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datawyrms · 4 years ago

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For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams. The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had, really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho!#angst train choo choo

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spinchip · 4 years ago

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ooo if you're taking prompts maybe something with amara? i'd love to see her and zane talk about seer stuff and goof off together

A/N: This got out of hand. 2500 words, it’s some Zane and Amara bonding, then Zane gets a scary vision and Amara and Alma help him through it. Warning for Zanes vision: blood, gore, body horror. no main characters or ocs are hurt!

Amara hit the training mat with a grunt, rolling across the soft of it with the force of the throw, letting her arms flop uselessly as she splayed out on her back. She heaves out a breath, sweat slick on her forehead and frizzing the edges of her hair.

“I think i’m starting to get it!” She announces, breathless, and Zane grins behind his hand. Amara may have an affinity for things to do with psychics and visions, but martial arts was a bit out of her skill level.

Lloyd smiles apologetically, hands on his knees as he leans over her, “I’ll try coming in a little easier and give you a chance to practice the counter in slow motion.”

“You know, that sounds good and all, but i think i might sit this next little bit out. Gonna let the lesson sink in a little, you know? Sleep on it and all.” She nods to herself, folding her hands over her stomach as if she’s totally meant to be laying in the middle of the training ground.

“Sounds good.” Lloyd laughs and lets her off easy, offering his hand to pull her up.

After working together to get her off the ground, Amara presses a hand to the stitch in her side and hobbles her way over to the others, who’d been watching the impromptu training session with amused eyes, “That’s the last time I watch you train.” She mutters when she gets within hearing range, giving Zane a teasing stink eye.

Cole takes her spot, running a few drills with Lloyd in a much smoother and confident way than Amara had. She seems unbothered, stretching out her tense muscles.

“You did very well for your first time.” Zane offers, moving into a simple yoga pose that he motions for Amara to imitate.

“Thanks.” She sighs deeply, rolling her shoulders, “I try to keep myself in alright shape, but this was a bit more advanced than jogging or lifting weights.” She mutters, shifting into the tree pose, letting her body cool down from the heavy workout, “Grandma works out too. Keeping your body active helps keep your mind active, most seers try and hold a healthy routine.”

“Physical exercise helps with visions?”

Amara shrugs, “Exercise, eating right, meditation, all that. Your body is a temple or something. These abilities we have cost you, the toll they take can be rough if you’re not prepared, though I suppose you’d have an advantage on the physical effects. A heart attack wouldn’t affect you.” She hums, mulling that over as they break pose. They run through a few more together until Lloyd signals they should clean up. “Thanks for the yoga, hopefully that will help my sore muscles.”

“Would have worked better if you had not talked through most of it.” He jokes.

“Everything I had to say was very important.”

Lloyd claps his hands, “Alright, I think we can call it for today. Great work everybody.”

“Cool, I could use a shower.” Kai sighs dreamily at the thought of it as they all gather their water bottles and towels.

Nya wrinkles her nose, “You can say that again!”

It’s not really all that funny, but the others laugh anyway, and Zane smiles along with them. It’d been a good day, he’d made some great stride that morning with Geand Seer Mirai in getting more comfortable using his seer abilities, and Amara had come to watch them train- and even agreed, at his insistence, to do some defensive training as well. He was worried about her being caught up with the Ninja when she couldn’t properly defend himself. They’d gotten a lot done that day, and he felt good.

He sighs, feeling the cool breeze on his face for just a moment longer, and then he turns to follow his friends insi-

Water sloshes around his ankles and he stumbles at the thickness of it, kicking liquid everywhere as he tries to catch himself. he blinks, disoriented- the horizon yawns around him, red water stretching endlessly across the skyline- the monasteries courtyard has vanished, open sky swallowing everything he can see. The sky is a hellish orange, boundless and never ending, the sun a suffocating weight in the sky and spots dance in his eyes when he glances too close, the heat threatening to hold him too tightly, wringing the strength from his body with it’s burn. The air is heavy and thick and dragging across his shoulders, the smell of rot and decay sitting slick and cloying on his tongue, filling his head until he gags with it.

The liquid soaking into his pants is not water.

There’s so much blood it pulls at his ankles, so much gore it spills across even the farthest point in the horizon. There’s no sign of land, no point he can get to to save himself, his gi is turning crimson and tacky where it clings to metal. He can feel it inside his mechanics. He scrambles back, stumbling over unseen lumps below the surface. His shoes slide on something slippery and wet and he trips backwards, blood sloshing around him as he hits the surface, and it sinks and stains his clothes, his hair, his skin. He’s frantic, scrambling to his knees to try and push himself back to his feet when he realizes what he’d slid on.

Skin, hair, teeth, bone.

Bodies rise to the surface, all in different states of decay, all of their rib cages torn out- a bloody, gaping hole where their hearts should be, blood pouring from the wounds as if they were fresh. Mouths hang open, eyes roll back to expose the whites, hands curled and twisted in on themselves.

Confusion and panic paralyze him, where is he? Where are his friends? He’s alone. He’s alone! What is he supposed to do?

The blood ripples, Hands surge up and up, the bodies undulating and moving to grasp at him. Sightless eyes and broken jaws and torn flesh moving and searching and hunting. Their fingers dig into his clothes, lock around his wrists- The pool beneath him heaves, yanking him down and he sinks to his chin before his processor kickstarts back to life and he struggles against the pull. His head’s tipped back, gasping against the blood that threatens to fill his mouth, straining against their strength in panicked, wheezing breaths.

They yank again and raw pain flares up his joints as if they were attempting to pull his arms off with the force of it. The dead wail, and it’s an ugly, nails-on-chalkboard thing- a cacophony of noise, and endless screaming, until they all coordinate enough to say, “YOU HAVE TO COME IN.” a thousand voices overlapping in pain and anger and fear, the jaws of the dead moving lifelessly, “GO UNDER.” they scream and whisper all around him.

The next tug is too strong, and the blood floods his senses, swallowing him up beneath the horror of it all. Once they drag him under, the hands vanish and he kicks out with his legs and surges upwards- but the surface is gone, nothing but endless red that begins to move, a current, dragging at his clothes and his eyes and his hair. He doesn’t need to breathe but he holds his breath on instinct alone, swept alongside bodies that don’t grab at him until he spots a black hole opening up before them, swallowing down everything, consuming all in it’s path. Panic seizes him again, the hole is- it’s nothing, there is nothing there, there is nothing past there, and when he passes through it he’ll be nothing too. He cant fight it, it’s getting closer and closer- he’s dying he’s dying he’s so so hungry-

Hands on his face, bright light, he’s sitting on the ground- wasn’t he just floating? he’s trembling all over, someone is running soothing hands over his face, the sun is warm and familiar above him. Was he alive?

“Where am I?” his words run together so badly he’s not sure anyone understands him, the black hole is gone, the bodies are gone.

He grabs at his shirt frantically, yanking on it- white. No blood. The blood is gone. It felt so real. Is any of this real?

“Shhh,” hands on his face, not grasping, not forceful, not pulling him under, running over his cheek bones, his forehead, petting at him gently. Her voice is filtering through the unreality he’s stuck in, “Shhh…y… t… yo… hom… sty... Zane.”

“I am Zane.” He grasps that, he knows that, it’s real. He’s Zane. He’s a ninja. Shouldn’t the metal he’s made of be stained red? There was so much of it. He digs his fingers into the surface he’s sitting on, grit beneath his artificial nails.

“You had a vision,” Her voice breaks through as a whisper, his eyes obey and start to focus- the sky is blue, the sun is warm but not sharp, there’s dirt under his hands. He feels so far away from it all, like his head is full of cotton, like he’s looking at the girl in front of him from a set of eyes just behind his own. “You had a vision, it was scary. What you're seeing right now is real, Zane. You’re in the monastery courtyard. We were training, do you remember training with me?”

The memories are foggy and hard to grasp, “Amara.”

She leans forward and presses their foreheads together, the pink of her eyes something he can focus on, the contact bringing him back to earth, “You can get through this, Zane.” She presses closer, the comfort of the contact making the panic wane.

Grounding. he needs to ground. He focuses on the way the fabric of his clothes feel against his metal skin, bringing his hands back up to twist in the fabric of his gi. He traces the near imperceptible freckles on the bridge of her nose with his eyes, he lets her hands on his face draw the last dregs of panic from him.

He blinks, the world overexposed and bright, so much more comforting than the glaring orange from before. He’s in the monastery courtyard, Amara is here. He was just training with his friends, before he was in the river of blood. No- that was a vision? It wasn’t real. This is real.

“Come back. I’m right here.” She coaxes him gently, guiding the floating edges of his consciousness back home.

He unclenches his hands where they’ve twisted up his shirt and latches onto her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her. Sweat and vanilla floods his senses, not unpleasant only because of her arms around him. She caresses the back of his head soothingly, her fingernails catching in the short scruff at the base of his neck. He knows he’s crying, he can’t help it.

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that, but when the sobs subside and he finally pulls away, Grand Seer Mirai is crouched at his side. Amara sits back in his lap, smiling softly and running a hand in soothing circles over his shoulders, “Hey.” She whispers.

“Hey.” His voice modulator is rough, he doesn't bother correcting it.

“Glad to see you’re back with us, Honey.” Mirai says quietly. She takes his cheek gently and turns his head toward her, wiping at his face with a warm washcloth, thin layers of ice cracking and flaking off, “How are you feeling?”

Dread crawls up his throat and before he can think better of it he tells her, too honestly, “I’m really scared.”

Amara reaches out and holds his hand reassuringly, shuffling closer where she’s tangled up in his legs. Mirai keeps cleaning his face, “It’s okay to be afraid. Visions are disorienting, frightening things- they’re simpler when you sleep, the line between dreams and reality much easier to find- visions in broad daylight are harder. You are doing great, Honey.”

She sits back, “Why don’t we go inside? I can make you some tea, and we can talk about what happened. Your friends are worried about you.”

Zane nods, and Amara crawls out of his lap, lacing their fingers together so she can help him to his feet. He sways dangerously when they first stand and she presses close to his side, a long moment passes before he feels confident attempting to move and she’s with him every step of the way, “I’m here to help.” She says, her support at his side stabilizing him.

The cool of the monastery is welcome, the heat of the sun vanishing off his shoulders. Mirai guides them into the living room and Amara sits on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. Zane practically collapses onto it, and she throws her legs over his lap, leaning over to wrap her arms around him. Normally, the contact would be too much, but with the horror and disconnect from his vision still sticky on his skin, the touch helps. Time passes fuzzy and disorienting, he’s not sure how long he’s sitting there before Mirai hands him a cup of tea.

Amara accepts hers from her grandmother eagerly, wrapping her hands around the hot cup with a contented sigh. Zane realizes only after he tries to drink his why she’s huddling over her cup. His is frozen solid- she’s cold. He’s making her cold.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and squashing the swell of power that has been trapped in the bubble of terror still caught in his chest. Amara straightens up next to him in surprise, the chill she’d been dealing with vanishing from the air.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels more in control than before. He still feels awful and mixed up and a little disoriented, but he can control his powers again, and that gives him another anchor to focus on. Mirai smiles from where she’s sitting on the floor next to them, and reaches over to the coffee table to prepare him another cup of tea. The lights are off, sunlight from the far window enough to see by. There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders he doesn’t remember being given. The Grand Seer has a tea set prepared on a tray, tea, sugar, honey- everything you could need.

She hands him another cup, taking his previous, and he is quietly proud when he doesn't instantly freeze it.

“How are you feeling?” Amara asks once he’s taken his first sip.

“Better.” He admits, “Are you alright? My powers…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, losing his words.

She gets it anyway, “I’m fine,” She reassures him, “You never got cold enough to hurt me.”

“That took a lot of strength,” Mirai praises him quietly, “You were gone in a vision, yet you still had the power to control yourself.”

Amara hands her grandmother her empty cup, smiling at Zane, “We’re really proud of you.”

He smiles weakly and doesn’t feel strong at all.

#zane julien #ninjago #ninjago oc alma #ninjago oc amara #spinchip fic #blood #gore #body horror #Anonymous

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years ago

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: I Hear Her Voice in the Mornin' Hour

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Shepard," the cold voice greeted her, the mechanic gravel unneeding of the visive tone, "or is it the fragment of your former self?"

Jane's head craned slowly, letting her eyes rake over the colossal figure of the derelict Reaper that sat before her. Should she be trembling? Why was she trembling?

"Brave words, for a dead roach," she murmured, wavering in her conviction.

"Your victory accomplished our end goal; your struggle was in vain."

Jane looked away from the synthetic, training her vision on the open sky above her. Lifting a hand above her face to shield it from the afternoon sun. The Citadel was a stark presence in the sky. It was a thing of awe. Now it was a wreck. While four of the arms remained, it wasn't without severe damage to the remaining limbs. The bright center of civilization flickered, struggling to sustain itself after the attacks that likely left millions dead. With the detonation she caused.

"Was the price to defeat your salvation truly worth it? You may think your species achieved enlightenment, but will it last to see those vain promises through?" The Reaper grew louder, a hint of yellow reflecting across the glass-like surface of the optic lenses, "In your hubris, you have destroyed everything that kept your species together! Witness the Citadel! How many died for nothing? How many more will die from starvation? Disease? Eachother? Will you watch your peace crumble?"

Trying to block out the voice, she focused on the rations half-eaten in front of her. Another task she no longer took pleasure from, another waste. Feeling this heaviness was quickly becoming unbearable; she was a beacon for passion and fire. A goddamned, fucking hero. One with a will that ignited others, not a tired soldier that snuck away to avoid eating a full meal. Not someone questioning why they remained. The goddamned bit was right, at least, there was no luck here. Just beating after beating.

She was so alone.

Where were her friends? How long would she have to wait? After all they had been through, wouldn't they at least attempt to find her? She wasn't far from where she had made them leave her behind. Already, she had been back to the beacon several times over the fortnight since the LT had conscripted her into this ragtag community.

She needed the Normandy crew. Her mind whispered horrible things. Taunted and dogged her in each agonizing moment of calm. All she held was death, screaming, the weight of all the choices she made. Her soft place was nowhere to be found.

"This legacy you attempted will end in the spoiling of your name. Villanhood only matched by the word 'Reaper,'" The machine was rarely silent long, it was content to keep speaking filling the silence that Jane left, "a Shepard only heralding death and destruction, because your weakness was what you thought strength. Overconfidence always leads to downfall."

In a simmer of sudden rage, Jane gathered energy into herself, merging the familiar burn and tingle of dark matter and letting it stir just beneath the surface of her skin, pleasure, fury, and a twinge of pain. Just the way it should be. It released in a single burst.

"Pathetic."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Recruit caught herself before she toppled ass over tea kettle, fists grinding into the ground before her to stabilize. Her signature move from cocky grin to a deadened expression had yet to sit right with him, but as he was learning about his woman, forcing an issue wasn't going to move it aside any quicker. Reflexively adverting his gaze to allow her pride the room to readjust and soothe her attitude. Most in his company did not understand his patience with the newest recruit, but they couldn't empathize with the bittersweet familiarity it welled up inside his heart.

With any luck, he could one day reiterate to his son how proud he was of him.

"LT," the woman chirped, a hint of a smile crawling up the side of her mouth.

"Recruit," the old man was looser with his smile. With an admonishing raise of an eyebrow, he drew a finger across her philtrum, "I see you've met our lawn gnome. Still haven't named him yet."

Jane's eyes rolled and a smile she could not fight spread across her features, "Harbinger," but the utterance came out with surprising severity.

"I'd have gone with Harold, Pookie even," he mumbled, dragging a handkerchief across the underside of her nose.

Just as quickly the moment was gone, she pulled away from him. A token of gratitude left in the form of a gentle smile, "did you come out here to bother me, or did you need something?"

This was the prickly personality he didn't care for as fondly. Requiring a brief moment to placate a moment of hasty rebuke, his gaze moved to the half-empty can and the lid that lay a few meters downwind—twice ignoring the blood that peppered the ground beneath her seat. Perhaps he didn't have the patience to baby another mouthy soldier, and she seemed content to throw herself away. But in the same vein, he had regretted doing that years ago with his own child. Sure, this woman was a stranger, but she belonged to someone that worried about her. His innate integrity could hold him out a bit longer.

"You know, we don't have enough supplies to be wasting it," Roy found something to vent the heat building inside.

Jane's bright blue eyes that reflected the setting sun snapped to the can, a wince revealing the words did strike something, "you eat it then. I've been watching you pawn off your rations."

He accepted the can, plopping a hearty portion into his mouth, "still tastes like shit."

"I could really go for some steak fries and chutney," Jane mused gently.

"I'm thinking I could make that happen."

The woman's full attention turned to him, the fine fuzz of her returning eyebrows raised at him.

"Give or take a few weeks."

"I'm assuming you have a plan?"

"Yeah," the man paused, testing out the recruit, the hold on her patience proving to outlast him for the first time, "I'm hoping to test out your skills. And you need to start earning your keep."

"Ready and willing, sir!" She snapped to attention, a foreign energy oozing from her at this moment. Not that he doubted her willingness to come along, he was just surprised to see her motivated to do something.

"Hold your horses, Recruit. You may not be so excited when you find out what we are doing," not that he had much doubt about her grit, "it should be a standard supply run. With a large Krogan exception."

"Krogan, sir?"

He nodded, "before this mess all started, I had a small orchard; I knew a guy from London that shared the hobby. He was more into plants in general, but anyway, I couldn't recall his exact address but knew about the general area his warehouse was located. It should be a rapidly growing, resistant crop. The problem is the Krogan found it first."

"Are we trying diplomacy or just rushing in?"

"I want to try the former, the ladder only if things go south. Some big wig Clan Urgnut-"

"Urdnot."

Roy cleared his throat, that did sound right, "Urdnot was holed up there. Smart move on their part. But they don't have a protected area with access to sufficient sunlight to grow anything, and more importantly...hopefully, they aren't likely to know how to grow the crop."

"You're hoping to grow it within the atrium?" it seemed the recruit was astute enough to guess at the plan without it needing to be spelled out, "trading access for food and maybe protection?"

"If we are lucky."

He had already began to act hopefully, ordering the healthy refugees under guard to start collecting and tagging soil for growing crops. They had some luck, even if it meant desecrating the dead's gardens. The corporate offices he felt less guilty about robbing them of soil.

Finding power had been an easier ordeal; military generators were easily plugged into the grid to power the essentials like heat and some lighting. Water filters were easily found, and London's preference toward rain lent them an easy water source. They weren't foolish enough to rely on a regular storm pattern and already had begun to build a reserve of water. Communication was an entirely separate issue- they needed to find an engineer and fast. Or rely on another splinter group to fulfill that gap. On the subject of protection, he didn't want to let on how direly he needed the talks to go peacefully. Once word got around that they could produce food, the untold number of refugees and nefarious forces pounding on their doors would create unfathomable problems.

But all this conjecture was counting chickens before the eggs hatched.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane kept her assignment besides the Lieutenant with minimal complaint. They couldn't know that keeping watching along occupied territory was old news to her. While she was used to point, settling into the left flank was quickly done.

It was nice not being the center of attention, without the burden of anyone looking to her for guidance. Without the worry of making a wrong call, she could let down some of the instinctual guard associated with the position of leader. Luckily a hard call wasn't required for this part of the journey, the few-kilometer trip went by without incident.

"LT," she pressed once the first evidence of a perimeter came into view, "have you ever met a Krogan before?"

The male on her right smirked, rolling his eyes. Roy stopped, pulling a deep breath. Some of his stoic calm wearing at the edges. Jane knew this wasn't because of her, she had yet to do anything that would constitute annoying the man. He was nervous.

"No, but how different can they be?"

The man chuckled, "I heard they're almost mindless brutes."

Jane threw him a sharp glare, "they're the rough and tumble type, but not mindless. I'd suggest reminding him of home."

She could guarantee cooperation if Shepard wanted to come out. Shepard liked to remain locked away anymore.

While the man to her right heavily rolled his eyes, Roy seemed to take it under consideration. His gaze flickered back to the path before them, hesitation now more detectable in his manner.

"Maybe you-"

Roy's voice stopped with the interruptions of Jane's pistols suddenly unfurling to full length.

"Don't stop," a gruff Krogan voice called, "I'm looking for a fight."

A second voice was a little more reasonable, "what is your business? This is Krogan territory."

"Human territory," the man retorted with surprising gusto, "you overfeed iguana."

For his bravery, the man collided with the road the third but silent Krogan finding the insult not to his liking. The first Krogan spurred on by his comrade shoved Roy aside, the older man spun without resistance to the ground, "humans are so soft."

Jane was purely lucky that the more tolerable Krogan was nearest to her. It didn't make her less angry. Yes, pushing over the douche of a specimen was permitted but bringing the old man into it? She expected better of Clan Urdnot. Pissed off, the female stormed for the offending Krogan.

Now, she wasn't foolish enough to go in guns blazing, but she knew a better way to deal with the offending reptile. According to Zaeed the spot she had to hit corresponded with a weak spot on the species' frontal plate. If she had a knife and the gall to do so, she could rip that piece off and cause the Krogan to panic. But on the less violent and more in line with the peacekeeping mission she had a superior move: simple, elegant, and a returning item on her personal bucket list.

Headbutting another Krogan.

In retaliation, he glowed blue.

It never came to fruition as the reasonable member stepped between them, "you have offended her krant. Let it go." But his smirk didn't go unnoticed, "what do you want?"

"We're here to speak with Wrex."

The Krogan chuckled, "you have an impressive quad. But I don't think the clan leader is interested in what you have to say."

"You really want to test that? Would we really be here if wasn't important," Shepard's fire returned, "what other reason would we have to seek out the Krogan? Certainly not for the fight." She motioned toward the two with her.

The Krogan gave an exasperated sigh, "fine, but only one of you. The other two wait."

Jane pivoted and proffered an open hand to the LT, "this is your ball game, sir. Do us proud."

#shenko #mass effect fanfiction #femshep x kaidan #mass effect #mass effect spoilers #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #fanfic #take me home #mass effect andromeda

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gazingupatthemoon · 3 years ago

Text

What Is Infinite (2/?)

Found here at ff.net or A03

Summary: It was meant to be just the two of them. But immorality comes with it's own surprises, and Aleksander must bow to the whims of his stubborn wife. Even if it means becoming a father.(Aleksander and Alina, after years and years, are the rulers of Ravka and have a son and daughter. Angst is sure to follow)

Rating: M

Notes: Because I am weak for stories of Alina getting pregnant and bolting afraid of Aleksander's response. But eventually she comes back, and everyone has to deal with being a big immortal and sometimes happy family.

*~*~~*~*~*~*

Mila twirls a lock of black her idly between her fingers, finding it more fascinating at the moment than the droning of her teacher.

Her brother, to be more specific.

Of course she loves Adrik, but she really does not love history lessons. She finds learning to use her powers much more engaging, as well as exercising her body and fighting skills. Maybe if Adirk focused more on Grisha history and not so much everything else, he’d hold her interest more. Papa had smiled at this particular complaint, showing in that non-verbal way of his he agreed, but then pointed out she was the Princess of Ravka, it was important for her to be educated as much as possible.

“Remember,” Adrik suddenly says a bit more loudly. Mila blinks her way back into the classroom, and sees that he is giving her that look. “Your paper is due next week. Please continue to work on it and not leave it to the last moment. Class dismissed.”

Everyone begins to leave, but Mila stays put, knowing Adrik was not dismissing her. She waves at her friends who hover at the doorway, and then with a sigh begins to gather her own books.

“Mila-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good sleep last night. That’s why I wasn’t focusing.” The lie comes easily, and without any prior preparation in her head.

Adrik crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re very good at lying, mladshaya sestra, but it’s pointless when it comes to our family.”

A very unfortunate truth. The Morozovas could charm the whole country into believing any falsehood, but when it came to each other it was blunt honesty or nothing. Mila huffs. “So, what? Am I in trouble?”

Adrik’s eyes narrow. “Maybe if this was the first time but you’re always giving the bare minimum amount of effort in this class. You don’t do the assignments, you openly mock the class in general.”

“It’s just boring history-”

“It’s important,” He interrupts. “If you ever want to rule on day you have to know our world’s story and learn from it. To not repeat mistakes of the past.”

A humorless laugh bursts from Mila’s lips. “That’s funny. You know I’m never going to sit on that throne.”

Adrik resists the urge to pinch his nose. At fourteen, Mila is the pure definition of a bratty teenager. Being a princess just adds to that attitude. She always did as she wished, and didn’t care who it offended. Even with their parents she was beginning to toe the line a bit too much. But with him, she had forgone all sense of discretion. They were at odds with each other way too much, not even over her studies. It could be about decorum at public events, the way she talked down to other people, or how she too liberally used her Summoning.

(Adrik is always aware of her Summoning. Always).

Even now he could see a faint shine on his sister’s fingers.

“Calm down,” He says with a tone that nearly mirrors their father. He looks pointedly at her hands.

But Mila is not to be perturbed. If anything, her hands grow even brighter at the command.

She may be a prodigy when it came to her Summoning, but Mila was still a child. And Adirk has both years and experience on her. His fingers do the quickest twitch before shadows swallow her hands and extinguish the light there with a meaningful show of force. He pushes down on them, to the point where Mila’s body even lurches forward.

“Adrik!” She gasps, both in surprise and indignation.

But he doesn’t show her any repentance. “Do not threaten me in that way. Ever.” Adirk isn’t like this. He knows he’s not. This cold, authoritative figure is his father, not him. But Mila isn’t giving him any choice. Part of him blames their parents. He’s seen them use their Summoning on each other an inappropriate amount of times, so something in Mila’s head must had deemed it acceptable to do herself. But Alina and Aleksander have a history that Mila isn’t exactly privy to yet, and a relationship that is a far cry from “healthy”.

Adrik wasn’t sure how to make her understand that yet, though.

Feeling his own anger begin to rise, Adrik turns his back to the fuming girl and takes in a shuddering breath. “Go on to your next class. We can talk about this later.”

What left there was to talk about, he isn’t sure. Mila was either going to try or she wasn’t. And he was sure this little battle of power between them would make her all the more difficult.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aleksander flicks through papers on the latest yields in the eastern fields when Alina enters their chambers.

Her face is tight, and her eyes looking at him in a way that already has a headache forming in under his temples.

“Yes, love?” He inquires, pausing his reading. She’d only get all the more angry if he gave her half of his attention.

“Your daughter,” Alina unhelpfully supplies.

His daughter, of course, whenever Mila did something troublesome. Which she seems to be doing at increasingly alarming rate now a days. Aleksander has to admit, he is finding himself at a loss of how to handle her. He’s never raised a child before, never expected to, so it’s a skill he never bothered giving any care to. Even the Grisha children in the Little Palace received minimal interaction with him, just the very in frequent visit during lessons or a Grisha empowered speech now and then. Any unruliness was dealt with by their instructors.

Aleksander could command soldiers, but his daughter was something else entirely.

“Alina, we’ve talked about this. I can’t keep her on a leash every day to keep her out of trouble.”

