body shakes as she comes, and George continues to slowly rub her clit as she comes down from her high. With one final curl of his fingers he removes them from her heat.

“You are a goddess,” he murmurs against her lips before he pulls away.

Y/N opens her eyes, smiling up at George. “And you’re a bloody fucking tease.”

George laughs and rolls onto his back, his arm winding around Y/N’s waist to pull her on top of him. Y/N giggles in delight, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. She lets her hand trail along his chest as they kiss, pausing as she reaches his groin. “Now see if I really was a good girl,” she mocks her fingertips dancing on the skin just above the base of his cock. “I’d touch you but.” She sighs and brings her hand back up to rest on George’s chest. “I’m feeling kinda naughty.”

“Bold tactic for a girl who was just begging me to let her come a few seconds ago,” George responds playfully, leaning up to press their lips together again. Y/N squeals when George pulls her fully on top of him so she’s straddling his waist. “I know I said I was gonna fuck you into the mattress but,” he says with a sigh when he breaks their kiss. “I don’t know if naughty girls deserve my cock.”

Despite the fact that she had just come a few seconds ago, Y/N’s pussy is aching again. She pouts down at George, rolling her hips. A satisfied smirk appears on her face when he groans. “What if I promise to be a good girl?”

George rolls them over so she’s underneath him. “I think I can make an exception.” Y/N laughs as George kisses her and winds her legs around his waist. George lines himself up with her entrance, breaking their kiss so he can look at her. “Ready?” When Y/N nods George pushes his hips forward and slowly enters Y/N.

“Oh my god, George,” she gasps as her hands come up to grip his shoulders. George doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against Y/N’s bum.

“Fucking hell you’re tight, Y/N,” he groans, burying his face in her neck. He lets out another groan as Y/N’s walls clench around him.

“Fuck me George, please,” she demands, squeezing his shoulders.

George chuckles into her neck and pulls out of her halfway before he slams back in, starting to slowly fuck her. “Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, pressing an open mouth kiss to her jaw.

For a few minutes all the noise that can be heard is Y/N and George’s combined moans as well as skin slapping on skin. George grabs Y/N’s leg and throws it over his shoulder so he can fuck into her deeper and the head of his cock is now rubbing her sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, scratching her nails down George’s back. “Feels so good, George. ‘M already close.”

“Fuck me too,” he growls, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You feel so fucking good, darling.” He presses a few kisses into the skin below her ear. “Go on, darling. Come for me when you’re ready. Didn’t even need to touch your little clit, did I? Such a good girl, coming from just my cock.”

George’s words tip Y/N over the edge and she throws her head back, George’s name falling from her mouth. Her walls tighten and twitch around George, causing him to reach his climax as well. He empties himself inside of Y/N, his hips slowly rolling into her to help them both come down from their highs.

Once George’s cock has stopped twitching and Y/N’s breathing starts to slow down, George carefully pulls out of her and collapses on the bed next to her. George opens up his arm and Y/N rolls into his side, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers soft kisses to the sweaty skin as George starts to rub her back.

“It’s not fair, you know,” George says as Y/N trails a few kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

Y/N pecks his lips softly. “What’s not fair?” she asks with a chuckle.

George pouts at her and she kisses him briefly again. “Every time we get intimate you get to come twice, and I only get to come once. That’s totally not fair.”

Y/N laughs and buries her face in George’s neck again. “Well maybe if you were a good boy I’d let you come more than once,” she teases.

George’s fingers dig into Y/N’s side as he holds her in place, tickling her mercilessly. Y/N shrieks with laughter, desperately trying to wiggle away from George’s grasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. George tickles her for another moment before he stops, one of his hands resting on the small of Y/N’s back and the other grabs hers.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N looks up at him and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I love you too.”

The next morning as Y/N drags George over to the Slytherin table for breakfast she can hear Ginny shouting at Ron.

“I told you, you absolute numpty! You owe me a Galleon!”

#George weasley #george weasley smut #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fic #george weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #gw #golden

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glitchtech-industries · 3 years

Text

Bang Bang

Magnus flipped a coin between his fingers, showing off to his friend, Pamille. The girl watched in awe, as he did seemingly impossible things with the coin. He tossed it in the air, spun it on his middle finger, and made it dance.

"Cool, huh?"

She nodded and leaned against Magnus. He smiled at her and pushed a hand through her hair. She was adorable to the teenager. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead before continuing their walk.

The large building was easy to point out to the two. It was their workplace and it was hard to miss. A huge pink and white building with "GlitchTech Industries", very hard to miss.

"It's such a nice day! Maybe we should go to a park later!"

"That would be nice," She signed.

Magnus looked around the area. It really was a nice day. He sighed and closed his eyes. There was a stinging sensation in his brain that he was trying to ignore.

'There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine.'

"Stop that man!"

There was a man who ran past the two. Magnus' eyes widened and tried to grab Pamille's arm, but she took off. She ran after the man and reached down to grab his pant leg. She was able to and pulled on it, making the man trip and fall. When he turned around and glared at her. Pamille backed up and looked around, hoping someone was pursuing him.

"You bitch! I'll get you!"

The man pulled out a gun, and Magnus' face paled. He wasn't thinking when he ran over to her when he heard the gun cock. He moved in front of Pamille and tried to activate his quirk, but it was too late.

BANG BANG

The man ran away from the scene and left the two. Pamille's eyes opened and looked at her friend. He was keeping himself upright on the wall and turned to smile at her.

"Hey... you're okay..."

He slumped against her and she held him, before turning him around. There were two bullet holes in his side. Pamille gasped and quickly picked him up.

"Pamille- no... you shouldn't carry me..."

Pamille frowned deeply and pulled him onto her back. He'd done so much for her.

---

"Alright! Time for two worlds to meet! Purcell, Pamille, this is Magnus and Rento. Rento, Magnus, this is Purcell and Pamille."

The two duos nodded at each other and Glitch bit her thumbnail.

"The sucky thing is there's a language barrier. The girls speak French and the boys speak Japanese."

"Parlant français? Alors, je m'appelle Magnus!"

Pamille and Purcell's faces lit up at Magnus' French. Glitch's eyebrows raised and smiled at him.

"You really are a genius, huh?

"Heh, yeah, I am. Pamille's a pretty name, y'know."

Pamille was taken aback by the compliment. As the others, the ones who were able to speak, talked amongst themselves, Pamille was focused on Magnus. Suddenly, she walked over to them and hugged Magnus.

"Hey-" Rento objected, but Rento was taken aback when he saw Magnus' reaction. His best friend was crying. Silently, like normal. But... the tears were just slipping from his eyes.

"Magnus..?"

"I... I can't remember the last time I got a hug... that was like this."

The memory was saved in both their minds.

---

The first time he let her into his lab was about 2 weeks after they were introduced to each other. Pamille looked around at the lab.

"Y'know, if you were to bring me into a lab a while ago, I'm sure I would have broken down into tears... however..." Magnus smiles at the room, "This is a tech lab. It's amazing and doesn't remind me of where I used to be."

Pamille cocked her head and walked over to him. She pulled a notepad off of the counter and wrote "What happened at another lab?" before handing it to him. He read it over and frowned.

"I... have been friends with Rento for a long time. Through our friendship, there was a time when we were the closest we'd ever been. When we were kidnapped by these scientists."

Pamille gasped and covered her mouth. Magnus snorted at her reaction.

"Yeah, it was awful. They prodded at my brain and made me 'smarter'. That's why I know so much French. How're you doing with your Japanese lessons?"

Pamille gave him a thumbs-up before grabbing the notepad and writing something in Japanese. When she handed it to him, a smile broke across his face.

"As a certified genius and Japanese citizen, I approve."

The memory was saved in both their minds, but it was a turning point in the trust factor in their relationship.

---

It was about 4 months since the two duos had met, and it was a special day. Pamille's birthday. She got a "Happy Birthday" from Rento, a card from Glitch, and a kiss and a few knives from Purcell. However, she hadn't received anything from Magnus. She went to the lab and looked around. Magnus was putting something in a box before he noticed her.

"Ah, Pamille! You know you can't sneak up on me! My ears are too strong!"

Pamille frowned at him and pulled on his lab coat sleeve. He knew from her face and the way she pulled on his sleeve that she was upset. He patted her head and smiled.

"You thought I forgot? Don't worry, I didn't~"

He handed her the box and she looked at it. She opened the box and pulled out the contents. It was... a giant lollipop.

"Oh, and a membership for a candy shop nearby."

He handed her a card and she directed her attention back to the giant lollipop.

"Click that button right there."

She clicked a button that was on the stick of it and when she did, the lollipop transformed into a giant battleax.

"Tadah! Your very own battleax! I made it special for- Oh!"

Pamille hugged him and he hugged her back.

"Glad you like it, Pam."

---

This was the least she could do. She carried him to the building and when she got into the lobby, she couldn't see anyone there. Why would she, the lobby was her job.

She wanted to scream out. Let anyone know what had happened. She couldn't use her phone, since she needed both hands for carrying Magnus. He might be dead. She wasn't strong enough, and now Magnus could be dead.

"Pam..."

She heard his weak voice, letting her know he was still alive. She carried him to the elevator and desperately mashed the floor the lab was on. The doors finally closed and the elevator was silent. On any other day, it would be anything but silent. Magnus would be talking about a new invention or an update on his favorite anime.

Pamille didn't like the silence.

The doors opened and she lumbered out, dragging him into the lab. Pamille was a strong girl, but natural strength can only take a person so far. When she entered the lab, her legs gave out and she fell to the ground.

"Pamille?"

Thank god Rento was in.

The young boy went to check on her and gasped at the scene. He quickly picked his friend up and carried him in and placed him on a table. He then carried Pamille into a chair before working on his friend.

---

Magnus was stabilized. Rento and Pamille looked at him in his hospital bed. They each had downcast expressions.

"What happened?"

"A thief I think. He had a gun and Magnus' quirk didn't work fast enough."

Rento nodded and looked at his friend, "You're always putting yourself in danger, Magnus."

"It's my fault."

"It is not your fault. He chose to save you."

"I went after the thief."

"You did the right thing."

"I don't even have a quirk."

"That doesn't mean anything-"

Pamille slammed her hands down on the table. She was breathing heavily and wheezed.

"Pamille... you can say anything to me."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

Pamille grabbed the notepad and began scribbling angrily. She shoved the notepad into his hands and crossed her arms. She watched his eyes as they scanned across the page and watched as they widened.

"...I see."

That was a response she'd never heard. Most people said, "I'm sorry" or "That's so sad". She knew Rento wasn't the best with feelings and past experiences due to his own.

"So... you really can't."

She shook her head. He looked back down at Magnus who was still in his coma.

"This is the most peaceful he's looked."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Even when he was asleep, he wouldn't be this peaceful. He'd be moving, he'd be talking. Sometimes even shouting. I can't blame him, he went through some awful things."

"You did too."

"So did you."

Pamille nodded and watched Magnus. His chest rose and fell; up and down. He really was peaceful.

---

It was a week.

A week since he was shot. Pamille spent all day every day, by his side. She wished each day for him to wake up.

"He kissed me once, he kissed me twice, and kissed me once again..."

Pamille was asleep in the chair, an old portable radio.

"You'll never know how many dreams..."

That was a different... yet familiar voice. Pamille opened her eyes and saw Magnus with his eyes opened. He was softly singing along to his favorite song. Pamille's eyes widened and she stood up, wheezing.

"Don't strain yourself."

Rento ran in and ran over to the bed, "Magnus! Your thing sensed a spike in your heart rate!"

"Wow... I made you forget a word. Impressive."

Rento teared up and cried, a smile breaking out on his face. The two friends hugged Magnus carefully, and he hugged them back.

"So, uh, what did I miss?"

"Does that even matter? How're you feeling?!"

"Uh, it so does matter. Were we attacked? Did Percy get a boyfriend? C'mon, guys, I need answers!"

Pamille pulled on Magnus' sleeve to get his attention.

"Yes, Pam?"

"I want you to promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"Never change."

#bnha ocs #glitchtech squad #pamille #rento #magnus #injury tw

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: Talk of death and illness

A/N: I’ll be on vacation this week, but I’m hoping to post weekly - Thursdays as reblogs of the previous chapter, Fridays around 6pm EST new chapters, and Saturdays as next day reblogs. And then posting when ever I so choose for one shots and drabbles.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 , @tortles [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 3 – The Clock is the Enemy

“What a beautiful day, Rosie.” Robert’s smile was small, but evident. He laid back in the patio chair with a blanket around his shoulders. The normally oppressive summer heat of August had been milder this year, but Robert was always cold now. His shoulders hunched over under the heavy cotton fabric, as if the weight of the world were on them.

She looked over at him from inside the kitchen and smiled, glad that he was feeling more energetic today then he had been the last couple of weeks. She had taken him to the doctor this morning and the news was grim – mere weeks were probably left for Robert and her heart clenched as she realized she had to watch yet another person she loved slowly die in front of her. Tears sprung in her eyes and she quickly looked away so he couldn’t see them.

She stood at the stove waiting for the coffee to finish, her hands tapping the side of the brightly decorated mug in front of her. Since his confession months ago about his diagnosis, she spent as much time with him as she could, helping him as he got his affairs in order. Last week, she moved in with him as his health took a turn for the worse and he struggled to care for himself. He felt as if he should have told her no, but he was so grateful for her, he remained quiet on the subject.

When the foam had dissipated, she poured in the cognac and topped it off with a lemon slice – just the way Robert always took his coffee at home. She carried it out on to the porch and sat next to him. He sipped the hot liquid and smiled.

“You know, my mother drank her coffee like this, too.” He nodded at Rosemary’s inquisitive look. He never talked about his family or his existence before Saugatuck, claiming his life here along the coast of Lake Michigan had enough memories to explore for a lifetime.

“I never heard of anyone drinking their coffee like that before I met you.”

“You don’t know a lot of Ukrainians, then.” He smiled. “She drank it with more cognac than is probably recommended, but she needed the pep in her step as she headed off to work.”

“What did she do?”

“She taught home ec at a local high school.” He grinned as Rosemary started to laugh.

“Did she include the coffee recipe in her class?”

“No, but it would have probably helped!”

The two laughed again and soon it petered out to a comfortable silence. The trees waved slightly in the breeze and they could hear the kids down the road shouting and laughing. The day was perfect and they both soaked it up knowing that these were numbered.

---***---

“Marcus! I’m so glad you called!” Hetty Pike’s smile was evident in her tone as she heard her only son’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, mom.” He couldn’t help but grin every time he talked to his mother. She was a bubbly woman who talked with her hands a lot. When he was a kid, she always held his face in her hands and told him that she loved him, her head shaking as if to reiterate what she said. When he’d protested the action as a teenager, she told him she’d never stop because it was her duty to know he was always loved. “Is dad around?”

“Abe! Abe! Pick up! Marcus is on the phone!” He could hear her voice clearly even as she pulled away to call out to her husband. Pike rolled his eyes with a small smile as he heard his father’s booming voice come over the line, drowning out his much softer mother, who said her good-byes while the two men talked.

“Son! It’s been ages! How goes the art thieving?”

“Not bad, dad. I’m calling because I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

For the next hour, they chatted as Marcus sought out his dad’s advice on various aspects of the reopened cases. The senior Pike had been an electrician before he retired and often provided advice to the agent on cases where he could, often becoming a sounding board as his son worked verbally through the case.

After walking through a few scenarios, Hetty got back on the line and the three talked about this and that for a while longer before Pike said his good-byes with promises to call more often and to try and come out for his sister’s 40th birthday party next month.

The energy of the phone call dissipated into nothing as Pike stood in his kitchen, the quiet house a stark contrast to the liveliness he grew up with. He became lost in thought as memories flitted through his brain – happy memories of his parents who were so deeply in love, every day was a chance to prove it to the other; of his sisters and him getting into numerous shenanigans that left them breathless with laughter; of his blue-collar father being proud of his son’s artistic talent and happily attending his shows.

Pike let himself smile a bit before pushing himself off the counter, pocketing his phone as he wandered down the hall into his studio. He bought the small two-bedroom house in the outskirts of D.C. because its large windows let in tons of natural light, allowing him to set up an in-home studio to indulge his artistic appetite in.

Art had always been Marcus’ passion and something he had been good at since he was quite young. He was proud that he could parlay that passion into a career. He didn’t do anything professionally, instead choosing to let his talent serve as a distraction from the stress of real life. As he sat in front of the blank canvas, his hands rested in his lap, fiddling with the pencil.

By this time, his brain was creating a mash up of his memories and Carmichael’s words from some months ago. He hadn’t been on a date since the last time he was stood up, but no matter how much he hardened his heart, he still yearned for someone to love, the kind that his parents had. The kind he thought he had with his first wife, then Lisbon, then Eleanor and Carrie and Sumata.

It seems the only place he could express his heart freely and without pain was on the canvas. He shook his head as he turned on his playlist and let himself get lost in the one place that he could be himself with no judgement.

---***---

Several Days Later

“Helen?” The director looked up from her desk and looked startled at the pale woman standing in front of her. She immediately rose and skirted the desk to take Rosemary in her arms, giving her a warm hug. She felt the younger woman’s arms snake around her waist, and she continued to hold her as sudden sobs wracked the body pressed against her own. They stood like that for many long minutes before Rosemary pulled away and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

The two women sat down in the office chairs and Helen took Rosemary’s hand again, noticing the slight tremors she failed to feel before. She squeezed slightly and waited.

“Helen, I need to take some time off. Robert is getting worse and I don’t want to leave him alone right now. I know I have vacation. . .” Helen cut her off.

“Take all the time you need. I know this has been hard for you, don’t worry about us here. We’re fine. Marquetta can handle anything that comes in for you and I’ll take over the programs you are scheduled to work. You need to focus on you and Robert.” She didn’t say it, but the and your good-byes hung in the air between them.

“Okay. Thank you.” Rosemary stood on shaky legs and they hugged again before she went to her office. Despite the grief that hung around her neck like an albatross, she set her away message on her voicemail and email before packing a few things up for Banana. The dog had gone with her to Robert’s and the mutt spent his days sleeping against Robert’s frail form, providing a steady stream of warmth and companionship when Rosemary was at work.

After looking around her neatened desk, she walked to her workshop and glanced around there. She left a few notes for Marquetta on some projects that needed to be completed before walking over to her locked cabinet. She pulled out her keys and opened it, glancing at the bronze sculpture housed inside. She looked at it for a bit longer before closing the doors again. It was still on her to-do list but it was going to have to wait; Helen knew it was there, but only Rosemary had access. With the turn of her key, she left the museum to focus on the one person who needed her the most.

---***---

Three weeks later

The day was a sunny one, the sky a deep azure blue that spoke of the coming fall and as he laid in bed with the windows open, Robert took as deep a breath as his lungs would let him. He loved Saugatuck in the fall – the leaves, the roadside stands that popped up as the harvest came to fruition, and he loved to decorate the store as Halloween grew closer.

He let himself get lost in the memories of the past for a moment before forcing himself to focus on the paperwork in front of him. His lawyer had dropped off a new copy of his will and testament and Robert carefully read everything before signing it. Even as he laid there dying, there was something about signing the will that created a finality to it all.

