#...how exactly did platinum take me a month?

[goldensunset]

You wanna know something weird? You just did in a few weeks what 12 yr old me could never do.

My first Pokémon game ever was Black. Unfortunately I was also an idiot that relied on my starter, the Sawk that I caught for the second gym, and the Excadrill that I leveled up for vanity’s sake. So once Ghetsis took out my beloved Splash, there was little else I could do.

being 12 years old is a solid excuse for pretty much everything man. i don't blame you you know how hard i struggled on some of these fights? how stressful it was? even with greater skill and preparation i had a rough time of it. i say major props to you for having even three solid pokémon bc a lot of the stories you hear about this kind of thing are people who literally only have one pokémon, their overlevelled starter

[heartcereql]

shades of cool

୨୧ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader ୨୧ IN WICH Coriolanus is the person you've grown to hate and compete against. But when you and him have to work together to achieve what you want, the tables start to turn. (6.2k+ words) ୨୧ cw: cursing, a LOT of tension (yall r going to hate me for the cockblocking), probably ooc snow (acting like he's a sweetheart and not a psycho lollll), like one mention of blood?

a/n: snow lands on top (of me pls)

There were only two things that you completely and utterly despised: breaking your favorite nail and the voice of Coriolanus Snow.

"Y/n!"

You made no sign whatsoever to acknowledge the man following your across the crowd of burgundy uniforms. You just clutched your books tighter and quickened your pace.

"Hey, Y/n- wait up!" he called again.

Sighing, you stopped in your tracks and turned around to see a platinum blond running in your direction. The usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You put on your best effort to suppress the eye roll that was begging to be released.

"Yes?" you asked, unamused.

"I was just wondering- you seemed kind of distracted in class today." His words were sugary, almost enough to trick anyone into thinking he was truly concerned. But not you though. You had learn to identify the glint in his eyes from a mile away. "Well, just in cas you missed this-"

Before you knew it, you had an A+ graded exam shoved in your face. Making a face of disgust, you scrambled away to look at his face, expression filled with pride.

"That's great, Coriolanus, real great. Would be even greater if I had asked", you scowled, turning away while Coriolanus scoffed behind you, quickly catching up with you again as you resumed your way out.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/n! You're not the only one who's allowed to brag", he said, nudging your side.

"Clearly not. You do it all the time", you deadpanned.

"Don't be mad 'cause you weren't able to beat me. Again."

The smell of roses was too stuck in your nostrils for your liking. Sweet and inviting, but remembering who it came from made the flowers lose all their charm.

"Also, exercise three's answer was option D," he pointed out, that annoying smirk on his face again.

"What?"

"It was option D, not A."

"How did you even- Nevermind. Option A is the literal definition, care to explain how it is option D?" you argued, rolling your eyes.

"I- A's not the definition!" Coriolanus tried to rebute.

"It is. Try paying attention for once."

"It's not!" He stopped fully, leaning against a wall and opening his bag.

"What are you doing?" you raised a brow at his franctic search. Sometimes you forgot how infuriating he was.

"I'm looking for the textbook," he replied, face almost buried in his bag.

"Unbelievable," you scoffed, turning around. "You really are unfixable, Snow."

Walking away from the mess of papers he had made around him, you could hear him protest.

"Hey, don't go! I'm finding the page!"

You shook your head. The exasperation in his voice was like music to your ears.

You knew who you wanted to be from a very young age. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you had to do to achieve it. You wanted everything.

Top of your class since you were five. Student of the month every month. Class president. Winning every single award that could be won by a child under twelve years old.

You wanted to take everything from a life that had given you nothing. Like a phoenix, your mother used to say, risen from the ashes to burn in the most blazing fire. With little to no resources, your family had incredibly made it work so that they could afford a small apartment in the Capitol (if you dared call the cubicle that your family shared a house). But your family had made it. And so had you, child prodigy, wanting to rescue your poor parents and sister. Specially when your mom's frequent coughing developed into something far more serious.

You were unstoppable. Nothing in your way. Praise. Applause. Recognition. It was all in the back of your hand.

Until Coriolanus Snow appeared.

He and you were basically the same. Same drive for power, same desire to rescue your family, same overachiever character, same flawless grades. One would think you would get along, being so impossibly similar.

And perhaps you could have. You could've befriended him and helped each other. If he had not equalled you with such aptitude. Before you knew it, Y/n Y/l/n was never mentioned without Coriolanus Snow. You were no longer the only student to pass with distinction. You weren't the only clear winner, or the only candidate for class president, or weren't so easily distincted class president, for Coriolanus was your vicepresident (something that had never been a thing, that appeared as suddenly as him).

But he was fighting you for your spot. Naturally, you didn't even consider him as a potential friend. He was an obstacle in your way, as you were in his. Soon, you two were always engaged in bantering, cruel comments, trying to bring the other down by showing off your accomplishments and grades and awards and titles.

It was more than safe to say that you and Corolanius held special hatred for each other.

And then came the Plintz Prize. Both of you wanted it with equal burning ache, and gave your very best since the first day. Obviously, you weren't the only students who were interested in winning the prize, but you were the ones ready to sacrifice everything, the ones to always make the most of an opportunity, even if it was minimal.

You were so deeply convinced that you were nothing like the other.

But neither of you was willing to let anything come in your way.

"A new financial aid is going to be gifted."

The words echoed in the room as students hushedly commented, whispered to one another.

"Students will submit a proposal, individually or in pairs. A suggestion with your own design of the Hunger Games. You'll go into detail about every little thing, so that in the end, Dr Gaul will select the project she fancies more to be the winner and receive the financial aid."

You and Coriolanus shared a look from opposite sides of the room.

The prize is mine.

As per usual, you were determined to go for everything. You needed to nail this. That very same afternoon you were sat in front of your desk, scribbling down what was supposed to be the first draft to your proposal project. You'd noted some ideas, but they didn't seem to make sense altogether.

Groaning for the umpteenth time, you got up from the spot you'd been occuppying for the last two hours. Your home was no inspiration, which was why you gathered all your scattered pages and notes and made your way to the Academy's library.

There was a spot you liked there. Your spot, though only you referred to it as that, of course. A comfy chair with a green cushion on the end of a large oak table, between the shelves of Geometry books and medicine articles. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the large window on spring afternoons, and even in the bleak winter it felt nice to look through it.

Making your way over to your spot, you could almost feel the comfort of the chair, how your thoughts would clear and start to make sense. Eyes half closed anticipating the delight. But you opened them only to find a familiar (and annoying) blond sitting in your corner.

"Move" you said as you finished your way over to him.

"What? No. I'm working. Thinking", Coriolanus answered, unbothered, without looking up from his notes and papers, some scrambled, some with big ink stains.

"I don't care. It's my spot. Move.”

He raised his head to look up at you and stopped writing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this chair had your name engraved on it,” he pettily remarked.

“Whatever,” you exhaled, plopping down on the seat next to him. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Back at you,” he replied, eyes focused on his papers again.

You huffed and reached inside your bag to grab your notes.

Your messily written ideas were mocking you, at this point. If you thought they didn’t make much sense at home, they definitely weren’t making any now. You had so much in mind. And they were great ideas, really. But you couldn’t find a way to connect them, for them to make sense altogether. And you were missing something. Something so essential, something that you couldn’t quite place.

How will the games be watched if they’re held in the middle of a desert? Where will the cameras be?

You scrunched your paper, groaning again and dropping your head to the table.

"Something wrong?"

You lifter your head to find Coriolanus looking at you, carding a hand through his hair.

"None of your business."

"Jesus, chill out Y/n. I was just asking if you were okay.." he spoke, not in his usual bratty tone; he sounded just worried.

Your eyes widened a bit with a mix between embarrassment and shyness.

"I'm just... stressed. I'm stuck on the whole proposal thing, it just won't make any sense. I feel like it's missing something, but I just can't know what," you told him, rubbing your temples.

Coriolanus let out a breathy chuckle, to which you looked at him disbelief.

"I knew you were cruel, but laughing at my miserable state is just-"

"I'm not laughing. I'm relieved," he explained. You looked for any signs of mockery, but his eyes were truthful and soft.

"Relieved?" you frowned.

"Yeah. I-I thought I was the only one having a kind of block," he looked down to his notes and that was when you noticed the messy paragraphs the crossed ideas, the lines and arrows that tried to connect everything.