“It’s because you’re so hands off that she’s acting like this,” Alina argues. “She knows she can get away this nonsense.”

“Admitting you have no control over her, then?” Aleksander shoots back, knowing the comment to be wholly unhelpful.

Alina seethes but dutifully chooses to not go down that route with him. “She skipped her classes today to go into town with her friends.”

Aleksander pauses at that. Of course, Mila shouldn’t be skipping lessons, but to do that and make it worse by risking her safety in town? That was another level of idiotic and unacceptable.

And he most certainly has a headache now.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“It has to be more than that.”

“Then what do you suggest, Alina? Should we reconsider the leash idea? If you recall your first days here, I wasn’t too adept at keeping you under my thumb either.”

The admission just embroils the conversation. “Yes, how is it that you manipulating and lying to me didn’t work? Such a mystery after all these years.”

Aleksander flings the papers in his hand onto the table and falls back in his seat. “If you’re just here to argue with me, could we schedule it for another time where I can properly give you my attention?”

“I’m here to discuss our daughter who is going down a very reckless path.”

“She’s a child, a teenager, they all act out.”

“She is a Princess of Ravka and our daughter. She is not just any child.”

Alina has a point there, and Aleksander’s silence only verifies it.

“Adrik is concerned as well,” Alina continues, her voice going lower with the weight of the conversation. “He says things have grown tense between them.”

“Because Adrik is weary of her and she senses it,” Aleksander states. “You don’t do too well of hiding it from time to time, either.”

Alina balks at that. “I’m not weary of her…I’m concerned.”

“I’m sure there is little difference between the two in her eyes. Ever since that day, you’ve all treated her as if she could explode at any moment.”

“Your daughter did the Cut at five years old, Aleksander. She doesn’t even remember doing it. She doesn’t remember beheading someone.”

“Something you should be thankful for, then. Better she forgets then have to relive it in her mind for the years to come.”

She throws up her hands in exasperation. “This is never going to get easier if we’re not on the same page.”

“Perhaps you need to be more compromising,” Aleksander suggests with a shrug. “You got greedy raising Adrik all on your own, and now you have to deal with my say when it comes to Mila.”

“And what is your say, moi tsar? A talk every time she steps out of line? That’s your show of great parenting?”

Alina doesn’t wait for a response. She turns and stomps out of the room, her white hair the last thing he sees before the door slams shut. And Aleskander always thought Alina would be the only one that could ever be a true thorn in his side.

He had never hated his immortality so often since becoming a father.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The dinner table is understandably very quiet that night.

The royal family silently stews in their own frustrations, and let nothing but the scrapes of their utensil fill the void.

Adrik heard what Mila had done today, though it hadn’t been him to inform the Queen of her daughter’s disappearance. Adrik tried to never include his parents when it came to squabbles between he and his sister, but this situation had been unavoidable. Even if no one approached Alina with Mila’s offense, Adrik would have.

Now all there is to wait for is her punishment. By the looks on both their parents’ faces, Adrik knew it was going to be bad. But hopefully it would finally knock some sense into Mila, and stop her from continuing this stupidity.

“The trip is Os Kervo is set for next Thursday,” Aleskander announces as their plates begin to thin with food. “Construction on their new port finally ended and they’d be honored by the presence of the royal family to give their blessing to it. It’s been sometime since we have been there as well, they are due to be reminded what their rules look like.”

Alina dabs a napkin at the corner of her mouth. “We all will be going?”

“No,” Aleksander answer promptly. “Just Adrik and I.”

The first strike then.

Adrik glances at Mila to see the fork has paused midway to her mouth. Out of the whole family, Mila loves Os Kervo. She enjoys the sea, the ships, the bustling market, and the generally more pleasant weather it has compared to East Ravka. Whenever a trip was made there, Mila was always brought along. Always.

She lowers her fork slowly, then chances a look at her father.

The Darkling is already staring at her, waiting for some kind of response.

“Is that my punishment, then?” She asks after a beat. Her tone is low, but not as contrite as it should be.

“Punishment for what, moya doch?”

It seems Aleksander is in a mood tonight. He is going to make this difficult for Mila, and not just by simply taking a trip from her. Adrik glances to his mother but she sits there as stone cold as her husband.

Mila hesitates. “I’m sure you know what I did-”

“I asked you a question,” Aleksander interrupts.

Mila’s mouth snaps shut. She breathes in and out of her nose, willing herself to be calm. She could argue with Adrik all she wanted, even her mother to a certain degree, but she knew better then to test her father’s fury. “I didn’t go to my lessons.”

Aleksander continues to stare at her.

“And…I went to town.”

“And was this a smart decision for you to make?”

Saints, she hates when he talks down to her like this. She was young, but not a child, and obviously, she knew what she had done had been wrong. But what choice did she have? How would it have looked to her friends had she told them no, she couldn’t go because it would upset her parents. Obviously, it would upset anyone’s parents, she shouldn’t act special. There were enough jokes at Mila’s expense of being the Princess and gracious allowances she’s given.

Mila should just help this end as soon as possible and yet, as everyone starred at her, she felt the need to defend herself. “It was perfectly safe. We’re all Grisha. And…I’ve never gone to town with my friends! Whenever I leave this place its only with one of you. How do you think that looks?”

“If you think I’m interested in the opinion of your friends, you are sorely mistaken,” Aleksander warns. “There are rules for a reason, Mila. You’re not just any Grisha. You are the Princess and a Sun Summoner. There are bounties on your heard in every single country.”

“I don’t want to be treated differently-”

“But you are different,” Alina choose this moment to interject, her voice a shade lighter than her husband’s. Adrik knows why, though. After learning the truth of who he was, Alina had told him everything of her past. Of how alone and different she felt most her life, both as an orphan and then as the lone Sun Summoner. In this way, she offers her daughter some sympathy. But only in this way. “I understand your need to fit in, Mila, and in some instances, you will, but in others you will not. You cannot.”

The scrap of kindness falls on Mila’s deaf ears. “I should be able to make those decisions myself, not you all.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t act like a spoiled brat, we would consider that.”

Even Adrik flinches at Alesksander’s jab. He so infrequently scolds his daughter that when the occasion does arise, it’s uncomfortable to witness.

It hurts Mila deeper than she cares to admit hearing her father call her that. The rational thing to do would be to should shut up and apologize, before it got worse, but now not only is she hurt, but embarrassed. “You’d never let me do what I want no matter how I acted!” She exclaims hotly. “You control everyone and everything!”

“Mila,” Alina warns.

“You know he does! He even controls you! And you-you let him get away with it!”

Adrik notices the shadows of the room begin to blacken and crawl towards the ceiling. Even the floor begins to grow into a black pool. “That’s enough, Mila,” He hisses, and goes to reach for her hand now trembling with paleness as it grips the edge of the table.

But she’s too far gone now to be reined in. “I can take care of myself,” She continues. “Someone did grab me in town, you know! Right in the marketplace and tried to drag me into some alley. And I took care of it. I protected myself. I am capable-”

The room explodes with shadows. So many, so quickly, that it’s like a tornado that flings everything off the table and onto the floor. Glass shatters, food and liquid audibly splatter, and even the chairs squeak with movement. Adrik instinctively calls upon his own Summoning to ground himself down, and almost reaches out to do the same for Mila when a force stronger than his own blocks him.

Just as quickly as it begins, it ends. The storm of darkness recedes into nothingness, leaving in it’s a wake a destroyed dining room and a family cursed with too much power.

Mila looks irrevocably stricken, clinging to the arms of her chair with her eyes squeezed shut. Adrik isn’t sure what he looks like, surprised, maybe, that his father went so far but also a part of him knowing that of course Aleksander is capable of this. This and much, much worse.

Alina looks sadly at her daughter’s trembling form. She feels the heat of Aleksander’s rage next to her, knows that display of power he just showed may have been on the side of unnecessary, but she had wanted him to do more. She supposes at this point in life she should know Aleksander would appease her but only in his way.

But that right now is not important.

“What do you mean you handled it?” Alina asks very quietly.

Mila is still trembling but opens her eyes. Grey, like her father, but Alina has never seen such fear there. “W-What?”

“You heard your mother,” Aleksander snarls.

Mila flinches into her seat. “I-I Summoned and made him let me go.”

“How did you Summon?”

Mila looks between her parents, and then to Adrik as if he somehow could save her from the awful mess she has created. But now there is fear on his face as well. Not of what just happened. But of her.

But she can’t see the horrid memories replaying in his head. Of another time when a man grabbed Mila. Of when instinct, not rational, kicked in, and awful mistakes were made. Adrik failed his sister then, and he can’t help but feel he’s done the same now.

“I used the Cut.”

Again, there’s Dimitri’s body falling to the floor.

Again, there the unexpected show of light.

The suspended moment in time when it slid across the man’s neck, as smooth as water.

Alina wants to be as broken as Adirk in this moment, but she can’t. She has to be a mother now. She has to handle this. “Did you kill him, Mila?”

The younger girl looks confused at the question. Of what exactly, Alina is not sure. When she doesn’t answer right away, she practically feels Aleksander about to unleash another verbal lashing. “Mila, did you kill him?” Alina prompts again before he gets the chance to.

“I…I don’t know. I did it and ran.”

And yet again, Mila comes out the situation with little recognition of what’s she done.

Adrik wonders if a dead body will turn up soon from the streets of their kingdom.

Alina closes her eyes, as if that would make this all go away.

“You’re not to leave the castle,” Aleksander begins. No arguments. No explanations. The time has passed for that. “You will take your lessons privately here. You, who have been blessed with so much, to squander it so. You want to be in charge of your life and yet you use your power so carelessly and don’t even know if you killed a man or not. Is that what Ravka will say of their Princess? That she is a fool who murders without thought?”

She doesn’t even know, Adrik thinks miserably. She doesn’t even know she’s already become that.

“You will embarrass this family no more. If you step out of line one more time, I will ship you to the Winter Palace and leave you there till you learn your place. And do not that as an idle threat. Me not seeing your face for the next fifty years means as little to me as if it was a mere day.”

A tear leaks out of Mila’s eyes at his words. At the truth her father has revealed and struck at her like a slap in the face.

“Now get out.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Adrik fiddles with the pocket watch his father had gifted him for his 21st birthday. The first gift he ever received from the man. It wasn’t new, but instead an antique that had been owned by some old King of Ravka.

(Adrik has been simultaneously pleased and resentful that Aleksander somehow knew he’d prefer this piece of history than a fancy new one).

The carriage jolts as it passes over a bump, making Adrik start. He looks across him to see Aleksander starring at the window, hands folded neatly on his lap.

They’ve been riding for a couple hours now, heading to Os Kervo.

It’s been a week since that disaster of a dinner. A week of Mila being a ghost, only appearing for dinners which her mother would not relent on her being absent for. But she only spoke when asked a question, and kept her eyes on her plate or lap. Adrik had seen her more, as per her private lessons, and her mother had attempted some one-on-one conversations.

Aleksander hadn’t sought her out once.

“How is Mila doing?” He asks, as if sensing where his mind has wandered to.

“Fine,” Adrik answers honestly. It’s the only word to describe her really. Despite her silence, Mila hasn’t shown any concerning behavior. She’s paying attention to her lessons, which is an improvement, and hasn’t unleashed any of her usual attitude.

“Did you believe I was harsh on her?”

Adrik is surprised by the question. Their relationship has certainly improved over the years, but there were still some lines drawn in the sand between them. One being that his father never usually asked him his opinion on decisions he’s made. The Darkling was not one to be questioned, let alone invite criticism. No, if this ever happened, it was surely a test of some sort. This might very well be one, for all Adrik knew.

“I think something had to be done,” He answers carefully, wondering was going on in the King’s head. His gaze still remained pointed out the window.

“And what I did?”

Adrik has went over the dinner many times in his head this past week. What went wrong, where it could have been stopped. How out of control everything became with those choice words. It wasn’t so much the punishment Adrik disagreed with. Confined to the castle was the least that could have been done considering what Mila is guilty of. What he had only ever questioned was how it happened that night, the words and actions taken to come to that conclusion. And the way Aleksander had broken a part of Mila’s heart with his other very real threat.

He wonders if Alina said something to prompt this. He wonders if he should even continue it. But then he remembers his sister’s face, can’t help but feel-know-that Mila is not an evil being. She’s just a young girl, confused over who she is and her place in this world. “You forget we are not as old as you and Mama,” Adrik begins calmly. No need for Aleksander to misunderstand him when they were going on a trip alone together for the foreseeable future. “That we’re still….more human, than immortal. Mila deserved to be punished but for you to tell her not seeing her for fifty years means little to nothing to you and that you would actually send her away for that time, it was cruel.”

Aleksander processes this with silence. Then he angles his head towards his son, considering him.

“You grew up not knowing what you are. She did. She can’t be afforded the time or patience you were.”

“He’s usually always insufferably right,” Alina had told him once of his father. “But where he lacks is the humanity that tells him even though something is true, doesn’t not mean it is good.”

Adrik is a grown man now, not the child that had been both afraid and hateful of the man who gave him life. A part of him hesitates to be honest with him, old habits and all, but if Aleksander wanted his opinion then he would give it. “She is a fourteen-year-old girl whose father told her his love for her is conditional. There are other ways to teach her of immortality.”

Aleksander again grows quiet.

“And…” Adrik licks at his lips. “She grew up with your love, I did not. You hurt her in a way you couldn’t do to me. I was prepared for your coldness, she wasn’t.”

A shadow flickers in an on the floor between them. A shadow of a passing tree? A Summoned one?

“You believe my love for her is conditional?”

Adrik flexes his fingers. He really doesn’t want to engage in this line of questioning. He did not want to guess his father’s feelings, on whether they existed or were genuine. He didn’t want to examine his and Mila’s relationship when his own was so pitiful in comparison. Adrik believed for so long he didn’t need his father’s affection. But not that he’s had a taste for it, that unfair resentment the never seemed to shake towards Mila’s dug a little deeper.

Feeling again like the lonely teenage boy brought to the palace as a prince who did not have the king’s love, he answers noncommittally. “I don’t know. You certainly care for her.”

“It is hard, at my age, to truly love things. Knowing they will not last.”

“But she will,” Adrik points out.

“Perhaps I have to grow used to her, the way I did you.”

That shocks Adrik into silence. It’s not exactly a “I love you” but its damn well close in his opinion. Who knew if Aleksander would ever gift him with anything fonder. “And are you? Used to me?” He can’t help but ask. He needs to be sure. He would not get begrudgingly pleased over a game.

Though he doesn’t smile, Aleksander looks amused at the question. “As a horse is to a fly.”

Oh, well…

Was that a joke?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“He hates me,” Mila whispers into her pillow.

Alina hears her all the same and smooths her hair down her back. “He doesn’t.”

“You hate me,” She continues to mumble.

“I don’t.”

Mila lifts her head up a fraction, if only to look at her mother as if she had three heads. “How can you say that with what happened?”

“Mila, you made mistakes, some larger than others, and lashed out as us. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation no matter what happened.”

“He said he’d send me away.”

“I would never let him.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact he would do it if he could.”

Alina blew out a puff of exasperated air. Mila dropped her head back into the pillow, the child she truly was simmering to the surface. Alina tried to recall the time she had been her age. If she had ever been so…lost. But her past is now only made of landmark events in her life, with the little things in between lost to eternity. There was Mal, then the Light, and then Aleksander. So much Aleksander. She had been 17 when she first met him, three years older the Mila now. How mature she had thought she had been. How foolish.

“Your father is going to be the most difficult man you’ll ever meet in your life. He is far from perfect, none of us are. He does not react the way he should sometimes. I should know. He and on were not on the same page as we are now.”

Mila slightly shifts her head, and peeks up at her mother under a curtain of hair. “What do you mean?”

“He hurt me too,” Alina beings carefully. Very carefully. It was her decision to not tell Mila of she and Aleksander’s past till she was older and mature enough to try and understand all the complicated and dark parts of it. Alina only felt more confident in the decision considering Mila’s volatile nature as of late. Aleskadner didn’t seem to mind, not caring if Alina chose to even reveal it at all. “When I was younger, close to your age in fact, he hurt me very deeply, Mila.”

“But…” Mila presses up on her elbows, looking very confused. “Papa loves you more than anything.”

“He does,” Alina agrees, and reaches forward to swipe the hair from her face. “But he didn’t in the beginning. He didn’t for quite some time, actually. And I the same.”

Sometimes she still wonders. Sometimes.

Mila shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I promise, darling, I will tell you the whole story one day. But for now, just know, he may be old but that doesn’t make him always right. Immortality is a very hard burden to bear, especially when you’ve been alone for as long as your father has. It makes him forget how to treat others. Even those he loves.”

Alina can’t help but hope it is enough. What more can she say without explaining the rest of it? It would do no one any good, least of all Mila, to reveal Aleksander’s villainous past now. If anything, it might make this newly formed chasm between she and him worse.

“Mila,” Alina opts to change the course of the conversation before she can dwell on it any further. “What you did to that man, it can’t happen again.”

Her grey eyes blink widely at the switch of topic. “I-he was going to hurt me, Mama.”

“And you must of course defend yourself. But the Cut must be a last resort. It is a technique that’s too powerful, and only meant to kill. That is why our family are the only ones able to do it. There are other ways to protect yourself. Others ways to not kill.”

Mila slowly lowers herself back onto her stomach, but at least does not hide her face this time. “I didn’t mean to…kill him. I just-I got scared. I only ran because I was so afraid, Mama. I didn’t even go back to my friends. I came right back here. I promise.”

Oh, how differently the conversation could have gone the other day had Mila not been so full of pride and hurt. And how much of a relief it is to hear Mila’s pained confession. She’d been consumed all week with dark thoughts that Mila was becoming callous with her skills and drunk off the power of her immortality and Sun Summoning. That she was a child given gifts no child should know how to deal with at that age. But no, thank the Saints, Mila was just that. A child who got scared and made a mistake. And all those years ago with Dimitiri, it must have been a mistake. She had been too young, too innocent. She had been hurt and afraid then as well, and saw her brother attacked to top it off.

Mila is being ruled by her emotions and that, Alina can work with.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In truth, Aleksander didn’t quite like traveling far from home for such ridiculous frivolities as blessing a new port. Pompous, in his opinion. Unnecessary.

But people, bored with their short lives, needed such reprieves. To celebrate innate things as to fill their days with some reason to be happy. To drink, and dance, and enjoy what time they had left.

And the people do need to be reminded who is their ruler every now and then.

Another truth, Aleksander needed the space frim his wife and daughter. How odd, in this whole annoyingly unnecessary mess, Adrik would be his confidant. He’d been the only one not to resent him for his behavior at dinner or feel the need to give him the cold shoulder. Alina had wanted him to act, so he did. It was not his fault if she didn’t like how he did it.

Though Adrik had been honest that day in the carriage, he didn’t use his words like weapons. Not like he or Alina would. No, he had been patient and simply wanted Aleksander to just hear what he had to say. No ulterior motives or desire to harm. It was charming, in a way. He is an adult, technically, but still a child in Aleksander’s eyes. A child who still has delusions of being honest and good.

Despite all that, what Adrik said did hold some weight. Mila didn’t understand yet the burden of who they were yet, and Aleksander…well, perhaps he didn’t know how to properly handle her. The whole mess was reminding him all too much of his past with Alina. How much he failed at trying to connect with her and make her see what their power and immorality meant. Like mother, like daughter indeed.

As the carriage made its way into the courtyard of the Grand Palace, Aleksander twirled around the gift in his hand. A wooden box, thin and long with a necklace of sea glass and pearls inside. It wasn’t a gift, as punished children should not receive gifts, but an olive branch. Not a frivolous purchase but an acquisition that had purpose behind it.

It took years for he and Alina to finally come to peace with each other. He wasn’t in the mindset to allow the same to happen between he and Mila.

Adrik hid a smile as he eyed the gift one last time before hopping out of the carriage. He extended many olive branches with his son this trip as well. Let him closer than Aleksander had originally planned, and gave him kernels of “fatherly” attention much more liberally than either of them were used to.

Perhaps he was feeling lonely without Alina. More disturbed than he’d admit over Mila. Maybe more accepting of the fact Adrik was his son every passing day.

Maybe he was just bored. Who truly knows.

Alina is pulling away from a hug with Adirk when he sees her. White hair long and braided, face still holding onto the youth and beauty well past her true age. She takes his breath away every time he sees her. Every damn time. It’s been almost two weeks, and their goodbye had been less than pleasant. But she turns to him without any ire in her gaze now, and actually smiles.

“My Queen,” He greets, stopping before her.

“My King,” She dutifully replies. They stare at each other, devouring the other’s images with roaming eyes.

Adrik scoffs at the not so subtle standoff, and makes his way into the castle.

Alina dips her head to his hands. “A present for me?”

“Sorry, love, no. But if you are in the mood for one, I’m sure I could find something for you in my luggage. I believe it’s being brought up to our rooms as we speak.”

“Hm,” Alina takes a calculated step forward, brushing a hand against the lapels of his kefta. “Perhaps I could be swayed to go and retrieve it with you. But should I be jealous?”

“Not at all,” he grins, dipping his head down. “But I believe I should take care of this first. Then I shall shower you with gifts all night.”

A smile breaks across her face and she kills the last bit of distance between them with a deep kiss. Aleksander groans against the plunge of Alina’s tongue, and resists slamming her against the side of the carriage and taking her right then and there.

He is very happy two weeks seems to be the time to quell his wife’s anger.

Alina is pulling away all too quickly, and takes swift step backwards as Aleksander reaches to pull her back. “Go attend to your business, my King. I’ll be waiting.”

“Perhaps you’ll actually be there when I come back this time.” A very old, and very bad joke.

Alina rolls her eyes and turns toward the doors. She pauses one last moment, though, and looks at him over her shoulder. “I know what it feels like to have to have a heart broken by you, Aleksander. Please take care with her.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aleksander give two quick raps to the door of Mila’s quarters.

He knows she will answer, not because she wants to but because duty demands it. He is her father and King, and no doors will ever remain shut to him.

But no, he had to banish such grandiose thoughts right now. He simply needed to be a father, intent on mending a break between he and his daughter. Simple enough.

The door creaked open and Mila peeked her head out, looking as if she had just woken up. Her eyes widen slightly seeing him, and she fumbles to open the door all the way while simultaneously straightening her back.

“I-uh, good morning,” She breathes, patting down her hair and drawing her robe tighter to herself. Perhaps not just waking up then, but getting ready for a bath. “I mean, welcome back.”

Aleksander nods his head in return. “May I come in?”

The request visibly rattles her, as her eyes widen and her teeth bite into her lower lip. She nods jerkily, regardless, and backs into her room. It’s immaculately kept, as usual, as opposed to her brother’s much messier quarters. It’s the reminiscent of the room Alina had first occupied in the Little Palace. Sophisticated furniture fit for a Queen and décor bathed in bright and soft colors. Her pale pink curtains are swaying softly in with the morning breeze, every window wide open to let in the sun.

Mila is attempting to be calm and collected, but her fingers keep fiddling with her robe’s belt and her body bouncing on the heels of her feet. Nervous compulsions that had plagued her when she had been younger. Not at fourteen. Not in front of her father.

And here she was.

Aleksander is leisurely walking around her room, as if he hadn’t been in it for some time. She supposes he hasn’t, even before he had stopped talking to her. During that whole…mess, she had become very private with her space and belongings, and more often than not locked her door then let it hang open.

When he stops to examine the belongings on her vanity, Mila can bear the silence no more. “Was it a good trip?” The question, riddled by her nerves, comes out as a squeak.

Aleksander absently picks up a hair brush. “It served its purpose.”

“Oh,” She doesn’t like this side of her father. Had seen it enough times aimed at member of court, a soldier, even the rare occasion of someone in her family (those interactions always ended bad). When he makes you feel so small, so off kilter, as he saunters around without a care in the world. Like he doesn’t care about you.

The thought makes Mila more sad than nervous now, and the conversation she had with her mother a couple days ago comes back to her. Alina assured her that Aleksander still loved her, that the fault with his emotions lied with him, not her, but it was still hard to believe. As a fourteen-year-old, she shouldn’t have to be the one that sort that out.

She didn’t want to. She just wanted her father to show her he loved her.

“Your lessons?” Aleksander turns toward her, and eyebrows raised.

Mila holds back a frown and even worse, a couple tears, and she looks over his shoulder to a picture of painted flowers, a rose bush with tangled vines crawling up a tree. “Going well. Attending them all and keeping up with my grades.”

He nods his head. “Good to hear.”

Mila keeps starring at the flowers, feeling her cheeks grow hotter and hotter. Oh Saints, she is going to cry. She is. She can’t stand this treatment anymore. Not this cruel casualness. The still ugly truth that he loved her so little that he would send her away.

Why was he here? What did he want? To further rub salt in the wound? She had purposefully not gone to greet him and Adirk upon their return because she figured Aleksander wouldn’t want to see her. He made that plainly clear the week before he left. Why was he torturing her so?

“Oh, moya solnishka,” Fingers tenderly swipe over her cheeks, now sticky with wetness. Mila bleaks blurrily against the tears to look up into her father’s suddenly very close face. His grey eyes are not cold, but soft, simmering with the affection he had always shown her. “No need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Mila sobs and jerks forward, burying her face in his chest. Keftas aren’t exactly known for their comfort, but it smells like her Papa, and it’s warm, so it’s perfect right now. She rubs against the material till it scratches her skin, but she doesn’t care, because Aleksander’s arms are enveloping her in a hug, and his chin comes to rest comfortably atop her head.

“Shh,” He continues to soothe over and over as she cries and cries. His hand beings to rub circles into her back, and for some reason that brings on a new wave of tears. She was wrong, he does care. Of course, he cares. He had been angry, is all, and so had she. They were going to be fine, they were going to be great, it was-oh! Suddenly, a ball of warmth so strong blossoms in her stomach, and unfurls with such a force it takes Mila’s breath away. She feels the heat coming out of every pour in her body, and pulls away enough to see she’s glowing, light pouring out from her skin and cascading the room in striking brightness.

It would blind any other normal human being, but the Darkling gazes at her without the slightest wince.

“There she is,” Aleksander murmurs with a smile. The first smile he’s graced her with one in so long.

Mila can’t help but smile back, feeling so…alive.

But then Aleksander pulls back and her light slowly dims till it is nothing but her bare skin again.

He reaches out to reveal a box in his hand, thin and wooden with simple decorations carved on it. “For you, love.”

Had he not just embraced her, or smiled at her, Mila would have assumed the offering was a trick. A test, of some sort, as her father was so often fond of doing. Starring at the box, Mila knows that if this isn’t just an innocent gesture, she was undoubtedly going to fail. Still, she reaches forward and takes it tentatively form her hands, then undoes the metal clasp with a delicate touch.

Inside is a beautiful necklace, a long, sparkling braided silver chain with pearls and pieces of sea glass interwoven throughout it. It shines at with her every movement and continues to glimmer even as she keeps it completely still. “It’s…beautiful,” Mila whispers, feeling a bit awed by it. She is the Princess of Ravka, she has seen and even worn the most glamorous and beautiful pieces of jewels the world could produce. But this, in her hands, seems the most precious of all. Because it is hers, and no one else’s, not an antique passed down by Queens before. And because her father had given it, had thought of her when he bought it, and delivered it with his own hands.