As he sealed the envelope and sent a text to the lawyer to come pick it up, he heard Rosemary enter the house. He could smell food and for the first time in days, he felt his stomach grumble in hunger. He began to push himself out of bed when Rosemary enter the room and frowned at him.

“Get back in bed.” Her tone was firm, but gentle.

“I can get up; I’m not going to eat in my bed.” Robert grumbled as she walked over and gently pressed him back into the pillows. Rosemary was only a couple of inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but with his body becoming weaker, she seemed taller and stronger than she ever had before to him.

“You’re going to stay here. I don’t need you falling like you did yesterday and scaring the bejesus out of me.” Rosemary wandered back into the kitchen, pulling out the take-out boxes from Coral Gables. She arranged everything on a tray and took it into the bedroom. Just as she set everything down, a knock came at the door. She walked back towards the front of the house, seeing a woman standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Fern!” Rosemary was surprised to see her close friend on the porch, her voice rising in excitement. They hugged and Fern made sure to squeeze her poor friend a little harder than usual. They broke apart. “What are you doing here?”

“Robert is one of my clients. I dropped off some paperwork for him earlier and he told me to come pick them up. Sorry to interrupt dinner.”

“Never! Come in, I bought more than enough, and he won’t eat that much.” Rosemary’s voice dropped a little and she smiled slightly as a friendly hand rested on her wrist. “Anyway, please stay and join us.”

Fern nodded and walked into the house towards the bedroom as Rosemary ran to get more plates and silverware. When she entered the room, the two were in discussion, their voices low and serious. The conversation stopped as she walked up to them and both smiled at her.

The three sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company and Rosemary noted that Robert ate more than he usually did, which made her feel better. Fern stayed long after dinner was over and as Robert dozed off, the two women continued to visit, but moved the conversation into the living room.

They had been friends for several years, meeting after bumping into each other at Robert’s store. Soon their duo became a quartet as local banker Amy met them at a local charity event and Rosemary’s old college friend Tina joined them as she set up her vet practice in Douglas, just south of the town. The three women had been worried about Rosemary for weeks, visiting where they could and keeping a lively group text going.

When she realized it was midnight, Fern took her leave and Rosemary cleaned up the kitchen. She walked into Robert’s bedroom to check on him. He woke up when he heard her and smiled. She touched his shoulder and sat in the chair next to his bed, the place she spent the most time in these days.

“I’m sorry I woke you. How are you feeling?” He reached out to pat her hand and she held it as tight as she dared. He was so pale, as if he were fading away from her in front of her very eyes.

“Like death warmed over.” The chuckle sounded strained as his breathing continued to be hard for him. “Rosie, I never said it, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I always make time for you, Robert. You know that.”

“And dinner is always Coral Gables.”

“Exactly. Tradition.”

“Tradition.” Robert coughed hard and heavy. He took the tissue she handed to him and wiped the spittle from his mouth. “A good historian loves tradition.”

“And the story it tells.” She sat back and watched him. He suddenly looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Rosie, are you happy?” She looked at him, surprise on her face. “I mean in general. I’ve never seen you date anyone long term, you hardly go on vacation. You work a lot. Are you happy?”

“I guess? I don’t know. I love my work, I have the girls, I have you. And yeah, sure I could do with more vacation time, but who doesn’t?” She looked away, focusing on the window, although it was too dark to see. “Dating is. . . It’s not easy and most men don’t seem to appreciate my odd hours. Or I’m too tall. Or I’m too loud. And I’d rather be single and happy than in a relationship and miserable.”

“That’s fair.” He smiled. “What happened to that doctor in Kalamazoo?”

“Him?” She wrinkled her nose. “God, he was a massive asshole. Ego the size of the Grand Canyon. I went on two dates with him and had enough.”

Robert laugh slightly before sighing.

“I just worry about you Rose. I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone. I want you to live a happy life, full of love that you deserve. Promise me that you’ll make time for that.”

“I promise, Robert.” She smiled as his eyes drooped closed, his soft snores starting almost immediately. She set back in the chair, propping her feet up on the edge of the bed to watch him until sleep came to claim her.

#Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

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rubbrfrk9 · 5 years

Photo

HYPNAGOGIA: A Rubberborn story

Shiny black rubber face.

Shiny black rubber hands.

In the dream: they grow from the shadows. They clump against the walls and seethe in the corners. I know in my rational brain that these are simply the places the light can’t go through, the trunks and limbs and branches of the trees outside my windows, whipping frenziedly back & forth in the wind of a nor’easter. I know that the long black void cast by the slightly-ajar bedroom door is a natural phenomenon, and that the reason it moves slightly back & forth is the intense wind, sneaking through every minute crack of the house that it can find.

The only light in the room is from the streetlights, outside. I need a little bit of light to sleep - the absolute dark, well, that’s obvious, isn’t it, what it does to me -

And I see it, sometimes, even if it isn’t happening, and it fills my head with such a buzzing, squirrelly fear that I can’t focus on anything else - the horrible, evil lift of the black-faced figures from the pooling shadows, their slow, inexorable creep towards my beside -

Feel their creeping invasion, their glossy, shiny hands on my shoulder -

I scream, and my partner screams, and we both jump back to our own sides of the bed. His face is crawling with the crossing, un-crossing shadows of the trees - but also alarm, concern. “Honey,” he draggles out of his sleep-churned mouth - “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

“Dreams,” I say, and pull the sheets up to my chin. “Just dreams.”

“Just dreams,” mutters my partner, already having loosed himself down the slide of unconsciousness.

“Yeah,” I repeat, eyes as flung-open as shutters in a hurricane.

Outside, the nor’easter competes for attention with the frantic skirl of an ambulance, or a fire truck, or a police car - I can’t tell which. It rises and falls, like a giant with breathing difficulties, lowering itself at our windows. The glass rattles in the frames.

It’s an old house.

Sometimes I feel like it’s probably haunted. I mean, you can’t have a house that’s this old and not have at least one ghost. Too many past inhabitants not to have at least one snarl of psychic energy, somewhere - probably the basement, or the attic - in any case, neither place me or my partner have ever had to enter in our two years of living here.

Come to think of it, the trouble with my dreams - with the shadows - only started about a month ago, right around the time I came on the rubbrfrk9 tumblr for the first time.

I guess it makes sense that encountering a new fetish would spike some kind of interruption in the normal dreaming habits of a person. I’d never really given it much of a thought, rubber - but something about these pictures, man, they grabbed me, they arrested me, they grabbed me by the chin and made me stare into their endlessness.

It was a dude - single from what I could tell - who lived somewhere in the city. In the background of his pictures, I could see familiar skylines - skyscrapers, even - so I knew that he was local. But in a city of this magnitude, that’s still a near unspannable distance. So I followed the tumblr, I lurked, I scrolled every picture he’d ever posted.

In every single one, he was wearing a full, head to toe, shiny black rubber suit. In some pictures, he had on other clothing to accent it - but in every shot, the rubber was what stood out. And it wasn’t just shots in his apartment, in his bedroom, in the bathroom, in the shower even - it was out and about, on the streets, in broad daylight, or in parks at night time. The night shots, I’ll admit, were my favorite - his shiny, depthless black superimposed on the night’s sallow dark - he was more night than the sky was, at least in the city.

There was, however, a problem, in that my partner was incredibly vanilla. He allowed for my endless fetish-related scrolling on tumblr, even had tried to get enthusiastic about my various paraphilia, but to no avail. We had sex, and we had great sex, but something about “just sex” never got me to the edge where I could truly feel liberation from my libido’s constant demand. I didn’t know how to explain to him my new-found obsession, and thus, found myself keeping it secret from him, like a Catholic with a sin - and just as suffused with guilt.

But still, rubbrfrk9 had awakened something inside of me. Something dark, something shiny, and something mute. It gave me a boner like nothing ever had before, and I yearned to be encased, too, like he was in every one of his pictures. I yearned to be side-by-side with him, maybe even be rubbrfrk10, if that’s how it all was to go down -

But no! I had to restrain myself from these kinds of fantasies. I had a stable, loving life with my partner, and we both had dayjobs, and our parents even knew each other now -

It was just one of those things that would have to be relegated to roleplay.

I did take one step - I went on eBay, and I got one of those old-school gas masks. The ones you see in the films about World War II, with the long rubber trunk and canister. I paid for it, and eagerly watched, day by day, as it inched closer to me.

The day it arrived, I put it on immediately, as my partner was still at work and wouldn’t be home for hours. I stared into the mirror at my blank face, my eyes obscured by the filmy glass of the eyepieces. I could tell from the quality that it was a replica - no one in their right mind would actually use it to filter gas out of the air - but still, somehow, the rubber of the mask felt so good, fitting so closely against the skin of my scalp and my cheeks, under my chin and tight against my forehead.

I don’t know how long I stared at myself in the mirror, standing there with my mouth hanging open inside the mask, breathing in and breathing out, hearing it hollowly, distantly, in my ears.

Shame was what woke me out of it. Shame and fear and regret. I stripped it off of my face (not without some longing, some lingering, foreign despair) and bundled it into a place under the bed, to hopefully be forgotten about. I’d gotten it out of my system now, right?

Wrong.

This is when the dreams started. The goopy, inky shadows, stretching out their hands for me. Whispering, even though stoically mute in their fluid motions towards the bed - these were not zombies, these were not monsters … if anything, they were alien creatures, glistening in the streetlights beneath my windowsill, inching towards the bed -

I yell, and it wakes up my partner again, who is this time less supportive, and more irritated. “Honey, take a pill, wouldja? Or drink some water milk … I dunno, just … sleeping good…” He trailed off, and pulled the sheets up around his chin, turned off, and snorted his way back into comfortable sleep.

I’ve drifted off again into the dream. It seems like, every time I dream lately, it picks up where it left off - the alien faces, the shiny rubber hands, they are even closer to being able to reach me. I can see the reflection of the light on my pale, white skin, in such contrast to theirs - oh god, oh god - am I reaching out to them? To them, as they get ever closer? Am I helping them narrow the gap?

This time, I don’t yell, but I jerk awake in the darkness, teeth chattering even though the heat is thick and filling the room.

A trailing waft of rubber-smell tickles my nostrils, and I sneeze, violently.

Part of me is afraid to turn on the light.

The other knows I must.

When my trembling hand reaches over to the switch, it flicks it fast and withdraws back to my body as quickly as a mouse to its wall-hole. I almost want to comfort it with murmurs and words of solace, but I too am suddenly brought to a shudder when I realize that the ill-purchased gas mask is sitting on the bedspread, between my knees, staring at me with its blank, glassine eyes, almost accusing.

Of course it isn’t there. It’s still beneath the bed.

I quietly roll out of bed and crouch by the side, jamming my hand into the jumble of clothes, boxes, and other things beneath - yes, I can confirm that it is in fact still where I wedged it. Not on top of the bed, staring at me.

I’m hard as a rock in my basketball shorts. The skin of my face is prickling, almost like I’m having an allergic reaction to something - little, millimeters-big needles sinking into my flesh. It’s pre-occupying, but not intensely irritating. Just feels kind of peculiar, a little rippling wave of heat. I should go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face. I am probably just overheated from the dream.

The dream! Can it be, in fact, that I’m still dreaming? Will I walk down the hallway to the bathroom only to find that shadows bubble out of the faucet, like in every horror movie ever? I’m feeling oblique, fuzzy waves of doubt and vertigo - in the thick of the night, like this, with the wind howling its head off down the street, it’s easy to become slightly unhinged. The rain taps and staccatoes its way along the windowpane - one salvo followed by another, like empty bullet shells from an automatic weapon hitting the asphalt.

In the bathroom, it’s a little quieter. The light is harsh, anodyne - I keep meaning to get a softer bulb. It makes my face look even more pale than it is - a ghast stands before me, one eye half-lidded, the other wide open - I look like I’ve gone a couple of rounds in a boxing ring. My hair sticks up on one side of my head, where it’s mashed flat on the other.

I bend over to splash some cooling water on my face, and it leaves me feeling strangely aroused. My belly sort of drops as I feel the cooling patter of the drops hitting my face - much like, I imagine - the windows of the building outside.

I feel that intense vertigo again, my eyes closed, leaning over the sink, wobbly a bit more than I’d like, when I feel the rumble in my gut tell me it’s time to take a seat on the toilet for a minute or two.

Somehow, I have my phone in my hand, and before I know it, I’m straddling the toilet and scrolling my tumblr feed, instantly navigating to the magnifying glass, searching:

rubbrfrk9, I type in, and feel a long line of drool suddenly separate itself from the corner of my mouth and splat on the tiles below. My screen is instantly filled with the calming influence of rubber - black on black on black, shiny rubber hands and shiny rubber faces.

The sink, the pipes, make a bad metallic gurgle, as though clearing their throat, and in that sound I can hear voices - distorted, but voices, and they are saying

All hail the Rubbered One

And I’m up in a frenzy, pulling my shorts up around my waist, panic striking at my spinal cord. “Who said that?” I say out loud. I grab a fingerful of skin in between two fingers and pinch, HARD, to make sure I’m not still dreaming.

Pain riots through me, blood surges up to fill the injured area, turns my skin blotchy and red. Nope, not dreaming.

And then my eyes wander back down to the phone in my hand. It’s still bright and alert, still filled with images from the tumblr.

Has it moved?

No, that’s impossible.

Perhaps it’s a .gif, or one of those Boomerang photos.

But no, nothing to mark it as such.

This is the one of rubbrfrk9 outside, in some kind of wooded area. Maybe even in the park near to my house. It could be. He is head-to-toe in his blanked-out black rubber suit, even wearing black, 14-eye Dr Marten boots. Every last bit of him is obscured. He could be someone’s silhouette, rather than an actual person himself.

I can feel my cock start to leak precum at the thought. I feel it dribble down my thigh and join my drool on the tiles.

All hail the Rubbered One, I hear again, but this time, I hear it in my own head.

The drone - for that’s what it is, a rubber drone, rubbrfrk9, according to the watermark on the picture - is slowly, ever so slowly, turning his rubbered head towards me on the small surface of my phone.

I should scream again, but my mouth is clamped shut. It’s just a dream, I tell myself, feverishly. Any second now, I’ll wake up and my partner will be scolding me, the wind will be banging against the walls -

But no such thing happens. The rubbered man is moving, so slowly that it could be all of this is just a hallucination - he is turning his head, staring blankly at me, he is lifting his arm, his shiny rubber hand - he is gesturing to me, he is crooking a finger - he is turning his hand, raising his arm -

The wind in the trees is rustling the bushes behind him.

This is no longer a picture on my phone, this is a portal. There is no screen.

The small bathroom fills with the intense, the overwhelming, plastic smell of rubber.

A moan escapes me.

I see, out of the corner of my eye, the shadows in the kitchen merging, coalescing, black drop by black drop, hearing the whispers in the wind as it surges against the side of the house -

I see that the corners of my phone are being taken over too, by the shadows - small tentacles, writhing, lashing, as the Rubbered One stretches languourously towards me, his arm skewing the screen’s perspective in a tilt-shift manner that makes me dizzy -

All hail the Rubbered One!

“All hail the Rubbered One!” I say, helplessly -

And I’m awake in my bed.

I’m staring thoughtlessly at the wall ahead of me.

The wind is calm, and the storm has passed.

Next to me, my partner is slumbering, tossing and muttering to himself.

My hand reaches out towards his naked shoulder.

His poor, naked shoulder, about to meet the touch of my

Shiny, black hand -

In the corners of the room, in the deep of the hallway, the silence rustles. On my bedside table, the image of a wooded area - some bushes to the left, a pine tree to the right, is oddly empty. One might think, looking at it, that it’s a strange thing to take a picture of - a foreground, with no subject.

A smile curves my lips, but you’d never see it.

Not underneath the rubber of my new face.

330 notes · View notes

mdelpin · 4 years

Text

The Red Dragon - Chapter 30

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch29

Chapter 30

“I have a what?!” Gray spluttered, starting at the two dragons in front of him in disbelief.

“A dragon soul,” Atlas repeated slowly, “As in, you used to be a dragon.”

“How the hell does that even happen?!”

“Many years ago, there were all kinds of dragons on this Earth, but in recent years that has changed. Disease, infighting, and of course, the war all took their toll on our once numerous populations,” Igneel explained calmly, intuiting that this approach would be more productive than Atlas’ bluntness.

“It is my guess that as fewer dragons were born and human populations exploded, the dragon souls found their way into humans. Nature has a way of balancing inequities out,” Igneel shrugged.

Gray stared at him, his mouth still open in shock, but there was something in his expression that gave Igneel hope. He could tell that the boy was already considering this information and what it could mean to his situation.

“Natsu’s mother?” Gray asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand, to give credence to what he was being told.

“We think she might have possessed a dragon soul as well,” Igneel responded. “It would explain why her magical ability was so much stronger than any other human I encountered while living in Talos, or why she was my mate.”

“I used to be a dragon?” Gray’s voice trembled as he looked down at his body, “That is very hard for me to accept.”

“I’m not going to try to convince you one way or the other. You already saw it for yourself,” Atlas said impatiently, “You have within you the soul of an ice dragon. There haven’t been many of those for a long time.”

“That explains so much, though,” Atlas’ mirth was loud, his laughter echoing inside the room and irritating Gray.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“Well, while it’s true that you can never be sure who you will end up with as a soulmate, most pairings happen within races. Matings between dragon races are not unheard of, but it is quite rare to find them within dragons of opposing elements.”

“That is true,” Igneel agreed, “but when they do happen, as in the case of Sting and Rogue’s dragon parents, the bonds that develop are incredibly strong, just like the bond you share with Natsu. I highly doubt many other bonds would have survived the damage yours suffered.”

Gray’s eyes widened as he absorbed Igneel’s words. “Okay, let’s say for now that I believe you,” Gray said, “Why does any of this matter? Regardless of what kind of soul I have, I’m still human, and Natsu is still a dragon.”

He fixed his gaze on both dragons and tried to wait patiently for an answer as they once again had a conversation he wasn’t privy to.

Igneel finally faced him, looking more solemn than Gray had ever seen him. “What if there was a way for you to live your life out with Natsu as equals?”

“As equals? What do you mean-,” Gray stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly grasping what the dragon was asking him.

“You want to turn me into a dragon somehow?!” The words sounded ridiculous to his ears, but he could see from Igneel’s quiet nod and Atlas’ scowl that it was precisely what the dragons were proposing. “But how is that even possible?”

“It would be a gamble,” Atlas revealed. “But I’ve been looking into soul magic, among other things, and it is at the very least within the realm of possibility to move your soul into a dragon body.”

“You can’t be serious,” Gray argued, “That’s impossible.”

“Not impossible,” Atlas corrected, “It would just require very complex magic. The amount of latent energy existing within all lifeforms is enormous. It’s a combination of magical potential, body size, and lifeforce. Some spells, like the one Igneel used to turn into a human temporarily, require so much magic that they eat up amounts of your lifeforce in exchange. If we deconstructed your body and converted all of that energy into magic, we can harness it to-”

Atlas stopped in midsentence, his gaze shifting to Igneel and studying him carefully. His expression twisted into one of distress as he yelled out, “Is that how you were planning to generate the energy we need?”