You gave Coriolanus a tight-lipped smile. He was right. It was somewhat relieving to know that your only real threat was having a hard time like you were.

"Hey, I've got an idea."

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Oh hell no. No idea Coriolanus could want to share with you would turn out great.

"Shoot"

"I think we should partner up for the project," he bluntly said.

"Pardon?" you asked raising your brows. You really thought that you hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. We both have a lot of ideas but feel something missing. We-we could help each other out!" Coriolanus clarified, somewhat flustered. "We'd win the prize and split it. Highbottom said the proposal could be submitted by pairs. If we do this together, we'll be unstoppable."

You blinked twice, digesting his words like you couldn't believe they were real.

"I think that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

Coriolanus scoffed. "Right, because you're so well known for your good ideas."

True. Though being a straight A's, perfect student, you had a certain fire inside you that had given you a reckless and flaming reputation.

"I'm in."

You were back in the library the next day, only this time you were sitting in your spot, and Coriolanus was besides you. You had been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes, reading the other's anotations and doodles.

When you finished, you leaned back into you seat, stretching your neck and pushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

"So?" Coriolanus inquired when he noticed you were done. "What do you think?"

"I'm... surprised," you told him, chin resting on your hand as you looked at him. "It's almost identical to mine."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I was noticing. I guess great minds think alike, right?"

"Could be, or you just copied me," you said. Coriolanus sneered and you saw the complains forming behind his lips, so you were quick to clarify. "I was joking, Snow. It seems we're not so different."

"Or you just copied me" he mocked, using your words from earlier.

"You wish," you smile, scoffing in a playful manner.

"Hey, what was it that you were unhappy with about your ideas? Because I think they're pretty great," Coriolanus asked, handing your notes back to you.

"They don't make sense to me. I couldn't come up with a way to connect it all," you shrugged. "Maybe we shouldn't use all of this, I don't know."

The entire day was spent between countless bickering and snacks, you and Coriolanus discussing the project and how insufferable the other was, shielded by the brimful shelves and the hushed conversations between students.

Over the next few days, your begrudging meetings with Coriolanus continued, each session marked by a mixture of tension and reluctant cooperation. The library became your unofficial battleground, the hallowed halls witnessing the clash of two strong-willed minds.

As you both settled into your usual spot once again, there was a palpable air of wariness. However, you couldn't help but notice a subtle change in Coriolanus. He seemed more open to discussion, his usually stoic facade occasionally cracking to reveal a hint of vulnerability. The topics ranged from the project at hand to personal interests, and amidst the disagreements, you discovered shared preferences and surprisingly similar perspectives.

By the first week, a sort of unspoken truce had settled between you. The bickering had mellowed into a more civilized exchange of ideas. Coriolanus, despite his initial resistance, began to respect your opinions and even admitted to finding some merit in your perspectives. You, in turn, acknowledged the sharp intellect beneath his icy exterior. Shared laughter became more frequent, often catching both of you off guard.

Throughout these encounters, the library transformed from a battlefield to a space of reluctant collaboration. Despite the lingering differences, a strange sense of partnership emerged. The once insufferable project discussions turned into an exploration of each other's intellect, and with each passing day, the library witnessed the evolution of an unexpected connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.

Your bag hit the leg of the table as you slipped in your chair, the blond taking the seat next to you. A soft thud was heard, along with something rolling. You were going to duck down to reach it, but Coriolanus was already grabbing it.

"Hey, are these yours?" Coriolanus asked, holding a bottle of pills.

Your eyes widened. Your mom's medicines. You reached inside your bag to check if the bottle you had picked up from the chemist's before school was still there. It wasn't.

"Yeah. Well- my mom's."

He handed the bottle to you, whcih you were quick to put back in your bag.

"Is she okay? Not like it's any of my business, but those pills are like one of the strongest shits ever," he frowned.

Taking a deep breath, you explained, "She's not. She hasn't been for quite a while. And the doctors don't say much, but it isn't looking good."

"I- um, I'm sorry," he stammered, looking down. "If you or her ever need anything, you know you can talk to me, right?"

You nodded, leg bouncing up and down.

"Here," he said, scribbling down something on a ripped piece of paper. "My address. If you ever need it."

"Thank you," you looked into his eyes, words barely a whisper. "I really appreciate it."

His knee bumped yours, like soothing it down, keeping it steady. "Anytime," he smiled.

You gave him an awkward smile, looking away.

The green folder, clutched tightly in your arms, contained the first draft of yours and Coriolanus' design for the Hunger Games. You both were going to introduce it to Dean Highbottom, since you needed to inform him of who formed your team and some other information. Then, he would grant the two of you an interview with Dr. Gaul.

Once, Coriolanus had referred to the folder as 'your baby'. You had given him a blank stare for a second before the two of you broke down in laughter.

Mindlessly turning around a corner, you bumped into someone's shoulder. A pair of arms caught your own, steadying you, keeping you from falling.

"Whoa, sorry-"

The folder. You quickly stepped back, freeing the folder from being crushed any further. Compulsively checking if the folder was okay, you failed to identify the pair of arms that had held you seconds before.

It was okay. Your baby was okay.

"So sorry, I- Coriolanus?" you asked as you finally lifted your gaze. "I thought you were coming by later?"

"Couldn't wait. I was actually looking for you. I just saw Dean Highbottom enter his office. Campus is pretty deserted, so I'd say we could be the first ones."

A soft smile graced his face.

"Shall we then?" you posed the courtsy question playfully.

"We shall"

The two of you made your way to the Dean's office, gushing about the project like two schoolgirls. Grades and rivalry were not brought up once. Perhaps just because you wanted the day to be perfect.

After knocking on Dean Highbottom's door and hearing a 'come in', Coriolanus opened the door and both of you came in.

"Look who it is! Snow and Y/l/n. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes", the Dean greeted you.

Coriolanus and you shared a glance before giving the Dean a polite smile.

"Are you here about the project?"

"We are," you answered, gesturing to the green folder in your hands.

"As in the two of you are submitting the proposal together?" the bearded man asked, raising his eyebrows. When Coriolanus nodded, he let out a chuckle. "I thought I wouldn't live to see the day."

You offered an awkward smile as you and the blond sat in the seats before the Dean's desk. You silently handed him your folder. After opening it and browsing through the various concepts and sketches, Dean Highbottom closed the folder, tapping his figertips against it.

Nervousness gnawed your insides, your leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. You hadn't even noticed this, too caught up into thinking the absolute worst of the situation; until you felt a knee- his knee- press into yours. Suddenly very aware of what was happening outside your mind, you blinked once, as to come back into reality, and then again, swifting your eyes to Coriolanus besides you.

For a moment, just a moment, you saw only a pair of eyes that guaranteed comfort peering into yours, crowned by the softests of golden curls. And then you saw the snarky comments, the whole usurping-your-place scheme, the perfect grades and the annoyingly pitched voice. The smile froze on your lips. Fuck.

"So," the Dean's voice broke the silence. "Are you two dating yet? Because it would really benefit you"

Both your head and his snapped into the Dean's direction.

"Pardon?!"

"What?"

Two pairs of eyes now looked wide and with a mix of disbelief and annoyance at the Dean.

"I take it you're not." No shit.

You were still too astounded to speak. What did he mean yet? He was your proffesor. He should, must, know that everything between the two of you is rivalry. Right?

"What, um, what did you mean it would benefit us?" Coriolanus asked, his voice as thin as thread.

"Well I eyed your proposal. And it's good. More than good. It has a lot of potential. But Volumnia Gaul loves one thing more than her creations. Gossip. Drama. If she hears the two of you are dating, she'll make you the Capitol's power couple. She'll give you a story. You will become her favourites. If you want to win at all costs, I'm just giving you a shortcut." He stared at the pair in front of him."But, overall, you've done a great work. I'll leave you to ponder it and I'll alert you when Dr Gaul is ready to see you."

You nodded, as Coriolanus and you mumbled 'thank you's and 'goodbye's and 'have a nice day's before leaving the office.

Campus wasn't very crowded yet; only a couple of students could be seen lurking around. The morning still preserved its coldness, dew remained on the grass.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you started walking, the blond boy quick to catch up.

You hated how you got caught up in this mess. All because you and him needed help. And because he and you were the only answer to the other's problem.

"Y/n?" Coriolanus spoke softly. "How do you feel... about what the Dean said?"

Sighing, you replied, "I just don't know. I mean, this was all crazy before but now? I'm confused, I guess."