Another lone tear sneaks down her face.

With his long, elegant fingers, Aleksander plucks the necklace from its cerulean colored cushioning. “As you are, moya doch.” He steps behind her and with a gentle swipe of her hair, begins to clasp it around her neck.

Mila feels the whispers of that powerful light again, but it recedes when her father again steps away.

“I am sorry, Papa-”

“I know. We’ll talk of it no longer. Continue up with your studies here for the month, and then we can discuss you returning to classes.”

There is nothing to do but beam and nod her head enthusiastically in agreement.

“No more leaving the castle grounds, Mila. No more trouble or this rebellious nature anymore. You will act as you were born to be. Princess of Ravka and the daughter of the Shadow and Sun Summoner.”

Darkling and Sankta. Two equals, yet opposite. Constantly pulling towards each other and inevitable pushing away.

What inkling of normalcy did a product of that bond hope to have?

“Yes, Papa, I promise. I’ll be perfect.” Even as the word passes her lips, Alina’s own voice echo’s in her ears: “He is far from perfect, none of us are.” Perhaps she wasn’t, Mila mused, but she would try to be. She would spend the rest of her immortality trying. “And,” She continues, knowing it would be best to completely clear the air out now between them. “About that man. In the marketplace. I am sorry about it, Papa. Really I am. I was talking to Mama about it and…I know it was wrong. I do. I was afraid and didn’t react right. I will not use the Cut again, ever. I promise.”

Mila’s heart drops when Aleksander’s lip tug downward. But why? How had that been the wrong this to say? It had made her mother happy, it had even made her forgive her! Had she forgotten something? Not said sorry enough times?

“Do not make that promise, Mila,” Aleksander states with the finality of his station. “The Cut is our gift, and we do not hide our power from the world.”

“But…but Mama said-”

“Your mother,” He interjects smoothly, “Has some different ideas on the subject, I am aware. What you need to understand, is that your mother has always had a kind heart, and has always wanted to believe in the good in people. Most importantly, herself. And now, her children.”

Though she is following along, Mila can’t help but feel this conversation is too big for her understanding. That her father is trying to tell her something without actually saying. That it’s going against Alina had said, and is making her afraid.

Aleksander cups the bottom of Mila’s chin and angles it up to face him. “She wants many things, your mother. But remember Mila, the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. And we are not weak, are we?”

Mila stares uncertainly into her father’s eyes, and answers as she knows she should, “No, we are not.”

“That man put his hands on you,” He continues, his gaze never wavering. “You do not apologize for defending yourself.”

But she had killed him, Mila wants to protest. Or at least, maybe she did. Either way, was that not a good thing? Alina had told her there are others way to protect herself. It didn’t have to be the Cut-

Aleksander tuts her chin. “What you need to learn, love, is patience. Precision. The control of your power and having it bend to you, not the other way around. That, we have all the time in the world to learn.”

Mila nods her head, willing to do anything her father wanted of her.

#darklina #the darkling #alina starkov #alarkling #grishaverse #shadow and bone #what is infinite

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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Summary: Obi-Wan has scheduled pack-bonding time. Obi-Wan also has a lot of work to do, not that Anakin and Ahsoka care. Or, pack bonding with the disaster lineage in the middle of a galactic war. AN: Happy ABO stuff with way too much background worldbuilding

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined. “Are you done?”

“Almost. I just need to-“ Before Obi-Wan could finish filing his report or speak his sentence, he was pulled from his desk and landed promptly in his bed where the rest of his pack was already waiting.

“-finish my report. Honestly, Anakin. Couldn’t you wait five more minutes?”

The blond Knight in question didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or repentant for the blatant misuse of the Force. Instead, Anakin only hummed, pleased Obi-Wan was here now and nuzzled his neck. Obi-Wan supposed he should consider himself lucky that Anakin hadn’t dragged him away from his own ship, but was comfortable enough in Obi-Wan’s room. Then again, he might also just enjoy that this was Obi-Wan’s space. For all that Anakin was overly possessive when it came to his pack, he wasn’t all too picky about the space he was in. He had certainly adjusted well to living on a ship, much quicker too than other Omega Jedi.

“Anakin, I have work to do,” Obi-Wan said, a weak attempt at getting back to his desk. He already knew he wouldn’t stand up again. He’d missed his pack. He wanted to do nothing but lay here for the next days where he could keep track of them and be assured that they were healthy and safe, but duty denied him.

“No, you don’t,” Ahsoka said from Anakin’s other side. The short Padawan was almost entirely drowning in a dark brown robe Obi-Wan was fairly sure actually belonged inside his wardrobe. Togruta were just as tactile as humans if not more and Ahsoka had very much latched onto Anakin’s demands concerning pack-bonding. They were good for each other and Obi-Wan was glad Anakin had another person to fuss over. Getting Anakin to settle a little more by dumping an Initiate without a pack in front of him might have been a little underhand, Mace had certainly disapproved, but nobody could deny the result. Obi-Wan supposed he’d feel ashamed about it if Ahsoka hadn’t fit perfectly into their bonds.

“I do,” Obi-Wan sighed. “The Council-“

“Sent us here, Obi-Wan.” Anakin rolled his eyes and grabbed yet another blanket. Obi-Wan didn’t even own that many, had Anakin brought them all with him? It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if Anakin had enlisted a couple of his Troopers helping him carry half a nest here. While Jedi, with the wonderful exception of Anakin, generally speaking built their nests on their own, it was very much a communal activity for the clones. Anakin had been downright delighted when he’d learned that.

“They’re not gonna expect you to be 100% available when you have gotten a scheduled pack-bonding time,” Anakin said. “Do you know how often the other packs get to see each other?”

Yes, Obi-Wan did know and he always felt a little guilty when reminded, but he couldn’t afford downtime. He was on the Council and in charge of a rather huge portion of the war effort. Any personal needs and wants had to be pushed to the back of his mind. He couldn’t be so selfish and put his own life above the millions he was sworn to protect. In moments like this Obi-Wan wished they’d have gotten more time to prepare for the war, perhaps then the long separations from the rest of his pack would have been easier to deal with.

Anakin’s Knighting had come too early. His entire generation should be able to enjoy a couple more years as Padawans and get a proper transitional period instead of being forcibly pushed into the position of General. Obi-Wan had already done plenty of solo missions without Qui-Gon before his sudden Knighting and he wasn’t sure if he would have dealt as well with the sudden separation if not for them. Anakin had adapted quickly at least, but he’d always been self-sufficient when put into life-or-death situations. He didn’t necessarily always made the smartest or least dangerous choices, but he trusted the Force and prevailed. This unshaken trust was hopefully something he passed on to Ahsoka. She was much too young for the horrors they were forced to put her through.

“I’m sorry, dear one,” Obi-Wan finally admitted defeat. “I’ll try to do better in the future.”

Anakin smiled, happy and unburdened in a way Obi-Wan hadn’t seen in a while. “Good.”

Seeing that he now didn’t have to hold up the pretense anymore, Obi-Wan gave in to his instincts. He let himself enjoy having Anakin and Ahsoka by his side again. Truthfully, they hadn’t had much time together outside of the battlefield and mission briefings. Back in the temple, they hadn’t even gotten Ahsoka settled properly. They should have had time to move her out of the Initiate room and into their small apartment or rooms actually meant to house more than two people. Right now her belongings were still stuck in boxes or haphazardly thrown into their wardrobes somewhere. Ahsoka didn’t even have a bed. He supposed they could give her Anakin’s, he never slept in there anyway nowadays, preferring to crawl into Obi-Wan’s bed, but Anakin’s entire room was basically a danger zone on his own. Her room on the Resolute was probably more a home to her than their apartment back in the Temple.

“Since we’ll be here a little longer,” Obi-Wan began to say, amusement coloring his voice as Anakin’s eyes lit up. “Give me your Padawan.”

Anakin laughed and reached over for Ahsoka, who promptly squealed in protest. “Master!”

“Nu-hu, no protesting,” Anakin replied and dumped Ahsoka in Obi-Wan’s lap.

Ahsoka crossed her arms and pouted, but when Obi-Wan began checking her for injuries, she leaned into his touch.

“I’m fine,” Ahsoka insisted. “No need to go all Alpha on me.”

Obi-Wan only hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t stop reassuring himself that she was alright.

“Hush, little one, you benefit from it,” Anakin said next to him.

“You’re only saying that because you’re not being manhandled,” Ahsoka argued.

“Yet,” Anakin added and Obi-Wan found himself nodding along with that sentiment. Ahsoka was a child, of course he had to check her first. And as reckless as Anakin could be, Obi-Wan did trust his mate. When he was done, he didn’t bother to move Ahsoka away from him as Anakin pressed himself into Obi-Wan’s side, a low whine escaping his throat.

Anakin was clingy, much more than usual. Obi-Wan frowned and pulled Anakin closer while Ahsoka used that opportunity to crawl out of Obi-Wan’s lap and drop herself across her Master’s instead. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at her antics, but let her be, focusing on Anakin instead. He hadn’t noticed it immediately, it had been a couple weeks after all, but Anakin’s scent was off. The usual scent of burning embers was followed by something quite sweet, but nothing that reminded Obi-Wan of a heat.

“Anakin, when was your last heat?”

The silence that followed was answer enough. Obi-Wan groaned and wished not for the first time that Anakin still had his Padawan braid so he could tug at it.

“You’re taking suppressants again! You know how dangerous they are-”

“I’ve not been taking any suppressants!” Anakin protested. “I just haven’t had a heat since Snips-“

Anakin trailed off and turned to look at his Padawan. Over their bond, Obi-Wan could feel the moment when the realization settled in and just a few seconds later, Obi-Wan had figured it out as well. Anakin sighed and buried his face in Ahsoka’s neck, deeply inhaling her scent.

“The Council’s gonna kill me,” Anakin muttered, confirmation all but clear now.

Obi-Wan could tell he was troubled, worried by how they would react. Going by the way Ahsoka was looking at him, she could likely feel it as well.

“You’re hardly the first Master who has had to update their file since the war began,” Obi-Wan said, attempting to calm Anakin. There had only been two cases so far with older Masters and Padawans about Ahsoka’s age and they had been pretty much covered up. Nobody had thrown too much of a fuss about it, they couldn’t afford it, but the two also weren’t Anakin Skywalker, the public’s darling General.

“Not helping,” Anakin said. The conflict was clearly visible on his face, but Obi-Wan was relieved to see that there was no regret. The worst thing that could happen now was that Anakin would reject the bond.

“Could somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Ahsoka finally spoke up.

She looked at them both with narrowed eyes, suspicion spilling all over her mental shield.

“Anakin’s nesting,” Obi-Wan explained over Anakin’s murmured shut up, shut up, shut up, shut-

“Nesting!?” Ahsoka sat up straight and paled. “Master, are you preg-“

“No,” Anakin interrupted her and clasped his hand over her mouth to shut her up. “No, nope, I’m not, I promise. I wouldn’t be so stupid to have a baby. Let’s not even go there. It’s because of you.”

Ahsoka attempted to say something, but her voice was muffled. She pried Anakin’s hand off before repeating her words.

“What do you mean it’s because of me? I didn’t do anything!”

Her tone wasn’t accusing, she was honestly just confused, but Obi-Wan wasn’t so sure that even got through to Anakin, as tense as he was. In an attempt at calming him, he put his right hand over Anakin’s neck. He stiffened, then he closed his eyes and relaxed, his breathing evening out as well.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said. “When do Initiates usually become Padawans?”

Ahsoka frowned at him, likely unable to follow his train of thought. Obi-Wan waited patiently for her answer.

“Uuh, shortly after they’ve presented?” Ahsoka offered after a moment. “So roughly around the ages ten to thirteen of their species’ equivalent.”

“Correct,” Obi-Wan replied and watched as Ahsoka beamed. “And why do we do that?”

She was quicker to answer this time. “It’s so that a proper training bond can snap into place instead of a parent-child bond.”

Obi-Wan continued to look at her encouragingly. She was almost there, she only had to make that one final jump and she would have figured it out on her own.

“Togruta are later though,” she said slowly. “We’re 15 at youngest, but I was made a Padawan anyway because of the war…”

She stopped talking, a sure-fire sign that she was on the right track.

“And I haven’t presented yet, but I’ve bonded with Master and we use our bond frequently to communicate. I know the other Padawans don’t really do that. Is it because- oh.”

Ahsoka looked at Anakin with wide eyes, hoping he’ll affirm the conclusion she’d reached. Anakin didn’t open his eyes, but he did open up his arm, inviting Ahsoka to join his embrace. She didn’t wait another second to make herself comfortable in his arms. She rested her head against his chest curled into herself. They’d need to call the Council later, but that still had time. Instead, Obi-Wan tugged at one of the many blankets and pulled it over the three of them.

“I’m sorry, Snips,” Anakin said. “Now you’ll always be stuck with your Master in your mind.”

“It’s not like you planned this,” Ahsoka retorted, then flashed Anakin a smile that was really more fangs and wicked joy than blissful happiness. “Besides, stronger bonds are an advantage on the field. But I’m not calling you Dad, Skyguy.”

Obi-Wan snorted while Anakin just looked appalled. “Please don’t ever do that.”

Ahsoka had been pretty mischievous already when she had become a part of their pack, but the way she was smiling now was 100% Anakin’s influence and as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, he absolutely deserved to be at the receiving end of her teasing.

“On the other hand, I’m not sure,” Ahsoka mused. “It does have a certain flair and maybe the Chancellor would stop demanding your time so often if he knows you have a youngling around.”

“Ahsoka, I will assign you extra meditation if you don't shut up now.”

“But then you’ll have to meditate as well.”

Oh, yes, Obi-Wan had definitely missed their lighthearted bickering.

#star wars #obikin #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #disaster lineage #back in action #we all knew i was gonna write abo for this fandom at one point #fanfic

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dear--charlie · 3 years ago

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Dear Charlie,

It hurts. The more I think about it, the more I try to figure it out, the more that it hurts.

I’m not the kind of person that he wants. I don’t know if I’m the kind of person that anybody wants, not really. So, maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be loved in return, but it’s enough to know how it feels to really love someone. There are a lot of moments where I wonder if I’m the kind of person that’s meant for love, I wonder that about life sometimes too. It’s not about me deserving it or not, it’s about compatibility. I know what I want and I don’t want to compromise it for someone else. I want to live where I want to and live how I want to, I don’t need another person to sway that. Who knows, though? Maybe this is just my attempt at trying not to care that Jack doesn’t want me too, that my own best friend can’t love me.

And the thing is, I’m not mad at him. I don’t hold it against him. I couldn’t do either of those things if I tried. I just understand, and wish it was different. I really thought I was over him, and I don’t know what to do about any of this. I’m not really sure what it’s going to be like when I hang out with him next. He was supposed to come over tonight to watch more of our show, but ended up not being able to make it. I’m kind of glad, I feel like I’d act really weird around him right now. Everyone’s supposed to go to the beach at some point this week too, and I think I’m probably gonna stay home. One, because it’s probably going to be Tuesday and I have a much needed therapy appointment in the middle of the day. And two, because I can’t stand the thought of getting into a car for more than an hour or withstanding a day where people can actually see me.

In case I didn’t mention it, the agoraphobia is getting worse. My therapist says it’s a problem now. I haven’t left the house in probably two months, and that was just to go grocery shopping. The trip to Trader Joe’s was overwhelming enough to make me decide not to go again. Not to mention, getting in the car makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up. Ever since the accident we got into in February, my car anxiety has gotten worse. Needless to say, I’m still not gonna get my license any time soon — maybe ever, if I can find a way to live like that. We have to go to a restaurant tonight for my sister’s birthday and I really, really don’t wanna go. I’m gonna try and see if I can stay home. I know that’s not the healthy option, but sue me. I’ve been having a rough time.

That’s not the point right now. Jack has a few days off of work this week, so he’ll be over eventually and I’ll have to figure out how to act like my latest crisis involves me probably still being in love with him. I’ve been trying to ask for his advice without actually telling him the situation. So far, he just thinks that I’m second guessing my feelings for Lani and I’m trying to deal with an incident from a few years ago. I was vague when I explained it, I mostly focused on the girlfriend part of it all.

The thing is, I’ve been really tempted to just tell him the truth. There have been more than a few times in the past two days that I’ve almost texted him out of nowhere and been like: hey, I might probably kind of definitely sorta totally still love you. It’s been getting harder to reign in impulses like that, and I don’t want the consequences that’ll follow if I end up acting on them. I don’t want things to get awkward, I don’t want him to get distant, I don’t want things to change.

I said once, in an old letter, that things would be easier if I knew I didn’t have a chance with him, that way I could move on. I’m gonna come out right now and say that I was dead fucking wrong. It’s so much harder to know that I don’t have a chance with him. My mind will wander to what if’s and hopeful daydreams, and I have to remind myself that it’s literally never gonna happen. He’s interested in his coworker and she’s interested in him. If he’s happy, what else can I ask for? If he’s happy, I can suffer in silence for as long as it takes to get over him. I shouldn’t be selfish by feeling jealous or mopey.

Maybe I should tell him. Is that really stupid? On the one hand, I don’t want him to get suspicious about how weird I am and figure it out. On the other hand, I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around me if he knows. Mom asked if I told him how I felt and I told her that I did years ago, but not this time. I told Bella about my predicament and she said pretty much the same things as Nikki.

I wish that he’d be mean to me. I wish he’d make me cry or break my heart or do something that could make me get over him. The little slivers of hope that I get from the “nothing’s off the table” comment is enough to keep me going apparently, and I still wish he’d told me that hell would freeze over before he’d feel the same way. What if he did feel that way about me and never said anything? What if he thought I’d gotten over him and didn’t wanna start me back up again? What if there was a chance and I missed it?

I talked to my mom about the whole situation for like two hours and I think it just really set in that this might never go away. She said that, based on how I’ve been talking about Lani, it doesn’t seem like the relationship will go anywhere. She also said that I shouldn’t ruin my friendship with Jack even if he somehow felt the same. She talked a lot about meeting new people and I made it really clear that doing that is one of the last things I want.

I came to a kind of realization, and it really hurts. I don’t want love if it doesn’t make me feel the way he makes me feel, and I'll probably never find a connection like that again. Even Mom said it, that I'll never be able to find a person that makes me feel the same. She said I might find someone who makes me feel different, but still good, and I don’t want that. I don’t fucking want different. I know how loving someone feels, I don't want that to change.

It'd just be easier to be alone. I don’t wanna meet new people and feel uncomfortable for months or years before really getting to know them, before they really get to know me. I don’t wanna put that work in if they won't make me feel the way he does, if it isn’t worth it, because what would the point be?

If these feelings could just go away, I'd be content with keeping the friend group I have and never meeting new people. I would be content with never having a partner too. The only reason I want one now is because it's him. The moment I got into a relationship with someone else, I didn't really want to be in it anymore. I don’t think there will be anybody who will live up to him, and I don't know how to accept that.

And I’m trying to keep myself from doing something really impulsive and stupid like telling him about all this bullshit, because I just want to know. I wanna know once and for all if there’s a chance or if there isn't, but I can't ask. What if he just said him having feelings for me was a possibility because he wanted to be nice? What if there was never a chance and he just couldn't bring himself to be mean? Would I even feel better if I knew it wasn't a possibility? Would it make me feel worse? Who knows, because I clearly don't.

I don’t think I want anyone else. I know I could change my mind, but I truly don't want to do the work it'd take to get to know someone new if it wasn't a sure thing we'd have a connection like that. Mom compared it to all my trial and error with medications, and that just further solidified how much I don’t wanna do that. It took seven fucking years to get my meds right and I was so close to giving up that, if the latest one didn’t work, I was just gonna say fuck it and let the bipolar do to me whatever it wanted because I was so sick of trying only for things to fall flat.

I think I’d just rather be alone, and that I’m only thinking about relationships right now because I love him too much to not daydream about it. The other thing is, even if (a huge enormous big large giant galactic if) he felt the same for me, would we even act on it? Could we even risk destroying our friendship if things went badly? I don’t know if I could, unless I was sure things would be okay and I’m not sure, I can literally never guarantee that.

I brought it up with my sister, Hannah. I asked if I told her I was probably breaking up with Lani and she immediately guessed that it was because of Jack. I guess I’m more obvious than I thought. She said she’s been thinking about it because he’s been over so much lately, but I didn’t even realize my feelings for him again until this week. So, hopefully, I’m actually subtle. I guess we’ll see when I next hang out with him. I debated the idea of just lowkey ignoring him for a while, but I don’t want him to think I’m pissed off or annoyed with him. Plus, I love hanging out with him. I hope I’m not awkward.

It’s just a lose-lose-lose situation all around. There’s no chance? Lose. There used to be and now there isn't? Lose. There is a chance and we destroy our friendship? Lose. There's literally no good outcome for this, except the completely outlandish and unrealistic one, and that will absolutely never happen. Because, in what world would things ever go perfectly? In what world would someone start dating the person they’re with forever at twenty-fucking-one and have things never end poorly between them? Maybe it works for some, but I’ve never been that lucky.

The only thing I can do is sit with this and pray it will pass. It took me three years last time, if I can pretend I got over it at all, and I don’t know how I can cope with another three if I’m gonna feel this shitty the whole time. I really thought I was over him, and I don’t know what to do about any of this.

Love Always, Just Nick 06 | 20 | 21

#dear charlie #Just Nick

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war-sword · 6 years ago

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needy

(Draco x female Hufflepuff reader)

summary: (inspired by the song 'needy' by Ariana Grande) Draco Malfoy has been made a Death Eater and given the task to murder Albus Dumbledore, something that would make any normal person have constant breakdowns. Draco is no different. In the solace of Moaning Myrtle's company, he gets attached to someone else in the process. words: 13.9k warnings: cursing, implied sex, blood (sectumsempra curse). a/n: Hi! I've had the plot for this imagine in my head since January, started writing it in February, and now in May it's finally finished :) I Hope you all enjoy. If you've never heard this song, I really recommend it! lot's of Ariana's recent music makes me think about Draco. I tried to incorporate as many lyrics as possible, and also some from her song 'ghostin'' (an alternative title I considered) p.s. to my knowledge, brushing bugs are not something in the Harry Potter universe, I just came up with them on my own. I figured pureblood witches and wizards would have found alternative, magical means to cleaning their teeth, maybe considering toothbrushes for muggles, muggleborns and halfbloods. (there will be no second part to this imagine. it’s already super long) taglist: @clockworkherondale @mayorofzillyhoo @hockeyandmarvel @mdgrdians. this fic is deadicated to @socontagiousimagines who i know has been going through a tough time, loves ari & draco, and writes amazing stories ♡

Part of him couldn’t believe he was back in this bloody bathroom again, confiding in what was possibly Hogwarts’ most annoying ghost. And yet.

Myrtle was actually… not so annoying. Maybe she thought he was cute, but then again, from most of the stories it seemed she found all boys cute. Regardless, she was one person Draco could safely vent to, seeing as A) this problem would be trivial to her in twenty years and B) the Dark Lord couldn’t exactly kill a ghost, no matter how powerful he was. Myrtle had all the time in the world, and was very willing to listen to Draco come and complain or cry. She also gave surprisingly comforting advice, even if she couldn’t give him any physical comfort.

“...not your fault, he’s always sticking his nose into others’ businesses.” Myrtle’s high pitched voice echoed around the tiled room, pulling Draco’s thoughts back to the topic at hand.

“Myrtle?” Draco heard a female voice call. Myrtle immediately shut her mouth, and Draco tensed up. The girl came walking into the bathroom and turning the corner to where the rows of toilets were. “Sorry I’m...” Her voiced faded as she finally looked down the aisle.

Draco hoped it was someone he didn’t know, but instead found himself slightly surprised. It was Y/N L/N, the only Pureblood of their year to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco had always been vaguely aware of her presence– she was Hufflepuff Prefect, and her father worked at the Ministry like his own father. Draco had never had any reason to talk to her though, since they were sorted into opposing houses and young Draco had seen no reason to keep up with her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Y/N started, clutching the book she was holding to her chest. “Normally no one’s up here.” Draco averted his gaze quickly, looking down. He rubbed his sore and puffy eyes. His pale complexion did not make his panic attacks any easier to hide. Maybe if he continued to look like this all the time, people would stop noticing. Myrtle pushed her fingers together awkwardly as she looked between the two living students. Y/N gulped. “Um… are you alright?” She asked.

Draco let out a short laugh that echoed around the tiled room. “What’s it look like?” he sniffed, rolling his eyes. He still didn’t make eye contact with her.

Myrtle looked nervously back and forth between her friends as Y/N stepped closer. Y/N perched on the edge of the bench the other side of Draco, who was too tired to tell her to piss off. “Would you like a hug? You look like you could use one.”

Draco finally looked over at her with his reddened eyes. “What?”

“I know Myrtle is a good listener,” Y/N said gently, “but sometimes a hug is nice. They’re scientifically proven to help, you know. I give very good ones.”

Draco looked away again, absentmindedly rubbing his arm. This was a very strange encounter and he was quickly getting self conscious. “I think I should just go,” he said quietly, his voice catching. He jumps up, grabbing his cloak from beside him, pulling it on as he walks quickly down bathroom hall.

“Malfoy?” Y/N calls just as he’s about to turn the corner. He stops short and looks back. “I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

Draco feels a little surprised. “Thanks,” he sighs in relief, then disappears.

༄

Draco felt like he started to see more of Y/N after that. Slipping through the halls, walking through the dungeons late at night. Despite her Prefect status, she never inquired to where he was going at odd hours, or even attemptted to get him in trouble. The first few times was just awkward eye contact, but then she decided to offer him small smiles. Draco would just nod in acknowledgement, and turn away. He wondered if she was following him, or if he was just more aware of her. It was hard to say.

“What’s your deal with L/N anyway?” Draco asked Myrtle one day, trying to be casual. For once he hadn’t come to the bathroom on the first floor because he was hyperventilating, he was just bored.

Myrtle shrugged, flying in slow circles around the sinks in the middle of the bathroom. “She just likes to hang out with me.”

“What’s her tragic backstory, then?” Draco deadpanned.

“I’m not sharing yours, so obviously I can’t share hers.” Myrtle said. Draco looked over at her, and caught Myrtle’s sly smile.

“She really just comes to hang out then, huh?”

“You would be a lot more fun if you were easier to fool, Draco.” Myrtle pouted.

I might be dead if I was a fool, Draco thought to himself.

“She just knows I’m lonely, is all. Unlike most people, she likes to take time out of her week to come visit. We read books together, since I can’t enjoy them now that I’m dead.”

Draco just hummed in response. So she hadn’t been sneaking around him that day, she had just come to see Myrtle. That made him feel a little more relaxed. Hopefully Y/N would just fade back into the background and he could stay focused on his task.