Igneel remained silent, but he looked away, and that seemed to be answer enough for Atlas. “NO! I will have no part of this!”

“Atlas,” Igneel finally gazed upon his brother, his expression too complicated for Gray to interpret, “There is no other way, you must know that.”

“NO! I will find another way!” Atlas roared, charging out of the room.

Gray had no idea what was happening; he hadn’t understood much of what Atlas had been trying to explain, but given his reaction, it was clear that there was more at stake than what he was being told. “What’s going on? Why is he so upset with you?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Igneel smiled, but Gray could tell that he was upset about Atlas’ reaction. “All you need to do is decide whether this is something you want. Would you give up the life you have now for a chance to live together as a pair of mated dragons?”

Gray didn’t like being kept in the dark, but he supposed it would only be a problem if he decided to go through with it, and he could always ask more questions at that point. “How long do I have?”

Igneel tilted his head as he thought over Gray’s question, “I wouldn’t take longer than a week or two to decide. A spell of this magnitude requires a lot of preparation, and we’re only going to get one shot at it.”

“Only one? Why?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it. There are risks involved in what we are attempting, but it’s still a windfall given your situation. You should continue practicing your astral projection,” Igneel advised, “Learn to control it so that you can remain in that state for long periods, no matter the circumstances. It might very well mark the difference between success and failure.”

Gray got an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. Igneel had always answered all his questions honestly, but he had clearly avoided this one. Just what did this spell entail?

“I’ll take my leave now; I should go speak to my brother.”

Gray watched Igneel leave, trying to ignore the tense way in which the dragon held himself as he walked towards what would most likely not be a pleasant conversation.

I have a dragon soul.

He allowed that thought steep in his brain. Was it actually possible? Gray knew what he had seen in that mirror, but could he trust it? The whole thing felt so surreal, and he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

But if there was even a sliver of a chance at having a semblance of a normal life with Natsu, one where they could live together as a couple for longer than one day out of the year, shouldn’t he risk it? Would he come to regret it if he didn’t?

He sat back on his bed, determined to practice his astral projection. Maybe spending more time as his dragon self would help him to arrive at a decision.

0-0

“I said that I want nothing to do with this, and I meant it,” Atlas roared the second Igneel entered his bed-chamber.

“Atlas -, “ Igneel took a deep breath, collecting all of the patience he’d developed in his long tenure as King.

“No. Don’t you dare Atlas me!”

“It’s the only way, and you know it,” Igneel kept his voice low and soothing, the same way he did when trying to calm Natsu down.

“How can you expect me to just go along with it?”

“I have been responsible for so much pain over the years, but none worse than the grief all my mistakes caused Natsu. Gray as well, for it was my apathy that killed his family. If I can do this for them, I have to try. You must see that.”

“That’s not true. I’m the one that accelerated his transformation. If anyone should pay the price for what happened to Natsu, it should be me.”

“Atlas, I’ve lived a long, happy life. I found my soulmate, fathered a child, watched him grow into someone I’m proud of. You know this, you were always right beside me. I know this is hard for you to accept, but I want to do this. Natsu doesn’t need me anymore, but he does need Gray. This current arrangement they have, you know it’s hurting them both. Besides, it’s time for me to return to Porlyusica.”

“If you do this now, you won’t be able to return to her,” Atlas announced, “Acnologia has a portion of your soul trapped inside of him, if you die before he does, your soul will disintegrate into nothingness. You’ll never be able to reunite with her.”

“I was hoping you hadn’t figured that out,” Igneel grimaced, even as his shoulders sagged, “ but that still doesn’t change my decision.”

“You know, and you’re still willing to go through with this? This is madness! At least let me go after Acnologia, once I kill him then we can do this,” Atlas pleaded, “You’ve waited for so long, what’s a little bit longer?”

“We are only going to get one shot at this, and Natsu can’t know about it before it happens. He would never agree.”

“You can’t just leave him like that, Igneel! He’s already lost so much,” Atlas pleaded, clinging to anything that could change his brother’s mind.

“I’ve already said my goodbye to him,” Igneel said simply, giving his brother a sad smile. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Atlas refused to let things end like this for his brother, so while Igneel continued to work out the specifics of the spell they were writing, Atlas began the long process of poring over every single tome and scroll in their library. Searching for any scrap of information regarding soulmates and soulbonds, anything that might help him keep his brother from suffering a fate that he knew would be worse than death.

0-0

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” Lyon demanded, sitting down at the table Gray had chosen to eat his lunch in the dining room of the Village Guard headquarters.

Gray turned his head to the side, surprised to find his brother next to him.

“Huh?”

“Exactly that, you’ve been distracted for days,” Lyon pointed out before shoving a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Oh, just have a lot on my mind, I guess,” Gray chuckled nervously, not having the first clue on how even to begin to explain to Lyon the thought that was always on his mind.

Would you give up the life you have now for a chance to live together as a pair of mated dragons?

Lyon would think that the stress of his situation with Natsu had finally driven him mad, and Gray couldn’t blame him. The whole thing was insane. Deep in his heart, Gray knew what he wanted to do, but he also realized it was selfish even to consider it.

The same excuses repeated themselves in his head. There were plenty of people who needed him - Lyon, Erza, Anna, even Juvia. They all cared about him, and he would hurt them if he suddenly disappeared from their lives, this time for good. Then there was the promise he’d made to protect the village from danger, which he took very seriously.

Even so, he’d spent hours training his astral projection, remembering Igneel’s warning. The more he practiced, the easier it became to separate his soul from his body. At first, he had only thought about getting good enough to have Atlas teach him how to reach the astral realm so that he could talk to Natsu.

Then he realized that would be a mistake, how would Natsu respond to seeing him there? To know that despite Gray possessing the soul of a dragon, their situation hadn’t changed. He couldn’t do that to his mate, not until he had come to a final decision.

“Worried about Natsu?” Lyon asked, and when Gray nodded, he quickly changed the topic. “ I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he announced in between bites, “I’m planning on visiting Ur’s grave in a couple of days. Would you like to come? It’s been a long time since we’ve been to see her.”

Gray thought about it briefly, according to what Igneel had said he still had plenty of time to make his decision, and it had been a very long time since he had gone to visit her. “Sure, sign me up!”

“Great, I’ll make sure Erza gives you the same day off,” Lyon declared, “So, how are the dragons treating you? I can’t even imagine how you manage the heat, the one time I was in there I was miserable.”

“No joke! It is stifling, especially with this heat. Natsu’s uncle cast some spell in our room that lowers the temperature so at least it’s comfortable in there,” Gray explained, “To be honest, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be, Natsu’s dad is nice, and the other two mostly leave me alone.”

“God, this summer has been brutal! Erza used to stand in front of the refrigerator to get cool until she realized that she could turn me into her personal cooling unit,” Lyon sighed, but they both knew he was full of it, he loved every minute of it.

Gray laughed and listened to Lyon go on about Erza and even managed to offer some Natsu stories in return. Lunch was over much too soon, but Gray eagerly awaited their upcoming day trip.

Several days later, they set off towards the village where they had lived with Ur, reminiscing on some of the people they had known and wondering what had become of them. They stopped at a field not too far from their destination to pick flowers for her grave.

Gray found himself wondering what Ur would have advised him to do if she’d been aware of his predicament. She had never been one to tell them what to do, preferring to let them figure things out on their own, occasionally guiding them when she felt they had lost their way. It was one of the things he’d always admired about her.

Remembering her love of roses, Gray carefully molded some around her headstone, creating small crevices where they could arrange the flowers they had picked.

“You’ve always had such a great eye for detail,” Lyon praised, admiring Gray’s creation, “I rather think you would have made an excellent artist if you hadn’t had magic. I was always too impatient, so Dynamic Ice-Make was a better fit for me.”

Lyon grabbed some of the flowers and placed them in pleasant bursts of color. “You know, it’s been all these years, but I still miss her.”

“I do, too,” Gray admitted, grabbing another bunch and helping Lyon. He tied the remaining flowers together with a bit of string and placed them underneath the engraving of her name, Ur Milkovich. He spread the blanket they had brought along and sat down facing the grave.

Lyon joined him, and they sat quietly for a few minutes, each caught up in thoughts of their teacher.

“So, are you finally going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Lyon asked; his eyes never straying from the headstone.

Gray gawked at his brother in disbelief, “Are you telling me that you planned this whole thing just to manipulate me into talking to you?”

Lyon chuckled, “I mean, I had been planning on asking you to come with me to visit, but I kept putting it off. There never seemed to be a right time. I think she’d like to know what we were up to.”

Gray debated keeping the situation to himself, but he quickly realized there was no one better to discuss it with. Lyon had always tried his best to be supportive regarding his relationship with Natsu. It would be a colossal mistake to waste this opportunity when his brother was clearly willing to listen. He threw caution to the wind and confided, “What would you say if I told you that I had a dragon soul?”

“A dragon soul?” Lyon pulled out a blade of grass and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Where did you get that idea?”

“The dragons, but It’s not an idea. I’ve seen it,” Gray emphasized, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding on the matter.

“I guess I’d say start from the beginning,” Lyon shifted until he was lying on his side, propping his head up with his hand as he got ready to listen.

“You’re not going to say I’m insane?”

“Nothing that comes out of your mouth surprises me anymore. You’re married to a fucking dragon for God’s sake.”

Gray laughed at his response, feeling relieved now that he knew Lyon wasn’t going to attempt to discredit what he was going to tell him. The words poured out of him. He recounted how he had learned how to astral project in the hopes of being able to communicate with Natsu while he was away. Described his shock at seeing his reflection in the mirror and his reluctance to accept what he had seen.

He told Lyon everything, including how the dragons had thought there was a chance they could create a spell that could move his soul into a dragon body and his suspicion that Igneel was hiding something from him. Once he was finished, he waited for any response from his brother.

“Wow, gotta say I wasn’t expecting that,” Lyon admitted, sitting up and staring at Ur’s grave while he thought. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Gray confessed, “I know what I’d like to do, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Can you show me what you look like?” Lyon asked, his eyes full of a curiosity that made Gray smile.

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” Gray closed his eyes briefly, focusing on what he’d now seen many times in the mirror before calling on his magic and creating a small replica in his hand. He took great care to add as much detail as he could remember.

Gray started by creating a basic dragon shape, with its four legs directly underneath it, each foot sporting three forward-facing claws and another backward-facing one at the rear of the foot. Next, he worked at the snout, making it narrower and forming the spiky horns that sat atop his head, their shape resembling the ice swords he often molded in battle. Gray added the elegant fin-like membranes of the wings, which looked like they were crafted from the smoothest ice he’d ever seen. Lastly, he focused on the tail, shaping the fins that covered the lower half of it, culminating in a clump of ice spikes that tapered into a very sharp point. There was no easy way to show the fur covering his body, but he tried his best to give the impression of it. Gray kept working at it until he was content with the results, only then was he ready to show it to his brother.

Lyon’s sharp intake of breath was unexpected, as was the request to hold the sculpture. Gray handed it over, watching as Lyon turned it around and around, looking at it from every possible angle until he seemed satisfied.

“That’s beautiful,” Lyon breathed. He put the sculpture down gently on the blanket and worked at creating his own. He worked at it for a few minutes, but as he’d mentioned, he wasn’t the most patient. However, it didn’t take long for Gray to understand what Lyon was trying to do. He was creating a likeness of Natsu. It was much less detailed than Gray’s dragon, but it was still easily recognizable. Once he was done, Lyon imbued it with some of his dynamic ice-make magic, and the sculpture began to fly gracefully around them. Lyon grabbed Gray’s sculpture carefully and did the same until both dragons flew side by side in fluid, graceful movements. It made his heart ache to see his fondest wish displayed right in front of him.

Lyon chuckled at whatever he saw reflected in Gray’s face, “It seems to me you’ve already made your decision. So what’s the problem?”

“How can I leave you all behind, after everything you’ve done for me?” Gray voiced his concern, expecting his brother to understand his feelings on the matter.

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Lyon snapped, displaying an anger Gray had rarely seen, especially directed at him. “Don’t you dare use us as an excuse! You’re being offered an incredible opportunity, one that solves all of your problems. If you’re afraid of going through with it, then you need to admit that to yourself. Fear is healthy, and you can figure out where it’s coming from. Heck, I’ll even help you, but this has nothing to do with any of us. This is about you and Natsu.”

“But what about whatever Igneel is hiding?” Gray nibbled on his lip, hoping Lyon could tell him something that would make him feel better about the whole mess.

“What about it? Do you trust Igneel?”

“Well, yeah, as far as I know he’s never lied to me, and he’s always been kind,” Gray replied honestly. He liked his father in law very much, but he couldn’t stop wondering what it was that he was keeping secret. It gave him a bad feeling.

“Then you just need to accept that whatever he’s hiding is his problem, not yours. You aren’t responsible for the choices or actions of others,” Lyon pointed out, pragmatic as always. “All I know is, if Erza and I were in your situation, I wouldn’t think twice about it. I’d be a dragon already.”

Gray didn’t question the truth of that statement. For all the wavering and insecurity Lyon had held at the beginning of his relationship with Erza, Gray was aware there was nothing his brother wouldn’t do for his wife.

“Do you still hate dragons?” Lyon asked him quietly, a contrast to his previous outburst.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just, I don’t know the first thing about being a dragon,” Gray finally admitted, “If I changed, I’d really be the Dragon Queen or King or whatever. What if I mess everything up? Not to mention I’d have to leave everything I know behind, I’d never see you or Erza again.”

“Whoa there, dude, you’re making me anxious just listening to you,” Lyon complained, “Of course you’d see us again. What’s the big hurry anyway? Can’t you just talk to Natsu about this when he returns?”

“No, they want to do the spell before Natsu returns from his trip, Igneel said I had about two weeks to decide.”

Lyon studied him intently, his words coming out as a groan, “Why is nothing ever simple with you two?”

He scratched his head, “In the end, none of that changes anything. It’s just noise. There is only one question you need to ask yourself. Do you want to be able to spend the rest of your life with your husband as equals, or are you happy with things the way they are?”

“You know I’m not, I want to go back to the way things were, but that’s not possible.”

“Then isn’t this the next best thing? Don’t forget, dragons live for a very long time. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to learn everything you need. Just promise me you’ll give me a ride once you change!” Lyon grinned excitedly.

“God, can you imagine what Ur would have thought of all this?”

“I think she would have enjoyed fighting against an ice dragon,” Gray mused.

“Oh, definitely, kind of curious what types of things she would have molded,” Lyon landed the two sculptures gently and handed them to Gray to examine.

He looked at the two dragons standing together, and he felt his chest tighten. This could be them.

Gray knew Lyon was right, about everything.

He was afraid, which was one of the worst reasons to shy away from a course of action. And he couldn’t deny what his heart wanted. To be free to give and receive affection, to fight for fun like they used to do, to experience life on their terms. He could almost imagine the shock on Natsu’s face when he saw him, and he smirked in anticipation, remembering how Natsu had said ice dragons were pretty. For once in their tumultuous relationship, fate had seen fit to correct a mistake. He’d be a fool to refuse this chance.

“Alright, I’m going to do it!” Gray exclaimed, and now that he’d finally come to a decision, he began to feel excited about the future. He still had a lot of work to do on his end, and he was determined to do everything in his power to help things along.

“Good.” Lyon smiled, giving him a quick hug before unpacking the lunch Erza had prepared for them. “It’s about time something went your way. I swear, sometimes I wonder who you two managed to piss off up there.”

Gray nodded, grabbing a sandwich and wolfing it down. They began reminiscing about their childhood and their time with Ur. Once lunch was over, they talked to their teacher, telling her everything that had happened since they had last seen her.

The time to leave Ur was soon approaching, and it made him sad to know he might never be back. It was a grim reminder that he would also have to say goodbye to Lyon and Erza soon. Something he wasn’t ready for, despite his growing excitement about the future.

“I never thanked either of you for coming to my rescue at that bakery,” Gray lamented, “You’ve been such a great brother ever since, even when I was difficult.”

“You’ve always been difficult,” Lyon teased, and when Gray began to sniffle, he couldn’t hide his own tears. Gray felt strong arms wrap around him tightly, and he rested his head on Lyon’s chest, letting the tears flow until there were none left.

“You know Ur didn’t like tears,” Lyon chided gently, “How about we show her how far we’ve come instead.”

Lyon stood and immediately got into his molding stance, and Gray followed suit. He’d always loved sparring with Natsu, but Lyon had been his first real opponent, the one that he measured himself against. He did his best against him now, eager to show off his progress to the woman who had given him a home when he’d had none.

0-0

Natsu and Happy had been flying for days. They usually didn’t take a direct route to Drak Aast, well aware that Acnologia was out there somewhere, and he was more than likely trying to find its location. They had only managed to keep it a secret by not telling any dragon outside of their most trusted circle where it was.

Acnologia’s absence was something that was beginning to work at Natsu’s nerves. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that the renegade had given up.

And it wasn’t just Acnologia who was absent, neither Natsu nor Atlas had found any sign of any of the other renegades for months. Something which made them think that either Acnologia was attempting to unite them under him for an all-out attack, or something even more sinister was going on.

Neither possibility was particularly reassuring. Natsu knew they needed to come up with a strategy to take the renegade out once and for all, but it seemed like an impossible task. Their most significant asset, which was magic, was useless against him. Having absorbed portions of the souls of so many dragons and linked them with his magic, Acnologia had managed to make himself immune to most of their attacks.

Natsu knew there had to be a way to defeat him, but he couldn’t see it. He could only hope that the next time they met, he’d be able to figure something out since so far he’d been the only one who had managed to injure the renegade significantly.

His thoughts were interrupted by his first glimpse of the island; its shape barely discernible in the distance. He extended his senses out one last time to make sure they weren’t being followed and began his approach with Happy on his tail.

Natsu relaxed as they got nearer. Although he knew Belserion was frustrated by his long absence while he had worked things out with Gray, it rarely took long to get the dragon to relax. Natsu would get all his duties taken care of as quickly as possible and spend the rest of his time visiting his friends and exploring the island with Happy.

It wasn’t long before he realized he could kiss his plans goodbye. The sounds of a fight reached his ears, and it was clear that it wasn’t a friendly spar. He and Happy looked at each other in confusion and hurried towards the noise.

A group of dragons hovered near the entrance of his cave, launching their breath attacks at the Talos dragons, who were positioned in a defensive circle around the dragon slayers. Belserion yelled at the slayers to run into the cave as Metalicana took to the air.

“What is going on here?” Natsu yelled, hoping that his voice would be enough to stop the fray, but both sides were too intent on the other to hear him.

“Happy, go in the cave and protect the slayers,” he commanded, wanting to keep his friend out of whatever this was.

“Aye, sir!” Happy chirped, making his way carefully to the cave’s entrance.

Once he was inside, Natsu made his way over to Belserion landing at his side.

“Nice of you to show up,” the dragon scowled, letting Natsu know he was still pissed.