"Don't you think it can help us even more?" he frowned.

"But we don't need any more help. We joined forces, no one can beat us, there's no need for us to-"

"I know we can do it without Gaul's help. But it’s one thing to win this aid, and another thing to become Gaul’s favourites. Do you realise how many doors she could open for us?” Coriolanus had stopped both of you now, his body blocking your way, hands in your shoulders, eyes fixed on yours.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s just pretending,” he pleaded. “Plus, we’re in this to help each other out, right?”

A warm smile spread over his lips, one that only encouraged you and painted a smile of your own on your mouth.

“Fine. We’ll do this lunatic shit. Since you’re not able to reach my level without my help,” you teased, moving past him and resuming your way.

“Sure, Y/n. Whatever makes you sleep at night!” you heard Snow shout behind you.

You just gave him the finger, biting back a smile as you walked away.

The news spread like wildfire through the campus. The dean's offhand comment had ignited a storm of speculation and gossip. As you navigated through the university halls, it was impossible to ignore the curious glances and hushed conversations that followed you.

The library, once your sanctuary of academic warfare, now became the epicenter of buzzing rumors. Students stole glances at you and Coriolanus, whispering behind cupped hands as you pretended not to notice. The atmosphere had shifted, and your every move seemed to be scrutinized under an invisible magnifying glass.

Your next meeting at the library felt different. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of the rumors hung in the room. As you both delved into your project, the tension was palpable. Every accidental touch or shared smile now carried an added layer of significance.

By the third week, the rumors had taken a life of their own. The once reluctant collaboration now felt like an uncomfortable alliance, forged not just for academic success but to navigate the newfound attention. Your life, once a sheltering and private, now felt like a fishbowl.

The doors that led to Gaul's lab appeared impossibly big. You let out a shaky breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Bouncing your leg usually was how you showed your nerves, but, since you were standing, you settled with just a trembling pinky finger.

Cold fingers were wrapping around your hand before you knew it.

"What are you doing?" you turned to Coriolanus.

"Gaul's no fool. We have to put on our best efforts to make her believe we are together. You have to help, too. And your hands were shaking," he shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed his words and leaned further into his arm, clinging to him like a good girlfriend would.

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing brown and blue eyes shooting a daring look. The woman’s face was instantly lit up with a smirk.

“Coriolanus Snow and Y/n Y/l/n. The sweethearts Dean Highbottom has told me so much about,” Volumnia Gaul greeted the both of you. “Please, come inside.”

She stepped aside to let you in. The ceiling seemed to be miles away from the floor. White, ivory columns welcomed you, glass cabinets displaying all sorts of weird creatures and experiments.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Gaul commented behind you.

There was just something so... unsettling about her, something you couldn't quite place but that was ticking you off

It's for the better.

That had been your mantra for the past few days. The end justifies the means. You kept telling yourself that you didn't want this, that you were only doing this for convinience. But lately you hadn't really been feeling that way. Not when you were sitting right next to him, laughing mere seconds ago, his eyes staring into yours, not trying to intimidate you but more in an attentive way.

He thought you looked so delicate and alluring. You did often, as of late. There were a few stray strands of hair that hid your dashing smile from Coriolanus. A smile he had so recently grown so fond of.

He just couldn't resist the urge to tuck them behind your ear; his fingers a soft caress against your skin. And so he did.

His touch was feather-like, as if you were a porcelain doll that was about to break. At the sudden contact, you shifted your gaze from the papers on the table to look at him. And, god, you almost wish you hadn’t. Because he looked otherworldly just sitting there besides you, hand behind your ear, lips parted slightly, dangerously close to you.

“Your hair was getting in your eye,” he mumbled.

The proximity was going to kill you. He was invading all of your senses. And you hated it. You hated it because this wasn’t even real. It was just supposed to help you with Gaul, nothing more. You hated it because it didn’t feel that way. You hated it because this was not the Coriolanus you knew; not the Coriolanus you chose to know.

“Thanks,” you breathed.

You were scared. As pure and simple as that. This was uncharted territory for you; you had never seen this part of him. It frightened you because you were losing control over your emotions.

"Coryo..."

He was convinced you were goingo to give into his desires. You were convinced for a moment, too. But then it occurred to you that this wasn't supposed to be real. That whatever you had between you both was just a scheme. That he was just joking.

"What did you score on the last biology exam?"

You mentally cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. You felt yourself involuntarily slipping away from his touch.

“100%,” he responded, frowning. “Why?”

“Guess all these time around me wasn’t enough. I got 102%,” you smiled, trying to sound (hoping to sound) less awkward than you sounded in your head.

“How’s that even possible? I thought there were no extra exercises.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before continuing. “I detailed every answer more than it was needed, so.”

“Oh. Well, congrats.” His lips were pressed into a thin line that he tried to transform into a smile, but ended up just contorting his face.

You looked at the papers before you, laying in a mess on the table, surrounded by pencils, sticky notes and highlighters. Then your eyes peered at the window besides your spot. The sun was setting behind the Capitol’s skyline, painting golden and rosy hues over the library. It was getting late.

“I- I think I should go. I’d better go home before it darkens.”

Coriolanus nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna get going too."

You bit your lip as you stood up, gathering your work. Not another word was uttered until you noticed the librarian peering over at you from behind some shelves, and students at the end of the aisle were turning their heads to you.

Perks of being Gaul’s favourite couple, you supposed.

You leaned to Coriolanus’ level again, pulling him into a side hug as you whispered in his ear.

“They’re looking.”

And then, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out.

Too overwhelmed thinking about that moment with Coriolanus, you missed the way his eyes stayed on you until you left the library, and the way his fingers lingered on the part of his forehead that had been in touch with your lips.

The thought of him plagued your mind as you made your way home. Not even the biting cold of the evening could take the warmth spreading over your cheeks. What was going on with you? He was the guy you hated, you used to hate, the one that was trying to take over your spot.

But your attempts to convince yourself were vain. Because you no longer felt raging hate when you thought of Coriolanus. You couldn't excatly pin what it was, but it was definitely not hatred.

Reaching inside you bag for the key of your family apartment, you sighed, as if that was going to clear and sort out your messy feelings. Yet you didn't even need to open the door, for it was opened swiftly in front of you.

"Y/n!" your father pulled you in. The frown between his brows, the worry reflected in his eyes, the way he held you. Something was not right.

"Dad, what's wrong? I-"

"It's your mom, she- she started to cough so much blood. She's unconscious now, I- I was just about to take her to the hospital."

"Oh my God." Tears stung in your eyes. You knew she was bad, worse than she'd ever been, but this was far from what the doctors had informed you about. "Shit, where's Deena?"

"Your sister's staying over at a friend's. Is there anyone who can take you for the night? Someone who knew about your mother, if it makes you more comfortable?" he asked, rubbing your arm.

Coriolanus. You hated that he was the first person to come to mind, but the truth was thas this project had swept you up from practically every other aspect of your life. You hadn't seen your best friends much, since they were also focused on their projects. Most of your time had been spent with Coriolanus. And you didn't know how to feel about that. Disgusted, you supposed. But that didn't quite match the tugging in your chest whenever you met him at the library, or the calmness that took over you when his knee pressed into your anxiously bouncing one.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," you nodded, blinking the tears away, though they slid down your cheeks anyway.

"Good. I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone right now."

You hurriedly packed your essentIals and some extra clothes, making your way to the door. You held it open for your dad as he carried your mother.

"I'll see you soon. Be safe, Y/n," he whispered.

"You too, Dad."

You tried your hardest not to break down as you saw your father making his way to the doctor's with your mom in his arms.

But once he was out of sight, you rushed out of the filthy apartment building. As you ran through the Capitol's streets, you remembered the now wrinkled paper that he had written his address on.

"Here. My address. If you ever need it."

It sat scrunched in your coat's pocket. You kept running as your trembling hands unfolded it, and quickened your pace once you'd read the address.

You arrived at his door short of breath, cheeks reddened from the effort, tears dried from the wind. Your knuckles softly knocked at his door.

Mess. You felt like a mess. Everything you had known to this day seemed to have completely flipped around, changing everything all of a sudden. Your mind was a tangled, impossible knot of thoughts and feelings and emotions that were constantly contradicting each other.

A blonde girl opened the front door. To your blurry eyes, she looked like an angel.