༄

Draco was fuming. He’d had a tough week with classes– Snape exempted him from all assignments, but that was only a small reprieve from his other coursework. Wasn’t it enough he was only attending school this year for a murder operative, but he still had to do all the regular homework too to keep up the act? He’d been slammed all week and was unable to get to the Room of Requirement once. Tonight he was planning to catch up for lost time, but of course Filtch had to catch him on his way. His lie about Slughorn’s lame Christmas party had only gotten him so far. He would’ve been able to handle the situation just fine, he was the great Malfoy liar after all, but of course Snape had swooped in. That was enough in itself to piss Draco off, but Potter was right there– and Draco had seen the look on his face.

He continued down to the dungeons, leaving Snape in the corridor. He didn’t want his help. He could do this… couldn’t he? As he descended down the many staircases, he became more and more fretful. Maybe Snape was right.

Draco found a quiet corner in the hall and leaned against the wall. Familiar despair crawled up his spine and into his mind, and tears started to prick his eyes. If he kept crying this easily, he was just going proving Snape’s point more. Draco unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt in an effort to make it easier to breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to do the controlled breathing exercise that Myrtle had suggested he do when he felt a panic attack coming on. In, and out, very slowly as he counted to five. In….. out….. In….. out. Draco was so focused on his breathing that he didn’t notice the footsteps.

“Malfoy?”

Draco jumped. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Y/N standing around the corner of the corridor. Since it was past curfew, he expected her to be in uniform with her Prefect’s badge prominently displayed. Instead, she was dressed in casual clothes- black shorts and a big grey Hufflepuff sweatshirt, her hair up in a bun with pieces falling out all over the place. She had her feet pushed into her uniform shoes halfway, like she’d just slipped them on to walk a short ways. In her hands she was holding a small bundle. Her eyes were wide in surprise he felt mirrored on his own face.

“Are you… um….” Y/N faltered. “Would you, er, like a cookie?” She held out the bundle in front of her.

Draco paused a moment. “Why not?”

Y/N shuffled over and sat down next to him, leaving a healthy bit of space. She unwrapped the bundle of cloth to reveal five chocolate chip cookies, looking soft and warm. Draco broke off half of the one on the top. “I’m in the middle of a long herbology essay,” Y/N explained. “I have a bad habit of snacking when I take homework breaks, and I probably shouldn’t eat all five of these.”

“Well, in that case...” Draco took the other half of the cookie. Y/N smiled.

“They’re good, I promise. There always seems to be plenty of them in the kitchen, even at this hour.” Y/N re-wrapped the remaining four cookies and then took her hair out to redo her twist. Draco watched as she smoothed her hair back into a sleek new bun with no flyaways. She looked cuter with the little pieces out, he couldn’t help but think.

“Maybe I should start coming down here, too. Eat my feelings instead of talking to a dead person.” Oops. Draco closed his eyes and inwardly cringed at his own slip-up.

But Y/N didn’t seem to react at all. “Like I said, Myrtle is a good listener. I don’t blame you. She’s a pretty good secret keeper, too.” Y/N played with the edge of her sock, looking down. “Myrtle wouldn’t give me any hints. But uh… if you ever want to talk to someone who’s not dead, I’m usually not too busy.”

“Thanks, but it’s nothing really.” Draco brushed her offer away. “Just a bad day is all.”

Y/N nodded. “Are you okay right now?”

Wow, was he really getting this bad at being unreadable? “Yeah, just got kicked out of Slughorn’s stupid Christmas party.”

“Ah,” she said. “I should’ve guessed, that explains the suit. I didn’t know you were invited.”

“I wasn’t.” The edge of Draco’s mouth quirked up.

Y/N grinned. “Well, the next time you go sneaking around make sure it’s not on Wednesdays, Fridays or Mondays. That’s when I patrol.” Y/N grabbed her bundle and pushed herself into a standing position. “Hope your night gets better, Malfoy.”

“Thanks,” Draco said, genuinely.

Y/N continued down the corridor and disappeared around the corner in the direction of the Hufflepuff dorms. Draco looked back at the two halves of cookie in his hands, and took a bite. They were really good. He leaned his head back on the stone and let out a sigh. Maybe he should just go back to his dorm and sleep, for once. He could go to the Room tomorrow; he still had time.

༄

Draco’s panic attacks were becoming more and more frequent, and he found himself spending more time in Myrtle’s bathroom than the Room of Requirement. This only caused his anxiety to rise more, a vicious cycle he was desperate to escape.

Myrtle hovered nearby, helpless as Draco dry-heaved over a toilet. He was sweating and shaking from cold at the same time, his teeth chattering while he watched sweat roll off his nose and into the murky water below.

“Draco, are you listening to me? You need to breathe, try to take slower breaths.”

He tried to listen to Myrtle, and successfully managed to get his hyperventilating under control. Draco sat back against the wall of the stall he was sitting in, and pulled his cloak over him like a blanket.

“See, look, much better,” Myrtle said. “Can you tell me what happened? Was it Harry again?”

Draco nodded. “He… Slughorn never delivered the wine to Dumbledore. He gave some to Weasley on accident, and he would’ve died if Potter didn’t give him the antidote. Fucking Potter,” he spat. “Why is it always him? He knows Myrtle, he must! This is the second time he’s been there when my plans went wrong. He’s going to figure it out. Merlin, if I just had more time…” Draco could feel his knees begin to shake again. He leaned his head back against the wall, pressing into it, trying to use the pressure to ground himself.

“Draco, please be reasonable. Harry can’t know-“

“YES HE DOES!” Draco screamed. It felt good to scream. “He might as well have seen my fucking Dark Mark, Myrtle!”

In the moment after Draco’s echoing yell, there was deafening silence. Draco glanced out of the door of the stall and noticed saddle shoes peeping out from around the corner. His blood froze.

Someone was in the bathroom.

Draco stood suddenly, the cloak falling from his knees as he drew his wand. He slid around the corner and pointed his wand near the neck of the eavesdropper, using his other hand to pin their shoulder back on the wall.

“Draco, don’t!” Myrtle cried.

Y/N had her eyes squeezed shut, her arms raised up around her upper body instinctively. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“What did you hear?” Draco shouted. “What did you hear!”

Y/N cowered at Draco’s loud voice. “N-not a lot! I just… heard…” She gulped. “You said you had... a Dark Mark.” Y/N whispered the words.

Draco shrank away, putting his hands up to his face. Y/N was so nice… what would happen to her now that she knew? He felt the familiar fear grip at his chest again, and he leaned over one of the sinks to take a few steadying breaths. “I have to Obliviate you.”

“What?” Y/N said, fear in her voice.

“I have to!” Draco said, turning around to look at her. “You can’t know anything about this, anything about me. It’s dangerous— it’ll get you killed.”

“You don’t have to,” Y/N said, taking a step towards him. “I can help you, with whatever is wrong.”

“No,” Draco said. “You shouldn’t. You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

That was the first time she touched him. Her warm hands wrapped around his clammy, shaking ones. It had been so long since another person had touched him in such a gentle and comforting way. His wand steadied in his hand as her fingers settled over his.

“Just tell me,” she said, almost a whisper. “I’ll promise.”

They were tucked up in one of the bathroom stalls, backs against opposite sides with their knees brushing. They clasped each other’s wrists and looked into each other’s eyes, Y/N’s hawthorn wood wand casting the spell that wrapped around their intertwined hands like a golden rope as Myrtle said the words.

And then Draco told her everything.

“I’m so sorry Draco,” Y/N said, putting a hand on his knee. The combination of his first name and her touch made him shiver. “I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under, to save your family.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to,” Draco sighed, wiping a tear off his cheek. “The necklace has already failed, and I haven’t made any progress on the cabinet. And now the wine, another dead end.” He leaned his head back on the bathroom stall and stared off into space.

Y/N moved her hand away, and immediately Draco missed the warmth of her touch. She opened up her arms ever so slightly. “Would you like that hug now?”

Draco obliged, crawling over to lean into her chest. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and braced her leg against the toilet to support the rest of his body. It had been months since Draco had had this much physical contact and felt so safe, he immediately started to sob again. As he cried into her shoulder, Y/N gently rubbed his back. Myrtle looked down at them and wiped away a ghostly tear of her own.

When Draco had cried until he could cry no more, he felt exhausted. He became aware his left arm had fallen asleep from leaning on it, and Y/N probably was even more uncomfortable, seeing as she’d been holding him like the child he was acting like. Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, but Y/N kept hold of his wrists as he pulled away.

“Ugh,” Draco groaned, disgusted, as he spotted the tear stains he’d left on Y/N’s white uniform shirt. “That’s so gross. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of younger Hufflepuffs cry on me about loads of things.”

Draco pulled his right hand free of Y/N’s grip to retrieve his well-used handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “Yes, I’m certainly acting like a bloody first-year, aren’t I?”

“Draco,” Y/N cooed. “Don’t downplay this. If I was in your position I would be crying all the time, too. This is something no one our age should ever have to do. It’s okay to feel weak sometimes.”

“But recently I feel this way all the time.”

“And that’s okay, too,” Y/N said sincerely. “If you ever want to talk or need help, I’m here. Please don’t hesitate to ask.” She squeezed his wrist gently.

Draco just nodded, wiping his nose one last time. Y/N glanced at her watch. “Come on, it’s dinner time. If we splash some cold water on your face no one will be able to tell you’ve cried by the time we get to the hall.” She stood and offered her hands to help Draco up. As they left, Y/N called goodbye to Myrtle. “I come here on Thursday afternoons and we read. You should come, if you have time to relax for a bit.”

“I’d like that,” Draco said. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re being really nice about this while I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it. My lips are sealed.” She said it casually and walked off, leaving Draco in the corridor so they didn’t go in together. Her words resonated with him, though. She’d made the unbreakable vow to him, someone she barely knew. Draco would have found this suspicious if it was anyone else, but Y/N just radiated positivity, and Draco felt drawn to her like a moth to the flame. If he wasn’t more careful, he would burn.

༄

On Thursday, sure he was too late, Draco burst into the second-floor bathroom. Myrtle and Y/N we seated on the bench at the end of the room. Myrtle cocked her head to the side in interest, while Y/N smiled. “You came.”

The afternoon sun was filtering in through the old windows, causing her yellow tie to glow golden. Her hair was down today. Maybe I shouldn’t have, Draco thought. “Yeah,” he said instead.

“Come on, Draco.” Myrtle encouraged. “We’re reading The Little Prince.”

“French or English?” Draco asked as he approached.

“French,” Y/N said. “I’m learning.”

“Well, I speak French,” Draco responded. “I can help.”

From that day on, Draco joined Y/N and Myrtle in the bathrooms on Thursdays to read, and just generally enjoy each other’s company. It was a nice break from brewing deadly potions in his room and researching new hexes in the library, or doing otherwise untowardly things. He was beginning to associate the girl’s second-floor bathroom with more than just panic attacks.

Y/N was teaching him all sorts of lovely things. She could play the guitar very well. Singing, not so much, but she did her best anyway. Draco didn’t mind listening to her off-key voice, because she had a great time playing for him and Myrtle. Sometimes if they met up after later in the evening, Y/N would bring cookies from the kitchen and she and Draco would share them as they walked, finishing them before getting to the bathroom so Myrtle wouldn’t get jealous.

Y/N wore thick socks all the time, since she self diagnosed as being cold-blooded. She owned a collection of knit sweaters in earth tones. She always wore a set of small earrings of a matching moon and star that glittered mysteriously in dim light. She had perfectly shaped fingernails. She said ‘fluxweed’ with an Irish accent despite having no Irish upbringing. Every time her fingers made contact with his bare skin, he felt electrified and instantly calm all at once.

Draco was forming a terrible, terrible crush on the Hufflepuff Prefect.

He felt awful about it. Even though they only ever talking about his task to kill Dumbledore if Draco was the one who brought it up (he still panicked over it often), he couldn’t help but feel as if he was dragging her down with him. Draco was quickly becoming attached to her. His emotions were like a rollercoaster, up and down at the littlest inconvenience or kind gesture from his new friend. Draco knew he was obsessive and would easily fall hard, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Her touch was the most intoxicating thing about her, and he needed it.

She could read him like no one else. One day, they switched robes just for fun. Draco’s emerald tie jumped out against her skin, and made his own tingle with want. His robe swallowed up her frame since she was so much shorter, and he watched as she spun around the bathroom.

Draco admired her yellow tie as he adjusted it around his neck. Her yellow-trimmed robe ended just below his knee, and he looked like an overgrown third-year. Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror. Yellow was definitely not his color, but he couldn’t help but wonder what he would be doing if he wore it every day instead of green.

Y/N almost immediately caught onto his somber mood, and joined him in looking in the mirror. She gazed at their opposite reflections. “I dunno if yellow is really your color.” She totally read his mind.

“I was thinking the same. But, maybe if I was a Hufflepuff, my life would be better,” he said honestly.

Y/N hooked her arm around his. “Maybe,” She mused. “But think about all the other great things you are that you wouldn’t be if you were a Hufflepuff. ”

“I feel like there used to be lots of things about myself I took pride in, but now I feel like they’re all a curse,” Draco mumbled.

“Think more simple,” Y/N said. “You’re a quick thinker. You’re super smart, and you learn things so fast. I think all your housemates helped you cultivate those things when you were younger, whereas in Hufflepuff it might’ve been different things.”

Draco felt floored. He’d never even considered that. He just assumed his last name and blood status would carry him no matter what house he was in. As her words still rattled around his skull, he checked his watch on instinct. They’d been here for and hour and a half– he needed to work on the vanishing cabinet today and he had to get new books from the library. “I’ve got to go,” he said to his friends apologetically.

He and Y/N switched back their robes. The collar of his now smelled faintly of her lavender shampoo. They bid their goodbyes to Myrtle and walked together down to the dungeons. “Not to like, be Snape or whatever, but are you sure you don’t want any help?”

“Oh, I’d love help, just not from him.” Draco chuckled dryly. “That doesn’t mean you should come up though, this isn’t your problem to worry about and I don’t want you to be involved in… this.” He quickly amended.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Hm.”

When Draco went up to the room later that night after dinner, Y/N was waiting on him, casually doing paces in front of the wall where the door to the Room would appear. “Y/N, you need to leave.”

Y/N shifted the two thick books in her arms. “No. You said you want help, and I’m here.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” Draco stood his ground. There was no way he was going to let her get in this deep with him. “I’m not getting you this directly involved.”

“I can see how stressed you are over this,” she argued. “I won’t let you suffer alone over fixing this dumb piece of furniture.”

As her voice echoed in the corridor, Draco heard steps coming from the opposite direction. He quickly summoned the door and yanked Y/N in with him before whoever it was could find them standing there. The door turned into wall behind them, and Draco spun around to face Y/N. “Wait five minutes and then you can leave through here again,” Draco instructed. “I’m not letting you come with me.” He turned to go find the cabinet among the towering stacks of junk, but Y/N caught his arm.

“Draco! Stop, just let me help you.”

“You already help me plenty,” Draco replied, exasperated, not turning around to look at her.

Y/N’s grip softened, and she walked around to stand in front of him. “Please, just show me where it is?”

Oh, Merlin. How the bloody Hell was he going to say no when she was looking up at him like that? Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re not touching it, okay?”

Y/N followed him through the narrow paths between the piles until they came upon the cabinet. It was deep in the room, and after spending hours in this one spot Draco had moved most of the junk out of the way so he could work. In the cleared area around the cabinet, there was a ancient looking couch and a table pushed off to the side. Draco set the book he’d brought on the table and pulled the cloth off the cabinet.

Y/N set her own books down on the table and took off her cloak. She joined Draco in front of the cabinet and they peered inside at the empty interior, always gently illuminated. “So what’s exactly… wrong with it?” She asked.

“I can only transport inanimate objects. Anything living dies.” Draco closed the door back, not wanting to look in anymore.

Y/N crossed her arms and considered it a moment longer. Then she sat down on the floor next to the table, rolled up her sleeves and cracked open one of her spell books. “Have you tried checking the cabinet for external damages? Magic seeping from the inside can cause transportation to be disrupted or loss of limbs.”

I can’t believe I’m letting her help me, Draco thought as he knelt down to look for any cracks on the bottom of the cabinet.

༄

Y/N came to the Room with him often after that. On days she had Prefect patrols, she would slip pieces of parchment into his school bag that had notes or ideas she’d written down for him, or leave a book waiting for him in the library checked out in her name. On days she didn’t, Y/N would accompany him. Just as Draco had asked, she never worked on the cabinet directly. She would just add notes in Draco’s notebook, and help him with wand movements for new spells.

The more time they spent together, their friendship grew. On especially long nights, she would sit on the couch and he would sit on the floor between her legs, so she could massage his tight shoulders while he studied a new book. She would remind him not to bite the edges of his thumbnails, and he would let Y/N rest her head on his shoulder. When that happened, it was hard for Draco not to nap also. Sometimes he did, head on the table while their legs were pressed up against each other, or he would doze while she worked the tension out of his muscles. It was always peaceful sleep.

When she fell asleep, Draco always made sure he never woke her up until he was going to leave. She would drift off with her nose in a book or sprawled out on the couch, lips slightly parted. She looked so calm while she slept. Draco would sometimes brush her hair back and lay her cloak across her shoulders so she could be more comfortable.

One night, Draco sighed and flopped down on the old couch next to Y/N, laying his head in her lap. He hadn’t realized he’d done it until she rested her hand on his hair, smoothing it back ever so gently. She was still engrossed in the spellbook, and Draco allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy her intoxicating touch. Each brush of her hand eased away his anxiety and replaced it with a sense of calm.

He snapped his eyes open, suddenly aware he’d fallen asleep. Y/N smiled down at his disoriented face.

“How long was I out?”

“Not very long, like twenty minutes or so,” she said as he sat up. “I figured you could use a bit of rest.”

Draco rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair to shake off the grip of sleep. He was loath to leave her lap and her gentle touch. “I couldn’t help it, the way you were touching my hair just put me to sleep,” he admitted.

“I know.” She grinned. “My mum used to do it to me when I was younger, when I was too excited or nervous.” Y/N put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I think we should get back. You need to rest, and we can look for new spells tomorrow.”

Draco sighed, defeated. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

As the two of them walked through the empty halls, Y/N glanced at her watch. “Merlin it’s late. I’m glad I don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

Draco looked over at her. She was holding the spellbook they’d borrowed with both arms, and her hair had begun falling loose from its bun like it usually did, short tendrils of her locks begging for him to wrap his fingers around them. The words spilled out before he could stop them. “Do you want to sleepover?”

Y/N looked over, eyes wide with surprise. “Sleepover? Like, in your dorm?”

Shit. “Er, yes. I mean, obviously you don’t have to. Sorry, it was stupid of me to–”

“It’s alright.” Y/N interrupted. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Right.” Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment for a moment. “It’s just–”

“I’ll–”

They both said at the same time. They had reached the bottom of the stairs to the dungeons, and Draco stopped and turned to her.

“You go ahead,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

“No, it’s embarrassing, just forget I asked.” Draco averted his eyes.

Y/N let out a quiet laugh. “It’s okay Draco, just tell me. You don’t have to feel sorry around me,” she reminded him again.

Draco let out a sigh and rested his hands in a fist on his forehead. The more he thought about it the more he’d wished he hasn’t said anything. He closed his eyes, too self-conscious to look at her while he said it. “I have nightmares every time I sleep. Except... when I fall asleep when I’m around you.” He cracked open his eyes to see Y/N staring up at his with a wide, expectant gaze. “You don’t have to, I could understand if that would be weird or crossing some friendship boundary, and it’s really selfish of me.”

Y/N smiled gently. “Of course it’s not. I’m… glad I can help.” She shifted on her feet. “I’d love to sleep over.”

“Really?” Draco asked, dropping his hands down in disbelief.

“Sure. But, I can’t sleep in my uniform.” Y/N gestured to her button-down and skirt that she was still dressed in.

“You can borrow something of mine.” Draco said quickly. Eager much?, he inwardly cringed.

“Alright.” Y/N nodded. “You lead the way.”

They passed the entrance to the Hufflepuff dorms and went down further, under the lake. They stopped between two columns on what looked like a blank wall. Draco whispered the password, and the bricks shifted to open up. “Fancy,” Y/N muttered.

The common room was empty and quiet, only embers left in the fireplace. Draco quickly walked over to where the boys dorms were. “I’ve got to carry you,” Draco breathed, almost inaudible. “The charms.” Y/N nodded, and pointed to his back. Draco bent down and she climbed on, and together they made their way up the steps. Draco’s heart was racing― he couldn’t imagine the trouble he would be in if Crabbe or Zabini saw him carrying a Hufflepuff girl into his dorm room at one in the morning. Draco was vaguely aware this would become a problem come morning, but he decided to focus on getting to his room first.

Draco unlocked his door with his wand nonverbally, and shuffled in the small door. Y/N slipped off his back and he closed the door behind them. He quietly reveled in their success before he turned back to Y/N. It wasn’t until then that he remembered the state of his room.

“Oh, Draco,” Y/N sighed, sounding sad. Indeed, his room looked exactly how one might expect someone in his mental state to be living in. Snape had ensured Draco had a room all to himself to work on his task, and while the privacy was nice, it just gave Draco more space to make a mess. He’d left the candle next to his desk alight all evening, and the wax filled the tray below. The two small dorm beds he had pushed together to create one big one was unmade and badly needed fresh sheets. Papers and clothes littered the floor. Books and parchment rolls filled one desk, while his second still had his cauldron on it and all the ingredients strewn about. Draco walked over to his work desk and quickly closed his diary, setting it to the side.

“I know, it’s bad,” he sighed. Y/N set their spellbook next to where he was leaning on the desk and walked over to his cauldron.

“What were you brewing?”

“Wideye potion, it keeps me awake during the day since I don’t sleep much at night,” he confessed.

“Why don’t you just brew a sleeping draught instead? You know the effects of long term Wideye use,” Y/N said, concerned.

“Believe me, I do know,” Draco said. “I tried the sleeping draught first, but it puts me in such a deep sleep I can’t wake up when I have a nightmare. Three nights of having to sleep through excruciating dreams was more tiring than sleeping four hours and drinking Wideye the next day.” He looked over at her.

Y/N looked so sad. She walked back across the room and wrapped her arms around his middle. Draco sighed as he pressed his nose into her hair. “Well, let’s see if not sleeping alone can help,” she said into his chest. She pulled away and patted him. “Can I have some pyjamas?”

Draco waved his wand and opened two drawers of his wardrobe. “You can get something clean out of there. They might be a bit big when you put them on.”

“That’s fine.” Y/N walked over to the wardrobe and began to shuffle through the clothes.

Draco picked up his own pyjamas from the last night off the bed. “Take your time, I’ll wait in the bathroom. Just tell me when I can come out.”

“Okay.”

Draco closed the bathroom door behind him and slumped against it. Merlin, he’d really done it now. Invite her to sleepover? What was he thinking? He was doing a horrible job of trying to keep her safe― in fact, it was getting worse every time they hung out. Draco threw his pyjamas on the floor and rested his head on the cool tile of the sink, and sighed. He was so, so selfish. And needy. Y/N was so nice, and didn’t deserve to be caught up in all this.

Draco changed clothes and put some Brushing Bugs in his mouth to clean his teeth. Y/N’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “I’m ready,” she said softly from the other side of the door.

Draco opened the door and saw Y/N waving her wand, cleaning the mess of his room and putting things back in order. She’d let her hair down and put on one of his white tee shirts he wore under his uniform button-downs and a pair of his black silk pyjama pants. And her butt looked really good. His jaw went slightly slack at the sight of her, a stray Brush Bug almost escaping his lips. Y/N turned to see him staring helplessly from the door of the bathroom.

The last few parchments shuffled themselves into a stack and she walked over, the long pant legs swishing around her feet. “Do you have any toothpaste?” She asked.

Draco wordlessly held out his glass container of Brushing Bugs, and she gasped. “You have Bugs? Oh, I should've known, since you’re a Pureblood. I’m the only girl in Hufflepuff who uses them still, everyone else thinks they’re gross.” She took the tiny spoon out of the holder on the side of the jar and popped a spoonful of the small bugs in her mouth.

They waited for the Bugs to finish, standing in the bathroom in silence, taking turns making faces at each other. Draco eventually got to laughing too much and spit his Bugs out into the sink. Y/N followed suit. “ Am I shiny?” She asked, baring her teeth.

“Very shiny. Me?” Draco made a similar face.

“Squeaky clean,” she replied. “Just like your room.”

“Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

God, Draco didn’t deserve her. He turned off the bathroom light, and they walked out. “Which side do you sleep on?” She asked.

“Well, usually the middle. But I can sleep on the right.”

“Oh good, I like sleeping on the left anyway.”

“Sorry it’s a mess. I haven’t had time to make it in a while,” Draco said as they settled into the pushed together beds.

“Remember what I said about apologizing?” Y/N chastised, laying down and looking at Draco as he extinguished the candle and carefully placed his wand on the bedside table.

“Hmm, no. Having trouble recalling it right this moment.”

“That’s more like it.”

The room was mostly dark except for the dim moonlight filtering through the water and into the window that looked out into the lake. A fish swam by, casting a gentle shadow as it passed.

They both laid on their backs and stared up at the ceiling, a distance of about eight inches between them. Draco tried to take a quiet breath, painfully aware they were both awake and aware the other was also awake and knew they were both thinking about how awkward it was. So awkward. He didn’t feel very relaxed anymore.

Y/N shifted beside him. Draco decided to just go for it.

He lifted up the covers so he could move and scooted across the space in the middle of the bed. He pressed his body up against hers, resting his head near her shoulder. Her arm that his torso was touching twitched just the smallest bit. “Is this okay?”

The second it took Y/N to respond seemed to stretch on forever. “Of course,” she whispered. “Just, do this instead.” She moved up just the slightest bit and slipped her right arm under Draco’s head, so he rested on the flat spot of her shoulder just above her breast. She pulled his right arm over across her torso.

Draco felt instantly more comfortable. He moved his left arm so it wasn’t quite so squished underneath him and pulled her closer. Y/N’s right hand came up to his head and she gently started to smooth his hair like she’d done in the room an hour ago. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Draco feel asleep almost immediately.

༄

The next morning, Draco woke up first. Awakening felt like he was dragging himself from the deepest most thick depths of sleep, and the second he opened his eyes he felt the need to close them again.

But oh, he would never.

Because Y/N was tangled in his arms, his legs, the tips of her fingers were settled gently against his chest, and her soft breaths were hitting the bare skin of his neck. He wished he could see her face, but what he could see of her body from his limited view of being cuddled up next to her was more than enough.

He strained his eyes to look at the clock on his desk, not wanting to move his head. It was just past nine. Draco hadn’t slept this late all school year. And he was still tired! He gently ran his fingers over Y/N’s hair, enjoying the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his own. He felt a little guilty, but not guilty enough to move.

Draco was only able to enjoy the feeling for five, precious minutes. Three sharp knocks on his bedroom door were enough to make his heart stop.

Y/N sleepily opened her eyes at the sound. “Wh-” She started, but Draco pressed a finger to her lips.