Natsu ignored him for the moment, examining the dragons that were attacking. There were several types of dragons present, so whatever they were unhappy about was something that affected multiple dragon races. They continued launching their breath attacks, but now that the slayers were safely inside the cave, the Talos dragons were retaliating, which was only going to escalate the problem.

Natsu wasn’t about to let that happen. He let out the most imposing roar he was capable of, determined to get their attention. He followed it up with a bellowed command, which he knew they’d be conditioned to follow.

“ENOUGH!”

The other dragons finally noticed his presence, and both sides ceased their attacks, although none of them seemed content to do so.

“Did you learn nothing from the war? We can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves,” Natsu reminded them, shifting his gaze from dragon to dragon, disturbed when all met his gaze evenly. Whatever this was, it was important to them. It would need to be dealt with, or the peace they’d managed so far could shatter.

He recognized one of the attacking dragons, an Earth dragon that had fought at his side during the war and called out to him. “Efigénia, can you tell me what this about?”

Efigénia bowed his head as an indication of respect before addressing Natsu bravely. “Dragon King, we demand that the slayers leave Drak Aast immediately.”

Natsu was caught off guard by the anger he’d heard in the voice of the Earth dragon. He’d been somewhat aware of some animosity developing between the dragons and the slayers, but he clearly hadn’t understood how far it had progressed.

“But this is their home. They are here with their parents,” Natsu responded, trying to think of a way to mediate this to a peaceful outcome.

“This is our home, the only safe place left for us to thrive,” Efigénia declared to the boisterous agreement of the other dragons that stood with him, “Our eggs will soon hatch, and we don’t want the slayers here when that happens. They betrayed us once, and they could do it again. We are not willing to take that chance.”

Natsu wanted to defend his friends and protest that they would never do that, but he remained silent, reflecting on the dragon’s words. Dragons were extremely territorial, having them all share one island already placed a lot of stress on them. Creating a situation where they were also anxious for their young might push them well past their breaking point.

The dragons only wished to protect their offspring from an attack that, in their minds, could come at any time. As much as Natsu would like to tell them they were worrying over nothing, he knew he couldn’t do that.

Despite possessing dragon magic within them, slayers still thought of themselves as mostly human. They had different desires and motivations. The truth was that it wasn’t an unreasonable request, and if he wanted to maintain their hard-earned peace, he had no choice but to support it.

“Very well,” Natsu responded, “I have heard your demand, I give you my word that I will consider the matter. Belserion and I will discuss how to proceed. Return tomorrow for my decision.”

The dragons nodded their acceptance and flew away. Natsu waited until he could no longer make them out before turning to Belserion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize things had gotten this bad. I would have attempted to get here sooner.”

Belserion shrugged, “There’s no point in fighting over things that can’t be changed. The question is, what are we going to do about this?”

“The only thing we can. We have to tell the slayers they have to return to the human world. I mean, do they even want to stay?”

“Some of them do,” Belserion pointed out, “Irene, Wendy, maybe some of the others. Then there’s Sting and Rogue,” he added carefully, aware that it was a sore subject.

“What about them?”

“Where are they going to go?” Belserion asked, the severity of his expression confusing Natsu.

“Home?” Natsu shrugged, not understanding the issue.

“I didn’t expect to hear you say that after what happened,” Belserion replied honestly.

“Talos is their home,” Natsu declared, and this was the truth. They had lived there most of their lives, and he had no desire to take that away from them. “They are welcome to return there if they so choose, I won’t stand in their way.”

“I think they would only accept that coming from you,” Belserion remarked, observing Natsu hopefully.

“I will consider talking to Rogue later,” Natsu muttered, “I am interested to see how he’s doing with Gajeel’s contraption.”

“Natsu-” Belserion attempted, but Natsu didn’t want a lecture at that moment.

“That’s the best I can offer,” Natsu declared before turning away and entering his cave.

The dragon slayers stood huddled together in the cave’s antechamber looking spooked, while Metalicana and Skiadrum stood guard over them.

“Hey, Uncles,” Natsu greeted them with a fond smile, happy to see them again after several months away.

“Natsu,” Metalicana grinned, “That was quite the roar, Gajeel almost soiled his pants.”

“Hey! Speak for yourself, Bucket of Bolts!” Gajeel snapped, and Natsu couldn’t help but laugh at how little the two had changed.

He looked around the cave until he found Happy excitedly talking with Rogue. He observed the dragon slayer for a minute, noticing the metal legs. He was pleased that Gajeel’s idea had worked, he’d hated the thought of Rogue being unable to move on his own for the rest of his life.

“I see you were good for something after all,” Natsu praised Gajeel, nodding his head towards where Rogue stood.

Gajeel flushed at the compliment, “Yeah, we had a few false starts, but we figured it out. He won’t win any races, but he can get along on his own pretty good now.”

“I’m glad,” Natsu declared, “Thanks for not giving up.”

“It’s not like there’s a hell of a lot else for me to do here,” Gajeel grunted.

“About that, I’d like to talk to you and Irene in private,” Natsu requested, knowing that the two were considered the leaders of the remaining slayers.

“I’m here,” Irene announced from behind Natsu, and he turned to greet her, immediately dismayed by what he observed. It was a sight he was familiar with from when he had been injured. Some of the skin on Irene’s face was cracked, revealing red scales underneath.

She had begun to dragonify.

It hit him harder than he thought it would, and he could understand why the dragons were so riled up, that must have brought back terrible memories for them. He had a bad feeling that Irene wouldn’t want to return home after all, and he could only think of Erza and how long she had been waiting for her mother’s return.

Natsu chose to remain silent for the moment, deeming it better to wait until he could talk to her alone. “Let’s go to my room.”

Belserion, Gajeel, and Irene followed him, none of them speaking until they had arrived at his chamber, the one place where they could be guaranteed not to be interrupted.

“Belserion and I have discussed it, and we think it best if the slayers leave Drak Aast and return to the human world. As their leaders, we’d like your help in coming up with a reasonable plan of action on how to make that happen safely.” Natsu examined the expressions of both dragon slayers at his decision, wanting to gauge how much opposition he could expect, but neither looked particularly surprised by his proclamation.

He waited a few minutes more to give them a chance to protest, but again there was nothing.

“They’ll be able to decide where they want to go and we can provide transportation. If we do it at night, we should be able to avoid detection.”

“What about their magic?” Gajeel asked.

“If they wish to keep it, they are welcome to. They’ve earned that right, I think. If they wish to remove it, we can do that too. We will need to remove all memories of their time here, though. I don’t want there to be any chance of them returning or worse leading someone here.”

“You’re thinking about Acnologia, aren’t you?” Irene guessed.

“He hasn’t been seen since his attack on Talos, I don’t know what he’s up to, but we have to assume he’s trying to find us. ”

Irene and Gajeel nodded in agreement.

“He won’t stop until he achieves his goal of destroying all dragons,” Irene frowned, “It’s a little concerning that he hasn’t shown himself in so long.”

Gajeel frowned, “I think a lot of the slayers understand the situation, but I’m gonna be honest, you’re going to get some pushback on the memory spell.”

“That part is not up for discussion,” Natsu snapped, ”I am not about to create a situation where one of the slayers could lead Acnologia here in exchange for their life.

“I’m not saying you’re in the wrong Runt. I’m just telling you that you can expect pushback,” Gajeel remarked.

“Right, sorry,” Natsu apologized, realizing he’d overreacted.

“You know, rather than getting pissy at me, you should just have it out with Sting about what happened,” Gajeel pointed out.

“How many dragon slayers are currently on the island, and how many days will they need to get ready to go?” Natsu ignored Gajeel’s words causing the Iron Dragon Slayer to sigh.

“There are fifteen altogether,” Irene declared, “most of them from different towns. We should coordinate groups, with Acnologia still out there I don’t think it wise to send any dragon out alone.”

“That’s true, and I’d have to go on every trip as I’m the only one besides Atlas who can cast the memory spell,” Natsu reasoned, “Belserion should stay here in my absence, so I guess I’ll have Metalicana and Skiadrum come as backup.”

Belserion grunted his agreement at his choices. “We could start three days from now, that should give you enough time to deal with the most pressing issues before heading out. You and Happy can take the Talos folks home when you’re ready to leave. Bright side, you’ll be home much sooner than usual.”

Natsu thought about that, deciding it was worth the hassle if he was able to both appease the dragons and get home to Gray sooner than expected. “Alright, that sounds good.”

“Gajeel, can you go talk to the slayers? I need to talk to Irene for a bit.”

“Sure thing, your Runtness,” Gajeel gave him a mock bow and made his exit.

Natsu snorted at the moniker but quickly turned his attention to Irene.

“When did it start?” He asked, examining the scales more closely now that they were alone.

“A few months ago, I was hoping it was just a fluke, but as you can see, it’s only getting worse,” Irene gave him a crooked smile. “I should have expected it; I’d just hoped that I could escape it.”

“Has Grandine tried to heal it?” Natsu fretted, trying to think of a way to make it go away so that Irene could return home.

“Yeah, both her and Wendy tried, it made no difference,” Irene shrugged disinterestedly, “There are more pressing things to worry about at the moment.”

“You can still go home,” he implored, “Did you know that Erza’s married now?”

“She is?” Irene breathed, the longing in her eyes unmistakable, although a steely glare immediately replaced it. “Who did she marry? What are they like?”

“She married my mate’s foster brother, an ice mage by the name of Lyon. He doesn’t have any problems putting me in my place,” Natsu grinned, “I’m sure you’ll love him.”

“Anna misses you too,” he added, hoping that bringing her up would sway Irene.

“I can’t let them see me like this, Natsu,” Irene pleaded with him.

“What if I removed your magic?” Natsu peered at Belserion for an answer to his next words, “If I did that, it shouldn’t be able to progress, right?”

Belserion appeared pensive, tapping his claws against the cave floor, “I think it should stop.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it wouldn’t get rid of what’s already there,” Irene pointed out.

“It’s a start,” Natsu urged, “Atlas was able to create an illusion spell that covered my scales so that Gray wouldn’t see them, maybe he could do the same for you. You can’t give up, Irene. Do it for Erza. Don’t you think she’s waited long enough?”

Irene’s eyes bored into him, “I could ask you the same thing. Don’t you think Sting has waited long enough for you to talk to him?”

“That’s an entirely different situation, and you know it.” Natsu could feel the anger building as it always did when the topic of Sting’s betrayal came up.

“Is it?” Irene squared her shoulders, “I know things can never be the same between you, but can’t you at least grant him forgiveness? He still loves you.”

“Don’t ask the impossible of me!” Natsu snarled, his tail swishing dangerously behind him. “All of you need to back the hell off. You have no idea what he did!”

“Of course we don’t!” Irene pressed her lips together, “ Because you refuse to talk about it. All I know is he sent Acnologia to Talos.”

“Isn’t that enough?” Natsu ranted, “Or are you fine with him sending that abomination to where Erza is?”

“Of course not,” Irene argued, “But everything turned out alright in the end, didn’t it? You managed to protect the town. Everyone is fine, and he’s sorry. He wants to make amends.”

“He wants to make amends?” Natsu growled in outrage.

“Let me see if I understand. Because everything supposedly turned out okay, I’m just supposed to forget the whole thing ever happened? Is that what you’re saying?” Natsu knew his voice was getting louder by the second, but there was no holding back now.

Irene backed up towards Belserion, who was watching him with concern.

“You want to know how okay everything turned out?” Natsu roared, finally fed up with everyone’s well-intentioned meddling.

“Fifty years, Irene. I was supposed to get at least that much time with Gray before turning into a dragon for good. Thanks to Sting’s betrayal, I got six months. Six months!”

“Turned into a dragon for good?” Irene balked, “What are you talking about? How could you expect Sting to know something like that?”

“No, he’s right, Irene, I did know,” Sting’s voice pierced the air of the cave, “I was the only one besides the red dragons who did.”

He made his way inside slowly, struggling with every step as Rogue tried to pull him back.

Natsu bristled at seeing Sting enter his room. “Get out!” he seethed.

“No,” Sting replied calmly, “This has gone on long enough. I know you’re angry, but you’ve avoided me since you found out what I did, and this might be the only chance we have to talk. We’ve been friends our entire lives, Natsu. There has to be a way for me to make this right.”

Natsu couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “No, there isn’t. You don’t even understand what you did, do you?”

“Then tell me! Yell at me, fight me, I don’t even care what you do. Just do something, because the silence - it’s killing me.”

Rogue let go of Sting’s shirt with a long drawn out sigh, choosing to grab his hand and stand by his side in a display of solidarity.

“We need to know what we did,” Rogue pleaded, “You’ve kept us from it long enough.”

Rogue’s words sliced through some of his anger. Ever since Natsu had learned of Sting’s betrayal, he’d focused most of his rage on him. Even though on some level he’d always realized that Rogue wouldn’t have been entirely blameless. But Rogue had also suffered his own set of consequences during the war. Consequences that could have been avoided if Natsu had just stayed with him instead of letting him take on that dragon on his own.

But it was more than that. Rogue had been the first one of the slayers to see his dragon form and accept it. He had kept something from Sting just to help him protect Gray. And despite learning Natsu hadn’t been entirely truthful with him about what he was, he’d still offered his support when Natsu came clean to the others.

Sting had taken the only course of action available to him that allowed him to protect his mate. Natsu had always understood that. What Sting didn’t seem to understand, was that in doing so, he’d put Gray in danger, and that was not anything Natsu could ever forgive. His much stronger dragon instincts wouldn’t permit it.

But as much as he wanted to remain angry, Natsu found he couldn’t do that when faced with Rogue’s resigned gaze.

“You took away my future, Sting. How can you expect me to forgive that?” Natsu stared into Sting’s eyes, hoping the dragon slayer would back down from a conversation that would only hurt them, but he remained resolute.

“I have to know,” Sting pleaded, and Rogue nodded his agreement.

Natsu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. So be it, he wouldn’t keep them from it any longer.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Gray and I had just returned from our honeymoon when he showed up,” Natsu recounted, telling the story as calmly as he could manage, given the circumstances. “Gray refused to flee, so I had no other choice but to transform to save the town. Acnologia came at me hard. Our fight pretty much wrecked the village. He got away from me and went after Gray, slamming him into a building, breaking his back and nearly every other bone in his body. And I couldn’t do a damn thing to help him until I chased that monster away!”

“Do you have any idea how it feels to see your mate bleed out before your eyes and not be able to do a damn thing about it? Because that’s what I had to do until I could get him somewhere safe.”

“Gray- is he-?” Rogue wasn’t able to finish his question, covering his mouth with his hand, but it wasn’t enough to silence the whimper.

“He’s alive,” Natsu monotoned, trying his best to stay in some semblance of control, ”It took almost every ounce of magic I had left, but I was able to heal him enough that he survived.”

He could see Rogue relaxing somewhat at that, and it irked him because, to him, what came after was much worse.

“You wanna guess as to what happened once Gray came to and realized what I was?”

Sting shook his head slowly, turning his face away so Natsu couldn’t see his tears, but he could still smell them.

Natsu disregarded Sting’s refusal, wanting him to understand just how far the repercussions of his actions ran. “Well, it should come as no surprise to you,” he fumed, “He rejected me. Just like I always feared he would.”

“Stop,” Sting pleaded, “I can’t-”

“No!” Natsu responded coldly, “You wanted to know, so I’ll tell you the rest of it.”

“I ended up removing Gray’s memories of our time together, so he didn’t have to remember that I was a dragon, or live with the guilt of having rejected me.”

“So don’t you dare tell me that you’re sorry, or that you want to make amends. What happened with Rogue was an unfortunate accident, but you knew damn well what would happen to me when you made your choice.”

“You make it sound like he had a choice,” Belserion argued, “You know more than anyone what it’s like to stand against that monster. The pure unadulterated fear he invokes. What did you expect him to do, just let Acnologua destroy his family? Could you have done that to protect him?”

“I know I wronged both of you, but I’ve spent all this time trying to come up with ways to redeem myself,” Sting cried, “Can’t you at least let me try?”

“You want to redeem yourself? Go home, Sting. Make it up to them. That’s a much better use of your time, and your efforts will at least be appreciated.”

“Please!” Sting beseeched, leaving Natsu feeling uneasy because Sting Eucliffe did not beg.

Natsu turned away, hating that the tremor in Sting’s voice affected him in any way. “I can’t forgive you, but I suppose I can’t stop you from trying to change my mind.”

“Thank you,” Rogue bowed his head, and grabbed Sting, pulling him out of the room before he could do anything to jeopardize what he’d earned.

Natsu nodded, watching their exit with mixed feelings.

Now that he’d let out some of his rage, he didn’t feel as confident as before. He and Gray were together again. Their situation wasn’t ideal by any measure, but it was better than he could have hoped for under the circumstances. Should he continue to hold a grudge, when everyone else seemed to have forgiven him?

He could feel Belserion and Irene observing him, and despite how tired he felt, he wanted to get out of the cave, which suddenly seemed much too small.

“I’m going to see what’s changed since the last time I was here,” Natsu muttered, feeling adrift for the first time since he’d understood Sting’s role in what had happened. He could hear echoes of Sting’s pleas playing in his mind, in stark contrast to the loud objections of his dragon instincts.

A/N: Once I started plotting out everything that was left it became clear that there was too much still left to happen. Much more than could realistically be held in one chapter.

So the bad news is you're going to have to wait a bit longer for the conclusion. The good news is there will be two more chapters! I do hope to finish it out in the next week or so, as I don't plan on working on any other stories until this one is finished. This chapter took about 4-5 days to write so I don't think I will be done by July 31st as I don't anticipate them being any easier, lol.

@ao3feed-gratsu

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #fairy tail big bang 2018 #update

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crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Hungry Like A Wolf

Title: Hungry Like A Wolf

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: The reader is bitten by a big dog, but she's in for more than just an infection.

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Gore, Sickness, Smut. Animal Death, Werewolves

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It was Halloween, the band's favorite holiday. You guys went all out, decorating the apartment, making your costumes with whatever you could find and throwing them together last minute. Of course you stocked up on candy-both for you all to eat and to pass out to the kids in the building. You and your boyfriend Tommy were handing out the candy, and when the trick-or-treating hours had concluded, the real tricks would start.

Nikki had bought five dozen eggs a month ago and let them rot, planning on having you all throw the putrid stink bombs at adult passerby who happened to be roaming around. You all had it planned out-two on the left, two on the right and one sitting in a tree or on the roof. You were with Tommy on the right, Mick and Vince to the left and Nikki up high. You bombarded a few groups of teenagers who were bullying younger kids for their candy. The little bastards deserved it.

The stink exploded on impact, causing the pizza faced boys to gag and scatter. "That's what you get for bein' mean to little kids, assholes!" Nikki shouted from up top. The teenagers all cursed and vowed revenge, but you all knew it was an empty threat.

When all the eggs were spent, you kissed Tommy on the cheek and said "Go on back to our room, Babe" you said winking "I gotta go pick something up for your treat tonight" he grinned, knowing full well that he was getting a special sex session tonight.

"Why didn't you just have it delivered or pick it up earlier?" he whined, not wanting to wait for his Halloween Treat.