"Can I help you?" she kindly prompted, a concerned frown appearing in between her brows.

"Yeah- I'm looking for Coriolanus?" you said, voice on the point of breaking.

"Come in, he'll be right here," the woman spoke, stepping aside so you could come in and closing the door right after. She sat you down on an armchair, her touch gentle and tender. "Coryo! Someone's here for you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, you heard footsteps tumbling down the hallway and into the entrance. The instant his eyes met yours, he put everything else aside. His sole focus was you. The red around your eyes, eyelashes glinting from the recent caress of tears, shaky hands, bottom lip between your teeth, and your leg bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably.

He wanted to hold you forever. Take you in his arms like you were a fragile flower, yet the most fierce of them all. Rivalry long forgotten and buried, mean comments and hurtful offenses forgiven without a second thought. He saw Y/n. Not perfect grades, not snarky remarks, not an opponent. Just Y/n. Sweet, sweet, Y/n.

And you didn't see Coriolanus Snow. The blond standing in front of you now was not the one you'd been fighting for the better part of your teenage years, even before. He was not the one competing against you. Who was him then, if not the Coriolanus Snow you had known all your life?

Coryo.

"Y/n, hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, voice surprisingly soft, even for his cousin. He crouched down, placing a cold, calming hand on your fidgety leg.

You could feel the tears welling up again, because he was there for you.

“I… I’m going to head out,” the woman said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Coriolanus muttered a goodbye and then she was gone. And as soon as she was, you broke down.

Burying your head in your hands, tears burnt past your eyes, flowing now freely. All that could be heard were your heavy, shaky breaths. His hand on your back, tracing small circles, made you pull your head up.

Fuck, why were you even here?

"Y/n?"

"It's my mom." You tried to dry your cheeks, only for tears to fall down again. "She-she lost consciousness. The doctors didn't even say she was that bad. And I.. I just arrived there and there was nothing I could do-" your voice broke before you could finish the sentence.

He instantly pulled you into a hug, your head hidden in the crook of his neck, arms around it. One of his hands was wrapped around your torso, safely drawing you to him, while the other was tangled in your hair.

"I am so, so, sorry," he whispered, breath tickling your ear. You only clinged to him tighter; the only thing on your mind other than your mother right then was how warm and guarded you felt in his arms.

When you finally retracted to look at him, you found your body almost leaning into him again, yearning for his embrace. You inhaled sharply.

"I'm by your side no matter what, okay?" he assured you, eyes piercing yours, hands sliding up your figure to cup your face. "I'm here for you."

You did your best to gather yourself and nod at his words. But then you felt him pulling away in the slightest. No. You wanted him close. You wanted him.

You rose a hand to his neck, fingers dancing along his skin, messing with the blond curls they could reach.

"Hey, Y/n," Coriolanus called out. "She's going to make it. She'll be okay. And so will you."

A knot formed in your throat, the prequel to infinite tears, because who was him and what was he doing to your heart?

Whatever prejudice or thought you had against him was blurrying in your mind. The person he was supposed to represent in your head was further and further from the one barely inches away from you now. And then it hit you. Right then, right there. It didn't scare you. You wanted to know this person. You wanted to give the both of you a second consideration under different lightning.

And so, you closed the gap between Coriolanus and you, as he had tried and wanted so bad to do mere hours before. His lips were warm, contrary to every other part of his body you had ever been in contact with.

For a fraction of second, he hesitated, frozen in his spot, convincing himself that this was happening, that this was real, that you were real. But once he kissed back, he just couldn't let you go.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, exploring your body and drawing you to him as he kissed you, all the desire and passion (and even the resentment, too) poured into the kiss. Coriolanus wanted to make you feel okay. Not just now. But 'now' would have to do as of that moment. And if this was how you wanted the pain to go away, so be it. Fingers digging in your hips made you leave out a mixture of a gasp and a moan, which Coriolanus used to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Everthing he did got you addicted, craving more.

You had both been sitting on the floor, but now you were climbing into his lap, pulling away for the smallest of seconds, but either way Coriolanus was quick to reunite your lips again. Your mouths danced together. Your sking tingled pleasantly under his touch; a constant fire travelling beneath his fingers. But when his hand raised to your cheek, checking for the trace of any new tears. It was simply enough to melt you on the spot.

Tugging at his hair, you angled his face to leave a trace of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His groan reverberated through your skin.

The pain was buried somewhere in your mind, but your heart didn’t ache in that moment; he was all your senses were taking in. And you felt safe.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[nyxrryl]

Legally Blonde Reader x Bonten

Bonten had no idea what they were signing up for when they hired their lawyer, (name) (last name).

of course, the criminals already had a vague idea of what to expect from a lawyer, the typical, uptight, cold and serious demeanour- nicely tailored monocoloured suits where most likely the only pop of colour would be a dark coloured tie, maybe tie clip- safe to say they didn't exactly expect to see their lawyer enter their office for the first time in a bright pink ensemble- a pastel pink button up that had the collar unbuttoned, a hot pink blazer and pink pants, with a pretty pink Prada purse and an alluring, definitely expensive smelling perfume/cologne practically announcing his presence. "oh my gawd hi!! nice to meet you all, i'm (name) (last name), its like so good to meet you all!" he said in a cheery, upbeat voice.

this was definitely not what the Bonten men were expecting, at all.

they also weren't exactly expecting getting called by (name) in the middle of the day

"heyy! so, this is totally awkward but like, i may have done an oopsie, mind helping a guy out? i'm not exactly as experienced in taking out the trash." he said aloud on loudspeaker for all the men to hear, Kakucho raising an eyebrow at this, sure they had gotten to know the lawyer better to the point there's no longer that odd tension between them,--even if it took months and a good amount of lunch breaks being shared between the individuals in order to warm up to the lawyer--but to just help with chores? "you don't know how to take out your own garbage?" "ugh- no silly! i mean a body, i mean, he isn't dead but-" they overhear him kicking what they can only presume to be some poor mans body. "-i think he's unconscious, still- i don't exactly know what to do with him, i mean i restrained him in case he wanted to try something but can you guys pleaaaase just help? pretty pleasee?~" he begged, whining into the phone. meanwhile, the men in the conference room just stare at each other in shock- none of them expected their preppy, cheerful hot pink lawyer to need help on handling a body of all things.

"where are you?" Mikey spoke up, having been silent the entire call but deciding why not lend him a helping hand- the platinum haired man did owe (name) a favour- something he wouldn't admit seeing it happened just out of nowhere when (name) got him taiyaki, claiming it was the last batch of the day and that he owed him, something he would probably shoot the person for suggesting but he made an exception for name- a decision definitely not influenced by the bag full of taiyaki left for him. the rest of Bonten were a little surprised to see Mikey take the initiative but they'd follow his decision.

"oh, right i'm at (location)." "we'll be there in 10." "okay~" and with that (name) hung up and the men went on to get to the location, upon arriving, they found (name) in an alley, one hand on his phone and the other holding what looked like.. a pink taser? adding to that, he had a man under his heel- the man was on the floor and had his arms bound together on his back, where it was bound, (name) was stepping on it. "oh hey guyss, he hasn't woken up- don't worry he's not dead, i don't think so at least- but mind giving a hand please?~" he put his hands together in a pleading manner, turning to the men- "is that a taser?" "yep! its pink too, isn't it cute?~" he grinned and as he said that, the bound man finally regained consciousness- wriggling around to which (name) just stepped on him, clearly hard as the Bonten men swore that they heard a crack from it. "who even is this guy?" "oh, he's just some creep that tried to touch me. don't worry, you can clearly see i handled it, nearly killed him too- i'm glad i didn't though." the smile (name) bore as he replied was somewhat unsettling to the men, of course seeing violence wasn't exactly all that new to them but to see this seemingly innocent man be so cheerily vicious struck them, be it in a good or bad way they couldn't say, they could just admit it was quite the revelation. nonetheless they helped him out, afterwards (name) let out a sigh of relief, "thanks guys, i owe you one. ugh, i need to take a shower after dealing with that piece of rotten garbage." he said as he wiped his hands off.