“Hide.” He whispered urgently. Y/N was instantly awake. They detached from each other and Draco went to the door. He didn’t see where Y/N hid, just heard the whoosh of the sheets being thrown.

Draco opened the door and gave his best pissed off stare to an equally disgruntled looking Snape. “What.”

“Watch your tone, Malfoy.” Snape drawled. He brushed past Draco and into the room.

“Come in, why don’t you.” Draco rolled his eyes and shut the door. “You’re the one who woke me up. What do you want?”

“Oh, have time to sleep in, do we?” Snape asked, condescendingly.

“I told you, I’ve been working on it. I’ve got it handled, alright?” Draco raised his voice. “I don’t care how much you wish this was you. Stop acting like you care about helping me.”

Snape grabbed Draco roughly by his arm. “You think the Dark Lord is patient, Draco? If you take much longer, he might decide your family doesn’t deserve any mercies, regardless whether you succeed or not.”

Draco wrenched his arm out of Snape’s grasp. “Get out of my room,” he growled.

“Good to see you’ve finally cleaned.” Snape left the room and slammed the door behind him, robes swishing.

Draco let out a sigh. He looked back at the bed, where the sheets were messed up. A small lump was in a spot where the sheets should have been smooth, so Draco walked over and pulled the covers back.

Smack in the middle of his bed was a grey and brown ferret, staring back up at him with beady eyes. No sooner had Draco processed this, the ferret grew and morphed until he was staring at Y/N, laid flat out on her back, instead.

“Um, surprise?”

Draco’s jaw was slack. “Bloody hell… you never told me you were an Animagus.”

“I dunno… it never really came up.” Y/N sat up and gave a hopeful smile and a shrug.

Draco rubbed his face. “Okay. Alright. No offense to you at all, but this would be a lot easier for my brain to handle if your animal wasn’t a ferret.”

Y/N looked back blankly for a moment, then burst out into laughter. “Merlin, I totally forgot about that!” She kept giggling, falling back into the bed. Her laugh was so intoxicating, Draco found himself laughing a little, too.

“It was actually a very traumatic experience, I’ll have you know.” Draco tried to hold down his laughter with a pout.

“I’ll tell you about traumatic! How about waking up and having Snape walk into your friend’s bedroom in the span of five seconds, and then only have a single sheet to hide under.” Y/N countered.

“Uh, last I checked,” Draco said, pointing. “I was there too, except I had to talk to Snape instead of getting to hide.”

“Fine!” Y/N groaned. She sat back up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed, poking Draco’s shins with her toes. “Maybe next time we should sleep in my dorm. Professor Sprout never checks on me.” The shock Draco felt from the invitation must’ve shown on his face because Y/N started stammering. “I-I mean, if I helped, that is. With the sleeping. With your dreams, I mean.”

“No. Yes. Yes, it definitely helped.” Draco put his hands on her shoulders. “I haven’t slept that well in months.”

“Really?” Her voice was a mix of excited and sad.

Draco nodded. “If there’s ever a day like today where you don’t have anything to do–”

“Nope,” Y/N cut him off. “We can have a sleepover anytime. I want to make sure you’re getting rest, and if it’ll get you off Wideye, even better.”

Oh, how badly Draco needed to turn her down. “Y/N, I can’t impose on your personal time like that.”

But she was shaking her head at him. “I don’t care. I sleep every night, might as well be useful while I’m at it.”

“Are you sure I wasn’t too clingy?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t crowd you?”

“Nope.”

“I didn’t bother you at all?”

“Nooooope.”

Draco threw his head back. Here I go again, he thought. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Y/N grinned. Draco’s heart clenched. “Come sleep in Hufflepuff tonight. I’m excited for you to see my room.”

“Okay.” Draco couldn’t help but smile. The urge to kiss her was becoming almost overwhelming, so he stepped away from her and sat in his desk chair.

Y/N peeked at the clock behind him. “It’s past breakfast, but lunch will be soon. I really need to shower, so I’ll just see you there. Maybe we can go to the Room and try more spells later.”

“Don’t you have something better to do with your afternoon?” Draco tried to discourage her.

Y/N shrugged. “Not really.” She scooped her neatly folded stack of clothes off the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. She emerged dressed in her robes from the day before, and put her borrowed pyjamas on the bed. Draco handed her her wand. “Last night I was worried about how I would get you out of here without anyone noticing, but I see we’ve solved that problem.”

Y/N threw him a wink. “I still need someone to open the door.”

༄

Draco had come to another selfish dilemma. He and Y/N were now having platonic sleepovers three, and sometimes four nights a week. Y/N didn’t mind. Draco certainly didn’t. Except once he was alone in his bed back in Slytherin, he realized how attached he was to her. She was like a drug for his calmness and stability, and if he went too long he felt himself falling into his destructive habits again.

Oh no.

As much as he would scold himself when he was alone, when they were together, he couldn’t help but feel as if this was what he’d been missing all this time. Someone who cared about him, who was nice, and uplifting. Someone who found his presence just as enjoyable, instead of feeling like they needed to be friends, were expected to keep each other’s company. Y/N was a lovely girl and the perfect friend, and Draco was desperate to keep it that way, despite wanting more. He was very good at overthinking with his heart.

Draco loved hanging out with her alone in their rooms. While he appreciated Myrtle and what she’d done for him, she was mopey and cynical. Not really her fault, he supposed people just got that way when they died. Spending time in the Room was what had brought him and Y/N closer, but being in there was always a somber reminder of his horrible assignment. Her coming to his bedroom under the lake made his lonely room more bright, but it always seemed to get more depressing every time she left. Y/N’s room was Draco’s favorite place to be.

She had the wide, comfy, four poster bed all Prefects had the luxury of sleeping in. Big windows overlooked the hills behind Hogwarts facing the Forbidden Forest, making her entire room glow warmly in the fading sunlight. Above her desk were strings laden with photographs, newspaper clippings, and quotes neatly written with the book they came from below. She had plants on her window sills, even though she said she was no herbologist. She had a record player and lots of vinyls, and she would put them on and play along with her guitar sometimes.

Draco and Y/N stood in her bathroom having a staring contest in the mirror while they did their brushing bugs. They had on what Y/N had called their “matching pyjamas”. Y/N was wearing her pale blue nightgown and Draco was wearing one of her soft long-sleeve shirts that was almost the same color, and a pair of his own pyjama pants he kept in her room.

Y/N finished with her bugs first and rinsed her mouth. She glanced down at Draco’s hands resting on the counter. “Can I see it?” She asked gently.

Draco froze for a moment. Despite having slept together and sharing clothes, Y/N had never seen him without his shirt off. Y/N knew Draco had a Dark Mark, but even since that first day in the bathroom she’d never asked him more about it. Draco gave her a small nod and spit out his own bugs.

He gently pulled his left sleeve up to his elbow to expose his scar. Right now it was pale red, stamped into his skin with magic. If the Dark Lord was to call his followers, it would burn and turn black and the snake would writhe, something Draco had learned from experience. Y/N stepped closer to take hold of his arm and gently traced her finger along the Mark. Draco suppressed a shiver.

“When I look at it,” Draco said quietly, “I don’t see what other people see. I don’t think about him, I just think about my parents. Especially my mum. I just want to protect my family.”

Y/N looked up and gave him a sad smile. “That’s what I see, too.”

A knock at the door made them both jump. Y/N recoiled away from him and Draco quickly drew his sleeve down. “One second!” Y/N called.

She grabbed her cardigan off her desk chair and pulled it on. A loud sniffle could be heard outside the door and Y/N gestured that Draco could come out from hiding in the bathroom. “It’s not Sprout,” Y/N mouthed.

Standing at the door in her pyjamas was, what looked like to Draco, a first year, tears streaming down her face and a wet handkerchief clutched in her fist. “Hey, Eloise,” Y/N soothed, gently guiding her into the room. “What’s wrong?”

Eloise caught sight of Draco leaning against the bathroom door frame and looked nervous. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t know your boyfriend was here.”

Y/N smiled good naturedly while Draco bit his lip to contain a chuckle. He and Y/N exchanged a glance. “It’s fine, Eloise. And Draco’s not my boyfriend, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” Eloise squeaked. “That’s just what Angelica told me.”

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked, sitting down in her desk chair and putting a hand on Eloise’s shoulder. “Potions work again?”

Eloise nodded. “Professor S-Snape was mean to me t-today and g-gave me extra work. B-But I already have s-so much as-stronomy homework…” Eloise sobbed again.

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath, El.” Y/N rubbed her hands up and down Eloise’s arms. “When do you have Potions tomorrow?”

“Two.” Eloise sniffed.

“What! That’s plenty of time. Tell you what,” Y/N said. “Just do your astronomy homework tonight. Tomorrow during lunch I can sit with you and help you finish your potions work, okay? I don’t care how much it is, we can get it done.”

Eloise nodded.

“Here.” Y/N unwrapped the bundle of extra cookies she and Draco hadn’t eaten earlier and handed one to Eloise. “Now go get cracking on that astronomy, I know you can do it. And make sure you get some sleep, don’t worry about Professor Snape tonight.”

Eloise fell into Y/N for a hug, and then Y/N ushered her out the door with a goodnight. She closed the door and leaned back on it to look at Draco.

“What are you making that face for?”

Draco put his hand over his heart. “That was kind of sweet, I have to admit. Is this what it’s like to be a nice Prefect?” He teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, believe it or not, I remember how mean you were.” She slumped into her desk chair. “Maybe I’m too nice. You wouldn’t believe how often they come up here. Even the boys! No one ever goes to ask Renie to help with herbology essays or go tell their dorm mates to stop stealing their socks!”

“Is that why you let them think I’m your boyfriend?” Draco grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N wrapped her cardigan around her and tucked her legs up on the chair. “They never come up here when they see you walk in with me.” She mumbled.

Draco laughed and laid on the bed on his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. “It’s alright, I don’t blame you. Now you see why I just yelled at all of my lower-years.”

“Maybe you’re just scary,” Y/N teased. “Did you see how bad you scared her?”

“Yes,” Draco said slyly. “And I’ve never even seen her before. Must be my reputation.”

“Good thing you dispelled that cold-hearted reputation when we first met.” She shot back.

Is this flirting? “Which time? The time I cried or the time I almost hexed you and then cried?” Okay, if we were, I definitely just totally and completely ruined that. Draco tried to play it off with a smile, but Y/N just got up and joined him on the bed.

She took hold of his left forearm again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Even if everyone else thinks you’re cold hearted, just know that I don’t.”

Draco’s pulse was racing. “It’s nice of you to think that.”

“I know it.”

Y/N liked to rub her feet against the sheets or his legs while she slept. She always let her hair spill up across the pillow because she hated the feeling of it on her neck. Draco knew Y/N was deeply asleep because she would put one arm above her head and throw one of her legs across his own. Draco only knew all this because he would fight the urge to sleep so he could have as many memories of her as he could.

It was possible Draco had more than just a crush on her.

༄

He heard it whispered in the hallways. Katie Bell. She’s back. Her name alone made Draco want to puke.

Yet he had to see her. Was she the same? Or had his awful curse he’d put on that necklace damaged her permanently? He needed to know. He booked it down the staircases towards the great hall, bumping shoulders the whole way.

Breathless, he stopped when he got into the hall, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t hard to spot the large group of girls between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. Standing in the middle of them was Katie herself, looking a bit pale but otherwise fine. She was talking to everyone. She was okay. Draco’s relief didn’t last long, however. He’d been too busy looking at Katie to realize Harry Potter was staring right at him. And now he was walking over. Quickly.

Draco immediately broke out in a cold sweat, turned, and started to speedwalk. Too fast to notice someone else get up and start following him, too. Hide, hide, I’ve got to hide. Where can I hide? Where does no one go? Draco was feeling dizzy, but he pushed on. He knew where he could go. He thought back to the time he had told Y/N everything, when he screamed to Myrtle that Harry knew he was a Death Eater. He knows.

Draco burst into Myrtle’s bathroom with blurry vision, gasping for air. He stripped off his uniform sweater and pulled at his tie, which felt like it was choking him. Myrtle heard his crying and flew out. “Draco? Draco, what’s wrong? Let me help…”

“No one… no one can help me Myrtle. Not you, not her…” He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his tears roll off his nose and into the sink. “He’s going to kill me… I’m going to die, Myrtle.” Draco choked out.

The bathroom door banged shut. Draco snapped his head up and looked into the dirty mirror to see Harry staring right at him. All his anxiety twisted into anger.

Barely thinking, he drew his wand and threw a hex. It narrowly missed Harry’s head, instead landing on the lamp behind him, causing it to explode. Harry was quick to return the favor and his own missed hex hit the faucet behind Draco, creating a waterfall.

“NO!” Myrtle screeched. “NO, NO!”

Draco dodged the spray and Harry ducked around to the other side of the bathroom stalls as Draco fired more curses at him. Water was quickly filling the floor of the bathroom.

“Fucking Potter,” Draco muttered, dodging another hex as it came his way. He was about to throw another curse when the bathroom door banged open again. Draco’s attention shifted, and he was horrified to see Y/N run into the bathroom.

Draco watched her face contort from confusion into fear as she took in the scene. Draco was so focused on Y/N he didn’t see Harry’s spell.

She did, though. Y/N drew her wand at the last second and flicked it, causing water to spiral up from the floor with a swoosh and intercept Harry’s curse. Water exploded across the bathroom in all directions. “Both of you, stop!” Y/N cried.

But Draco just took advantage of the momentary distraction to fire another curse at Harry. He was too angry to listen to Y/N right now. Unfortunately, Harry had the same idea, and ended up quicker than him. He screamed a curse Draco had never heard before.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!”

Immediately, Draco felt his skin open all over his body. His face, arms, chest, everywhere exploded in pain, and he could see the blood instantly. What did Potter do?

Draco staggered and fell back into the water on the floor. Y/N screamed.

“MURDER!” Myrtle screeched from above. “MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!”

Draco grabbed weakly at his chest, already feeling himself fading from consciousness. He heard splashing and Y/N’s trembling voice.

“Draco? Draco! Oh, Merlin.” She knelt down beside him in the water, feeling a little dizzy herself as Draco’s blood seeped into the water covering the floor.

“No– I didn’t–” Harry tried to come closer, but Y/N turned on him, angrier than she’d ever been.

“What did you do! WHAT DID YOU DO!” She screeched, her voice cracking. Myrtle continued to wail overhead.

The sound of the door opening again drew everyone’s attention. Standing in the doorway looking absolutely murderous, was Snape. He strode in and pushed Harry out of the way, eyes trained on Malfoy. He didn’t have to ask Y/N to move back.

She trembled, tears rolling down her face as Snape moved his wand over Draco’s body, muttering a counter curse to Harry’s mysterious spell. Slowly, the blood subsided, she could see the cuts across Draco’s face and arms knit together and close completely.

Snape took Draco by the arm and got him standing. “Come, you need the hospital wing. There may be some scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. You,” he pointed at Harry. “Do not leave until I return.” Draco’s pale blue eyes were unfocused, and he clung to Snape’s arm as they left the room.

Myrtle had finally stopped yelling and was slumped over one of the bathroom stall walls crying. Y/N lifted her wand again and pointed it at the broken sink. The parts of the faucet flew back into place and the water ceased its spray. The rest of the bloodied water was slowing going down the drain on the floor. Y/N reached down into it to retrieve Draco’s forgotten wand, not minding much. The cuffs of her uniform shirt were already covered to the wrist in Draco’s blood. She cast Harry one last burning glance and left the bathroom.

In the hallway on the way to the infirmary, Draco was regaining his senses. Halfway there he was able to walk on his own and let go of Snape’s arm. “What the bloody hell is sectumsempra,” Draco muttered, feeling his face for the cuts absentmindedly.

“A spell that was never intended to be shared with anyone,” Snape growled. “Especially someone like Potter.”

Snape swept Draco into the hospital wing and brushed past Madame Pomfrey, who did not question their haste. “Dittany,” was all Snape said as they passed.

Snape sat Draco on one of the beds. “Do it yourself.” Then he left.

When Madame Pomfrey arrived with the small bottle of dittany, Draco snatched it from her hands and drew the curtain on her, muttering a weak apology. He just heard her huff and walk away. Draco drank some dittany, then opened his soaked shirt to look for the deepest wounds. The biggest one he could see was across his chest. He slathered the dittany on anywhere he thought he saw a scar.

Draco was deeply absorbed in his dittany application, and reminiscing on the details of his almost death when he heard a familiar lilting voice carry across the empty infirmary. He held his breath to hear what she was saying.

“... just wanted return this. Will he be alright?”

“Just fine, miss L/N. It would be wise of you to not bother speaking of this again. Now, I must find out why mister Potter is instigating fights, again.”

“If it means anything to you, professor, I was only there because my responsibility as Prefect-”

“I don’t care what your intentions were, miss L/N. I said do not speak of this incident again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Sharp footsteps that probably belonged to Snape faded away. He heard some more whispering, too low for him to hear, and then Y/N left as well. Draco watched his faint new scars fade away, then looked at the few drops of dittany left in the glass bottle. He wondered if it worked on Dark Marks, or hearts.

༄

It was a Monday, which meant no matter how awful Y/N was feeling, she still had Prefect rounds to do. It had been hours since Draco and Harry’s fight in the bathroom, and she’d showered and changed shirts long ago. Yet she still kept looking down at her hands and expected to see them covered in Draco’s blood. Torrential rain had started during dinner, which seemed to reflect her mood.

Her conversation with Snape had scared her, and she dared not go hovering around the entrance to the Slytherin common room for fear of being caught by him. Draco hadn’t come to dinner though, and she was getting worried.

She walked through the barrel tunnel into Hufflepuff, where Reine, her fellow Prefect, nearly jumped her. “You’ve got a visitor.” That was all he needed to say.

Y/N ran up the stairs to the Prefect dorms and saw Draco waiting in front of her door. She didn’t stop, just ran right up to him and jumped into his arms.

“Merlin’s beard Draco,” she whispered into his neck, “I thought I was going to watch you die.”

Draco wrapped his arms around her and held her close, finally feeling safe. “I didn’t, don’t worry.”

“Worry?” She pulled back and took his face into her hands. “It’s been five hours and you were all I could think about.” She whispered.

The pair were oblivious to the group of lower years crowded around the base of the stairs, craning their necks to get a good look at their Prefect and her Slytherin ‘not boyfriend’. “She’s holding his face!” Angelica hissed. “Eloise, are you sure she said they’re not dating?”

Draco put Y/N back on the ground and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him into her room. The group at the bottom of the stairs let out a collective groan of disappointment. “I thought they were going to kiss for sure that time!”

Y/N slammed the door shut and she immediately attached herself onto Draco again, wrapping her arms around his middle and clinging for dear life. Draco rested his arms around her shoulders and buried his nose in her hair. They held onto each other for a moment, until Draco felt Y/N shudder against him.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you crying?” Draco tried to pull away, but Y/N just held on tighter. “Y/N, please look at me.” He could already feel his own eyes getting misty at the thought of making her cry.

She reluctantly pulled away, but didn’t look up. Draco watched a tear roll down her face and felt his heart get tight in his chest. “No, no, Y/N,” he whispered, wiping the tear away. “Look at me. I’m here, I’m alright.”

“It’s just–” She sniffed. “There was so much blood Draco. More than I’ve ever seen in my life,” she whispered, horrified. “I should’ve disarmed Harry faster, then maybe–”

“Y/N.” Draco dipped his head down to look her in the eye. “Listen; first of all, I haven’t gotten to properly scold you yet for following us in there.” Even though she was crying, that got a chuckle out of her, like Draco knew it would. “Second, there was nothing you could’ve done in that short amount of time to changed what happened, okay? That was all Potter’s fault, Snape said he doesn’t even know where he learned that spell and… Merlin, I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I don’t think he knew what it would do.”

Y/N bit her lip and nodded, rubbing her eyes. “I just… I can’t lose you, is all.”

“You won’t.” It only took Draco half a second to realize that was probably a lie. Y/N didn’t seem to think about it too much though, because she just took up his hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re the one that got hurt, do you want to talk about it? Did the dittany work?”

“Yes, the dittany worked,” Draco said. “My face is perfect as ever.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, and ran her fingers across his forehead and down his cheek. “Yeah,” she chuckled again.

Draco took a breath. “I… I don’t know. It happened pretty fast. I just felt… open. I could hear you. And then Snape was there and I started to feel whole again. It happened very fast. I just remember it being cold and feeling heavy.” He shivered at the memory, still very fresh and vivid.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?” She asked earnestly.

“I just want to sleepover. And feel warm.” He said, feeling like a child asking his mother when he would be allowed to go play.

“Of course,” Y/N said. “Whatever you want.”

༄

Draco woke up for the first time in a long time in the middle of the night. He was away from Y/N– maybe that was why. Their legs were still pressed together under her loose covers, but in his sleep he’d turned over and rolled away from her. Probably how it should be.

Draco carefully sat up in the bed, crossing his legs. Rain was still pouring outside, gently tapping on the glass windows. There wasn’t much moonlight out tonight with all the clouds. Rain was different up here in Y/N’s room, as opposed to under the lake where you could only hear the rain hitting the surface of the water above. Then again, everything was different when he was with her.

A raindrops rolled down the windows, Draco felt a familiar hopelessness fill his chest. Potter was onto him, badly. He’d nearly killed two of his classmates now with his less direct attempts on the Headmaster’s life, and now he’d nearly died himself. And he still wasn’t sure if the cabinet was ever going to be fixed. He was running out of time for his task.

There was also the matter of her. The girl who was currently sleeping peacefully in her bed, the only person who was the reason he wasn’t dead or insane yet. The one he so selfishly clung to, but also the one who wouldn’t leave him alone. Intrusive thoughts of all the horrible things that could happen to her at the hands of the Dark Lord began to fill his head, and he could feel the tears beginning at the corners of his eyes.

“Draco?”

He jumped a little, looking back to her spot still under the covers. She sleepily sat up, rubbing her eyes. Draco’s heart did a flip in his chest. “Are you alright?” She asked, her eyes focusing on his face as she became more awake. “Did you have nightmare?”

“No,” Draco replied, quickly wiping the moisture from his eyes with the sleeve of Y/N’s borrowed sweatshirt. He’d been unable to shake the cold feeling of the water and losing blood, but wearing the extra layer that was so deeply ingrained with the smell of her helped.

“You’re crying.” She noticed. “Tell me, what’s wrong?” She scooted over so her legs wrapped around his sitting body, resting her arms on his thigh.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” She gently put her hand on his forearm, rubbing her thumb back and forth across his sleeve in a comforting way. Her touch, so calming, was always the thing that helped him ground himself the best.

Draco let out a deep sigh. “You.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. “Really?”

Draco looked down into his lap, where their hands were. He nodded. Y/N moved her hand away to shift a little closer. Draco gathered his courage and straightened up to look at her.

Their faces were close. Y/N’s eyes, full of concern for him looked straight back in a way that made his breath catch. Her hair, even though messy from sleep, was still so enticing to his fingers. He made a mistake to look at her mouth.

Their lips connected in the softest, most tender kiss Draco had ever experienced. No grabbing of hair or slotting of mouths, just gently pressed against one another. The only part of them that was touching was their lips, but Draco had never felt more excited to touch her.

Until he realized what he’d just allowed to happen.

“Sorry,” Draco squeaked, pulling back just as quickly as he’d leaned in. “Oh my God, Y/N I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looked up at her, ready to apologize again, but the words died on his still-tingling lips when he saw how absolutely stricken she looked. “Fuck,” was all he could manage.

Her legs recoiled around him as she pulled them up to her chest. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought you’d want–”

“No, please don’t say that. I do want to,” he stammered. “I want you. I just…”

He couldn’t get the words out. Y/N’s face started to go blurry. He gripped the sheets of the bed in front of him to try and steady himself, but he could already feel his breathing starting to get shallow.

“Oh, Draco…”

He felt the bed move as Y/N sat in front of him, and she draped her legs over his so she was almost sitting in his lap. She took both his hands in hers, and Draco laced their fingers together with need and squeezed. He rested his head on her collarbone and tried to breathe in time with the rise and falls of her chest. “Merlin, this is so embarrassing,” he choked.

“It’s alright,” Y/N soothed. “It’s okay, Draco. Take your time.”

He managed to get his breathing back under control and he let go of her hands. He needed to focus. “We can’t… I can’t let me be with you,” Draco started. “It’s too dangerous. Do you know how bad it is already that we’re friends? That you sit with me in the Room every other night and help me with spells?”

“Of course I know,” Y/N answered.

“Yes, but look at me, Y/N. I’m going to be a murderer. And If I’m not them I’m going to be dead. And that almost already happened! I can’t do that to you. Us being together would be a doomed relationship. You deserve someone who’s so much better than I am.” Draco pushed his fingers against his chest.

“You don’t think I haven’t thought about that, too?” Y/N said breathlessly. “I can’t help myself either, Draco. The heart wants what it wants.” She put her hands up to rest on his cheeks, her thumb wiping away a stray tear he couldn’t stop from falling. “It would be nice if this was easy, Draco. But that’s life.”

“This isn’t life,” Draco mumbled, feeling too defeated to push her hands away. Instead he just leaned into her touch, wondering if it would be their last. “It’s fucked up.”

“Okay, yes, you’re right. It’s very fucked up. But it’s the fucked up life we’re living.” Y/N tilted his head up so he would look her in the eyes. “Why can’t you just let yourself enjoy this one thing, Draco? Why can’t we just enjoy each other?”

“Because I don’t deserve you,” he said. “I come with too much emotional baggage for me to feel okay with sharing it with anyone. And I notice how sad you get over me when I’m sad. I make you sad, not happy. I’m putting you through more than one ever should to another person.”

“But you make me so happy,” she countered. “Draco, I’m strong. You know this. You don’t have to protect me, you’re busy enough protecting yourself and your family. And I do get sad too, sometimes. But that’s just what happens when you care a lot about someone.”

Draco closed his eyes, trying to hold back his tears. “I care about you so much. I just want you to forget about me and not get caught up in all this.”

“I can’t, Draco.” She moved her fingers back into his hair and rested her palms on his jawline. “Can’t we just make each other happy for a little while?”

“You already make me happy.” He put one of his hands over hers.

“But we can’t just go back to the way things were.” Y/N whispered.

“No, I guess we can’t.” Draco finally looked back up at her.

“So can you please kiss me again?”

Draco could practically hear the the nails being hammered into his coffin as he whispered the word “Okay”.

Even though they’d both just been crying and Draco nearly had a full panic attack, he’d never had a better bloody kiss in his life. Her fingers were caressing his face and his neck with such love and care it made his toes curl and his breath sigh. He could finally press his fingers into her hips like he’d fantasized about for months, and the hitches in her breathing made his pulse jump.

Draco pulled Y/N further into his lap. Not a single item of clothing came off the entire time, but never had Draco ever felt so satisfied and happy after kissing than he did when they flopped back onto the pillows together.

“I’m such a mess,” Draco whispered into her hair as he smoothed it back like she did to help him sleep, pressing kisses along her hairline.