"Because" you eyed them all "Most of you guys like to try and ransack my drawers for my underwear" except for Mick, they all nervously laughed and glanced down. "And I didn't want the surprise to be spoiled" you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly. He of course returned the gesture with aplomb.

"Hurry back, Y/N" he said, not wanting to let you go but he had to.

"I will, Tommy" you blew him a kiss, to which he caught it and sent it back. Nikki and Vince made mock gagging gestures and Tommy laughed at that.

You were on your way to the shop that was open late tonight when you had to cross the park to make a short cut. It was like Central Park in New York, but considerably smaller. You could see your destination just on the other side when you heard a rustling in the bushes. You turned and saw a rather large dog, you didn't think anything of it and tried to go on your way, but a supernatural force pulled you back to stare into it's eyes.

Your heart rate slowed down and you entered a dreamlike state. The dog's eyes were yellow and looking at you like you were it's next meal. You were in a trance, the creature having reared up and walking on two legs like a human. You knew you should have been terrified and run off, but the power keeping you there made that impossible.

You could smell and feel it's hot steamy rank breath as it exhaled on you. It's fangs were dripping with saliva and you could see it's mouth twisting into an ugly snarl. It then howled and lunged at you, knocking you over. The sudden movement snapped you out of the trance and you screamed for help. The thing clamping down on your arms with its jaws and scratching at your belly with claws so sharp it could cut diamonds.

It would have killed you if someone hadn't blown it's brains out just as it was going in for the kill. Your neck was exposed and it was about to bleed you dry when you heard a crack of thunder and then a pink misty cloud of blood and brain matter splattered the white rose bushes, painting them a brilliant red. The shooter stepped forward, a young teen boy right after him. "What should we do about 'er Pa?" asked the boy in a nervous tone.

"Let's put 'er outta 'er misery" the older man cocked the shotgun and pointed it at you.

You had tears running down your face as you tried to speak "Please no..." when you heard more people coming your way with flashlights.

"Damn it!" the older man cursed "Grab the beast boy and hightail it outta here!" The son did as his father bade, and they left you to bleed. It wasn't long however when a group of police officers came to your aid and radioed for an ambulance.

In your blood loss induced state of delirium, you asked "Why did they paint the roses red? They're gonna lose their heads..." before you finally passed out.

Back at the apartment, they were all getting worried. They knew where the sex shop was-they all frequented it for condoms and various other sex novelties. It didn't take two hours to get there and back. Tommy was pacing around in circles cracking his knuckles."Where the fuck is she?" he felt the worry puke coming on.

"Relax" Nikki tried to reassure him "Maybe there's a long line at the check out counter or something..."

Then the phone blared. An ominous pressure filled the room as they all stared at it. When the phone rights at two in the morning, nothing good ever happens. Tommy picked it up and said "Y/N?"

"No" an unfamiliar voice answered "Is this Tommy Lee?"

"Yeah" he had to steady himself on the table. From the expression on his face, they all knew it couldn't be good. They waited in uncomfortable anticipation for more information "Who're you?"

"I am Doctor Finkle from L.A. General. Do you know a woman by the name of Y/N L/N?"

"Yeah she's my girlfriend" his voice cracked "Is she okay?"

"I cannot say exactly" the sound of papers shuffling "from the police report, it states that she was attacked by a large animal in the park and was just bought into our operating room for emergency surgery. Please get here as quick as you can..." it sounded like you didn't have much time left, and Tommy bolted for the door without even hanging up the phone or putting shoes on. The rest of the guys followed him and he filled them in on the way in the car.

When they finally got there, Tommy ran in, knocking over a nurse with a cart full of medicine. "Y/N L/N!" he wheezed, out of breath "Is she still in surgery?!"

The receptionist typed in your name and your status was stated next to it "Yes, she is. The O.R. is on the fourth floor. Please fill out a visitors-" he wouldn't let her finish, him sprinting to the elevator and pressing the buttons repeatedly. His rational mind knew that pressing the same buttons over and over again wouldn't make the damn thing go faster, but his emotional side was nervously twitching.

"Come on, damn thing..." the others caught up to him as the doors opened and he went in, repeating the previous motions of button mashing the fourth floor button.

A passing orderly was unfortunate enough to be within reaching distance of Tommy's arms. He grabbed the poor unsuspecting young man and shook him violently "Y/N L/N! Where is she?! Where's the fuckin' doctor?!"

Dr. Finkle heard the voice he had spoken to fifteen minutes ago and came out in scrubs, fresh from surgery "Mr. Lee?"

Tommy's head snapped to him and he said "Dr. Finkle?!"

"Yes, that's me. If you'll stop terrorizing my orderly I can fill you in on your lady friend's condition" Tommy let the trembling man go, offering him an apologetic look. "The consultation room is this way" he motioned with his hand to a small room that could only fit two maybe three people.

Tommy went in and sat with him while Mick, Vince and Nikki watched from the waiting room trying to read their lips. Dr, Finkle looked haggard, he had been working all day on idiotic drunkards who had gotten themselves into ridiculous situations. Most of them were minor injuries, cuts and scrapes that the patients INSISTED were broken bones. But this woman was the real deal, her blood tests showed no alcohol or any other substances in her system. She was just a poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"How is she, Doc?" Tommy's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

"She's stable" the doctor answered. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. "She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop the bleeding and replace what she lost. She'll be alright, she just needs a few days in here to recover and to make sure she didn't get any diseases of whatever animal attacked her" he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"What's the damage?" Tommy wanted to be ready for what he was going to see.

"She has extensive bite marks on her arms-most likely defensive wounds-some deep. She also has claw marks on her chest and abdomen, but those are superficial. They're not much concern at this time."

Tommy swallowed hard and asked "When can I see her?"

"In about ten minutes. She's being settled into her room right now. The anesthesia may last longer than that, but that's to be expected" he took off his glasses and added off the record "you can stay as long as you want. I recon that you'll be the first person she wants to see when she wakes up..."

"Thanks Doc" he was very appreciative and shook his hand "For taking care of my girl..."

"She's in room 509 on the recovery floor" the doctor added. She should be settled by the time you get up there" they then parted ways, Tommy grateful for the man who saved his lover's life.

The others got up when they saw him come out, the waiting game being too much for them "How is she?"

"She'll live" Tommy said flatly "Go on back to the apartment, I'll stay with her" they looked at each other uneasily and agreed.

"Do you want us to get you anything before we go?" Mick asked, being uncharacteristically empathetic.

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just have the shitty coffee and snacks to hold me over" he tried to smile, but it was very weak and unconvincing. They reluctantly left but they knew he needed alone time with his girl.

You were still in your drugged sleep when he came in. He thought he'd mentally prepared himself for what he might see, but he was wrong. Most of your upper body was bandaged up like a mummy, but your head was still visible. He let out a few whimpers before breaking down like a lost child. "Y/N...Baby..." he took your hand and held it. "I'm so sorry...I never should have let you go alone..."

You were starting to wake up then, saying "Don't beat yourself up, Tommy" he jumped, startled at your quick recovery.

"Y/N!" he was both happy and perplexed "How are you awake so soon?!"

"I heard you crying and thought I'd wake my lazy ass up and see what's going on" you smiled at him, still groggy from the drugs. He was just so happy that you were okay, that he leaned down and gave you the sweetest, softest kiss he ever did.

"I love you" he confessed through his sobs, snot dripping down his face.

"I love you too, Tommy" you reached up to try and clean his face, but you were seeing triple and couldn't tell which Tommy to wipe.

"I got it, Babe" he laughed and wiped his face.

All the tests came back negative for any animal borne diseases, and you were clear to go back to the apartment. Tommy was there by your side all the while, the guys bringing him clothes and toiletries so he could be clean. He hated being able to smell himself and it was nasty.

The guys had a small party when you came home, just the five of you and a little welcome home cake. You thanked them and had a few beers, Tommy leading you away from them to make love to you in a proper fashion. He gingerly touched your scars and kissed them, You tried to shy away from his touching them but he insisted "They're a part of you now, and I love everything about you..."

"Tommy..." you sighed a ragged breath of carnal desire. "Fuck me..."

"Don't gotta tell me twice" you were already so wet from just him touching you that he didn't need to do anything like oral or fingering. He was rock hard too, so he just slid inside easily. He let out a gasp of pleasure and commented "Oh fuck baby you're tighter than usual..."

"Well, I have been out of practice for a week" you whispered into his neck before kissing it. You then felt a strange savage second nature begin to wash over you. You smelled his blood pumping through his veins. You wanted him. His flesh. His meat. You were able to push the urge down and he continued to fuck you.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ" he moaned into your mouth "You feel hotter too..." he grunted loudly "my dick's on fire...fuck" he had you against the wall, holding onto you tightly. You turned your ass to him.

"Do me from behind Babe" you groaned and dug your nails into the plaster. He happily obliged, liking this new angle. You could hear his balls slapping against your ass gently, serving to draw the both of you closer to your climax.

"Oh God" Tommy gasped, bucking his hips wildly "I'm gonna fuckin' cum..." you quickly pulled away from him and took him into your mouth, deep throating him as he pumped his seed down your gullet. He held your head in place, his own falling back in exhausted pleasure.

After you had swallowed his semen, you looked up at him and said "Was that hot for you baby?"

"So fuckin' hot Y/N" he was panting "I could feel your nose against my stomach..." he gulped hard "I love it when we try new stuff in the bedroom..." he picked you up and kissed you tenderly. He was spent, but you hadn't finished. You didn't care about that, you had your man with you and that's all that mattered.

The next morning, you smelled the sweet aroma of frying meat. It lulled you out of bed and into the kitchen where Tommy was making breakfast. "Mornin'!" he greeted, but you didn't answer. You smelled the raw bacon on the counter and couldn't take your eyes off it. Your mouth began to water, just the thought of tasting fresh meat driving you mad with ravenous hunger.

You scooped up the raw meat and tore into it like a wild animal, your teeth making it easier to shred than before. Tommy watched you in amazed horror, then put a hand on your shoulder to stop you from eating raw meat. You snarled at him, your eyes full of pure rage at having your meal interrupted. "The fuck you want?!" your voice wasn't just your own, but a deep throated. rolling growl. You were so pissed that he'd interrupt your meal like that! You imagined ripping out his esophagus and making his intestines your meal but you realized how fucked up that was and calmed down.

He was actually scared to respond at first but he said "Dude, you're eating raw meat...that's got bacteria in it..."

"Erm...right..." you put down the raw meat and looked down "sorry..."

He gave you a strange look, but let it go.

Things went back to normal for a few weeks, then exactly one month after the attack you fell ill. First, you were burning up and sweating buckets. Then the vomiting when you had nothing in your stomach. Everyone thought it was just the flu and they stayed clear of you, Tommy bringing you soup and some crackers.

Then your insides started burning, and the vomiting turned more violent. It was when you saw blood in the toilet that you started to panic. "Tommy! I need-" a new round of blood vomit came but this one actually hurt. It was then your skin started to itch-like tiny bugs were crawling all over the surface. You started scratching.

Tommy had heard you call for him, and when he came in the bathroom, he saw you clawing at your arms "Y/N, what the fuck?!" he grabbed a towel "You're bleeding!"

"I'm just so itchy..." you brushed him off and continued to scratch, drawing more blood from your body.

"Fuckin' stop!" Tommy grabbed both your hands to keep you from doing more damage.

"Tommy what the fuck's going on in there?!" Nikki shouted.

He didn't have time to answer, you had stood up, whipped your head back and headbutted him, breaking his nose. Nikki and Vince burst through the door when they saw the carnage. They stared speechless, Tommy knocked out on the floor and you bloody with your muscle meat on display. "T-Bone!" Nikki went to his fallen friend, and you had thrown up blood all over him.

You were then on the ground twitching. They thought you were having a seizure and Tommy was trying to help you, but then they saw your features begin to change. Your bones began to break on their own, your skin tore away from your frame, the largest organ of the body unable to contain the new growth. In it's place, coarse fur and animal skin grew. Your nose elongated into a snout, fangs protruding where your teeth once were.

Nikki and Vince didn't wait around to see what was happening next, instead grabbing Tommy and dragging him out of the apartment and hauling ass out of there. You-or whatever version of you that was followed them down the hallway on all fours. "Holy shit!" Tommy had woken up and was staring a behemoth of a dog in the face.

The thing had leapt up, ready to completely devour them all when a soft whistling was heard, then a yelp from the animal and then the thing skidded across the floor. They looked up and saw Mick with a hunting rifle, but a tranquilizer dart in the animal's thigh. "What the fuck was that?" Tommy asked.

Nikki and Vince looked at each other, unsure to what to say. They knew what they had saw and weren't on anything that would make them see that. Mick spoke up and said "That's Y/N. She's a werewolf" as easily as saying "Pass the fuckin' potatoes".

"What the fuck?" Nikki whispered.

"How do you know?" Tommy looked at Mick.

"Shut up and watch, Drummer" he said, and you started shrinking back to normal size.

"H-how is this possible?" Tommy stumbled back, his broken nose the least of his worries.

"It was on Halloween when she was attacked. A few of my buddies heard about werewolf activity in the area and decided to check it out" he pulled the dart from your thigh, you giving a small yelp of pain as he did so.

"How do you know all this shit?" Vince questioned "Werewolves and all that crap are just myths!"

Mick took a long while to respond, but when he did "There are things that go bump in the night, boys. I'm one of the ones who bump back" he grabbed you by your foot and began to drag you across the floor.

Tommy got up and shouted "Hey! Where you takin' her?!"

"To a place where she can turn and not hurt anybody" he took you down the stairs, being careful not to smack your head against them.

"You're not takin' my girl anywhere without me!" Tommy grabbed a hold of his arm, but Mick gave his signature glare and he backed off.

"You really want to be around the thing who just tried to eat you?" he asked sarcastically.

"She's not a 'thing' Mick! She's my girlfriend!"

"Get that nose looked at first, then I'll come back and take you to her. I promise..."

Tommy let him go, Nikki and Vince having been shell shocked into silence. After he got cleaned up, Tommy waited for Mick to come back, When he did, he kept his word and took him to the police station. "Mick why the fuck are we here?"

"To see Y/N" he gave an unfamiliar hand gesture to a guard and he let them in a secret passage. At the end of the passage, there was a group of fortified cells with all sorts of giant dogs in them of varying colors and ferocity. Then at the very end, they saw you in your human form, still knocked out from the drugs.

"What did you shoot her with?" Tommy asked, caressing your face.

"Wolfsbane" Mick answered "It reverses the transformation and makes them sleep it off. Too much will kill them though" he slipped a freshly dead goat into your cell, to which Tommy gagged.

"How do you know about this Mick? I mean really?"

"My family have been monster hunters for generations" he washed his hands of the blood "Going all the way back to Abraham Van Helsing and Dracula" he loaded his shotgun with a round of silver bullets and waited.

"Hey, what are you doin'?" Tommy protested.

"If she wakes up and turns again, then there's no hope for her. I'm going to put her out of her misery" he cocked the gun.

You woke up a few hours later, still your normal self. You were confused about your new surroundings. "Good! You're awake and you!" Mick smiled warmly.

"What happened?" you asked "Why am I in this dank cell?"

They had explained what happened, you not believing them until you talked to Vince and Nikki, then seeing the damage of the bathroom for yourself. You certainly didn't want to die or kill anyone, but you couldn't resist the transformation. "What do I have to do?"

"Keep track of the lunar cycle and lock yourself up in the cells when the full moon comes around" Mick answered "eat all the raw meat you can get to control the hunger."

You looked at Tommy and started to cry. "Baby what's wrong?" he hugged you close to him.

"I tried to kill you guys" you sobbed into his shirt "I can't be around normal people anymore!"

"Are you breaking up with me?" Tommy whispered quietly.

"No, but I understand if you want to break up with me..."

"Babe, the thought never crossed my mind" he pet your hair.

"You sure?"

"Of course! If I wanted to leave, I'd be gone by now!" he smiled down at you. "We just got to get used to the new you..." he grinned into a kiss. You remembered how great the sex was the last time you did it with him, and that seemed to quell the beast inside you for a moment, but you knew that at any time, your inner wolf could strike and you counted on Mick to put that silver bullet in you before you could harm anyone.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #tommy lee #mick mars #nikki sixx #vince neil #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #tommy lee imagine #submission #not mine

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evans-maxed-out · 4 years

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Coup De Grace-Samcedes Flashback Christmas 2009

Who:Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones

When: December 2009

Where: Mercedes Jones’ house

Note: Now in high school, Sam resolves to get closer to Mercedes. If he’s being slightly underhanded, well all’s fair in love and war, right?

Sam: He straightened his letterman jacket as he made his way to the front door of the modest looking house in front of him and bit his lip nervously.Courage Sam, he told himself firmly, she was only a girl, not even in his own peer group..but as much as he told himself that, his heart still pounded wildly at the thought of her. Had done really since elementary, but no matter how hard he tried to bridge the gap between them, nothing seemed to work. He was a jock-popular, the quarterback and captain of the football and basketball teams, from a wealthy background and surrounded by kids who came from the same sort of money and she was..Perfect.Pure perfection, in one sassy, hot as hell package. The cheerleaders might mock her for being a nerd but to Sam there was nothing sexier than a girl with both beauty and brains-and Mercedes Jones had both of those things in spades. Standing on the porch, he rang the bell, a slight smile gracing his features. "Hey Mercedes," he greeted her as the door swung open.

Mercedes sang along to the closing notes of Janelle Monae as she folded the last bit of her clothes. Her homework already done so she decided to use this free time to tidy up a bit so the rest of her week would be free in case she wanted to make plans. She placed her newly folded clothes in their proper place and giggled at her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. Her neatly fixed bun from earlier now taking on the role as a messy one probably a result of her dancing as she cleaned yet she kept about her business heading downstairs just as the doorbell rang. She didn’t check to see who was there just opened it and was met with a sheepish smile from Sam Evans. They didn’t exactly roll in the same cliques and although they didn’t openly despise one another it wasn’t all that spectacular either. They had what she liked to call a mutual respect of differences. She being far from the popular jock/cheerio crowd he was an elusive member of. She was smart enough to be considered a nerd but too headstrong to ever let those bullies at school try her. They knew better, so she kinda fit in the middle. However, here he was looking every bit as sexy as ever in her doorway. “Hi,” she greeted the boy in front of her, confusion etched on her face. “ What’s up?”

Sam: He stood for a second, speechless, completely poleaxed by how cute she looked with dark, glossy locks falling out of the bun her hair had been pulled into, before he relaxed into what he hoped was an adequate social smile. "I kinda need a favor Cedes.." the old nickname slipping out as he shifted unconsciously under her stare. "I want to go to medical school so I'm looking at majoring in Biology or Chemistry when I go to college..but with football and basketball and everything..I kinda got a bit behind..Mr Schuester said you tutor and I was wondering whether you have a spot free to tutor me..” He used his go to expression when he wanted something from someone, little boy lost mashed with a pleading look, hoping that she would never find out that in fact, far from needing tutoring, he was acing all his classes.He clenched his fist by his side, sending up a quick prayer to anyone that was listening that she'd help him. This was his shot with her, it was now or never because soon they'd graduate and the opportunity would be lost for good. "So..d'ya think you could help me out?"