"well aren't you very cleanly." Kokonoi commented and (name) smiled "of course! i just got my nails done just now, i'd hate for the polish to end up being affected by wastage like him." he showed off his newly done nails, to nobody's surprise they were bright, barbie doll pink. "aren't they cute! oh if only i could get matching nails with (pet's name), that would be adorable!" the men looked at him, confused- "who?" "(pet's name), y'know! my pet, look!" he pulled out his phone and showed them a picture of said pet, sitting in one of his bags. "they're my darling angel, oh how i would love to bring him to stay by my side when doing work but professionalism and all." he sighed as he put his phone away. "i mean, i wouldn't mind if you brought in your pet, as long as it's behaved and all" Kakucho admitted, and before the others could even give their input, (name) beamed at the invitation- "really?! omg i'll be sure to bring them, don't worry they're toilet trained, i myself hate having an eyesore of a litterbox personally." he squealed thinking of his precious baby coming to work with him, what outfit should he give? they HAVE to match, that's a clear rule.

the others would've interjected but how could they? he looked so excited. maybe just one day with a pet in the office would be fine, it'd be bearable for just a day. a single day, that would be all.

okay they may have taken back that comment upon seeing the adorable little (pet), they enjoyed having it around and even would at times take breaks just to pet it cause stress-- give the men a break they work hard. (name) was overjoyed upon seeing the men be so open to having his pet at work. maybe they could let the pet stay other days too, it was nice to have a stress reliever right there, of course, if (name) allowed so after this.

Taglist

@luvrbunny01

[kageygreye-skies]

didn’t think chappell roan would impact me SO much after finding her and her artistry but she kind of literally made me fully accept that i was a lesbian and showed me there’s space for me in the community LMFAO.

allow me to take you on a fuckin journey lmfao. heres a lil story about a recent revelation about my identity that dominoed from listening to the rise and fall of a midwest princess. lol

i found chappell technically whenever she released pink pony club lol i just had never processed it was her. (i listened to midwest princess for the first time a long while who and when it got to ppc, i paused my phone, and yelled, “THAT WAS HER? THE WHOLE TIME??”), her pop sound and drag visuals were something i found refreshing and exciting. discography went triple platinum in my household fr.

watching a lesbian drag queen rise in the public has been so lovely to see, as a queer singer myself. watching that same woman be so open about her experience as a lesbian, pay homage to other gay individuals and icons, turn down the white house for a pride performance, perform at prides in states where lgbt rights are consistently under threat,,, its beyond inspiring to me! and reminds me to remember what i really want to do with my career as a performer and the people i want to lift up and pay my respects to.

this ultimately caused me to want to brush up on the queer history i knew and start learning about the history i didnt. at that time my focus veered to history about lesbians.. because i wanted to search for lesbians that shared my experience.. if there were any that did.

i have had a strange relationship with my gender and sexuality since i was 13, coming out first as bi at 15, and nonbinary at 17 (although i experienced gender dysphoria long before then). i have used the nonbinary label since, but my sexuality was something i was never sure i could settle on. i flipped between id’ing as bi and lesbian for months until i just stopped using labels so i didnt have to think abt that shit anymore😭

the term lesbian was what felt the most right to me, after years of periods of trying to convince myself that if i jump through strange loopholes and squint a little, that i could potentially like a man. i would worry and think things like, “what if im wrong and i just havent found one that i can maybe like? what if there actually is a boy who is exactly like the idealized anime-ass version of boys in my head who is also soft and girlie and would wear matching dresses with me?” i would have to use plenty of implausible what ifs just to entertain the idea. i did this even despite the fact that i cannot and do not picture a future with a man, i have only questioned my physical attraction to men when they “look like girls,” i am almost always slightly grossed out when men express sexual attraction to me, and have not had any kind of intimacy with guys where i didnt feel almost completely disconnected. i didnt find men fulfilling. it took me very long to realize that if i have to literally FORCE myself into liking them…i dont like them lol.

i have never had to question my attraction to women, butches + femmes,, ever. i could spend hours writing both prose, poetry, music, screenplays,, just fuckin dissertation after dissertation about women.. and sometimes it has taken me hours to list at least 5 reasons of “why i like this guy” that didnt involve him reminding me of a woman. guys, the comphet.. was rough. very grateful i have a therapist lol

once i accepted again that i was definitely solely sapphic, i still felt my more-than-partial disconnect from womanhood excluded me from being able to claim the lesbian label, despite how right it began to feel. i was also worried that the people around me would think i was completely detransitioning to cis,, which definitely was not the case. although i am fine with feminine gendered terms and pronouns, and while my expression and interests lean slightly more feminine, my relationship with “womanhood” has always been messy and complicated. i remember first-ish experiencing dysphoria around when i was 11, although i didnt know what that meant at the time. for as long as i can remember, the concept of “being a woman” was not something i felt was entirely me.

i knew there were lesbians that were gender non conforming, but i was not at all aware of the intertwining of lesbianism and gender identity until i began reading more about lesbian history. realizing there have always been lesbians outside of the binary (the popular sunset lesbian flag was designed by emily gwen, a nonbinary lesbian), people who used lesbian/butch as their gender identity, cis lesbians who use pronouns other than she/her, lesbians who use/have used hrt (like me i used hrt for 2 years👋🏾😀) lesbians who bind or pursue top surgery… they were always there. i am halfway through the stone butch blues now and it has actually changed my life. not only did it increase my already overflowing gratitude for my lesbian and queer elders and their experiences… but it made me really realize there has always been a space for me. when that sank in.. i felt immense relief. and then i cried for a fuckin LONG ass time lmao

since all of this i have felt a lot more sure of myself, and have embraced myself in a way i think i have always struggled to before.

so to recap… i am a lesbian. and its pretty rad. and i also love chappell roan. she reminds me of all the reasons why i love being queer and is someone i want to look up to as i continue in my finally-starting-to-go-somewhere career as a performer. one day we will collab and ill tell her all of this in person (watch out yall! it will happen i can sense it😤)

[chellyfishing]

i’m trying to finish one last book before my year-end book post goes up so i’m gonna talk about games and tv first. not too many of either to talk about this year tbh but i apparently still have so many words.

no movies post bc i don’t log my films anywhere and i simply cannot remember what i watched. maybe i should make 2024 the year of using letterboxed. not enough to talk about with new music either. 2024 can also be the year of getting back into music.

games: i actually haven’t played much ffxiv this year. well in the first half i sorta did but i have barely touched it since like. august. except to keep my houses from getting demolished. i did finally finish myths of the realm last week, since they wrote that entire storyline for me specifically. i need the minion so bad yoship help.

in march capcom gave me a birthday prezzie with the release of the resident evil 4 remake which i’d had preordered since last year (the only games i’ll preorder and pay full price for are resis and ffxiv expansions). i don’t need to explain this to you. it’s incredibly good, the best of the extremely good remakes so far i think. i haven’t played the dlc yet but i’m excited to think there is more of this game i still have to play. btw ashley defense squad. i’ll brook no ashley slander in my house.

i can’t remember exactly when but i think it was some time in the summer that i finally, finally finished breath of the wild! i’m so behind the curve on this one, but i did at least get to start tears of the kingdom in the same year as everyone else. umm, i have to admit i remain ambivalent to this approach to zelda. i have to challenge myself to figure out how much of that is because iT’s DiFfErEnT but genuinely i think the things i dislike about it, i would still dislike even if i had nothing to compare it against. i really wish i thought it was the best zelda ever like so many do but i guess i just struggle to find a flow state with either of them which is why it’s taking me so fucking long to finish them lmao. still obviously extremely good and beautiful! like still head and shoulders above most games, easily, a good time overall!! (wish nintendo wasn’t the way that it is.)

i should mention that one day in july i fucked around in catlateral damage while streaming for bella. this is a very basic game, literally you are just a cat’s paw knocking things over, but man when you just need a brain-free giggle? it did its job.

also in july i played the sequel to oxenfree, which is a game that i love. this game didn’t click with me quite as much, i haven’t revisited it since i finished it, but there are probably also other reasons i shan’t get into that aren’t the game’s fault. idk i feel a bit unqualified to give a final verdict without playing it to completion but i guess the fact that i’ve had it for months and not bothered to do that yet is a kind of verdict in itself since with oxenfree i went straight back in till i got that final ending and platinum trophy.

for basically all of autumn i of course played baldur’s gate 3. i’m very sad that my extreme anhedonia has hit before i could play the new epilogue. i tried to load up one of my finished games but i ran into a problem because the only way to back up your saves is in the cloud so you can’t shuffle files around or make copies, only overwrite, and don’t get me STARTED again or i’ll start spitting i’m so SICK of PROFIT PROFIT PROFIT AAAAAHH. anyway it’s a pretty good game. i won’t be surprised or mad if neil wins the bafta but it really really should be samantha please if there’s justice in this world.

tv: season 3 of only murders in the building. umm, idk. it’s not a revolutionary show but it’s comforting, it doesn’t feel stale yet, and there’s just a lot of talent at work here. just fun to watch.

i watched almost all of neon genesis evangelion but couldn’t finish it because i decided to have an (unrelated) emotional breakdown instead. i’ll finish it eventually if for no other reason than i owe it to phil. shinji is baby.

finally got to the first season of our flag means death. just a delight. i love fun pirate adventures and i love the queers. unfortunately watched it right before the second season released and haven’t gotten to that yet.

did watch the second season of good omens though. i think they made the right choice to scale it back because honestly once you’ve averted the apocalypse trying to outdo yourself becomes a fool’s errand. also, jon hamm’s butt what who said that.

that’s it i think. as i said no season 2 of ofmd, not even the new flanagan yet which i had really been looking forward to for a long time. i dunno ya girl is struggling to find any pleasure in life atm.