“A very smart, handsome, and caring mess.” Y/N amended.

“Your smart, handsome, and caring mess.”

“See, that’s not so hard.”

Draco gently pushed her onto her back and then hovered over her by bracing against his forearms. “I’ve had the most terrible crush on you for so long,” he said. “But I kept telling myself it wouldn’t be fair to you. I still don’t feel like it is, but please don’t ever feel like you can’t go. I want you to put yourself first.”

Y/N nodded. “I will, don’t worry.”

༄

Y/N had the most enticing collar bones Draco had ever laid eyes on, and he loved to leave his mark on the delicate skin that covered them. She was shy and liked to put her shirt back on as soon as they were done. She had thirteen stretch marks on her left hip, and seventeen on her right— he’d counted them. The sensitive spot right behind her ear was the best place to kiss her.

For the first time all school year, Draco was feeling good. He was eating more than one meal a day. Wasn’t having panic attacks every four hours. He had the best girlfriend in the whole world, and finally, the cabinet had been mended.

Draco had caught another bird that day by bewitching a bush, and when it came back from the cabinet in Knockturn Alley alive and flapping, Draco had never felt more relieved. He and Y/N hugged in momentary excitement, but for Draco was quickly replaced with a sense of doom. Now that he’d succeeded, what would happen?

Y/N, as always, sensed his mood. “It’s out of your hands now, Draco.” She got up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s go.”

They returned their spellbooks to Y/N’s dorm, then snuck to the kitchen to get cookies. Y/N suggested they do something different other than hang out in her bedroom, and go to the astronomy tower instead.

They laid on their backs side by side, munching on the cookies, watching the stars from the open observation porch and taking in the pleasant fresh air. “Are you up there?” Y/N asks.

“No, Draco is only visible in July. Ironic, because my birthday is in June,” Draco muses.

“Aw, school will be out then. You won’t get to point it out to me.”

“I know you have an astronomy textbook, you can figure it out.” The pair lapsed into silence.

“Hey Draco?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s gonna happen now?”

Draco wasn’t sure, actually. It was scary. “I’ll have to send an owl… then he’ll plan the rest, I suppose. I’ll just sit here and wallow in anxiety in the meantime. And… well, I don’t know about after.”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, and Draco did the same. She had that sad smile on her face when she took his hand into her own. “Will I get to see you again?”

Draco was quick to squeeze her hand reassuringly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Y/N wigged so they were closer together and turned her gaze back up to the sky. “... Do you think you’ll really do it?”

Draco blew out a slow breath through his nose. “I can’t imagine myself doing it, but it’s not like I have much of a choice. I always knew I would have to.”

Y/N didn’t say anything to that for a moment. “I hope Harry can stop him.”

“Merlin, me too.” Draco sighed.

The letter with the date came from Draco’s mother. Y/N held him like she had so long ago while he cried over it. Every day, he made sure he kissed her like it was their last. They spent as much time together as they could, and Draco even surprised her by getting her a bracelet when they went to Hogsmeade.

Draco insisted she sleep alone in her room the night of. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, and while he hated to leave her alone that last night, he couldn’t imagine anything worse than leaving her to go commit the worst crime of his life. They cried together in a corner of the third floor corridor, clinging desperately to one another.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you,” Draco couldn’t help but say.

“I’m glad you did.”

“I’m the neediest person ever.”

“It’s feels good to be needed.”

They parted ways, and Draco rubbed the tears from his eyes knowing he had something equally as difficult as leaving her ahead of him.

Y/N returned to her room that night sadder than ever. When she went into the bathroom to get out her brushing bugs from her medicine cabinet, a little piece of paper fell off of the bottom. She unfolded it to see the words ‘love you always’ in looping cursive, and cried anew. She clipped it to her strings above her desk, next to the only picture she had of him— an instant photo of him in her Hufflepuff sweatshirt, his hands covering his face except for his eyes peeping in between his long fingers. It barely moved, but if you looked long enough, the Draco in the photo would blink his long beautiful lashes.

She put on the pair of his pyjama pants he’d left in her room and fell asleep without cleaning her teeth.

༄

The day after, Y/N laid on her back on the observation porch, looking up at the cloudy sky, arms and legs spread out wide. Since this was where it happened, she assumed no one would bother her up here. Footsteps on the stairs told her otherwise. She didn’t move to see who it was, but as soon as they reached the top someone spoke.

“Y/N?”

To her surprise, it was Hermione Granger. And Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley. Of course; were they ever apart? She sighed and turned away. Draco’s cold attitude towards them must have rubbed off on her. “Hello.”

Hermione came to stand over her and looked down. “Harry told us you were in the bathroom that day.”

“Just doing my job as Prefect,” Y/N answered. “Dueling is strictly prohibited.”

Hermione walked away, but the three of them didn’t leave. Instead, the moved to the other side of the telescope and looked over across the courtyard in silence.

“Did he do it, Harry?” Y/N asked, unable to hold back any longer.

“What?” Harry said, sounding surprised.

“Draco. Did he do it?” She looked over to see Harry’s face.

He looked confused, but didn’t question her knowledge of his involvement in Dumbledore’s death. “No,” Harry said finally. “It was Snape. Draco couldn’t.”

Y/N turned back to looking at the sky and let out a short exhale, not quite a laugh. “He didn’t… he didn’t do it after all.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #songfic #my writing #draco imagine #x reader #socontagiousimagines #harry potter fanfic

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wizardofrozz · 4 years ago

Text

Put to the Test

Summary: A mission that should be quick and easy leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of Bucky’s stomach.

Warnings: swearing, violence, past trauma, angst

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter 7: In and Out

A few weeks had passed since Bucky, and I started to remember our time in Hydra. We still had bad days, thinking about how old our baby would be today, but it started to get easier; we were beginning to heal. We were getting better, but nightmares still plagued us both at times, especially when we were apart.

***

I woke with a start when I heard yelling from the cell next to me; I pushed off the frigid concrete floor to scoot closer to the front of the cell. I listened to the familiar Brooklyn accent coming from the cell next to me, yelling at a guard.

“Leave him alone!” Bucky yelled, rattling the bars of his cell. “Take it out on me, you punk!” he screamed. My heart sank when I heard boots bounding towards his cell; he lost an arm and was still weak from how much he bled, and I knew a beating from the guards would only make him worse. I spent most of the day talking with Bucky, enjoying the sound of his Brooklyn accent, getting to know the man I had never even seen.

“Step back,” the guard, in a heavy Russian accent, barked at him.

“You’ll leave him be?” Bucky pushed. I heard the cell door rattle as the guard ripped it open. The sound of fists hitting flesh could bring on nightmares alone. His pained cries and screams from the cell next to me would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I curled into a ball on my cell floor, squeezing my eyes shut as I listened to Bucky screaming in pain.

I shot up in bed, looking around, seeing Nat sleeping soundly next to me. What the hell? Memories of girl’s night came back to me, and I realized why she was here and not Bucky. Then I heard it, Bucky screaming, painfully loud; it wasn’t just in my dream. I jumped out of Nat’s bed and ran down the hall, throwing our door open to see him thrashing and screaming.

“Bucky, Bucky!” I yelled over him, holding his shoulders. His eyes shot open, bloodshot and ice blue, but seconds later, his metal hand was around my throat, squeezing, yelling at me in Russian. Nat must have woken up when I got out of bed and followed me down here because now, she was trying to pry his fingers off my throat.

“Damnit, Bucky, let go!” Nat screamed at him. He blinked a few times before looking into my eyes and instantly opening his fingers, horror in his eyes.

“Roz, what the hell happened?” he said, standing next to our bed now, trying to decide if he should reach for me or not.

“It’s okay, honey, you were having a nightmare,” I croaked. Nat handed me a glass of water from the bathroom, eyeing Bucky, making sure he had really snapped out of it.

“Buck, I thought you weren’t having nightmares anymore,” Nat asked, rubbing my back.

“I wish,” he rubbed the back of his neck, never taking his eyes off me.

“Nat, I’m okay. It caught me off guard, is all. You probably don’t want to hear this but, I’m kind of used to it,” I blushed, my voice back to normal.

“Oh ew, I hate you,” she pulled her hand back, giving me a dirty look. “I’m going back to bed. Please don’t try and kill her again, actually, please do after that comment,” she said to Bucky.

“Asshole,” he chuckled as he closed his door. “You sure you’re okay?” Bucky doubled checked.

“Yeah, like I said, I’m used to it,” I winked as I climbed into bed.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. He jumped into bed, attacking me with kisses all over my face and neck before finally kissing my lips. “I really am sorry. Let me show you how sorry I am,” Bucky mumbled against my jaw before kissing me again. The kiss was slow and full of love; I slid my tongue into his mouth, caressing his. Bucky’s hand moved under the huge shirt I had on, his fingers tracing patterns along my skin. We relished in the feeling of each other, taking our time shedding our clothes, touching, licking, biting until neither of us could take it anymore. With Bucky buried deep inside me, I screamed for him over and over until the sun peaked through the windows.

***

After a few more weeks had passed, Fury finally told Bucky and me we could go out on mission again. I was itching to get out of the compound again, but I’m glad we had time to deal with everything we learned. I woke up to find Bucky gone already, so I decided I needed some coffee before searching for him. I checked my phone, seeing a text from Bruce telling me he was running some blood work. He wanted to keep tabs on Bucky and me just to make sure we were healthy after our DNA present from Hydra. I sighed, pulling Bucky’s hoodie off his office chair and stole a pair of sweatpants before going into the hallway, where I heard yelling from the kitchen. I hurried towards the yelling where I found Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Nat all screaming at the same.

“What the fuck are you morons doing?” I yelled. They all stopped screaming and turned to look at me standing in the doorway.

“We have a mission. Barnes over here is throwing a fit about it,” Sam scoffs but moves further into the kitchen away from Bucky.

“What’s the problem, honey?” I reached for Bucky, lacing my fingers with his vibranium hand.

“It’s supposed to be me, you, Sam, Nat, Steve, and Clint going to an abandoned Hydra base. I have a bad feeling about us going anywhere near something involving them. Sam’s pissed because I don’t want us going,” Bucky ran his free hand through his freshly cut hair.

“I know, honey, but we can’t pick and choose. We won’t be alone; it’ll be okay baby,” I rubbed his arm, attempting to soothe him. “When do we leave?” I leaned around Bucky, asking Steve.

“Soon, so we need to get moving,” Steve sighed, looking back and forth between Sam and Bucky.

“Let’s go get ready, honey,” I sighed, pulling Bucky along with me.

“I don’t like this,” Bucky growled through his teeth.

“I know, I don’t either. We don’t have a choice, so let’s get dressed and get it over with. It’ll be okay,” I tried to soothe him, but I could feel the tension in his muscles. Bucky and I quickly changed and met Nat, Steve, Clint, and Sam in the hanger half an hour later; Sam still giving Bucky dirty looks periodically.

“Secretary Ross wants us to find some information on where Hydra troops have disappeared too. The first stop is the castle in England; Ross hopes that they went back recently, leaving clues of some kind. Stealth is imperative,” Steve flipped the file shut, looking at all of us.

“I thought that place was destroyed?” I raised an eyebrow at Steve.

“Apparently not; we don’t know what we are going to find, so keep your eyes open. We haven’t had any information about activity there, but we haven’t been able to get any intel. Last time the plane was shot down,” Steve sighed, nervously flipping through papers again.

“So we’re going in blind!” Bucky yelled, making everyone jump.

“I’m sorry, Buck, we don’t have a choice. I left out the threat Ross made sure to pass on if we don’t go through with this. We’ll all have permanent homes on The Raft,” Steve clenched his jaw as he spoke, anger rippling across his shoulders.

“I’m starting to think Ross just wants us dead. This is a suicide mission,” Nat growled, clenching her fists.

“Let’s get moving,” Steve said, ignoring any protests from us. Anxiety prickled all over my body; the quinjet ride was quiet, everyone consumed by their thoughts.

“Steve, come in,” Tony’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

“Tony, we can’t talk right now; radios are going silent in about 30 seconds. I’ll reach out when we leave,” Steve stated from the front of the jet.

“No, you have to tur…” Tony’s voice disappeared into statics before he could finish his sentence.

“Hopefully, it wasn’t important,” Clint grumbled, getting to his feet.

“Everyone ready?” Steve asked over his shoulder as he brought the quinjet closer to the ground, maneuvering through the trees. We all nodded, checking that we had everything we needed; Steve came from the piolet chair to grab his shield. “Nat and I will take the West wing, Roz and Bucky take the East wing, and Sam and Clint, go through the main two floors. We’ll climb through the windows on the ends of the building, working towards where Sam and Clint are. Coms are open, keep your eyes peeled and watch each other’s backs. The sooner we sweep through, the sooner we can go home,” Steve finished with a deep breath before hitting the button to open the door. Bucky followed close behind as we silently moved through the woods surrounding the “castle”; it was barely a castle. It was so quiet I could hear the soft caws of the birds high up in the trees above and the faint whining of Bucky’s arm. We approached the East wing quickly; I spotted an already broken window within easy reach. Bucky squatted down to get me closer to the windowsill; my fingers found the smooth, moss-covered stone, digging in to hoist myself up. I pulled myself up until I could just see into the room; I watched for any movement or sign of life until the muscle in my biceps started to burn. I crawled in the window, looking around one more time before giving Bucky a thumbs up out the window. I kneeled a few feet from the window, raising my gun at the doorway, covering Bucky; I heard the soft thud of his boot hitting the stone outside. Bucky’s huge frame dropped into the room with an amazingly faint thud. An odd feeling came over me, feeling like I’d done this before as, out of the corner of my eye, I watched Bucky sifting through papers and opening drawers. I tried to push the odd feeling away, focusing on the door to the room; I glanced at Bucky and was almost knocked off my feet. The haunting image of the Winter Soldier was moving around the room instead; the red star visible on his silver arm and his wild hair moving around his face. The dreadful mask clinging to his face, leaving only his eyes and forehead visible. He turned to look at me, the dead stare of the Winter Soldier staring back at me before I felt like I was sucked into a wind tunnel, blinking rapidly to find myself squatting in front of Bucky. The mask gone, the gold in his arm catching any available light, his short hair stuck up in a few places, and his striking blue eyes boring into me, worry swimming through them.

“What?” Bucky whispered, looking around frantically.

“N-nothing. I, uh, just remembered a mission, I guess,” I blinked a few more times, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling.

“What was it?” Bucky continued to search for information but glanced at me, waiting for an answer.

“I guess we were doing something like this on a mission. But before,” I fumbled for words, turning back to the doorway, searching for movement.

“You had a flashback,” Bucky stated, folding a few pieces of paper to put in his pocket.

“Yeah, it was so real. I could almost hear to wiring working in your old arm,” I whispered, a chill running down my spine.

“Next room, I want out of here as soon as possible. Are you okay, doll?” he asked, briefly caressing my face.

“Yeah, next room,” I nodded, leaning through the doorway to check the hall. The vast hallway had four more doors, two on each side, before reaching the main corridor to meet with everyone else. Bucky and I moved through the four rooms, finding a few papers that could possibly be useful but nothing major. “Let’s go meet the others,” I sighed, trying to roll the tension out of my shoulders.

“Let’s go, doll,” Bucky smiled, trudging towards the double doors that lead to the rendezvous point. As I turned to leave the room, I felt something bite the back of my arm; I sighed, assuming I’d have an irritating spider bite swelling in a few minutes. Bucky pushed the door open, checking the room in front of him; I took a step out of the room but didn’t make it far before dropping to one knee. My head spun, my breath coming in short gasps as black spots speckled my vision; I tried to call for Bucky, but my tongue felt thick, and no noise came out. I tried to fight the darkness overtaking me, but I was unconscious before my body hit the floor.

***

(Steve POV)

The control panel on the arm of my suit started to flash, throwing a red light against the wall to my right.

“Nat, we have incoming. I can’t see what it is or make a connection,” I hissed. Her eyes snapped up to meet mine before we took off towards the main corridor; Nat burst through the door first. Sam and Clint ran down the steps next to us when Bucky stepped through the door opposite Nat and me.

“Cap, we have incoming,” Sam yelled as he got to the bottom of the steps.

“I know I can’t tell what it is, and with the radio silence, I can’t call out,” I looked back at the alert on my arm. I tapped a few more times on the control panel, trying to override the communication blocker; a few seconds later, a familiar voice crackled in my ear.

“Cap? Natasha? Roz? Barton? Wilson? Barnes? Does anyone hear me? I’m dropping in,” I looked around the room at everyone; Bucky’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something.

“Tony, what the hell are you doing here?” I sighed, relaxing some.

“Get eyes on Roz, now!” he frantically yelled. Everyone’s head snapped up, looking for Roz’s figure somewhere in the room but with no luck; Bucky was the first through the double doors, running into the room at the end of the hall. We checked all five rooms but found no trace of her anywhere; Bucky was getting more panicked by the second.

“Incoming,” I heard Tony’s voice faintly before he flew into the hallway, landing next to me. “Where is she?” his mask flipping up, showing his worried expression.

“We can’t find her,” I stated, keeping an eye on Bucky as he moved through the rooms again.

“Fuck! Everyone search the parameter, meet at the quinjet in 10 minutes. Go!” Tony’s mask slid back down as he took off through the giant broken window that Bucky and Roz crawled in through. Bucky, Nat, Sam, Clint, and I ran for the front door, taking off in different directions, looking for any sign of her. After 10 minutes of searching, I trudged back towards the quinjet; Sam, Clint, and Tony were standing next to it as I approached. I could see Bucky walking from the opposite direction and Nat coming from the direction of the front door.

“Anything?” Bucky asked, panic seeping out of every pore.

“Nothing,” Sam huffed; Clint nodded too.

“I couldn’t even find footprints near the building,” Nat croaked, fear etched on her face.

“Everyone on the quinjet. We need to get back to the compound so we can try and find her,” Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“No! You expect me just to sit around!” Bucky was spiraling, losing any self-control he had left.

“Buck, come on,” I tentatively walked over, reaching for him. “You know we can’t do anything standing around here. Please bud,” I pleaded with him. As my hands landed on his shoulders, he broke, tears rolling down his cheeks; he finally nodded, letting me pull him onto the quinjet with everyone else. Bucky locked eyes with Sam as soon as the door closed, and I watched his demeanor change drastically; the pain got replaced with pure rage.

“YOU!” Bucky roared, starting for Sam.

“Cap!” panic laced Tony’s voice.

“Bucky no!” I yelled, jumping on his back, wrapping my arm around his neck. Bucky started yelling; animalistic noises were leaving his mouth as he clawed at my arm; Sam moved as far away from Bucky as he could get.

“I told you I didn’t want her going on this mission! Now, look what happened! It’s your fault!” Bucky screamed at Sam; his face was bright red as he fought against me. “She’s gone because of you,” Bucky yelled before dropping to his knees, a sob tearing through him. Sam stood, looking lost at what he should do next; he took a step towards Bucky.

“Sam,” Tony warned, putting his hand up to stop him.

“How did you know?” Bucky’s head shot up, looking right at Tony. Tony didn’t answer right away; the shock of how destroyed Bucky looked threw him off, causing him to take a step back. I tentatively took my arm from around his neck; he slumped forward some but stayed on his knees.

“I tried to reach out to you before you hit the dead zone we set up because Bruce found something in Roz’s bloodwork. I was trying to at least tell you not to let her off the jet, but it cut out before I could tell you. I figured it would be fine since this was supposed to be an in and out mission. I started thinking about the mission in general; why was this mission so important? Why was it so urgent? I looked into the information; Ross steamrolled it because he got intel that this place had specific information we needed about operating hideouts. He refused to wait for us to verify the information and threatened to throw us all in jail. It didn’t make sense that an abandoned base would hold information about current hideouts, especially when I checked and there hasn’t been activity here in years. I tried to get here as fast as I could; I had a feeling it was a setup,” Tony was fuming by the time he finished, dropping heavily into the pilot seat.

“Why her?” I whispered, rubbing Bucky’s back. He was still sobbing, his shoulders shaking under the waves of sobs hitting him.

“Hydra hacked S.H.I.E.L.D and found out that they could finally get what they wanted,” Tony whispered, his head falling into his hands.

“Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is,” Nat’s voice broke, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“She’s pregnant,” Bucky whispered. I kneeled in front of him, placing my hands on his shoulders. His head lolled to the side some, giving me a full view of his face; the dead look swirling in his eyes was crimpling.

“No, Bucky, no. Please,” I shook him violently, but it didn’t matter; he was gone.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 8

Taglist:

@criminalyetminimal @kendallthesimp @marvelfansworld

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #the winter soldier #winter soldier #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #hydra #hydra experiment #red room project #black widow project #hail hydra #super soldier

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hotchley · 3 years ago

Note

hey sumayyah! i saw your sign!! I'm writing the JJ & Emily parts of the really out of the blue and shitty mini-whatever it is 💀 and hopefully I'll figure out how to shorten it or something lmaoo

but i wanted to come here and talk for awhile i guess

it's like, 2am where i am right now and I'm just so drained mentally like idk i can't seem to focus on getting all my work done (school work) and i just submitted a fake corrupted file to pass off as my homework because i haven't been able to finish it (it's not graded or anything it's just 2 biology practice papers for revision for the upcoming exam but they're really long & biology is not my strong subject......)

like I'm 60-70% done on both papers and yeah i feel so bad for doing what i did and i am still planning on finishing those 2 papers (both as legitimate practice/revision & just in case my teachers do check and decide to ask me to resubmit/send them the file through another channel) and idk i obviously can't really talk to any one in school about this so i came here.... sorry for this bout of negativity i just feel so drained inside and it's not even the first time.... I'm on my break right now (mid years break) but my break is ending in roughly 4-5 more days? and I've felt unmotivated and horrible throughout the entire break idk :/ idk if this is just burn out or something else.... I've been planning on finding a therapist/professional to talk to? but 1. i can't exactly do it "openly" because i come from a rather conservative family and mental health issues (& sexuality etc) aren't things we talk about in my family.... and 2. I'm still a full-time student & I'm not sure of what services are available + the costs and all the other concerns? so like idk I'm not even sure where to start :(

and because I've been feeling like cr*p most of the time the last 3 weeks, I've done absolutely nothing & so i have TONS of school assignments piled up (those that were due during the break I've finished (somehow lmao) and submitted, but those that are due AFTER the break when school reopens.... i have completely not touched) & the worst thing is I'm not even entirely sure what's my entire workload.... so i definitely have to start seriously getting my work done from tomorrow (technically today) onwards.... but like i genuinely have a hard time focusing on work and I'm not sure if it's just my issues with procrastination or if i have a genuine illness or something and i don't want to self diagnose so I've been trying to not think about this but lately it's been so hard because i can't even finish my work on time and exams are coming and it's just really affecting me? and it's getting worse? i don't even have anyone i can truly talk to about this irl too and SKDJSKSNS idk 😭😭

i am SO SORRY for all the negativity!!!!! i just felt so alone and really had to vent somewhere i am so sorry, feel free to delete this ask if you're uncomfortable 🥺

i hope you're having a much better day/night and i love you ❤️ your blog (& cm Tumblr) is really giving me hope & keeping me alive, if i can put it that way 🥺♥️♥️ thank you for being you, and thank you for simply existing. I'm sorry things got so depressing all of a sudden lmao I'll be fine (eventually, probably)

- 🌙

I feel like my answer got long, so I put it under the cut :)

YAY!

Also, I did see this when you initially sent it, but I'm working on boundaries and priorities, which is why I didn't answer it then- I just needed a break <3

Look, you're learning during a pandemic that has disrupted everything and caused a lot of pain and stress. One corrupted file does not make you a bad student. You're still going to try.

There were so many days during lockdown where I just... didn't submit any work, and then I would submit it later saying the thing broke- which seemed believable because the thing we used never functioned properly.

And we cannot be happy or perfect all the time. Sometimes we need to share our problems. I have always said you can talk to me, it just may take me a few days depending on my own situation, and I stand by that.

Sometimes breaks just make us more miserable. Sometimes it is just genuinely a phase that you will snap out of. Sometimes it isn't. Either way, you need to let yourself feel this. Don't try and bury it. That'll be worse.

So when it comes to therapists, if you've been thinking of seeing one, go for it. Chances are, it'll help.

I get what you mean. I don't know what it's like where you are, but in England, everyone over 16 has control over the medical stuff. That basically means your parents cannot be told what you're doing, and you can do things without their knowledge. If I wanted to make an appointment, I wouldn't need to tell them I was making it, or what was discussed. Neither can the doctors.

I asked one of my friends (I have consent to share this), and she said that she went through the BetterHelp website, and that it's really helping her. Now I know BetterHelp had some real serious problems, so I would be cautious, but that is one option. Hers is between £50-£60 a session, but there were cheaper options.

You could also go through your school!! My school has what is called a "well-being practitioner" who you can just go and see when you're feeling down, and it all remains confidential UNLESS they think intervention is needed. So you could see if there are any sessions they do, or if there's any help you can get from them :)

I have seen SO, SO many teachers on TikTok recently say two things: ask them for help if you need it, and they will give it, and just do something. I don't know what you're teachers are like, but they're probably stressed and burnt out too. If you need an extension or a break or help, they'll do their best.

And if you can't do everything, then just do one thing. Do your favourite subject, or the easiest thing. I know people say do the hardest thing first because then everything gets easier, but the one time I did that, I started crying and I gave up for a good three days so...

If you've done extensive research, then maybe it is something, and if you think that there is that, then you should try and get tested <3 and it's okay if there really is nothing. Sometimes brains are weird

You don't ever have to apologise for being human <3 Remember how I mentioned crying for twenty minutes to my history teacher? I said the same thing to him: that I feel bad talking about these things because everyone has their own problems. His response was: well yes, but there are so many people that want to help you. And they would tell you if you were being a burden.

You need to trust that. And it's hard. It's painful. It's difficult. But I promise you, telling someone will always be better than bottling it up- and this comes from the person that was pissed for six weeks because I got a phone call home from someone higher up because previously mentioned history teacher told them that I was not doing great

I love you too!!

And sometimes life gets you down! That's okay! Things will get better! Maybe this isn't healthy, but my thing is: things will work out, and things will get better because they need to, and I refuse to believe I am living a life where they won't.

You will be fine! I have every faith in you!!

#🌙anon #people talk to me

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makomori · 4 years ago

Text

FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

Length: 3.5k words

Yua goes in to event planner mode while Wakatoshi assesses Rui-kun's skills. And an innocent gesture throws both parties off balance.

If someone makes you feel, let them. | Reyna Biddy

Step one: Get Rui-kun to practice with one of the best wing spikers in the V.League.

CHECK.

Yua tried not to look too satisfied with herself, but that turned out exactly how she thought it would. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was close. A big part of her job was facilitating meetings between two parties and setting up this pepper session was no different. In fact, it was easier because she didn’t have to read between the lines with Rui-kun and his Wakatoshi-san. They loved volleyball and that more than enough for them to connect.