Mercedes leaned against the frame of her door arms folded as she waited for the reason of why he was here. Her head tilting up a bit as she head the old nickname he used to call coming out and she was certain it was added for extra bribery. He hadn’t called her that in forever. He wasn’t slick nor cute. “A tutor? That’s why you’re here?” She questioned uncertain if she wanted to even entertain this favor of his. She was really good at all things Science. She knew Sam was smart in his own right and he wouldn’t be as demanding as the other students she tutored yet still she had her reservations. “What’s In it for me?” She asked. “If I do this favor how would you repay me?”

Sam: She was going to turn him down, dammit, he could read it in the cool assessing glance she flicked over his face and he wondered how the hell was he ever going to even get close to her. "Look..I came to you because you're the best..I mean there's always Kitty," he shrugged, knowing the rivalry that existed between the two, one from the popular, cool set and the other from the nerd side of the tracks. Sam didn't actually care for labels- from where he stood people were people and sexy was sexy and Mercedes Jones was the very definition of the word. "But I'd kinda prefer the best.." He frowned, biting his lips as he considered her words. "I..don't know..why don't you tell me what you want? But before you do..even if you don't decide to tutor me, would you like to go out with me some time? We could go to the movies..get pizza..whatever you want to do.." There. It was out, he'd asked her, the fifth time this year so far and he held his breath as he waited for her answer.

Mercedes had half a mind to slam the door shut in his face when he mentioned going to Kitty. He knew she hated that girl. Since elementary the rival between the two was one for the ages. “I am the best, that’s true.” Her hands unfolding as she decided to put him out of his misery and be decent enough to invite him in. “Come inside,” she gestured and stepped aside for him to enter. “Can’t have people seeing you on my porch and all begging as if you were that crazy Sue woman asking for spare change.” She shut the door behind him almost stopping in her tracks when he finished his sentence. Her eyes couldn’t have rolled any further in the back of her head. “Sam, we’ve been over this. Every month you come to me with a date invite and every month I say the same thing. We don’t mesh well. You’re just not my type.” Truthfully speaking Sam could totally be the type of guy she could date. He was smart, funny at moments, very nice looking, and when he wasn’t too busy playing the role of jock number 1 he was absolutely caring. Problem was she didn’t feel like going through the trouble of dealing with the stares of why? The hushed whispers of is he okay or did he lose some bet. Then the biggest factor was Kitty. Hell no was she about to let that stump get the satisfaction of torturing her about her relationship. “If you really need a tutor, I’ll consider it. If and only if you promise me two things. You can’t try to force me to fall for you and two, I want Reggie back.”

Sam: He couldn't help fist pumping the air behind her back as he followed her inside. This was the farthest he'd ever gotten with her, and it might seem like snatching at crumbs, but he was STOKED. He let out a frustrated sigh, as he heard her words, his hand running roughly through his hair. "How do you know we don't mesh well? You haven't even given me a chance!" he asked, beyond exasperated. "I ask you the same question every month like you said..and I know what you're thinking..that it's for some sort of bet like Jesse did to Rachel, but I'm telling you Mercedes if it was for a damn bet, I'd have given up months ago!" He scowled, green eyes clouded with jealousy as he muttered "So who is your type huh? Artie? I know you're friends with him..He's one of my best friends too but HE doesn't judge me because I play sport..You see a jock and a nerd..I see two best friends...So c'mon Cedes..Is it Tinsley? You don't have a problem with him playing sports.." He took a breath and began to relax. Baby steps, Sam..she was agreeing to tutor him and he could work on it from there. At least it meant he'd be closer to her. Wait, what? She wanted Reggie back? The green croc had been with him for years ever since they'd drifted apart. "On the Reggie thing...deal.." he smirked, offering his hand to shake on it, caressing the back of her soft one with his hand. "As for the other.." he leaned closer until his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers, "I can't promise that..No one can force you to fall in love Mercedes..maybe the one you should be telling that to is..you.." He brushed her lips gently with his for the space of a second before he pulled back and turned to leave.

Mercedes The way he went on in a jealous fit was kinda cute. Sam Evans was trouble. “You aren’t cruel enough to do some joke. It’s not that. How shallow do you think I am? That I judge base off social status? I don’t care. It’s just you’re sorta a friend. One of the decent guys and my dad likes you so that already puts you at a disadvantage.” She shrugged. She bit her lip to hide the pure happiness she felt when he agreed to return Reggie. She missed him. To some it might’ve been a silly little stuff crocodile but she had some great memories with him. “You can try as you like Sam but you know as well as anyone I’m very set in ways.” She lost her train of thought for a second when his lips touched hers. “Um, I’ve got more cleaning to do. I’ll see you tomorrow..” she hiccuped and followed him to the door.

#Samcedes #Samcedes rp #Coup De Grace

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years

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Pieces of the People We Love, Part 5. (The Borderlands series)

Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

Chapter description: When you have friends, you have some stable things in your life. But when you owe them a hundred thousand bucks and a ton shit of Eridium, you should know that the meeting won’t go nice for you.

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always. All Psychos and Fanatics are various Vine references - oh, what luck that reader can understand them since she is friends with Bandits.

Word count: 1.6 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad, @nemodoren

Series master list: H E R E

You saw something appearing on the horizon and dear Lord, you already knew what you've been looking at. The crooked top of Ham’s Creek was slowly revealing itself in the distance. If you'd have to describe the entirety of the bandit settlement, you would have kind of a hard time. Surely, it could be described as a very creepy stronghold standing in the middle of a desert. Well, maybe, at least to you, it looked like an extra-huge pile of trash, scrap, and slums just mashed together as it held together by the last scraps of the materials' will. No matter how bad did the exterior looked, the boys didn't seem to mind it. They, in fact, had everything they needed - loads of guns, a place where they could suntan, and a quite clean water source. This, you actually considered another reason because of which the guys never seemed to be crawling out of there. Sure, there still was the mystery about what these guys were eating so Bandits didn’t really have the motivation to crawl out of the hellhole expect when they wanted to raid something.

They weren’t exactly the best neighbors, but they weren’t the worst either. Sometimes you heard a huge explosion coming out of that place, but most of the time, they were leaving you all alone.

But at that moment, encouraged with a few shots (it was almost a half of bottle you drank in Pintley’s pub) of vodka, you just walked into a hole which was the gate probably. You could hear those psychotic laughs and people running around you in circles. As a sign of warning, you shove a few rounds into your shotgun to show them that you can shot their ass at any minute. It wouldn’t help you anyway since they would reconstruct just a few feet away.

The place was a smelling, rotting mess. You could smell it instantly; it basically punched your face. Only God knew what boys were up to again.

“ADAM!” - One of the men with a mask and a buzz axe yelled at you. Scooter almost peed his pants at that moment. But you knew it was only Bobby greeting you.

“Yeah, it’s me.” - You told him coldly. - “How are you anyway? You’re still dating Joyce?” - Joyce was… A hole in the wall next to their toilettes. But Bobby claimed to date the hole for a few years now, but who were you to judge? He seemed happy and had daily sex. What was better than that? Plus, he was nuts crazy, you couldn’t protest against it basically.

“FUCK THIS SHIT, I’M OUT!” - He yelled angrily and threw his axe into the mud on the ground. You patted his shoulder.

“She cheated on you with Oliver? Oh man, that sucks.” - You rose your eyebrows. - “You need to find someone better. Maybe Madison can be the new love of your life?” - You referred to another hole next to the toilettes. These guys were like creatures from another fucking universe. Weird and totally nuts.

Bobby mouthed something quietly, but you took as if he was saying something like yeah, maybe.

“Anyway, is Walrus here? Need to speak with him about this boy.” - You pointed at Scooter, still walking to the main building of Ham’s Creek called The Throne Room.

“ZACH STOP, YOU’RE GONNA GET IN TROUBLE.” - Billy said annoyedly. So Walrus was there after all, which was great. But he wasn’t in a good mood, as it seemed.

Which you could say in the exact moment you entered his throne room. A buzz axe flew next to your head, almost hitting you and Scooter. You stood up, closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. Walrus really wasn’t too happy to see you there.

“Pete, I’m really sorry to interrupt you.” - You started off carefully, putting your metal arm in front of you as a sort of protection if he tried to hit you with a buzz axe again.

“What do you fucking want here, Cowboy? I thought you said that you’ll never visit this hellhole again.” - Walrus said in a mocking tone and from the darkness, you could hear as he stood up. Massive footsteps could be heard through the hall. You could feel as Scooter took hold on your coat, tugging it a bit, but you didn’t move s single bit.

Walrus liked to present himself as a huge man, he liked to make others scared. But when he came to the light… It was a small Midget not even reaching your waist, wearing only his briefs and a cloak neatly tied around his neck. But he was a bandit gang leader, so you still had to be careful around him.

“It was a sudden change of mind and mind, Pete, what should I say?” - You opened up your arms and to your surprise, Walrus was still not too annoyed to hug you back- there was still a chance that he will help you. - “Nice to see you. How’s your wife anyway?” - You asked to start a chit chat and looked around. This place was definitely the cleanest of all in Ham’s Creek. It was a nice place with the Marcus munitions’ and Dr. Zed’s machines, some of Moxxi’s machines. Don’t think too much about this - these men stole it definitely.

“You know, she’s dead…” - Peter answered and took the buzz axe from the wall where he threw it in the first place. Scooter was standing next to you without a single word to say.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” - You said quietly with a mourning voice, still looking at him. It was dangerous to let these ones out of your sight even for a second. A second was totally enough to have an axe stuck in your head.

“She’s dead for six years now and you ask about her every time you come here.” - Peter said quietly and climbed onto his throne to look at you from above. Like if that little son of a bitch something more than you were.

“Oh shit, no need to be so offensive, man. Jesus.” - You frowned at him, slowly putting your arms next to your waist, fixing the hat on your hand. - “But I’m not here to mourn. I’m here because of this dipshit.”

“What did he do to you? Can’t you be nice to someone for once? He’s Scooter, he owns Catch-a-Ride.” - Peter defended Scooter standing behind your back. You rolled your eyes and smiled a bit.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard that already, spare me of that bullshit. But I want him gone. ASAP, to be exact. And you, my small friend, can help me with that a big time.” - You winked at him and sat down on the stairs in front of his throne, dragging Scooter along.

“No. I can’t.” - Walrus laughed ironically. You shot a confused look at him. - “Come on, Peter, you can do anything when you really want to. Just one Fast Travel and I’ll be gone again.” - You pleaded at the bug lord Walrus of the Ham’s Creek Stronghold.

“I didn’t say that I don’t want to help you, idiot. I can’t.” - Peter repeated and leaned closer to you. - “Are you deaf or I don’t have to repeat myself?”

At that moment you stood up, being completely confused. You watched him, opening your mouth and closing it as you were about to say something, but there was nothing to say.

“But you guys had the fuse since… Ever. What happened to it?” - You whispered in shock. No fuse meant no Fast Travel. And no Fast Travel meant that Scooter will be a problem in your ass for another few days before you figure out a new plan.

“Fuse just died out. And we can’t find another one ever since. I would help you if I could. And if you didn’t owe me as much money as you do, Cowboy.” - Walrus got up and walked to Scooter. Your brain was frozen down - there was no fuse in Ham’s Creek. Just fucking great. - “Where are you even going, young man?”

“I an’ friends belong to the vault hunter, ya know what these are, man? And the Calypsonians or who are about to do somethin’ stupid an’ I need to stop them before they can hurt them.” - Scooted summarizer quickly for Walrus.

“You didn’t tell me that you’re with the VHs now, Cowboy.” - Walrus turned directly at you. You started to laugh hysterically as if Peter told you the best joke you’ve ever heard.

“I’m… I’m not… Bwahaha!” - You started again so much that you cried out of it. You leaned your palms into your knees and tried to stop. - “I’m not a fucking vault hunter, Walrus. No, no, no.”

“But this lovely boy is with them and he’s here with you… And connections make friends. You’re basically a vault hunter, my dear.” - Peter took your hand and patter the back of it before taking back to the throne.

“I can tell you only this. There’s a rocket engineer called…” - Walrus started, but Scooter interrupted him.

“An engineer called Janey Springs. I know her too, man, she cool.” - Scooter grinned at him wildly. That man was truly a piece of art, you thought.

“Do you know what that means?” - Walrus stood up on the throne to take the higher moral ground. He was acting like your very own mother. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. - “You’ll go with that boy and protect him at my orders. And I’ll give you my two best men with you. And a car. And some cash. Call me Jesus, baby.”

“At your orders?!” - You hissed with a frown. What was he even trying? Did he try to fool you or to make a dickhead of you?

“You owe me two piles of Eridium and one hundred thousand in cash, don’t you… Remember?” - Walrus rose his eyebrows at you. You couldn’t possibly give him a good answer. Your face was just reflecting how fucked you were at the moment. - “I choose this as my form of payment, Cowboy. I will tell Blindy and Rayray to pack their shit.”

Yes. You were fucked.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #scooter bordelands #bandits borderlands #psycho #vine references #i have everything #come and join the fun

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kingmeiozei · 5 years

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STREAM GAME!! Chapter 1

"So, when are we streaming tonight’s game?" said Cole, who seemingly glossed over his PC. "Not right now, too tired, school requirements.."

5 students ready to absolutely drop-out become streamers that live in the same house, what would happen in a dire situation of failing grades, no food<br /> and tuition?

///////

The year 2019, a year full of misinformation, a year full of disastrous surprises, but nothing is all that different for the 5 students that currently try to survive the semester, with a barely passing mark on their cards.

As a result, they started the idea of making a stream team, what would their future behold?

////////

“What does AIICT even stand for?”

“It stands for..uh..” A small girl piqued, looking up at an adult with a questioned look on her face.

“Well..?” the woman started to sound stern, an impatient look writing across her face.

“U-uh.. I’ll have two number nines .. I’ll have another nine but..large..and a number six with extra dip...can..you give me two number 45s, o-one with cheese...and a large..s-..sod..a..” She started stepping backwards, and eventually speeding out of the fast food chain.

Another girl popped up around the area, who recognized her face and approached her.

“Hey dude! You look, uhm, stressed.”

“Thanks I tried to meme in McDonalds but it didn’t work out too well.”

Leaning onto the wall, the latter lifted up their glasses and responded, “Mae. I really think you shouldn’t do that, especially in this place. Where there are students from AIICT..”.

Mae flustered, covering her face with her hands.

“I know! I was just bein’ a little stupid is all..” Mae shrugged and sighed, hovering over her phone. “Lookie, Cole is gonna come any minute and I’m pretty sure if he saw me do that kind of shit, I’m gonna be made fun of, Raya!”.

“Speak of the devil.”

Cole overshadowed both Raya and Mae, slowly asserting dominance on them.

“I did see that, by the way” He laughed, and Mae’s face turned to a brighter red. “No you didn’t! I’m gonna erase it from your memory just you wait!”

The two laughed as another entered the scene. He put on his glasses and slumped his bag on the sidewalk, looking at the three. “Guys, I’m going to totally fail this exam today.” Jerry exclaimed.

“God, I hope you don’t.”

“Only hoping.”

The four walked inside the students lounge, a place where the students can hang out after class hours. Now they’re using this space to study for their examinations, students holding their reviewers left and right, others were just playing on their phones, not caring a bit for the big test their going to take.

Raya takes a step forward, and smells the air. “Ah yes, the fresh scent of students suffering under multiple requirements and deadlines. Hell week.” she smiles.

Mae and Cole put down their bags on the table, while Jerry slams his book lightly in front of them. “Okay guys, all of us are gonna be determined to pass this quiz.”

“Not really..”

“That wasn’t enthusiastic at all.” he frowns.

Mae wasn’t really sure if she was to be enthusiastic about the exams. She had failed this subject multiple times in her junior year, and now she was gonna take the exam that will determine if she were to fail or not.

On the other hand: Raya, Cole and Jerry are trying their best to study, not a single bit of information entering their brain.

“I can’t do this anymore, this is too hard!” Raya whined. She didn’t seem too sure about passing the exams either, but considering her grades in the quizzes and the performance tasks, the exams wouldn’t pull down her grade too bad.

Cole glossed over her book, and furrowed his eyebrows as he kept flipping more pages. “Why did you draw on your book?”

“The book is boring, I needed to spice it up with at least something in there.” Raya thought that was a good reason, but in reality she was just too lazy to bring out her sketchbook. “You also highlighted these in..glitter pens?”

Raya shushed him, “We can be very extra, y’know?”.

While studying, something came to realization amongst them, but they all shrugged it off.

11:45 AM - DISMISSAL TIME

About to head out of the classroom, Mae noticed a small notepad open on her classmate’s computer.

Out loud, she read: “I don’t want to do this anymore!”. She giggled, knowing that a few people passed their exams, and fully knowing that she herself had not passed.

She saw a wistful expression on Jerry’s face as she went out of the classroom.

Mae slowly approached him, patting his shoulder. “Reviewing before the exams didn’t really help out, didn’t it?”

“I got mental blocked.”

“Same.” said Cole and Raya in unison, looking down on their phones for the exam grade.

That said, someone came bursting into the corridor.

“FUCK I’M LATE!”

“Justyn, it’s dismissal already, but there is a special exam in awhile if you weren’t able to take it.”

“Oh thank goodness...”

1:00 PM - SPECIAL EXAM DISMISSAL

“Hey guys!” Justyn walked out of the room, with a smile on his face, but Mae was quick to notice his smile.

“You failed too, didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah. I got a zero.”

“Oh my God.”

Justyn shrugged as he pulled out a yellow intermediate pad paper out of his bag. “I mean, look at this. Nonsense equations. I didn’t know how to answer any of them.” He frowned.

All of them decided that it was time to go home, but not until they overheard a conversation between two students.

“Hey, Under Development is gonna stream tonight! They’ve been gone for a bit of a while, haven’t they?”

“I mean they had to, they said were going to have a little hiatus due to their midterms.”

“It’s a little weird..” the student sighed, “they have the same dates for their exams just like ours?”

“Must be a coincidence then!”

All five of them smiled. Before the school year started, they were all streamers who played games every weekend of the night, just like how others would do.

When they had found out they all had streamed, they decided to form a group together, in hopes of getting famous, and they were getting there. People around them recognized the small group of streamers in their online personas, hiding behind a cartoon version of themselves on screen.

To forget that they were going to fail, they decided to do a stream that night,

And this is their time to shine.

////////////////

It’s 8:30pm, 10 minutes before the streams starts for the night. The members are setting up their stations, fixing their PCs, their mics, and everything else that they had to set up.

Mae and Raya were currently setting up their game, whilst Cole and Jerry are setting up the microphones for each PC. It didn’t seem like a hassle at all for them.

What was a hassle though, was choosing the game that they were going to play for the night. Luckily enough Justyn was quick to suggest one.

“Let’s play UNO™!”

“Are you sure about that?” Cole questioned if this was a good idea, but the others nodded.

Everyone nodded, but little did they know the consequences of playing UNO™ with customs.

It would take almost forever to finish, but that didn’t stop them.

The night seemed like it would go on forever, as it was hitting 12 midnight, things were starting to get... fun .