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 48: Gaming Break

It seemed whenever they tried to take a break anymore, something happened. It was almost driving the group of toppats insane. From the discovery of what happened to the first Moonjumper, to Macbeth's potential future with the second coming, to Platinum getting close to getting fried, it just was building up in the background. They just needed a break. Get away from the station properly, away from Subcon. It wasn't exactly the forest's fault, but it just felt convenient with how everything happened there.

That was the main reason they were at Dead Bird Studios that day. The Conductor wanted Hat Girl to come out and play a secondary role alongside Mu for one of his future movies. She took the opportunity, and some of the others managed to sneak their way to getting invited to tag along. Offering to be extras in the background so it wasn't as strange, and so it wasn’t just these two characters that were human while the vast majority of the others were birds. It was easy to do once they got there, just pretend to do things once the camera rolled.

That was what Mu got from them anyway. She just agreed to show up because she was offered money, an opportunity she didn't get too often. The only member who had seemingly shown up just for the heck of it was some Blake person. She didn't speak to them, didn't have time. She just focused on getting her scenes done. It did feel nice to talk with Hat Girl again. It felt like forever since they saw each other. If she didn't know about what happened to her, she never would have known anything was wrong.

Eventually, it was the end of the day. The toppats were getting ready to leave and Mu wanted to get out of there as quickly as well. She didn't know exactly why, she did like being around the group. For a bunch of criminals, they treated her well. But she didn't want them noticing that. Maybe that was why she found herself in such a hurry. Maybe. She just headed to the door while everyone was talking, reaching for the handle, before pausing. Was that... rain she could hear outside? That didn't seem right.

She opened the door a little bit, and it sounded like hell. There was roaring winds and clashes of thunder, rain pouring onto the sand. She quickly closed the door. "You gotta be kidding me." She mumbled aloud, drawing the attention of the others. "Eye of Shinoloko." She explained, and immediately the Conductor facepalmed with a mumble. She didn't blame the guy for being frustrated, even if he could camp here all night, two of his grandkids were with him today. Who knows how their mother might feel.

"Eye of w'ot?" Right asked, going over and opening the door to get a look himself. He quickly closed the door after he got a look of the chaos that was happening outside. He seemed genuinely surprised for a second, before looking over at the natives of this planet. "Suppose t'is is somet'in' t'at just, 'appens now and again?" He asked, getting a nod from Mu. "Ya could 'ave at least warned us before we came out."

"Ye think if I knew it was happenin' again I would have Crow and Rosetta here? Or invited anyone?" Conductor snapped a bit, before shaking his head and mumbling. "The one day Grooves doesn't show up so he can deal with this too... This is some pecking natural event that happens once a year, normally. It happened a good month before yer ship crashed onto the planet, so we shouldn't have to worry about this until Spring." He glanced to the side. "Weather Penguins can't do their jobs.."

"Look, I don't understand half of what yo' saying right now." Macbeth sighed as he sat against the wall, taking off his hat and letting Alexsandera rest along his shoulder. "But it looks like we're going to be stuck here while, so let's just deal with it." He said, before shaking his head at his tone. "Sorry, I haven't been sleepin' well lately." He apologized before he started another quick fight.

Hat Girl was quiet for a moment. She allowed Rosetta to hold her hand, it was clear she got scared from the momment Mu first opened the door and they heard those winds. "Why don't we play a game or something. Just to past the time?" She asked, glancing at the others. Platinum gave a clear nod and the rest either didn't respond or just sorta shrugged. She then got an idea and turned to Blake. "Do you have extra phones with your mod on them?" She asked, Blake lighting up at the mention.

"Is now really the time for Among Us?" Van asked, jestering back at the door. Platinum gave a shrug and went to the edge of the hall, already pulling out his own phone. "...Wait, Blake, why do you carry multiple phones on you? I know you're a tech person but is that really necessary?" Blake began to sign with one hand while they got their backpack off with the other. "Y-You know I can't understand signs that quick..."

"Wait, is that the game Snatcher told me about the last time we were in the woods together?" Mu asked Hat Girl, who gave a nod. She paused when Blake tossed one of the spare phones over to her. She eventually sigh and booted up the app. She thought the game sounded dumb when she heard about it, but it wasn't like there was much else to do... She paused when she clicked through the inventory screen out of curiosity, seeing an outfit that looked like hers. "What in the-" She glanced at the others, confused.

"Oh, Blake’s been wanting to draw some outfits based on the people they've seen on this planet and add them into the game. Your one of the frist they finished." Hat Girl turned to Blake who signed to her, before turning back to Mu. "They hope you're not too weirded out by it." She added. Mu just looked at the screen. She was..a little. But, there was some weird, nice feeling about being considered for something like this. "Pops, Conductor, Macbeth. You guys going to play?"

Right let out a small sigh. He Agreed with Van that this didn't feel like the time for games. At the same time, he already had his phone out to text Reginald to let him know they'd be back late. And as much as he wanted to brute force his way through the storm, he had to remember he had limits. "Fine. But just for a bit. If this goes on all night I want to keep Reg updated..." He paused as the lights flicked for a moment, some going out while a few managed to stay on. "I guess that's normal too."

"Normally." Conductor said. "Although I could've sworn there was some blots of lightin' dancing around one of the bulbs, but even I know that's ridiculous. Either way, toss me that metal box." Blake tilted their head. "Yes, I am aware what a phone is, but I can make up slang." Blake rolled their eyes and toss one over... and for a second it looked like something zap from the light above into the phone before it fell on the floor. "...Ye think I would catch it after that?"

"Ok, so funny story-" A voice came from the phone, some of the group shouting from the surprised. Hat Girl and Platinum both looked at each other to see if they were thinking the same thing, before Hat Girl grabbed the phone. Hydratic adjusted his mask slightly before he glanced at her. "I left the ship just to get some fresh air, the storm cloud moved to far from the ship and the sea.." He shook his head. "Point is uh, do you mind me chilling here with you guys. The eye is too much for even me, believe it or not."

Platinum took the phone from his sister and showed it to Right and Macbeth. "This is the Hydratic guy we told you about from the cruise." Platinum said. A cheerful voice but a wink when he had said that. Macbeth slowly reached for his sleeve, he had that feeling again. The same one he got near Autiomaa and Legends. Right gave Platinum a knowing nod before Platinum placed the phone down. "I think it'll be fine. We were going to play a game... just don't cheat. I don't know how well your powers would allow you to do so, but trust me. No one likes cheating."

"Kid, do I seem like a cheater?" Hydratic asked, gesturing to himself.

"...I want you all to know all this has just sounded like gibberish." Crow said, earning a few chuckles from those in the room. "What, I'm serious! ...And also, what are we even playing?"

Mu shook her head slightly before she glanced back at the screen. She didn't remember the last time she got to play any sort of game... Maybe this will be fun.

-------

Once the rules were explained, they started the game. Mu sighed a bit in relief when she saw 'Crewmate' on her screen, being the impostor sounded exhausting. She picked her location on the map and took a look at her task. She saw she was right next to the vault and headed in to do the dress mannequin task. She was curious as she looked around the map. Sure, it wasn't the exact same, but she did hear that this was based heavily on where they lived before the station. Made her pictured how Hattie's early years with the toppats were..