After Wakatoshi-san left her to practice with an almost-bouncing Rui-kun, Yua placed her overcoat and backpack on the sidelines. Good thing she decided to wear her favourite pair of stretchy, high-waisted jeans and a black t-shirt; she’d be bending and twisting to get the net set up properly. Plus, stretchy meant she could eat whatever she wanted without feeling guilty.

Two of her closest friends at Date Tech were managers on the volleyball teams, so she often got roped into setting up and cleaning up whenever they needed extra help. And by the looks of things, Shiratorizawa’s equipment wasn’t too different from she was used to dealing with.

With a little, “Hup!” she carried one pole across the gym, placed it upright, and did the same for the other. Next, she hooked the cord on the wheel at the top of the pole and adjusted its height before looping the end in the crank box. Once she used the crank to get one side somewhat level, she dragged the net to the opposite pole and repeated the process until everything was taut. The last thing she had to do was secure the bottom corners of the net with the loose strings.

Step two: Set up the net.

CHECK.

Satisfied, she walked to the back of the gym to examine her handiwork. Nice and even. Not bad, considering she hadn’t set a net up since high school. Hopefully, that would hold up for their three-hour practice. But the more she admired her handiwork, the more she felt something was missing. Ah, the antennas! They were laying close to the equipment closet, so she nearly missed them.

“Ushijima-sensei!” Yua called. The tall man looked over at her briefly before receiving Rui-kun’s strong spike. She grinned. His swing had become more powerful since the last time she saw him play a year ago. She couldn’t wait to see him spike freely in a game.

His sensei remained unfazed. But he said something to Rui-kun that she couldn’t hear. But judging by the look of pure joy on her nephew’s face, she guessed it was a compliment. She walked over to them, partly because she was nosey and wanted to hear what they were talking about, and because the sensible part of her sent a reminder that it was rude to yell a question to someone you had just met from across the gym.

But the selfish part of her wanted to see the Adlers’ Left Cannon in action.

Wakatoshi-san was certainly a fearsome individual to behold when he was on TV and constantly spiking the shit out of the ball. But he was softer in person. She meant it when she said he was sweet. The look of amazement on his face was priceless; he probably didn’t hear that too often. But her respect for him deepened as she heard him speak to Rui-kun about dealing with failure.

Learning to bounce back from something that didn’t work out was invaluable lesson not only volleyball, but in life. She knew that because she was trying to bounce back from having her heart broken. She didn’t know how her recovery would turn out, but that would be a problem for her future self.

Yua decided to watch them pepper for a bit before she asked about setting up the antennas. Wakatoshi-san was just a bit taller than Tak-kun, who towered over her five-seven frame at six-foot-three. The sleeves of his white warmup sweater were rolled up and she did her best not to ogle at his leanly muscled forearms and obnoxiously large hands while they were speaking earlier. But she didn’t feel guilty about giving him a once over because he did the same to her. She was used to clients scrutinizing her and passing hard judgements, but she didn’t sense any of that negativity from him. Only curiosity. Which, in turn, made her curious about him.

Now, his face resembled what she saw on TV. Sharp angles and a singular, driven look in his dark golden eyes. He was barely out of breath, which was impressive because she was certain that he’d been practicing on his own for at least forty-five minutes before they arrived. And while most people would be easy going during a pepper session, he was purposeful and meticulous. None of his movements were unnecessary or wasted. The boys would certainly be spoiled if he decided to stay on for the season.

Wakatoshi was highly aware of Yua-san’s presence the whole time she was working on the net, and he was surprised at how fast she completed its setup. She moved with ease and confidence, and he once again had to stop himself from staring, this time at her curvaceous form. She said that her brother was a player, which could explain why she was so comfortable in this setting. Hm. If sensei was still having trouble finding a manager, Yua-san could be a solid option for the position. However, he was troubled because he was always focused where volleyball was concerned. So, trying to maintain his concentration while she watched him from a few feet away was difficult.

He was used to being watched by thousands of screaming people when he played in huge arenas, so he couldn’t figure out why one person’s attention was so unsettling. But then again, he didn’t know very many people like Yua-san. He felt the urge to show off in front of her, which surprised him because he wasn’t a flashy player. He needed to do something to draw her interest back to Rui-kun.

Yua, ignorant of his swirling thoughts, finally asked, “Should I set up the attack antennas, too?” She knew that the antennas were mandatory for official games but wasn’t sure if Saitou-sensei wanted to use them during practice. Wakatoshi-san surprised them both by catching the ball. He turned to Yua and she raised her brows slightly, a questioning look in her eyes. She almost laughed because could feel Rui-kun pouting because she knew he was having a great time peppering.

“Not yet,” he rumbled in that ridiculous baritone. Yua fought the shiver that raced up her spine. He sounded more attractive in person, too. “I can set them up before the practice game.”

“Ushijima-sensei, did I do something wrong?” Rui-kun’s earlier thoughts of rejection crept back, but he was relieved when his coach shook his head in the negative.

“No, Rui-kun, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m happy to see that your form is solid overall.” The teen’s face lit up at his sensei’s compliment. “Now that the net is up; I want to see what your spikes look like. Yua-san, do you mind helping me with this drill?”

Rui didn’t need to be told twice. He was at the attack line before his sensei or aunt could blink. Wakatoshi chuckled. If the rest of the boys were half as energetic as Rui-kun, he and Saitou-sensei would be run into the ground before the end of the day. But that was always a good problem to have. Passion for the game was necessary for a healthy team.

“How could I say no to that energy?” Yua laughed as they walked to the net. Wakatoshi-san pulled the ball hammock along so they wouldn’t have to run for the ball every time Rui-kun spiked. “I haven’t seen you play in a year, so let’s see how much you’ve improved.” When she stood beside Wakatoshi-san in the setter’s position, she was once again reminded at how short she was. Actually, no, she thought with a huff. He was just absurdly tall.

“Sensei, Yua-chan can set for me! She’s really good!” Wakatoshi-san tried to hide a knowing look and grin, as if Rui-kun’s admission confirmed something he thought about her. Her eyes narrowed but she decided to let that go for now.

“Rui-kun!” She protested with her hands set firmly on her generous hips. She scowled up at Wakatoshi, and he thought she looked charming even though he felt ferocious energy coming off her in waves. “Wakatoshi-san, I’m not a player. I’ve been Tak-kun’s pepper partner since we were kids, but I’ve never played in an official game.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes gleamed playfully. “This isn’t an official game. Just a drill. If you set, I’ll be free to observe Rui-kun’s approach and attack. Even if your set isn’t perfect, I can see what he needs to adjust and make suggestions right away.”

Step three: Set for Rui-kun in front of the Ushijima Wakatoshi.

CHECK?

Yua could tell he was enjoying the position she was currently in, because she was having a hard time denying his logic and Rui-kun’s pleading face. She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before deciding. “Oh, all right,” she sighed, shooting the two of them a mock glare. “But only because it’ll help you improve.”

“Don’t worry about the set; I’ll do my best to spike it!” Rui-kun stood a few feet behind the attack line, his body already set for an approach. Yua smiled at him, thankful that he was trying to make her feel better. Setting was the last thing she thought she’d be doing today. And in front of a professional, no less. She’d just have to treat it like all those times she practiced with Tak-kun in the backyard. No biggie.

“Set the ball high, and about two feet away from the net. That will give him time to adjust his approach if he needs to.” Yua blinked and followed Wakatoshi-san’s outstretched hand when he pointed to the spot in front of her. She didn’t realize that he had bent down to her level because she was so focused on getting the first set right. His voice, close to her ear, was deep and reassuring. It helped calm her down. He then stood to his full height and tossed the ball to Rui-kun. “It’ll be easier to set if he tosses to you first.”

“Is this your first time coaching, Ushijima-sensei?” She asked teasingly as he positioned himself just off the court, right on the attack line. It was the best place to observe Rui-kun’s technique. She rubbed her hands together before shaking her fingers out a few times.

Wakatoshi nodded. He hoped that he was doing a decent job at imparting the advice his coaches had given to him in the past. “It is. I’ll most likely be coaching after I decide to retire, so this is good practice.”

“You had me fooled,” she joked, lifting her arms in a setting motion. Her hands were positioned just above her forehead with fingers curled, shaped like a ball. Not bad. “With your tips, I feel like I could set in a game right now.”

“Yua-chan,” Rui-kun piped up, a whine in his tone. “Are you ready?” He was itching to hear what sensei had to say about his spiking technique.

She shook her head and clapped her hands once. “Sorry, sweetheart! I’m ready now.”

Wakatoshi had his arms crossed when Rui-kun tossed the ball to Yua-san. She concentrated, positioned her hands for the set, and used her arms and wrists to send the ball almost perfectly to the spot he indicated for her. His attention then shifted to Rui-kun so he could assess his approach properly, but by the time he turned, the teen was already soaring through the air.

Rui-kun’s right arm positioned high, with his elbow above his ear. His left arm was outstretched but quickly came down to his side as he used that momentum to propel his right hip and shoulder forward. His hitting arm was relaxed when his right elbow drove forward above his head to start his swing. As a result, his right hand was loose, and bent fingers opened naturally from the intense acceleration. His now-open hand connected with the ball just above his head, and a deafening crack echoed through the gym.

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened when the ball careened straight down the line and landed with a satisfying THUD on the other side of the court. He gaped at the teen who had just landed in front of him. A near-perfect line shot at his age? No wonder sensei wanted him on the team.

“Ah, gomen!” Rui-kun exclaimed, jogging backwards to reposition himself behind the attack line. “That was out. Let me try again!”

“Rui-kun, that was amazing!” Yua couldn’t believe that he had improved this much in a year. From what she could tell, his vertical increased by a few inches, his mid-air form was cleaner, and his swing was faster and harder. She looked over at Wakatoshi-san, who’s sharp eyes were filled with approval.

“Well done,” the ace declared with a nod. “But curl your fingers down a bit more. You’ll be able to send the ball to the back corner next time.”

Rui nodded energetically and caught another ball before tossing it back to his aunt. She set a bit higher this time, so he slowed his approach before swinging his arms back and leaping into the air. When his hand contacted the ball this time, he made sure to curve his fingers down. The ball landed snugly in the back-left corner, just like sensei said it would. After landing, he immediately turned to his mentor with unbridled excitement in his eyes.

Wakatoshi smiled and nodded again. “How did that feel?” He knew all too well about the satisfaction of landing a solid kill. Rui-kun’s instincts were strong. He was able to adjust and execute a subtle instruction quickly. Of course, there was always room for improvement, but he liked that Rui-kun was immediately willing to try again after his first spike was critiqued. Some players stayed stuck in their heads for too long and that hindered their ability to improve. He knew that firsthand.

Rui-kun stared at his right hand. The force of the hit was still vibrating in his palm and fingertips. “That felt amazing, sensei! How did you know that all I had to do was curl my fingers down?”

“Experience,” Wakatoshi chuckled. “But that comes in time. I have a feeling your skills will increase greatly during this season.” Perhaps he’d talk to sensei about taking on another assistant coach. It was good to be around young players who were hungry to learn as many skills as possible.

Yua smiled as the two of them talked in detail about the approach, with Wakatoshi-san occasionally demonstrating and positioning Rui-kun in front of the net. Both looked comfortable and relaxed in their element. This is what she was missing in Tokyo. Work had her moving at such a fast pace that she didn’t have time to experience genuine human connections. She worked with people all the time but got lost in the fray more time than she could recall. And the longer she watched her nephew learn from his idol and now mentor, her heart was happy that she was able to experience this with him.

Moving to Sendai was a good choice. And maybe her road to recovery wouldn’t be so bad after all.

By the time Saitou-sensei arrived at 12:40, Wakatoshi-san had made several adjustments to Rui-kun’s form. Yua quietly stepped away and made sure that the rest of the equipment was in place for the start of practice. Her nephew was quickly absorbing everything taught to him, and she knew that he’d be practicing non-stop when he got home. She couldn’t wait to meet Saitou—

“Konnichiwa!”

Yua turned at the kind voice and smiled. Saitou-sensei was tall, though not as tall as Wakatoshi-san, and sported a buzz-cut and glasses. “Hello, sensei. I’m Nishimura Yua. It’s nice to meet you.” She bowed. “I hope you don’t mind; I brought Rui-kun early so we could warm up, but we luckily ran into Wakatoshi-san.”

Sensei brow furrowed. “Nishimura?” He murmured. Then his brows raised. “Are you related to Takeshi-kun?”

“Unfortunately, he’s my brother,” Yua laughed. “He’s a middle blocker at Waseda now. And he’s always told me that you’re his favourite coach.”

Saitou grinned at the Nishimura likeness. From the dimples to the mischievous glint in their eyes. “I used to see you in the stands at our games. Tak-kun said you were his biggest supporter.”

“Not by choice,” she groaned. But her tone was light. “It’s just the two of us, so we ended up becoming involved in each other’s hobbies.”

“That’s never a bad thing,” Saitou chuckled. He was glad to hear that Tak-kun was doing well in Waseda. They had won the Intercollegiate Championship three years in a row.

“I agree,” Yua said, her eyes misting slightly. She missed her brother. “I learned a lot from watching games with him or whenever we’d pepper together.”

“I hope he can come up to visit. It would be nice to catch up with him.”

Yua hadn’t seen Tak-kun in a few months, so she was excited to catch up with him, too. “I’ll let him know; I’m sure he’ll be able to come up soon.”

Saitou nodded and looked over at Wakatoshi-san and his young charge. Rui-kun was currently working on his vertical with Wakatoshi-san watching him intently. “I’m excited to work with Rui-kun. His instincts and awareness are incredible for his age.”

Yua’s heart warmed at the compliment. She only had a glimpse of what her nephew was capable of. She could only imagine the player he’d be by the end of the season. “Thank you for giving him the opportunity. I know he’ll only get better with you and Wakatoshi-san training him.”

Before Saitou could answer, he saw some of the players walk through the gym doors. He bowed quickly to Yua. “Ah, excuse me. More students are arriving. I hope to see you again soon, Yua-san.”

Yua nodded and waved at him. She started walking toward the net, hoping to say goodbye to Rui-kun, but he dashed past her, yelling excitedly at his friends who had just arrived. She shook her head. That energy was all Tetsu-kun. She moved toward the sidelines, remembering that’s where she left her overcoat and backpack before she set up the net. But she frowned when she didn’t see them there.

“Allow me.”

Yua looked to her right and saw her overcoat suspended in mid-air, ready to be worn. She glanced up and saw Wakatoshi-san standing next to her, patiently waiting for her to loop her arms in the sleeves. A blush crept up the back of her next when she saw him flick his eyes up and down her body. She might have just broken up with Kaz, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find Wakatoshi-san attractive. She turned and slipped her arms in the coat sleeves, grateful for the brief pause.

Before Yua turned to face him, he ran his fingers across her shoulders, smoothing out any creases in the back of her coat. She bit back a gasp. His touch was strong, sure, and her skin tingled through the thick layer of cloth. When she did turn, he held out her backpack, which looked even smaller with his long fingers wrapped around the straps. She stared at his calloused hand briefly before taking her bag. Their fingers brushed, and her eyes widened when pure energy raced from his fingers and up her arm. She pulled back, startled. His face mirrored her expression of astonishment.

What the hell was that?

They stared at each other for a few moments, oblivious to the growing level of noise in the gym. Yua couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking, but his dark golden eyes were stormy as he tried to process what happened.

One thing was certain; something irrevocable had passed between them.

Yua was the first to break their standoff. His eyes were too intense for her right now. “Can you tell Rui-kun that I’ll pick him up by 4:15? I know it’ll take some time to clean everything up.”

Wakatoshi-san held her gaze for a bit longer, and she found herself holding her breath again. Slowly, his eyes softened. When he finally spoke, she was relieved to hear the playful lilt return to his voice. “Things would go faster if you came back early to help.”

Yua scoffed and squeezed her fingers tightly around her backpack. “I-I think you’ll be able to handle that without me, Ushijima-sensei.”

He tilted his head and smiled. Yua decided then that a smiling Wakatoshi-san was more dangerous than a serious Wakatoshi-san. “I’ll let Rui-kun know. See you later?” Her stomach flipped at his hopeful tone.

“See you later, sensei.”

#mywriting #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima x oc #ushiwaka x oc #haikyuulovestory #haikyuu #hq!!#hq!! x oc #@kurosiee #kurosiee #THIS CHAPTER GAVE ME BUTTERFLIES!!!!!!

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secretblogofthedepressedanon · 4 years ago

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March 19, 2021

Living on my own and without my aunt has allowed me to grow and change in ways that I craved, but I guess I never really was sure I could or would. It’s absolutely insane how just three months of living out of her house can change me. Just three! Imagine where I can be by a year! 5 years! I am so excited. I Crave life again, I am joyous, happy, loving, giving, generous, understanding, and so much more. Now that I come home to a voice & person who loves me unconditionally & is dedicated to making sure I know my worth & Feel as good about myself as I can, I am absolutely becoming the best version of myself I can be. I am learning so much, not just about myself but about the people & World around me. I am growing so much, it seems like all this time I was just a teeny tiny sprout, sitting in my pot in the shade, reaching for the sunshine and never quite making it. But now that I’m in a better location, all my needs are being met and I am thriving.

I need to keep working on myself. I need to keep growing. Now that I’ve started, I cannot and will not stop.

I still get low. I was sick the other day, and cried for like thirty minutes because I had to go to work. To be fair, I was extremely tired, very sick, and had not been able to eat all day. Of course I was stressed out and emotional lol. But thats not the only instance lately I’ve been irrational or emotional or whatever. I guess I don’t have a specific instance in mind, but I know I have been chaotic still. But it’s already getting better. I am more in control of myself, I am able to calm myself & Communicate in a more direct and authentic way, even when I am feeling out of sorts or anxious or anything else. I am able to be more clear and ask for what I need and want easier. I am even nicer to myself. I am so grateful for what I have done these last few months.

I really want to start making myself a good daily schedule though. I go back and forth between deciding whether or not I need one, but generally I feel like it may be a good way to channel my energy. Like, I am indecisive and distracted and sometimes I want to do so much more than I remember to do or than I think about doing. I am a little forgetful and I tend to hop from task to task or activity to activity pretty easily, and sometimes it’s really hard for me to stay focused on doing productive things & not doing things that are fun instead. I think part of that is I was neglected a lot as a kid. Like, my mom never instilled these habits or routines into me as a kid & I spent too long not having a regular productivity routine. I struggle a lot sometimes with making myself do those things. It’s getting better, because I recognize that even though my family failed me in that regard, it is now my job to become better & do better. It is my job to recognize the patterns that have created my negative behaviors, harmful thought patterns, & lack of positive habits, and to now deal with them & Improve. I think that realizing that & using my inner monologue to process my childhood thoughts & memories has been the most helpful thing in this process - That I have done anyways. My boyfriend is almost undoubtedly the biggest part of my life that is helping. He is so unconditionally sweet to me, he never gets irrational or whatever with me, he is so extremely patient & kind & gentle. He constantly reminds me when my behaviors are being limiting or unkind to myself, to take care of myself & to remember to do selfish things because I deserve them. Things like staying up late or ordering food to be delivered when I don’t want to cook, or take a hot bath (or whatever it is I want to do) when I am stressed / need some time to myself. It is just so unfamiliar and beautiful and stunning.

The fact that I finally chose a man for myself who is so refreshing, and so much of what I need really shows to me that I have learned from my past mistakes & learned what I want and need. And that I should trust my intuition. Cause I did, and it took me straight to him. Straight to this love and this life. A man who lets me sleep when he’s getting ready for work, but if he hears me up and talking gets excited because he gets to kiss me and tell me good morning.

I really did good for myself. My mom would be so proud if she were here. I am in a healthy, loving relationship, I am (hopefully) going to be working full time at a new job soon where I will actually be appreciated & taken care of, I am living on my own and conquering my inner issues. Hell, I am proud of myself. Something I dont feel or say nearly enough. I am strong. I did the work. I made it here. And I deserve to be proud of myself.

#my post #long post #my feelings #depression #anxiety #distracted #journal #journal post #my thoughts

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sighingstarbeam · 4 years ago

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Spies and Gods Chapter 12

Summary: Reader holds up her end of the deal with Loki. The only question is will either of them survive?

Word Count: 3,721

A/N: Here's my final chapter that I cranked out before going back to school a few days from now. Not sure how busy I'll be due to everything going on in the world right now, but I can assure you guys that I don't intentionally plan on abandoning this project. With that being said, depending on how much free time I have I'll either take a short hiatus or write bit by bit. Stay safe and healthy everyone.

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

You woke up to the cool touch of leather. Everything was quiet and still, yet your head was pounding and your stomach was doing flips. Getting your sight oriented, you realized you were in the driver’s seat of the car you took, still parked in the same spot from before. You rubbed your eyes, wincing from a pain from your wrists. They were bruised in the shape of fingers. Those definitely weren’t there before.

To your right you saw a figure, elbow resting on the edge of the window, hand supporting his head as his eyes were closed. The figure seemed peaceful, vulnerable. Your eyes adjusted to see that the figure was Loki. His tie was loosened while the first two buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing his bare chest slightly. It was weird seeing him so calm. You almost didn’t want to disturb him, but you were beyond confused.

“Loki?” You nudged his arm, his eyes fluttering open.

“How do you feel?” He asked, his posture straightening.

“I feel like shit, but I’m okay.” You rubbed your temples in an attempt to sooth the pulsing, “What happened? How did we get here?”

Loki adjusted his position to face you, “What was the last thing you remember?”

You took a moment to retrace your memory, “I remember we were with my friends, and I got mad at you for something and went to the bar. There was this guy…” You tensed when you began to remember, “He said his name was Nate- no, Nick. It was Nick. We talked and went to go dance… and that’s it.” You buried your face in your palms, your nails digging into your skin. “I’m such an idiot! I let my guard down for one second and this happens…” You quickly looked down at yourself to find that your clothes were still intact. No rips or tears, or even any signs of it being removed. “Oh God, please tell me he didn’t-”

“He didn’t have a chance to do anything.” Loki interrupted your thought, “He is far from here, and if he ever shows his face here he wouldn’t even have a chance to breathe for mercy.”

Loki sneered his last words. You couldn’t think of anything to say or do but to just sit there, absorbing what happened. You finally broke the silence, “Did you carry me all the way up here?”

“What?”

“We’re on the third floor and the elevator is busted. Unless you can fly, you must’ve carried me.”

Loki chuckled, “We should be returning soon if we don’t wish to get caught.”

Your eyes widen, “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” You looked at your phone to see it was past two in the morning.

“Dammit, why didn’t you drive us?”

Loki shrugged, “I haven’t a clue how to get back, let alone know the address to enter for directions.”

You combed your fingers through your hair, “Okay, this is fine. Hopefully everybody’s sleeping when we get back.” You started the car and left the parking garage. The next few minutes you wanted to ask Loki so many questions about what happened, but you were thankful that you were out of it and going home. “Loki?”

He turned his gaze from the window to you, “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

You saw him smile weakly before returning to the window. “You’re welcome.”

---

You have been talking to the strange man for over ten minutes. You promised (more so threatened) Loki that after one drink you would be returning back to headquarters. As much as he loved swooning the group of ladies off of their feet, Loki began growing weary of the night, patiently waiting for you to be done with your drink and done with this depraved looking individual.

Looking back, Loki surprised himself by genuinely enjoying his time out up until your argument, which to him was a minor complication, but nonetheless everything else went well. As much as he was restless to get away from the Avengers and his brother, Loki still had to weigh his options when the opportunity to spend the night out presented itself, even if it was with the daughter of Tony Stark and her Midgardian friends. Upon first arriving at the club he thought he would have the same feelings for humans as he did years ago; disgusting, weak, lesser than him, mere animals compared to his intellect. Instead he didn’t find them as disgusting.

Until Loki saw the man lead you to the dance floor.

All right, no big deal. Loki figured it would just be another ten minutes or so. He tried to ignore you, yet he still couldn’t help to take a glimpse in your direction. When his eyes met yours, he quickly averted them and focused back to the girls. Maya and Lilly returned from the restrooms, more drinks in hand.

“Where’d Y/N go?” asked Lilly, scooching herself back into the booth.

“Out there with some boor.” Loki guided towards the wave of people dancing.

Maya squinted at the crowd trying to spot you, “I don’t see her.”

Without hesitation Loki shot up. Standing he scanned the dancers, not seeing you or the man among them. Something was definitely wrong. Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that you were in danger. Face revealing a hint of distress, Loki took long strides out of his seat towards where he last saw you. Clusters of people continuously blocked his path, his heart began to pound faster than usual with each one he bumped into.

Once he made it where you were, Loki was met with Lilly and Maya trailing not too far behind. “What’s going on?” Lilly asked in concern.

Barely looking at the girls as his only interest was finding you, Loki replied, “I’m afraid Y/N was taken. We need to find her immediately.”

Maya grabbed Loki’s shoulder, pointing to a backdoor, “There! I just saw her go through that door.”

Loki, Lilly, and Maya rushed through the mob as quickly as they could. Through pushes, elbowing, and shoving, they finally managed to get to the backdoor.

On the other side you were being escorted to a black truck with four doors and tinted windows. Nick opened the door behind the driver’s side, carefully guiding you in. You tried to hit him before passing out with the exception of mumbled words leaving your lips. With the little strength you had you managed to scratch his face, leaving a cut that wasn’t deep enough to bleed but at least left some pain.

Nick winced from your attack, “You bitch! Hold still and this’ll be easier.” He gripped your wrists as tight as he could, forcing you all the way over the seats. Now you were completely unconscious, motionless, helpless. As he released your wrists, Nick’s hand slid up your leg, reaching your thigh, “That’s better. If you would’ve shut your pretty little mouth sooner I would-”

Nick was too preoccupied to hear the backdoor open. He was forcefully interrupted when his head was bashed into the side of the car, followed by a body shoving him into the brick wall of the club behind them. Nick was met with the end of a sharp dagger held by Loki, his free arm pinned Nick to make sure he had no chance to escape.

“Do you really think an imbecile like you could kidnap a woman without anybody noticing?” Loki hissed, fury radiating in his eyes.

“I- Uh-” Nick stammered, sweat beading down his face, “I was taking her to the hospital. She fainted and I thought she needed help.”

“Really?” Loki shoved the dagger closer to Nick’s neck, nearly drawing blood. “And you wouldn’t think to look for the people she came with to aid her?”

“L-Look man, I didn’t know. She told me she came alone.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ll have you know I’m particularly skilled in the art of lies.”

While Loki interrogated Nick, Maya and Lilly came crashing through the door. They were alarmed when they saw Loki’s knife to Nick’s throat, but horrified when they saw you unconscious in the backseat of Nick’s truck.

“Holy shit, Y/N!” Maya ran to you, carefully sitting your body up. “Hey, Y/N can you hear me? Come on you gotta wake up.” She was stroking your face in a soothing manner, hoping you would wake up.

Lilly stepped next to Loki glaring at Nick, “Who the hell is this pervert?”