Fucking hell , Jerry thought as he tried to come up with a solution to counterattack Raya. She was the one who was winning, and the only person with one more uno card in their hand. If he pulled a seven, then they could switch hands.

Being on the side of his luck, he got the 7 draw, and smiled.

“I’m sorry Raya, but I’m going to have to pull this on you. He clicked on his 7, and the entire team was shocked.

“Holy fucking shit!” exclaimed Mae and Cole.

“He didn’t…” Justyn laughed into his mic.

“Fuck you!”

And there it set, Jerry clicked on the bright uno button, and another lucky thing happened. Right after that turn, Mae accidentally set down a reverse card, and the color of the card was red.

Which so happened to be Jerry’s last card.

You could hear the sound of an angry keyboard mash, right after that got played.

“I’M SO SORRY AZURA!”

“YOU TRAITOR!”

The chat box was going absolutely crazy, sending so many emoticons in a matter of minutes.

“Heeeey look at the chat! Everyone is saying ‘Noname did such a pogger move` !”

“It was well thought out though, and was very lucky.”

“He’s the winner for the night! Good evening and good night everyone!”

Everyone cheered, except for Raya.

“I literally was about to win.” At that point, Cole turned off the stream since they had already ended for the night. “

Yeah, but I pulled a good move. So good game well played?”

“Fine fine, but only for today. I’m going to get my revenge soon enough.”

Just when they were about to turn off their electronics for the night, a ping showed up on their PCs.

`New Announcement: Grades for the 1st Term`

When they saw the notification, a shiver went down their spines.

Mae turned into a state of panic. “I failed my those exams dudes…I’m totally ready to get the one inducing slap from my mom to get my shit together..”

“Same here”

“Well, I mean..” Cole looked at his grades, scrolling and clicking each and every one of them. “Look, I got a decent score on this one.”

“It’s a grade of mercy, that’s a passing score.”

“But that is what makes it decent. If anything below that, I’d be doomed!”

Jerry didn’t look up from his phone, his face clearly started to show sweat, and very high levels of fright.

“I should’ve studied the night before, and the whole week before exams..”

“I think all of us should’ve studied. I mean, look at this..” Raya lifted her phone up for Jerry to see. “What kind of bullshittery is this? 12 out of 60?”

“No one was ready for the questions, they were all too specific, and way too detailed.” Cole shivered, “But at least I passed my requirements.”

“Ha, peasants.” Justyn whipped up his phone, and slid it to Mae. “Lookit.”

“Justyn..it’s all…under 80..”

“Exactly.”

“How were you able to achieve that?”

“By the power of being lazy!”

All of them laughed, somehow failing to realize that they are on the verge of a dropout.

But, they had a backup plan.

“We’re going to start the weekend like this, just lazing out and about?”

“I mean, it’s the only way to relax after a bunch of exams thrown at our faces.”

Everyone sighed, looking at the time. “It’s time for all of us to sleep, say we continue the conversation tomorrow?”

“Definitely.”

Little did they know, a roller coaster of events were going to happen to them in the year.

#originalwork #story writing #comedy #slice of life

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writevswrong · 7 years

Text

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART TWENTY

Nessian Part Twenty by L.J. LaFleur

Eris:

I braced myself as I walked into the hell that is the Court of Nightmares. An ugly reminder of my past, of me.

Layers of rock and filth surrounding a den of monsters. Creatures that haunted human and fae nightmares. Luckily, I’ve had practice walking amongst demons. Hundreds of years, to be exact.

However, you can’t choose your family. The same blood that flows through me, snakes through my brothers, father and mother. I like to think what little good that flickers inside me is from her.

I hurried through the crowd of despicable beings; I was late. Rhysand had called to me but I was too distracted by Nesta to respond. I hadn’t been distracted like this before. I hadn’t cared before. Another infuriating tick with this woman.

When I didn’t respond to him, he gripped my brain, holding me still as I hovered above Nesta. They don’t call him the most powerful High Lord without reason.

“Thank you for joining us, Eris,” Rhysand tilted his head, raising his chin towards me. He sat at the head of the table, in an onyx chair meant for a king. Beside him, in a matching chair, sat Feyre—High Lady of the Night Court.

Glancing around the room, I realized they were all here. The inner circle, the ones who made the rest of Prythian tremble. “I apologize for not coming sooner,” I replied flatly.

“What delayed you?” Amren sneered, her silver eyes sending daggers into my chest. She was different since the war, that other worldly danger didn’t linger behind her irises. Still…I wasn’t about to irritate the ancient beast.

I stared at her, at the fire bird who saved us, who unleashed herself upon the sea of men. Crossing my arms against my chest, I smirked, “busy. Not all of us have time to continue affairs in distant courts.”

Amren snarled in response.

“Is Nesta alright?” Cassian asked quietly, a leash tightened around his growing anger.

I nodded, unsure if I should explain what really delayed me. What I saw in the flames, what nearly frightened her to death. What stole a minute of my life away.

“Why did you take her?” Feyre asked, her voice ringing against the rock walls.

This caught my attention. I knew why, but she didn’t. Keep it to myself? Or…?

Feyre’s hand lit with fire, “I’m waiting.”

“Why did you let her run away?” I countered, releasing my arms to pull out a wooden chair from the center of the table—the center of the inner circle. Perhaps this was my trial.

Before anyone could speak, a strained voice spoke up, “she thought she would kill us. That her abilities would demolish not only us but all of Velaris. An endless inferno.” Cassian breathed, his fist tightening till his knuckles went white.

I twisted in my seat, to get a better angle of Cassian and to show the High Lord and Lady that I did not fear them, not even when my back was turned. “She dreams of you,” I confessed, watching as his fist loosened. “All of you,” I continued while turning to face the rest of the inner circle. “You were her family. You were supposed to protect her,” my voice grew louder, thickening with outrage.

Rhysand snarled, stopping my rant before it could continue further. “Yet you were the one to kidnap her.”

“It was either kidnap or kill,” I revealed—a truth I didn’t care to admit. “I shouldn’t have been able to get through the wards to begin with, yet I did. Why?” Pressing further was dangerous, but what did it matter? They needed to question themselves; they were not always good and noble.

Azriel grazed his thumb along the marked table, tracing the claw marks from our last meeting. A watchful eye on me, “the same could be said for your wards.”

I inhaled, thinking too quickly that I could barely get the words off my tongue. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the shadows have eyes,” I responded casually.

“Is she safe?” Cassian interjected, his tone colder than faebane. Copper eyes narrowed in my direction; a curtain of black waves layered around his tanned face.

Clenching my jaw, pondering if a truth or a lie would get me further. “The longer I’m here…no.” I answered honestly. I didn’t secure the chains around those dainty wrists of hers. I didn’t lock her up. Instead, I left her in my chambers. I left her to burn my court to ashes. I left her to possibly be another victim of my brothers. I needed to go.

Elain stepped out from behind Azriel’s wings, her eyes widened as she took me in.

“Moving on from Mor so quickly?” I taunted, winking in Mor’s direction.

Mor laughed with little humor, her red dress nearly glowing in this dim lighting. “If you touch her, if you harm her in anyway…”

“Spare me the dramatics. I grow rather tired of them—as you know.” I snapped, my eyes tracing over her curvy body.

It would make her skin crawl; I watched as she shrunk back into her seat.

Azriel growled, his blue siphons radiating.

Elain stood silent, her eyes darting between me and Cassian. What a peculiar girl.

Feyre cleared her throat, catching my attention. Claws grew from Feyre’s fingers, “are you finished with your remarks?”

“My apologies, High Lady,” I bowed my head slightly, breathing in deeply as I felt the pain in my knee sharpen. The pain persisted ever since the war, since a faebane arrow burrowed its way through my flesh and bone.

Azriel spoke firmly from his seat, watching Elain out of the corner of his eye, “why do you have Hybern’s faebane production?”

“They stole it.”

“Did you as well?” Amren’s brow rose, her nose raising in the air.

Nostrils flared as I exhaled heavily, “no, I was too busy in the medical tent to follow in their footsteps.”

Mor examined me, a hint of worry, perhaps? But for who? Nesta? Herself?

Rhysand adjusted on his throne, his voice turning guttural, “and what exactly do they plan on doing?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I can rip the answer from your mind if I wanted to.” Feyre added, her tongue clicking against the top of her mouth.

“You already tried, it isn’t there.” I smiled sinfully, “did you not think I wouldn’t feel the talons of a woman?”

Elain stepped forward, Azriel immediately stood beside her. His body, his wings blocking me from seeing her. An inaudible exchange and Azriel lowered his wings, unveiling her only to just below her chin.

“What is it?” I asked, looking from each of the inner circle puzzled faces then back to Elain’s.

Her scowl reduced, as if a repressed memory had finally awakened. “Tendrils of sun…?” the tiniest trail of blood snaked down to her upper lip. “Flames of suns, tendrils of night. Wings of ruin…end, end of sight.” Elain mumbled, her golden eyes widening.

Azriel sniffed, catching the scent of her blood before anyone else had noticed. I had never witnessed him moving so quickly. His wings enclosed him and Elain, feverish murmurs until nothing.

“Does this happen often?” I finally asked, looking around at the distracted parties except one.

Cassian hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since I entered the Court of Nightmares. I didn’t blame him.

Azriel turned into a puff of shadows, disappearing with Elain. Neither saying a word as the darkness faded.

Before a snarky comment could leave my lips, Rhysand’s voice slithered into my mind.

Azriel showed me everything. Rhysand sounded different, relieved?

Isn’t he the Spymaster of the Night Court? Isn’t that his job?

Yes. And isn’t it yours to inflict the torture, not guard against it?

Yes.

Not missing a beat, he continued, we’ll bring you the cauldron, on two conditions.

You won’t risk it, my head shot up, staring him down. No matter whose life is at stake.

He kissed the back of Feyre’s tattooed hand, I will do whatever it takes to bring my family together.

Did you decide that before or after you let Nesta spiral out of control? I grumbled, watching as he released Feyre’s hand to stare me down.

Rhysand hissed so loudly I nearly had to cover my ears.

After, then. I criticized, feeling my face twist with disgust.

You saved her. Or cursed her—depends how you look at it. Rhysand snickered, gauging me with those violet irises.

What do you mean?

You saved her from herself, from the powers eating her alive. But you cursed her, because you took her from her mate, her family.

Mate? An unfamiliar lump rose in the back of my throat.

Rhysand nodded in reply. I pulled my eyes away, looking at the penetrating glare of Cassian. The bastard commander had a mate after all? I didn’t know what to say, what to do. For what felt like an eternity of unbearable silence, the room emptied—all but for one.

“She needs to eat. To stay strong.” He muttered, concern lacing his cold words.

I stared at the table for a moment longer, still processing, “she refuses to eat, to sleep.”

Cassian continued, “orange mash paired with willow beans, that’s her favorite. Sliced apples—green not red. Nothing red should be on her plate or she won’t eat it.”

“She won’t bathe.”

“Buckets. A lot of damn buckets.” Cassian exhaled his pent-up frustrations, “whatever she saw in that cauldron…will always haunt her.”

Not a what, a who. Ronan. Whoever the hell he is, haunted her every move. I pursed my lips, gathering what little information he would spare.

Cassian proceeded, “reading, she loves it. Romance and poetry. Sonnets about the sea and traveling to foreign lands.” He shook his head, a permanent scowl in place, “though she has a hard time reading now. But maybe if you read to her…it might bring her peace.”

“She’s an extraordinary woman, isn’t she?” I pressed, observing the twitch of his fist, the flare of his crimson siphon.

Cassian’s lightening hand gripped my throat, pinning me to the back of my chair. “If you harm her…”

I choked for air, grabbing the arms of the chair until the wood groaned then snapped.

He hesitantly released me, hazel eyes flashing with rage.

“I won’t,” I rasped, rubbing my burning throat. “She loves you,” I breathed in.

Cassian stilled, his entire body turning to stone.

“You’re a fool not to see it,” I growled, and so was I. A gods-damn fool.

Not another word was spoken between us. Instead Cassian turned on the heel of his boot and marched out. I could see the glow of his red siphons flicker down the dark hallway.

Keep her safe, Eris. Rhysand warned, a mighty claw gently scraped the back of my skull.

I will. Wherever that damn cauldron is, you need to move faster.

Move faster?

My father will do whatever is necessary to obtain his dreams.

Which are?

King of Prythian. What every old bastard wants at his age.

Will you take care of the faebane?

And compromise my future? Mine and Nesta’s life? No.

Then what do you suggest we do about it? Feyre entered my mind, through the opening I kept clear for Rhysand.

I suggest you two quit stalling me any further unless you would like to risk your sister’s life further. Whatever you have planned, tread lightly.

A sharp talon curled against my mind, sending cold chills down my back. Vomit raced upwards, pushing against the back of my tongue.

My teeth gnashed together, I will not have you risk her life for a failed mission.

Their presence vanished from my head; the room grew colder. I inhaled, letting the bitter air burn my throat. This was going to end in disaster—no matter what they say or do to reassure her safety. I didn’t trust them.

The Night Court was one of complexity. Good depending what side you were on, awful depending if you were not high priority on their list.

Nesta a pillar of steel, unfortunately laid on the wrong side. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

I stood, my mind wandering for answers—for theories on why this human turned fae was left to her own demise. How could they not hear her leave? Who pushed her to go? Tracing my steps, I pushed my way through the crowded throne room.

As Cassian’s mate…I find it hard to believe he would have let her adventure alone without company. Bastard is more of a loyal dog than a bat.

My pace quickened, the jagged stone walls caving in.

But Mor.

Yes, Mor…the beautiful truth teller.

The liar.

I turned sharply, heading down the last labyrinth of pathways to the exit.

If Cassian and Azriel’s attention were misplaced. The focus on her would be greater. For a mate, a lover—a fleet of men would try to win over her heart. None able to accomplish such a thing, not when her feelings rested with a dead queen from centuries ago.

Fear created that lie.

Sunlight drenched the end of the tunnel; freedom. The moment the warmth touched my skin, I winnowed home.

I held my breath, waiting for the shadows to disperse. If she burned down the court, I wouldn’t blame her. I only hoped she spared those who were innocent.

The mist of black disappeared, unveiling my untouched chambers. Swiftly scanning the room until I saw her. I exhaled, studying the golden-brown waves falling from her disheveled up-do. Nesta sat beside the opened window, her focus impenetrable.

“Where did you go?” She inquired without looking at me.

I enclosed the space between us, studying the object she was so focused on. “Do the farmers really spark that much interest?” My chambers felt warmer than before, or maybe it was just her presence.

Nesta’s lips twitched upwards, “it’s not the farmers that hold my attention.” She lifted her slim finger, a slight tremble in her hand. “There,” pointing east, “I can see, all the way to the ocean. There’s a perfect split through the woods, a crack that leads towards the fallen mountain rocks…a tunnel all the way to the sea.” Her pale face had grown some color in the time I was gone.

I was afraid to speak, afraid to ruin her moment of peace.

“Before I became…” she swallowed hard, shaking her head to fight off the memories. “I only wanted to travel, to find my place in this world.” Nesta turned her attention to me, gray-blue eyes filled with bitter sorrow. “Fate can be cruel, can it not?”

Speaking before thinking, I blurted out, “I don’t believe in fate.”

“What do you believe in?” She countered, a slight twitch of her lips signaled I was out of the crossfire.

A smirk spread across my face, what the hell did I believe in? “It has been a very long time since I believed in anything.”

“Then why live at all?”

“In hopes to find something or someone to believe in one day.”

Nesta searched my eyes, as I did hers. For something deeper, perhaps? What she didn’t realize is that I have a talent for burying my true feelings. An expert at deflecting. The black of her irises grew, whatever she found, maybe it was the comfort she needed. I looked away before she could dig any further.

I hesitated, digging my hands into my trouser pockets, “thank you.”

“For what?” She replied, pulling the leather strap that held her hair up. Honey waves trailed down her back, a mess of tangles and dried blood.

Nesta waited, her fingertips gently grazing the mark on her face. Dried crimson still stained her cheeks and chin; bruises and cuts left behind by Ferron. Worse, more permanent markings were left beneath her skin.

“For not turning my home to ashes.”

Nesta:

There was a book length of space between us. I glanced at the thankful amber irises. His shoulders pushed back, a muscular torso nearly breaching his tunic. Eris lifted his chin, a crooked smile brushing his thin lips.

“Are you hungry?” He implored, leaning against the wall. Eris studied the spot, the tunnel to the ocean.

Starving. “No, not all.”

“Liar.” Eris pursed his lips, returning his fixing his intense gaze on me, “follow me.” He retreated towards the bedroom door, clearing the room in just a few steps.

“Missing something?” I asked, jerking my chin towards the faebane chains. I didn’t want those damn chains wrapped around me but I feared the unknown more.

Eris’ amber eyes glistened over, I swear they had.

He cleared his throat, “those won’t be necessary for where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” I hurried to be beside him. A frantic voice in the back of my head said this might be a bad idea, that I might be putting myself in more danger this way.

Eris opened the door, the corner of his lips edging upwards, “a place for dreamers.”

I don’t know how many times I circled around, bewitched by the Autumn Court library. Books upon books, six levels—maybe more, I lost count. It was almost as grand as the throne room.

The columns that held each level had been one continuous tree it looked like. At the top, the ceiling, my gods…the ceiling had thousands of jeweled leaves. A treasure ceiling of topaz and sunstones, of gold and copper gemstones. Light reflected off each carved leaf.

I couldn’t possibly focus on the books when I was bedazzled by what floated above me.

“My father wanted to build the largest library in all of Prythian,” Eris’ gruff voice snuck up behind me.

“I thought Helion had the largest library?” I pried my eyes away from what was above to look beside me. There were stars in his amber eyes, a cosmic wonderland of burning suns.

“He does.” Eris observed me, his face neutral, “I’ll take you to the poetry level.”

My jaw dropped slightly, then returned to normal. “A level? A whole level?” A saving grace of my captivity.

“Yes, the third one up. I’ll even show you a safe place to read.”

That’s when it hit me, the lack of reading I’ve been doing. The guilt that penetrated my heart with a spear of ice. But what excuse did I have now? I wasn’t training nor did I have anywhere but my cell to reside in.

Eris was already climbing the spiral stairs, they were so high—I wondered if they could reach the stars. Or if anyone fell down them. Ignoring my minor panic, I quickly followed. I was nearly out of breath as we made it to the third level.

Screaming lungs and beads of sweat, I finally made it. Eris was already at a shelf several feet away.

“Pick one out and I’ll show you my favorite place to read.” He stepped back, resting his back on the rickety railing.

I looked up at the overwhelming tower of books, “you read?”

“Yes, I read. Is that so hard to believe?” Eris chuckled, pushing off the railing to stand beside me.

“I thought you would be off kidnapping some other woman by now,” I smiled coyly while scanning the titles on the top three shelves.

“I wouldn’t have kidnapped you if you stayed in Velaris,” he leaned against the wall, inspecting the shelf’s sturdiness. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you?” he pressed, sliding his finger against the invisible specks of dust.

I glanced at the aged shelf, debating which title would keep my attention. I didn’t dare look at him.