She left records to go look around for her next task. She hadn't seen anyone around yet, and was a little confused about that. Sure this was a big map but it didn't seem too big. Surely she would have bumped into someone by now? She wasn't sure what to think about that... She let out a shout as the Body Report screen came up suddenly. "His body was in electrical." Macbeth said as he glanced around. Mu opened up the chat to see Blake asking if anyone was nearby.

"Electrical? I saw Van in there a minute ago." Right said, eyeing suspension at Van. The teenager paused and looked at him, as if surprised. "Didn't even look like they were near a task. Just was standing there." Van glanced at Platinum, who was looking down at the ground, tapping his hands against the floor. Van finally open their mouth to speak, but got cut off by the voting sound effect. "If ya had a case, ya would've made it by now." Mu gave a nod to that, Van did seem suspicious. 

"I-I haven't played in awhile, I-I'm not used to getting accused! I just left before Platinum even came in!" Van got out their words at last. But it seemed too late. Mu had already cast her vote in, and seemingly everyone alive was in a silent agreement. Van finally clicked to vote, one person voting to skip while everyone else voted the white crewmate out. "I didn't even do anything." They said as the screen confirmed they were not an imposter. "Just, be careful guys. Ok?"

Mu let out an annoyed sigh. Maybe she should have waited for a proper response. Sure they were still good on numbers for now, but who knows what would happen as the game went on... The conductor got killed not long later, Macbeth once again finding and reporting the body. Blake put in chat that they had last seen Crow with him, and Rosetta agreed. However, no one was as willing to jump into a mass vote over that after what happened to Van. The majority voted to skip, but there was a silent agreement to keep an eye out for that Cyan crewmate.

Mu let out a sigh as she finished putting the guns away, heading up and passing Hat Girl as she went into the engine room while the Rose crewmate went into cockpit. She walked through the main hall and began to pick up the towels on the floor. Mu really hope this was just for mechanics, and the toppats didn't actually just leave towels on the floor like this. She went into the proper shower section to grab the last one... and just barely caught the shape of the pod, before Hat Girl seemed to come from it. But she had just seen Hat Girl walk into cockpit.

"Shoot." She whispered before she quickly raced her character away before the impostor could react. She passed Hydartic's blue crewmate (himself??) and got onto the flying pad, panicking inside her mind until she could get up to the meeting room and press the emergency meeting. "Shapeshifter was on!" She blurted out, letting out a small sigh that no one had died that turn. "I saw Hattie in cockpit and then walked in on someone shapeshift into her. Didn't catch the color of the pod."

"Shapeshifter makes this a lot more risky. Thanks for the clear Mu." Hat Girl said, turning to her and smiling a bit. Mu smiled back, before looking eyes with Crow. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel him looking around the room nervously. She didn't know the Conductor's grandkids well, but she knew that wasn't like Crow in most situations. She cleared her throat. "We're already suspicious of Crow, I say let's get him out of here. Unless anyone was with him this past round."

"No one was.." Crow admitted, and the votes came in quickly. He threw his hand in the air when he was voted out. "I wasn't even in showers!" He said as the screen confirm his role. "...And Sorry about the kill, Grandpa.."

Mu had thought now that they had gotten one imposter out of the game, getting the other was only a matter of time... Yet the game kept going for a while. Lights got turned off for a good chunk of time, since it could be a hassle if more than one person tried to fix it. That allowed the living impostor to get multiple kills in each round, slowly lowering the comfortable distance between them and victory. And everytime Mu thought she had an idea who it was, they would be dead by the next meeting...

She was thinking about her latest suspicions when a new alarm sound started playing. She quickly checked the map and saw two points on it. She went to the closest point, but found Macbeth was already there. She cursed herself since the pad was on the left side of the screen, meaning she'd have to go the long way. Or have someone beat her there. She began to hurry as quickly as possible, and did make it to the end in time to input the code. Allowing a breath.. before Hat Girl's body was reported.

"Engine room." Right said, letting out a sigh. "Would 'ave been at t'e sabotage but I was lock be'ind so many doors."

"Wait, you were the one who got Van voted out in the beginning." Mu spoke as the thought came to her. "How do we know you weren't lying back then?" She asked, crossing her arms. Right just seemed to send her a glare while Macbeth glanced at them both. Everyone else in the room was either silently watching or, based on their typing, discussing what was happening in the ghost chat. "Macbeth, I saw you more than enough times. You would have killed me by now. I think Right self reported."

"'nd 'ow do we know ya didn't start the sabotage? Macbeth, it 'as to be 'er. Ya gotta vote 'er out." Right said  before casting his vote as soon as it started. Mu quickly cast her in relation, and waited. The votes came in, two votes for her. She held in a frustrated sigh as she watched herself get voted out... Only to have her eyes widen at the brown crewmate on the red screen. "Wait-" Right seemed just as surprised, before turning to Macbeth, who had a small smirk on

his face.

"Didn't expect me?" He asked. "I played it with the kids a hundred dozen times at least. I know the useful traps to avoid."

"Yea, as soon as I heard Pops and Mu access each other, I knew it was over." Platinum sighed as he led his head back against the wall. Hat Girl gave a small chuckle as he rolled his eyes. Mu shook her head, why did she fall into such a  trap? Now that she thought about it, she did catch a glimpse of the pod's color. It wasn't enough time for her brain to figure out what color it was, but it was far from purple. "Well, should we hop into the next round? I'd like to see if I can get payback on Crow."

"I was just playing my part of the game, if my teammate didn't report the bodies so often." Crow mumbled before glancing over at Macbeth, who gave a small shrug. Mu glanced at the ghost. She had this weird feeling about him. She didn't know exactly what, but there was just something that felt more.. divine about his presence. Not sure why it took him winning a game for her to notice. "But yea. Let's just get started, I don't think the storm is going away anytime soon. And not like we have someone who can control storms."

"Trust me, if I could call Anumand to clear this, I would." Hydartic's voice called from the phone. "They'd do a great job.."

After a few more minutes of talking just to settle down the nerves, the next round began. Mu thought she heard an annoyed sigh from somewhere in the room but didn't look up from her screen as she began to work on her next few tasks. She started to get the feeling of the layout in the back of her head, and that made it easier for her to relax. She only would tense up once she found herself in a room with some other players. Who knows when one of them could try to kill her after all. 

She got most of the task on the left side of the ship taken care of that she felt comfortable moving to the right side of the ship. It was a little longer than last time, no one must have died yet. Or if they had, no one had found their body. She learnt that the map had a few good spots for bodies to be hidden, even by accident. Blake must have designed it that way on purpose... She heard a sudden thud and while she had to remind herself not to look around, she figured she knew what that meant.

Sure enough, a small gasp came from Conductor and Blake's dead body appeared on screen. They were the only one who had died, and they looked annoyed about it. They crossed their arms and Mu shrugged when they made eye contact.

"I'm honestly surprised this is the first time any of us were murdered in the kitchen. Seems like the perfect killin' place if ye ask me." Conductor spoke as he leaned back. The rest of the group given him some glares and he seemed to pause a moment before he spoke again. "Oh, I didn't see anyone around. Believe me, I would have already accused someone if I did." The rest of the group sighed. "Let's just skip. It's just one death, we can take a few more before we need to vote."

"Why are you like this Grandpa?" Crow sighed as everyone skipped, not much more they could do. Mu picked records as her spawn location and went to take care of her task in the Lobby. Would have been nice to gotten more info but it didn't seem like anyone was going to trust any information the old bird gave anyway. She just needed some time to breathe... and she wanted to drop the phone when Platinum's dead body appeared on screen. It only been like, a minute or two? How was he already dead?

"I-I thought I saw someone but I didn't get a good look at them." Rosetta spoke as she placed her phone to the ground. "I haven't memorized everyone's color either.."

"Unless anyone's got any suspicions,  think it's best to save our voices and agree to skip." Mu sighed, and no one spoke up with anything. The only ones who were speaking were Blake and Platinum in the ghost chat. As the next round started, Mu would occasionally glance over at them. Wondering what was going through their minds as this all played out. She hadn't become a ghost yet... "Ok, this is getting ridiculous." Mu announced a minute later, once Crow had been found dead. "Let me guess, no one?"

"Actually, I think there's a chance the lass might be the impostor." The Conductor said as he pointed over at her, and she looked surprised. "I remembered seeing Crow with her last, and it wasn't that long ago." Hat Girl had typed out a message while he spoke, explaining she was with him but left a bit before the kill. "I thought we agreed Blake was going to be the only one using the text chat?" Hat Girl gave a shrug, Mu couldn't blame her. They took so long to talk sometimes. "We don't have to vote her now, I'm just pointing it out."