“That is an excellent question.” A thought settled in Loki’s mind. Was this man with Hydra? Could he be trying to kidnap you for them? “Who do you work for?” He demanded.

“I’m not telling you.” Nick sneered, somehow still feeling cocky.

Loki gave Nick a sadistic smile, “Let’s try that again.” Without warning Loki punched Nick in the stomach causing him to keel over onto his knees. Loki grabbed a handful of Nick’s hair on the back of his scalp and with a swift motion jerked his head to meet Loki’s eyes before punching him on the jaw. Nick collapsed from the blow, blood pooling from his nose and mouth. “One. Last. Time.” Loki dug his heel in Nick’s shoulder, pinning him where he was sprawled out on the ground, “Who do you work for? Is it with Hydra?”

Nick spit a mouthful of blood on the ground, “With who? No dude! I work for a firm a few blocks away.”

Loki scowled, knowing that he wasn’t telling the truth. “May I remind you that while I have my foot in a particularly breakable area that I am the god of lies.” He let gravity bring his weight down onto Nick. “Out of everybody inside you chose Y/N specifically. Why?”

Nick let out a harsh grunt, “I can’t say! If I do they’ll kill me.”

“If you don’t tell, I’ll make sure of it personally that you’ll experience things far worse than death.” Loki dug further, an audible crack could be heard from Nick’s shoulder.

“F-Fine! I’ll tell, I’ll tell!” Loki released some of his weight but didn’t allow Nick complete freedom, “We worked together years ago, back in the children’s facility. I mean, not directly together, but the same division. I saw her in the tabloids the other day when she was with Tony Stark in Greenwich.” Maya and Lilly gave him strange looks, “Okay yeah I read tabloids. When I saw her picture I tracked her down.”

“What were you planning to do exactly?” Loki sneered.

“I-I figured I would take her to the higher ups as a surprise gift, get a promotion and a raise maybe?” Nick started to sweat from everybody’s eyes throwing daggers, “Bringing back one of the most notorious agents that’s been presumed dead would definitely give me points! I mean, killing a couple of tots is one thing but her? It was practically an extermination.”

The fire in Loki’s eyes fumed at Nick’s words. He dug his heel further into Nick’s shoulder causing him to release an audible and painful groan. Loki leaned down to Nick’s ear and with a hushed tone said, “If it were up to me, I would skin you alive and leave you to the rats. Not before I rip you limb from limb with my bare hands.”

Nick was visibly trembling, “P-Please let me go! I swear I won’t tell anybody! Hydra doesn’t even know I’m here, if they did I’d be dead by now!”

Loki gave him a callous smile, “Oh don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you are well protected when I bring you with us where you’ll be happy to answer any and all questions we may have.” With one final swift kick to Nick sternum, Loki took a few steps away to admire his bloody work until he noticed you being supported by Maya. He rushed to her side to take you in his arms. You were like a rag doll having no control over your limbs. Your head constantly lolled back before Loki decided to carry you bridal style.

“It’s against my creed to cause harm to others,” Lilly strode to Nick who was trying to stand up, “but since you tried to kidnap my friend I can make the exception.” With that she kicked Nick as hard as she could in the ribs making him fall back on the ground.

“Yeah, you piece of shit!” Maya stood by Lilly and gave Nick a similar blow but to his side, causing him to cough and gasp for air.

The girls turned to you in Loki’s arms almost lifeless. “We need to take her to the hospital.” Lilly said, taking her phone out to call an ambulance.

“No,” said Loki, looking down to your expressionless face, “I am responsible for Y/N. Let me take care of her, we have all the medical supplies she needs at the headquarters.”

At first Maya was doubtful of his decision, but reluctantly agreed while she took out a pen and paper from her purse, “Here’s our numbers,” she said, “if Y/N gets worse call us.”

“Please do.” Lilly said, “I feel sick to my stomach about what happened.”

Loki nodded, taking the paper, “She’s very fortunate to have you as friends. You both seem to care about her very much.” Loki said, looking at your unresponsive face. You seemed peaceful, vulnerable. Loki couldn’t place it, but for some reason at this very moment he felt more protective of you. Or perhaps it was the adrenaline rush he experienced making him think this way.

“Uh, guys? Where did he go?” Lilly pointed to where Nick’s broken body was.

Maya ran to the end of the alley towards the street, throwing her arms in an exasperated shrug. “He’s gone. Sonofabitch booked it.”

“You don’t think he’ll come back, do you?” Lilly asked Loki, still carrying you in his arms.

Loki shook his head, “No, I believe he was telling the truth that they will kill him for failing an unauthorized mission. If he has the brain capacity he won’t tell his superiors of this night, neither shall we. If I may make a request, let’s not discuss this night with anyone, especially with our colleagues.”

“We won’t.”

“What happened tonight stays out here,” Maya began, “but we’re still here for Y/N no matter what. But what’s Hydra?”

“Yeah,” said Lilly, “he mentioned that they worked together, but Y/N never liked to talk about her past.”

Loki hesitated, “I believe that is a question that she needs to answer for you another time. It’s rather… complicated, to say the least.”

Maya and Lilly nodded, “We understand,” said Maya, “I think we all have shit in our past we want to forget.”

Loki sighed, “I know that all too well. I must be going now. I will contact you when she wakes up.” Loki bid Maya and Lilly farewell, then promptly left the alley with you in his arms.

---Summary: You're getting really tired of Loki's ego and arrogance.Word Count: 3,144A/N: WARNING: This chapter will depict sensitive subjects towards the end. Read at your own risk.Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

The drive back was quiet. It wasn’t an awkward sort of quiet, more so the type that you both needed after everything that happened. If you were a normal person you would linger on the memories of what led to your potential kidnapping. From when you met Nick, not paying attention to your drink for a split second, passing out, you would want to call the police and talk about your trauma with somebody, anybody. Yet you were far from being a normal person. Another one of your training lessons was to move on from any traumas you’ve experienced. You weren’t allowed to hold on.

“Loki?” He tilted his head to you, “You don’t think Nick was a Hydra agent, do you?”

Loki clenched his jaw, luckily you were focused too much on the road that you didn’t notice, “No. I assure you I interrogated him and from what he could blubber he was just another lowlife mortal waiting for prey.”

“Oh.” You sighed in relief. You were already worried about getting back without being seen, having a Hydra spy on your as surely wouldn’t have helped.

Thankfully when you returned to the headquarters there was nobody around when you parked the car back in the garage. It was after three in the morning, so you assumed there wasn’t anyone still working, yet you still wanted to take precaution. Upon leaving the garage, you took your heels off to make less noise. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, until with no forewarning Loki grabbed your shoulders to pin you to the nearest wall.

“Ugh!” You grunted, you saw him put his finger to his lips. Peeking around there were two lab assistants walking down the hallway in your direction. Body still and breath hitched, you waited for them to leave before speaking, “Could you be a little more gentle? I’m still kind of queasy.”

“Only if you ask politely.” He countered with a playful smirk.

You rolled your eyes, then you moved him aside to get to the elevators. Once the two of you were in you pressed the button to your floor. There wasn’t much else to look at, so out of the corner of your eye you observed the enigma of the demigod standing right there. You had no idea what to make of Loki. The first day you met you wanted to figure him out like a human puzzle. Loki’s eyes spoke so much yet the way he presents himself left you utterly clueless. One moment you were absolutely nothing to him, then he hated your guts, then he saves your life. Surely he only saved you because he needed to get back as much as you did, given you were his ride home. However, he was so gentle and sincere to you when you were in the car after everything happened. Was this all an elaborate game he concocted just to mess with you? What made you so special that Loki decided you were his perfect target?

The elevator’s ding woke you from your thoughts. You peered through the doors into the halls to find nobody there. It was home bound for both of you until your stomach dropped with sudden realization. The security cameras.

“Shit. Shit shit shit!” You whispered.

“What?” Loki queried.

“The cameras. I completely forgot about the cameras.”

Loki smiled in his mischievous manner, “Fortunately for us, I planned ahead.” As if on cue down the hall your bedroom door opened with… you coming out? You were in your pajamas, mug in hand walking to the water cooler next to the elevators. Seeing not-you was the weirdest thing you have ever witnessed. Loki’s illusion of you was almost to a T from the way you walked to the specific freckles you had on your body. Loki stepped out of the elevator next to your doppelganger filling your mug. “What do you think?”

You stepped out as well, observing yourself closer, “So the cameras can’t see us right now?”

“Only my illusion.” He said as you went back to your room.

“I hate to admit it, but that’s kind of cool and really handy.”

You both made your way to your respected rooms. Your feet were sore, your head was throbbing, and overall you were a mess. The only thing you wanted to do was sleep and sleep and sleep. Although you wish you could do more of that if it wasn’t for your deal with Loki.

“I guess I’ll see you first thing with a to-do list.” You said to Loki before entering your room.

Loki looked at you puzzled, “I’m sorry?”

“Our deal. I have to be your personal assistant for two weeks, remember?”

Loki didn’t say anything, instead he thought for a moment. “Forget about the agreement.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “Huh?”

“After everything, I thought about our bargain and I’m changing it.”

“To what?”

“Instead of you following my orders, I would like to train you to fight.”

Train you to fight? Was he being serious? There was no way he was serious. However, with his fixed expression he was definitely being serious. “I don’t need you to train me. I spent my whole life fighting in dozens of different styles and forms. Hell, I even beat the freakin’ Winter Soldier.”

“Beating one man doesn't mean you can take on the world.” Loki turned his gaze to the ground, then back to you, “You were defenseless, helpless against that neanderthal. If I wasn’t there he would have had his way with you.”

You were getting annoyed by Loki’s sudden tone, “Oh please, I could’ve taken him when I came to.”

“What if you didn’t?!” Loki raised his voice in frustration while he took a step towards you. Your breath hitched with his sudden proximity. His stature was tall and brooding, but as before his eyes told a different story as they were filled with concern and grief.

You nodded your head ever so slightly. “Okay.” You whispered, “We can change the deal.”

Loki relaxed his shoulders, taking a step back towards his room. “Good. First thing in the morning we’ll meet in the sparring pit.”

Nodding, you opened your door to the familiar surroundings of your room. You were nearly all the way in when you stopped yourself, “Loki?” You called him before his door was shut. He quickly threw the door back open to see you, “I… Uh, I’ll see you in the morning.” Was all you could say.

Loki paused, as if he was waiting for you to say something different, “Goodnight, Y/N.” The way he said your name made something inside of you flutter. The feeling was gone when the two of you closed your doors.

You stripped down your dress and fancy underwear and into a pair of pajama pants and t-shirt that was probably a few days old. You didn’t care about the light smell, all you wanted was blissful unconsciousness. You grabbed a makeup wipe and rubbed the gunk off of your face to the best of your ability. Next was the jewelry that you haphazardly tossed on your nightstand along with your purse and phone before throwing yourself onto your bed. You awaited for sleep but every few minutes a certain god of mischief invaded your mind, his voice whispering only your name. The next few weeks of training were going to drag on.

#spies and gods #spies and gods chapter 12 #loki #loki x reader #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #loki mcu #Loki Laufeyson #reader #reader insert #my fic #fanfiction #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

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calamitascalliope · 5 years ago

Text

Vriska and Rose=====>Make Them Pay

My submission for @ladystuck2020, written for @haruspeks. You can also find it on Ao3 here. Enjoy!

From the day she was born, everyone knew Rose Lalonde was a peculiar child.

Most children, when brought into this world, scream and cry and generally make a huge fuss about things. Rose, on the other hand, made not a single sound as the doctor brought her out into the light. No screaming. No wriggling. Nothing.

It was so alarming that Rose was immediately placed into intensive care, fearing that her lungs had not developed properly. But after multiple tests and several weeks of head scratching it was discovered that no, Rose was perfectly healthy in every way. Aside from the strange fact that she never cried.

While this certainly made her mother’s life easier, a poor woman who was woefully unprepared for raising a child, it lead to a lot of concern as this pattern continued into Rose’s older years. When she began eating baby food, she never made a mess of things. When she fell over while learning to walk she shed not a single tear. When she became a toddler, she never threw a single temper tantrum.

On paper, Rose would seem like a perfect child. A child who never fussed? What more could a new parent ask for! In practice however, Rose was exceptionally unnerving.

It was on Rose’s thirteenth birthday that her existence took a turn from unnerving to terrifying.

It had been a small affair. Some family had been invited, but all that really amounted to was her uncle Dirk and cousin Dave. Dave was what you would expect from a thirteenth year old boy. Loud, full of energy, and never staying in one place for too long. He was everything Rose was not.

As Dave tore a path through the living room, playing with a small toy bird he had brought with him, Rose sat delicately at the table, taking careful bites of her cake. Rose’s mother was chatting with Dirk on the couch, with Dirk having to occasionally tell Dave to not try and jump off of high places. It was a rather peaceful scene.

Until Rose was lying on the floor, completely unresponsive.

One panicked rush to the hospital later, and Rose was in a hospital bed, dozens of monitors hooked up to her small body. Her heart monitor was the chief among them. Every so often, her heartbeat would begin to beat sporadically, nearly tripling in speed for less than a second before returning to normal. It had been decided that these palpitations were what caused her fainting spell, but they were still trying to figure out why they were happening.

After a tense couple of hours filled with tests, tears, and nervous pacing, Rose opened her eyes and did something she had never done in her thirteen years of life.

She screamed.

Rose screamed with a fury far beyond her age, and began to violently try and tear apart the many apardi that was attached to her body. A panicked nurse rushed over to try and calm her down, to tell her she was safe, but Rose snapped at the woman like a mad dog. When the nurse tried to approach her again Rose kicked her in the stomach causing her to stumble backwards, doubled over in pain.

Rose’s heart rate, obviously high due to her sudden physical exertion, spiked higher than it had ever gone. Rose fell back in her bed, going unconscious once more.

After that they got permission from Rose’s mother to strap her down.

When Rose next awoke, she was her usual self. Confused at her location, but nowhere near the violent state she had exhibited earlier. A few doctors spoke with her, asking if she was okay and if she was calm. Asking how she felt. Asking why she attacked that nurse. Rose answered all the questions with her usual calm demeanor. All except the last one. To that question she simply gave a confused look, and said that she did not remember that happening.

The doctors were stumped, but Rose seemed to be doing fine. The palpitations had stopped, and while her behavior was not normal by any stretch of the word, she was her usual self once more. Rose was prescribed some medication that would hopefully stop this from happening again, and she was to make regular checkups to ensure that she was doing well.

Exhausted, Rose’s mother took her straight home. She held her daughter tight, trying her best to ignore how detached and cold Rose felt in her arms. She eventually fell asleep, but Rose did not. When her mother’s breathing leveled out, Rose carefully slipped out of her grasp. She planned to head to the kitchen to find a snack, but her plans were put on hold when she saw something that would change her life forever.

Floating lazily near to the ground was a small girl. Well, girl would not be the proper term. Sure she was small, and sure she had a messy tangle of long hair, but no one who saw this thing would describe her as just a girl.

Her skin was a mottled grey, flaky and ashen. She looked as if she was a snowman made of ashes. Her tangled hair was not just dark, it was the color of the blank night sky. The color of nothing. Sprouting from between her impossibly colored hair was a pair of brightly colored horns that clashed heavily with the darker tones of the rest of her body.

She had eight eyes, but they were not arranged in the way a spider’s were. Two of her eyes were in the places one would expect them to be, and the remaining six were placed in a circle around her left eye. The sclera of her eyes was not the typical white, but instead a bright orange, and her iris seemed to be missing in its entirety. Her pupils were slits, much like that of a reptile, and all eight of them were darting around the room sporadically.

Rose stared at this strange figure for several seconds, and a few moments later the figure took notice of Rose’s attention. She gave a cautionary glance behind herself, before turning back to Rose.

“You can see me?”

The creature’s voice was deep, and had a chittering to it that Rose could not fully understand. A good comparison would be trying to understand someone with a heavy Scottish accent when you have never heard of Scotland in your entire life.

“Yes.” Rose said, a bit hesitant. “Who are you?”

“Vriska. I think. How did I get here?”

“I’m not sure. Um, give me a second.” Rose turned towards her mother, and gently shook her awake. “Mom?”

“Oh, uh, yeah?” Rose’s mother woke up with a start, looking dreary eyed around the room. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you see that weird grey girl?” Rose asked, and could immediately tell by the lost expression on her face that the answer was no.

“What do you mean Rose?”

“It was nothing, just a, uh, dream I had.” Rose assured her, and within a few moments her mother passed out once more. Rose turned back to face the strange girl, Vriska apparently, who was nodding.

“So only you can see me. I guess. That is real fucking weird.”

“Your flippant use of crude language is....Interesting. Although not surprising given your situation. ” Rose spoke with the voice of a sixty year old woman, and Vriska scoffed at it.

“And who’s gonna fucking st8p me? You’re the 8nly one who can see and hear me, so try it 8itch.”

“How did you say the eight with your mouth.”

“Fuck y8u that’s h8w.”

Rose paused, her rational mind slowly turning to try and fully comprehend this situation and figure out the best way forward.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be antagonistic.” Rose said. “It has been a weird day for me, and I’m assuming it has been a weird one for you to.”

“That is putting it lightly.” Vriska’s words still carried a sharp tone, but Rose could tell that she was settling down a bit.

“I know your name, it is only fitting you know mine. I’m Rose Lalonde.”

“That’s a pretty long name if you ask me.”

“Well, it is usually just Rose. Lalonde is my last name.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” Rose was prepared to go into a long winded history lesson on the use of last names in ancient times, but she figured that she had better things to do. “Never mind. So….What exactly are you?”

To that Rose received a lazy shrug from Vriska.

“Hell if I know. All I know was that I woke up inside of a tiny pink monkey’s 8ody and I felt extremely pissed a8out the whole thing. Then I passed out again and woke up here, talking to you.”

“So you have no memories about why you are here? None at all?”

“There is nothing 8ut my own name in my head.” Vriska said. “That and a lot of anger, 8ut I’m not exactly sure what I’m angry at. As we’ve been talking its been going away though so now it really is just my name.”

“Can you….Do anything?” Rose asked, and upon realizing the vagueness of her question she clarified. “I mean we know that no one can see you except for me, but can you interact with the world around you?”

“Dunno.” Vriska contemplated for a moment, and then reached down to try and pick up a toy bird Dave had left behind in the panic after the party. Her hand phased right through it, but the toy trembled slightly. Almost as if it had been blown by a slight breeze. “I guess the answer to that question is kinda 8ut not really.”

“To be perfectly honest, I am not entirely convinced that I’m not hallucinating right now.” Rose said. “I have just undergone an extremely traumatizing experience, my brain playing tricks on me should almost be expected.”

“Well I am very much real, 8ut I have no clue how I could possi8ly convince you. I can’t touch anything, and….” Vriska paused for a moment, her eight dark eyes focusing on Rose much in the way a cat does when it is preparing to pounce.

Vriska pounced.

Rose jumped at the sudden movement, and was doubly shocked when she felt her . Vriska’s body crashed into Rose’s, toppling them both to the ground.

“Okay! You’re real! Get off!” Rose said, but Vriska did not seem to be listening to her. Vriska’s eyes were still massive, all eight of them looking directly at Rose’s chest. Vriska raised one clawed hand, flexing her fingers before burying them into Rose’s chest.

There was no blood, there wasn’t even a wound, but Rose felt Vriska’s sharp nails burrow into her chest. Rose screamed, thrashing about to try and get Vriska off of her, but it was no use. While Vriska seemed capable of attacking her, Rose’s own blows passed right through Vriska.

The screaming did alert Rose’s mother. The poor woman woke up with a start to see her small daughter screaming her head off and flailing about the floor for no apparent reason.

Meanwhile, from Rose’s perspective, Vriska was still tearing into her chest. The pain was gradually growing unbearable, and Rose was beginning to feel the room spinning around her as she grew faint. She was on the edge of losing herself once again when she felt her hand wrap around something solid.

No, wait. That wasn’t her hand. That was Vriska’s hand. Vriska’s hand had wrapped around something solid. Why had Vriska felt Rose’s hand?

Rose wasn’t in her living room anymore. She was weightless, floating in an empty abyss. She couldn’t feel anything, anything aside from the rhythmic pumping of Vriska’s own heart.

No, not Vriska’s heart. HER heart. Why did Vriska keep doing that?

No, she’s not Vriska, she’s Rose. Why was her mind all over the place, where-

The dark void around Vriska lit up into a brilliant gold, blinding Rose’s eight eyes. She saw a sigil, burnt onto the bottoms of her eyelids. A small sun. It was everywhere she looked. She could close her eyes for hours on end, but Rose could not escape it. It pulsated in time with her heartbeat, with their heartbeat.

Vriska and Rose woke up in Rose’s room, already tucked into her bed. It was dark, the small digital clock on the nightstand reading eight pm.

“What….What happened?” Rose mumbled, holding her head. It felt as though someone had smashed her head in with a hammer.

“I’m not sure.” The voice came out of Rose’s mouth, but Rose was not the one who controlled it. “Something in my head clicked and I just acted on instinct.”

“Vriska? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Not sure how 8ut now I’m, like, a part of you.”

“Why’d you do that?!”

“I dunno! Like I said, something just clicked in my head and I lost control.”

Rose swung her feet off the edge of the bed, and was about to stand up when the same sun sigil flashed into view. Rose her own body stand up from the bed as she was about to, and saw her foot get punctured by a knitting needle that had been thrown onto the floor.

Rose was suddenly sitting back in her bed, just about to stand up. Taking a moment, she peered down onto the floor and sure enough a knitting needle was lying there on the ground ready to stab her in the foot.

“Tell me you saw that too.” Rose asked.

“Uh, yeah? It would have 8een pretty hard not to.”

“Did we just see the future?”

“I think a more correct way of putting it is we saw what could have 8een the future, and then we changed it.”

“Were you able to do that before? Was that just a thing you could just do?”

“No! At least, I don’t think so, I,”

Vriska was interrupted by another vision, this time showing Rose’s mother walking into the room. As soon as it ended Rose leapt back into bed and pretended to sleep, getting into position just before the door opened.

Rose held still as her mother walked into the room, and gentle tousled Rose’s hair. She had likely heard Vriska and her talking before, and came in to check on them. Or, to check on her. Rose specifically. She didn’t stay long though, and before long Rose and Vriska were alone again.

“So what now?” Rose questioned, her voice in a low whisper. “We are now two people squished into a thirteen year old body, and we can sometimes see the future.”

“What’s a year?”

“Will this ever stop?” Rose ignored Vriska, continuing with her worrying. “Are we just stuck together forever? How did this happen? Why did this happen?”

“Okay, I think you are starting to panic. I can tell because it's starting to ru8 off on me. Come on, this isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“And why not?”

“Well, for one you’ve got some gr8 company with me whenever you want it,”

“Oh, what a relief!” Rose rolled her eyes.

“And two, you can see the future! Sometimes. How cool is that!”

Rose let out a yawn, and started to feel her body grow weary. Despite all the sleep she had gotten in the last twenty-four hours, her body was still begging for more time to rest.

“We can figure this out another time.” Rose mumbled, already feeling her consciousness fade. “Another….Time….”

The following day was school. Rose’s mother tried to insist that she stay home, but Rose wanted nothing more than a sense of normalcy to return to her life. She managed to convince her mother that she was completely fine, and that she just wanted to see her friends at school. It was this last part that convinced her mother to allow it. She had always been concerned about Rose making friends, and was worried that Rose was going through her schooldays sitting alone and silent. She was right to worry because that was exactly what Rose had been doing.

As they had been preparing for leaving the house, Rose ran Vriska through a few ground rules. Vriska was not to speak unless the two of them were definitely alone. Rose was going to handle all of the talking. Vriska found the rules annoying, and a lot of complaining and grumbling came from her, but she eventually promised to keep her mouth shut.

Rose sat in her usual seat on the bus. Three rows up from the back on the right side. It was snowing out, and Rose was sweltering in her oversized sweater due to the constantly humming heater just below her feet. Rose tried her best to deal with it as she watched out the window at the slowly falling flakes.

That was until her eyes flashed with another vision.

This one was short, less than a second in length, and by the time she processed what it had shown her the small wad of paper had already smacked her in the face.

It wasn’t painful, but it was extremely surprising. It probably wouldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t been disorientated by her powers flicking on. Rose looked up to see a small group of boys giggling and holding an open notebook, a page evidently torn out.

Rose rolled her eyes and turned back to the window, but Vriska butted in.

“What the fuck are y8u d8ing?” She asked, having the courtesy to at least keep her voice at a low whisper. “Get them 8ack!”

“It doesn’t matter. If I give them attention they’ll never let up.”

“N8, if you don’t do anything it’ll show them that they can walk all over you. Then they’ll never let up.”

“That’s not,”

Another wad of paper pelted her in the face. Rose tensed, and then sighed.

“This isn’t worth it.”

“It most definetly fucking is!” Rose could see the boys preparing another wad of paper out of the corner of her eyes. As she saw them prepare to toss it she could feel her heart racing in her chest, her muscles tightening as the sigil of light flashed in her eyes.

“ M a k e t h e m p a y .”

The sigil flashed brilliantly, and a lot of things happened at once. The boy preparing the wad of paper, a wiry kid with red hair, managed to give himself a papercut, and a pretty severe one at that. His finger began to bleed quite a bit, and his two friends pulled away from him to avoid getting it on their clothes. As this happened, the boy closest to the wall, a larger boy that Rose knew was on the school’s soccer team, placed his hand near the window of the bus. The bus hit a massive pothole at this moment causing the boy in the middle to bounce upwards and hit his head on the ceiling, and the window came undone and flew downwards, crushing the larger boy’s finger beneath it.

The bus driver noticed all of this sudden commotion due to the screaming of all three boys, and he pulled over quickly. He grabbed the first aid kit and ran to get them some help. All the while Rose sat in her chair, taking deep breaths as her heart rate returned to normal.

“Did….Did we do that?”

“I don’t….know.” Vriska mused. “It certainly felt like we did something. What are the odds all of that happened on its own? Right as we were freaking out and seeing shit?”

Rose looked around the bus. Everyone was either minding their own business with various projects or looking at the three injured boys. Everyone except for one person. A young girl with long, extremely curly hair and brilliant green eyes behind round glasses. This girl, despite all of the chaos, despite being able to do literally anything else, was looking directly at Rose. It was unnerving, and Rose looked away from her as soon as she was able.

“That girl….”

“What the fuck are you worried about? How could anyone possi8ly connect anything that happened back to us? 8esides, they had it coming.”

Rose sat in silence as the bus resumed moving, heading towards the school. Thoughts of the new power she wielded swirling through her mind, and the potential they could have going forward. While Rose sat in silence, thinking solemnly about the potential these new developments provided, Vriska did not work like that.

“Think about what we can do with this! We can get 8ack at anyone we want and there is no way we could ever be caught and punished for it! We could predict what people are going to do! Rose….With this power we could be gods.”

Rose could not see Vriska, but she could picture her smiling deviously at that. That was probably because she was also smiling at the prospect.

#2020 ladystuck #haruspeks #homestuck #rose lalonde #vriska serket #janethegaygal

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