“Silence?” He shrugged when I didn’t answer, grazing his finger down the old spines, “I never would…”

“I didn’t deserve their kindness,” I faltered, biting my lip till I nearly bled.

Eris stilled, his voice lowered. “My mother once told me, beautiful women lie to--”

“I nearly killed him,” I uttered, feeling the release as I said the words. “Not just once…” I pulled a random book and began walking away. The fire in my core circled, ready to play—to destroy.

“If only you had. Save us a lot of trouble,” Eris jeered, his expression falling when he caught up to me.

I lifted my hand, flames wrapping up my arm, “touch him and I will incinerate you.” I could feel the amber tears pool in my eyes, I could see the discoloration of him as drops of fire threatened to fall.

“Do you know how to control it?” He asked calmly, watching the flames circle my fingers.

I shook my head, watching the fire grow up my wrists. I couldn’t stop it, I would burn down the entire library—the Autumn Court. Panic reddened my cheeks as I raised my hands to study them.

Eris held his hand out, waiting. “Search for the heat.”

“What?” I asked, not taking his welcoming hand. What if I burned him too? What if he didn’t make it to the healer in time?

“The heat. The starting point. Where is it within you?”

I closed my eyes, trying to focus, “my stomach?” I shook my head, feeling the kin on my forehead pucker as I kept searching.

“Your heart, Nesta.” He tapped his chest, where a sturdy and steady beat filled my ears, “as you inhale, think of something good.”

“Something good? Are you serious?”

“Do you not have a good memory?”

“Honestly?” I replied, searching for something good, something pure. I flickered through moments in my childhood, only to feel the flames touch my shoulders. The more I thought of the past, the worse I felt.

“Think.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered. My heart beat accelerated as I thought of my father and sisters. I thought of books and long walks. Nothing.

“Nesta,” Eris warned, his hand instinctively grabbing mine.

I waited to hear him scream but nothing.

“I’m trying,” I snapped. Memories crashed into my heart, ripples of dread and fury. I couldn’t stop it. Why did I not have a memory, a moment that felt good.

Heat rose up my neck and across my chest, I was going to explode.

Cassian’s honeyed voice filtered in, “you, Nesta Archeon, are not weak. Take care to remember that.”

Every memory of the bastard warrior struck my chest, soothing the building fire. I could feel his phantom lips against mine; the caress of his hand. How his heartbeat thumped against my skin.

I could feel the flames shrinking, the heat lifting off my heart.

“You’re almost there,” Eris’ soothing voice nearly sung to me.

His voice mixed with Cassian’s. A peaceful echo in my head. I wanted to peek but didn’t dare, I didn’t want to be wrong. I didn’t want to hope, to believe I would see Cassian again. I wasn’t sure if I could take it.

I thought of Eris, of the other bastard in my life. How a torturous moment in Ferron’s chambers turned into one of hope. I had been there, lying on my back in agony but I would rather die on that table—in this court—than say a word about my family.

He would be the last person I would see, that’s when he said it. To torture me with fire, with the one thing that physically couldn’t harm me anymore. He knew.

The flames receded further. Heat racing down my arms.

“Whatever good you have left, think of it. Do it now.” He demanded, his voice strained.

“I…I don’t have anything left.”

“You mean to say our kiss didn’t make your list of good?” He teased whole heartedly.

I growled in response, “bite me, Eris.”

“Willow beans and orange mash, your highness.” An unfamiliar voice spoke from behind us.

My eyes fluttered open, staring at the tray of food, the remaining flames sunk into my fingertips. The servant set the tray down on the nearest table and quickly retreated.

I couldn’t move, breathe—nothing.

“Cassian.” Eris quietly replied, guiding me towards the table.

I peered up at Eris, at the gentle curve of his lips. “When?” I asked, letting myself hope this time.

The brilliant light in Eris’ eyes disappeared, returning to the familiar shade of amber. “Eat, first,” he commanded.

After scarfing down the entire contents of my plate, I was half tempted to ask for more. I wiped my lips with the cream cloth, an embroidered “V” with several Red Maple leaves forming a crown.

Eris had taken the time while I ate to gather a couple of books. All poetry, some even in different languages. Letters that I had never seen before.

“I’m surprised you read,” I commented, digging my thumbnail into the wooden tray.

He sighed with relief, noticing all my food was eaten. Returning to his stack of books, he jutted his chin forward, “someone in this family needs to.” Unsatisfied with his collection, he returned to another untouched shelf.

“That explains why you’re different.”

“Does it? I would have thought it was my remarkable chivalry.” He handed me a book, “here, this one should…” his head tilted, a scowl appearing, “what, is it?

“I can’t read. Not that…it’s not that I can’t read, I just…” I couldn’t find the words. Giving up, I tried a different subject, “when did you see him?”

“When I left you earlier, it was because I was summoned by Rhysand.”

“He summons you?”

“Hard to say no to such a charming High Lord.” Eris tapped his knuckle against a thick green leather-bound book. “they wanted to know why I kidnapped you.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked why they let you run away.” He pulled his hands behind his back, we walked side by side beside the wall of novels. “They didn’t like that.”

“I’m sure,” I watched my feet, the Illyrian boots moving one in front of the other.

“It’s safe here. No one in my family comes here but me. That door there,” he pointed to a space on the shelf. It was a hidden door, made to fit seamlessly in the shelf. “A sitting room. You’re welcome to use it.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “enjoy.” A new book already in hand, he headed towards the stairs.

“What are you reading?” I asked before he descended.

Eris stopped, slowly raising his head to look at me, “a tale of star-crossed lovers.”

“Romance?” I taunted, raising a brow as he headed towards me. Was he serious?

“Surprisingly, I have a heart. And guilty pleasures.” The familiar smirk reappeared as he glided past me to open the door of his secret nook, “have you read it?”

“I have not,” I replied, stepping through the doorway into a charming reading room. Two massive leather chairs sat beside a wall of windows, a round table set in between them.

“Would you like to?” He closed the door behind him and sat in the chair facing the doorway.

I glanced at the book then back at him, “no.”

Eris raised his ankle to rest against the top of his knee, “hopefully you don’t mind me reading out loud then. I hate the silence.”

“Or do you need to practice sounding out the words?”

His smirk grew into a sparkling smile, flipping the pages back to the beginning.

I nuzzled in the seat across from him. Listening. Eating up every word as he spoke. Eventually I closed my eyes, imagining the story of two enchanted souls losing themselves amongst the continents only to find each other years later.

“The end,” he whispered, closing the book and resting it against the table.

I reluctantly sat up from my comfortable position, “you finished? Already?”

“What did you think?”

“It was beautiful.”

Eris licked his lips, a glass of water appearing beside him. “It’s missing something,” he responded before taking a sip.

“Missing what?” I squinted, as if it would help me hear better.

“Sex.”

“Pig,” I shook my head; an absolute ass.

Eris shifted in his chair, his eyes flickering towards the door than back to me. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Love is more than sex, Eris.”

“Is it? I could have sworn…”

Before he could speak another word, I retorted with, “maybe that’s why you’re so lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” he commented, raising his etched glass to his dry lips.

I couldn’t help but laugh, noticing the bursting suns reappearing in his eyes. “Oh?” I asked, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say next.

“You’re next to me. Are you not?” He flickered his eyebrows up, setting his glass down.

“A mirage,” I twiddled my thumbs, circling them to distract myself.

Eris plopped the book down, making me jump. “A beautiful one then,” he coolly replied.

“Save your flattery,” I could feel the patches of pink form on my chest and neck. I chalked it up to embarrassment of my shot nerves.

“Ah,” he murmured, staring out the window. “How could I forget about good ole Cassian?”

“He is not all good, nor is he all bad,” I answered honestly. Cassian…I missed him. The sharp pain in my heart still healing. I wasn’t sure what was killing me more, the fact that I would never get to see him again or that if I did, I might nearly kill him.

Eris pondered, “what would you call him then?” He focused on the empty spot on our table, waiting.

“Male?” I asked confused, I stared at the same spot. What the hell was he doing?

“Fae?”

“Illyrian.”

“Englighten me, Nesta…” he paused to look at me, “have you ever been with a male?”

Fire ignited, “why is that such a fascinating topic for the opposite sex?” I bit my lip shaking my head. Are all men asses? “Have you ever fucked anyone? No, Eris. I have not.”

“Why? If you’re in love, why haven’t you?” What are you waiting for?” His focus returned back to the empty spot. A tray of steaming tea and scones appeared.

If I had blinked, I would have missed it. I watched as the hazy tendrils reached skywards from the teacup. “I, I’m not ready. I don’t know when I’ll ever be,”

“Who was it?” He asked, slicing the scones in half with an absurdly large knife.

My mind couldn’t focus on our discussion, not when my stomach wouldn’t stop growling. “Who?” I asked utterly confused, my eyes honed in on the blueberry jam that he was spreading across the delectable surface.

“The one that tore your faith in men away?”

“Tomas,” I confessed, not paying any attention to what I was saying.

He waited, stopping all movements as he watched my words catch up to me.

I glanced between him and the scone, he was silently bribing me. A scone for my thoughts. Prick. So, I began, thinking back to the day my faith in men broke.

I stared at the cup of a tea, looking into it as if it were a cauldron of buried memories. “In a barn,” I coughed to clear my throat. “On the farthest side of his land--the outskirts of my miniscule village.” I gazed up at Eris, for some reason it was easier telling him these details. Cassian would break every bone in Tomas’ body but Eris? He would do nothing, just listen. Only listen.

“I had gone to break things off with him. To stop it from becoming too serious.” I looked out the window, at the panes of glass trickled with heavenly drops. “Anyways, he held me down and as I begged him to stop…he laughed.” My throat throbbed, swelling with pain. “I fought. I ran.” I inhaled deeply only to exhale quickly, my words rushing out, “I didn’t love him and after that I never would.”

For a long while, neither of us spoke. I wasn’t sure if I scared him or if he was waiting for more to the story. Either way, he pushed the scone forward, signaling me to eat.

“If you had your chance for revenge, would you take it?” Eris asked before taking a bite. I

I swallowed the deliciously warm scone. “I’d like to think I’m better. But deep down, I know…” I had never said this out loud. The realization that I had not discussed this with anyone before hit me harder than I thought. This was out loud, there was someone listening to every word. This was real.

Eris studied me, then down at his hand that rested on the table between us. “Your anger, your sadness and your pride will control this,” he let the flames grow to emphasize his point. “Do not let your demons win.”

“What does it matter now?” I pushed the scone away, only a bite taken but I was full—sick.

“It will always matter.” Fire danced on his palm, raising towards the ceiling. He released the book, his other hand turning into a ball of flames. “Your emotions are yours. Control them, control this.” He exhaled, the fire receding, leaving only smoke tendrils behind.

Splashes of pink and red filtered through the window, rays of gold setting in the distance—scaring the rain clouds away. For what felt like an eternity, we sat still, staring out that window. I was scared to look at him, scared to see what he felt—what would be plastered all over his face.

“Say something,” he finally said.

I shifted in my seat, taking a deep breath as I gave him a once over. “Will I be here forever? As your family’s prisoner?”

“I don’t know,” he answered solemnly.

I searched his eyes, nothing. The rest of his body, nothing. Clues—there was nothing. I couldn’t read him. “Please take me to my cell,” I croaked, letting the amber droplets slide down my bloodstained skin.

“No.”

A prisoner for the rest of my life. A period of time that could be anywhere from a blink in time to forever. “Then please take me home,” I whispered, unable to speak any louder.

“No.”

“Eris…”

“I can’t.”

I gave up, feeling as if the faebane chains had permanently settled into my skin. A hopeless effort on my part. I should have known that even getting in Eris’ good graces, I would never leave, only trap myself further.

“You need your rest before tomorrow.”

I knew he was talking about Ferron. I knew I would go back, I would keep going until they broke me. How could he? How could he give me this gift, this…this moment of peace to rip it from me so cruelly?

“You told me to control my emotions. Maybe it’s time to unleash yours.” I snapped, retreating out of the sitting room. I needed air—maybe wine. I didn’t know. But if I were going to burn this damn court to the ground, then I would start with this damn library.

Eris winnowed in front of me, I instantly turned around.

He blocked the exit, his arms spread across the door frame. “I do not have the luxury,” he seethed, nostrils flaring.

“You do not have courage,” I snapped, my heart racing, “there’s a difference.”

Eris snarled, the first time I had heard him make such an atrocious sound, “and what good would it bring me? I am no bastard commander.”

“No, you’re not,” I agreed, balling my hands into fists. I didn’t bother trying to put out the flames this time. “Take me home,” I whispered with more animosity than I had ever used with him before.

He shook his head, lacing his fingers with mine. Calculated amber eyes focused in, studying my trembling lip. “If that’s what you wish.”

Eris:

To the woods then. Where hundreds of Red Maple trees expanded beyond the horizon. The shadows released us, spitting us several miles away from the Winter Court border. Close enough.

“Where…?” Nesta breathed, her hands trembling with fire.

I shook my head, there wasn’t any time for this. We had to move, to run. “We need to keep moving,” I urged, pulling her fire-hand with mine.

“If we winnow again…?” She could barely speak, let alone sprint.

No delays, no death. It was that simple. “We won’t. Your face is a rather disgusting shade of green.” I dragged her behind me, running through the leafy terrain.

“Prick,” she mumbled.

I nearly laughed but this wasn’t the time. The Autumn Woods was full of creatures worse than the Spring Court, possibly more devilish than the Night Court. We knew how to make all good things rot to their core, monsters were no different. “Do not fall behind, do not look back. Or we will die. Do you understand?”

Those gray-blue eyes widened, I could see the stress of my words sinking in.

She nodded, falling in step after me. I guess she didn’t think I would do it. That her damn words wouldn’t strike a chord in me. That her entire being had sparked something within me that I hadn’t felt in a hundred years.

Nesta breathed heavily, with each exhale, I could feel the fear on the back of my neck. I wanted to hold her, to winnow us away. But I couldn’t. I could barely get us this far, even then I thought it might kill me. Why? Why could I not winnow?

“Can we stop, please?” She panted, nearly tripping over her boots. Nesta was slowing down, I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t much better than her at the moment.

My grip tightened around hers, “we can’t stop, not yet. We need to get past the wards and traps.” I continued to move forward, pulling her along. I would carry her if I needed to.

“Traps?” She muttered, her feet picking up at my urgency.

“Tons,” Egan laughed, stepping in front of us.

We slid to a stop, I almost lost my balance as Nesta slammed into my back. “Egan, what are you doing here?” I raised myself upright, keeping Nesta behind me. If I had enough strength to winnow, I could get us across the border.

Egan’s smile twisted, “not just me, brother.” A look of regret flashing across his features.

Aedin and Father stepped into view, their mouths nearly frothing with rage.

Well, shit.

“Father,” I bowed slightly, still holding Nesta behind me. Even as she squirmed to see what was going on—I didn’t falter. “Nesta and I were going for a late stroll.”

“Isn’t that what you said with Lys?” Aedin crossed his arms, stepping closer.

The vein in my neck bulged, fire building in my palm. I would strike if I needed to.

Aedin circled around us, trying to get a better view of Nesta. “Does she know about Lys? About your first love?”

“His only love, till death do you part.” Egan said sadly, his eyes focused on the top of Nesta’s head.

“Winnow,” she begged. “You have to,” Nesta breathed as she buried her head into my back.

I could feel the flames rising from her, dancing with mine. I could feel the fiery tendrils collide with me.

“Lys was mighty beautiful,” Aedin hissed with laughter. “Well…before the wolves shredded her.”

Memories of Lys, of the only love I knew being torn apart by Autumn wolves—wolves trained by my father.

Nesta grabbed my forearm, her fingers tightening around my muscle. A signal. If she wasn’t going to explode first, then it would be me. Maybe that would be in our favor?

Father could barely move, his disappointment evident in his stance, in his face. “How could you betray me? Your father? Your flesh and blood?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“You don’t understand…” I swore, unable to continue.

“I don’t understand??” Father spat on the leafy ground, “you turned into a disappointment. A traitor. Just like your brother.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Aedin barked. “A traitor to the throne, to our blood.” His fist flew into my stomach, barely making an impact.

Looking at his fist, I followed up his arm and then to his surprised expression. Aedin might look more muscular, but he was no match for his older brother. I pushed Nesta back, towards the opening in the woods.

If I held them off long enough, she could make it.

I launched a ball of fire into Aedin’s chest, sending him backwards. Egan came next, a failed attempt at a tackle. My elbow crushed down on his spine, a loud snap reverberated against the trees.

Aedin stared at Egan’s limp body, a wild expression, a blazing fist aiming for my jaw. I ducked then lunged forward. I would kill him. Blood or not, this was my revenge.

“She screamed like a little bitch when the first wolf bit her.” Aedin roared, smothering the flames across his chest.

I yelled, unable to contain the beast within. Fire poured out of me, wrapping around Aedin until his oxygen was nearly cut off. Out of all my brothers, Aedin was the worst, the vain and damned out of the bunch.

A piercing scream came from behind me, my heart stopped—as did the flaming circle.

“If you kill him, she’s dead.” Father bellowed, his voice shaking the leaves around us. “We’re going home.”

Nesta:

Beron had caught up to me. For an old man, he was fast. I only screamed because Beron had raised a dagger, he would kill his own son. I shouldn’t have been surprised by that, I should have seen it coming if anything.

But it was too late now. We were back in the damp cell, covered in faebane chains. Eris sat beside me, his shoulder keeping me warm while we waited out our trials. We would die today, a most painful death.

“Why did they name you Eris?” I asked to distract myself.

Eris rested his head on the stone wall, staring at the ceiling above us. “Because like fire, I rise,” he croaked.

Eris hadn’t spoken for hours, but finally…finally I had asked the right question.

“Why did they name you Nesta?”

“My parents never told me.” I answered, squinting in the darkness. “Will we die here?” I finally asked the pending question I was too afraid to say. Part of me knew, but another part only hoped this was just a bad dream.

Eris remined silent, answer enough.

I couldn’t give up now, “can’t you just winnow us out of here?”

“With faebane chains wrapped around us like this?” He raised his wrist, which in doing so raised mine, “…no.”

“Will…?” I stopped, hearing what sounded like an arrow piercing through the sky. The landing sounded like an explosion, the loudest noise I had ever heard. My ears rung, my heart raced furiously.

A roar so loud, I had to cover my ears. The aftershocks from whatever landed made the stones beneath us crack. Amber tears leaked out of my eyes as the second roar sounded. A line of light filtered into our cell, the crack large enough for the air to pass through.

His scent sung to me, caressing my entire body. Warmth and rage encasing me.

“Cassian?” I whispered, my eyes looking through the grid of metal and stone till I saw an opening, a crack just large enough to peek through.

His wings tucked in tightly behind him, hundreds of Illyrian soldiers touched foot on the ground while the remainder stayed in the air. Seconds later, the rest of the family winnowed beside him.

“Cassian,” I cried, hope lifting my spirits. He was here, he…he was alive.

Eris kneeled beside me, looking through the same crack. A crooked smile gracing his face, “it’s about time that bastard arrived.”

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