"I mean, you're just gonna make it harder for our team if you do." Hat Girl said. Only three people voted for her, so the game continued. Mu wasn't one of the people who voted her, but she had a small bit of suspicions. There was just something about the way Hattie said that final comment. It sounded like her normal tone on the surface but... There was a facepalm from across the room before the Conductor's body appeared on the screen. "Oh peck me." She said, Platinum breaking his silence to laugh.

"I-I saw her this time." Rosetta said, and Hat Girl just nodded. Mu couldn't help but hold in a small snort. Even Crow didn't make a mistake like that when they were playing. "Sorry.." Rosetta said to Hat Girl after a moment, but Blake shook their head from across the room. Platinum, the closest to the kid, quickly showed his screen that showed Blake saying it was just part of the game. "Still, she's so nice normally. I feel bad.." She said as the alien got voted out of the group.

"None of that matters in this game." Hydratic spoke. "It's all or nothing... But hopefully the game will be easier."

The game didn't get too much easier. It wasn't as bad as the massacre that was the last round, but there was still the occasional kill here and there from the Imposter. Mu had her suspicions for a while. She tried to be smarter about her guesses. She thought it could have been Macbeth, they seemed to have been bumping into each other a lot. But he was one of the impostor's last round, what were the odds the game would pick him again? He seemed to be in the right places for tasks as well.

She was suspicious of Hydratic for a while as well. He would run all over the map, and Mu was sure it was before he was trying to get a quick kill. During one of the past meetings, he said that he already got all his tasks done and was just running around to see if he could catch the impostor or find a body. Mu found it a bit strange that if he was doing that, why no bodies had shown up yet. But that wasn't enough evidence to make a proper accusation. And she didn't want the game to end with her making a mistake like that again.

The game started to feel like it was taking forever. The only reason she hadn't gotten her task done was the impostor kept setting up the crash sabotage what felt like every five seconds. She could swear Hattie giggled each and every time.

She let out an annoyed sigh as she finished the sabotage and then climbed up the ladder to dump out the trash. And she was done. She took a glance up at the progress bar, seeing it was close to completion. She tapped her hand on the screen as she waited for the inevitable next body to be reported... She thought she could hear a bit of muttering from nearby, but didn't look up... until a beep filled the room. "Alex!" Macbeth called, before the Crewmate victory screen played on everyone else's.

The room burst into a bit of laughter as the Dweller gently knocked the phone out of Macbeth's hands before resting in them. "Did they really just left the game for ye?" Conductor asked, Macbeth rolling his eyes but nodding as he patted the dweller on their head. Mu couldn't get the smile off her face. She felt robbed of a fairly earned victory, but there was just something about winning this way that felt a lot more funny. "Wait, I think the eye is claiming outside... at least a bit."

"T'ink yer right." Right spoke as he went up to the door and listened. "Still doesn’t seem safe to leave though."

"Could just be in the eye of the storm." Hattie said as Blake signed. Mu just sighed, she started to feel a bit tired. She should have been back in mafia town by now, or at least a decent bit away there. Hopefully she could get going again soon. But she was having a bit of fun here... why did her having fun have to feel so right? She should be focused on her sole duty. Yet... "Mu?" Hat Girl gently shook her shoulder, causing Mu to come back from the pit of her mind. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, just got a little worried for some people, that's all." It wasn't a very good excuse, she would have had names if it was a convincing sounding one. It was clear some people knew the truth about her statement, but didn't speak up about it. No point in risking starting a genuine fight after a bunch of light-hearted and playful ones. She glanced back at the screen of the phone she had. "Do you guys want to do something else... Or do more of this. I kinda wanna see if I can get lucky with the role I'm given." She gave a small smirk.

-------

They all slowly lost track of time as they played. Mu knew for sure she did. The longer she played, the more she enjoyed the game. Sure, she still thought it was a bit dumb, but dumb things can be fun sometimes. She did eventually get to be impostor, although she didn't get too many kills in before she was figured out. The role seemed a lot more stressful than she originally thought. Still, she enjoyed her time. It almost made her feel sad it would be over once the storm had cleared.

They started another round, finding herself as a crewmate once again. She spawned in the main hall, since that gave her the most access to the possible task she could do. She saw she had a few and started working on them. The game went on and Mu was expecting a body found screen at any moment. It almost made her feel uneasy that there wasn't one yet. Like she'd be the body that would end up being found. She wasn't the best at being patients during meetings, only able to keep her mouth shut by ranting her feelings in ghost chat. A lot of the others were similar.

The screen began to flash red and she sighed as she went to fix the sabotage. She didn't understand why everyone liked using this one so much, the lights seemed so much more effective... She got to the left first and quickly placed in the code and waited for the sight side to do the same... She heard a facepalm from somewhere in the room and by now that usually only meant one thing. Right Hand Man's dead body appeared on the screen. She looked up to see the man shaking his head.

"It's Crow!" Hydratic's voice came from the single phone laying on the floor. "He killed Right... hang on" there was a chuckle from the phone before he could finish, a bit of laughter in his voice. "He killed Right right in front of me." Crow just held up his hands in defeat. Mu shook her head a bit, holding in a chuckle as she sent in her vote. He could have at least tried pleading shapeshifter. "You think he would've picked up that being a bad idea." Hydartic said, before the votes came in.

"You know what, I think I prefer watching all this to playing it anyway." Crow said, leaning back as he adjusted his phone. Mu knew better than to expect good things from getting one impostor out by now. She glanced at her list of tasks and saw she only had the meeting room task to finish, and she was done. So she raced over to the room from her spawn location as fast as she could, and pulled down the lever. She let out a small sigh of relief as she knew she did her part.

She then shook her head and decided to focus. She might be able to figure out who the impostor was if she was careful. She began to slowly head around the map, watching everyone. If a room had two people in it, she would leave and wait, coming in to check if one of them had been killed. She was making a big loop around the orbital station, until she got to the security room. Right next to the cameras was Platinum's body. She couldn't help but feel bad, he had been through it a lot these games.

"Why did you do that?!" Hydearic called suddenly as she reported the body. "The impostor was shapeshifted as me and I was chasing them trying to make their timer run out!"

"Well I'm sorry, I wasn't aware." Mu said, rolling her eyes a bit. "Besides, I think I got an idea about who it is. Was anyone with Van at the last minute? Because I saw them with Platinum a lot this past round." Van seemed to freeze up as they tried to think of what to say. Mu chuckled a bit as she opened the in-game chat and saw Blake had put on a smirk. Soon the voting began. "You could’ve at least tried to defend yourself" Mu said once they were all casted.. only to sigh. "Are you kidding me?"

"I-I'm not good with these kinds of things, what did you expect?" Van asked, before sighing as they placed their phone down, likely done with their task as well. She rolled her eyes as she focused back on the game. Maybe it was the group's fault for being so quick to vote at first mention of who might be suspicious. But if half the people didn't freeze up or thought quicker they wouldn't be in those situations. "I'm stretching my legs. They've been on the urge of falling asleep, and I don't wanna deal with that when we leave." They said as they stood up, careful walking past Platinum.

Mu let out a sigh as she went back to her new routine of checking all the rooms, and seeing if she could catch any murders that took place. She was feeling tired, and not just because of her current gameplay cycle. It had been at least an hour, likely more, since they started playing. She wasn't keeping track of the time for once. She just wanted to go and lay her head down. She was thinking of after this round ends suggesting they just turn in for the night if the storm was still blowing outside.

She woke up a bit when Hat Girl's body appeared on screen. "I swear some people are faster than others, might have to look into that." Blake sent in the chat as Mu opened it. "Weapons. The upperpart near Burt's room. Just saw their Shadow." They typed out and Mu glanced over at them. She then glanced around, no one seemed to be acting guilty. "Mu, why have you been going in and out of rooms? You called Hydartic out on similar behavior earlier?"

"I'm a hypocrite and bored, what else do you expect from me?" She asked as she sighed. She knew Blake didn't have any useful info based on how they commented, so it was likely going to be a skip round, so why bother trying. They still had eight players left, so they were almost better off letting the impostor do the kills and try and catch them in the act. "Voting someone off will make it easier for whoever is impostor... we're at least able to travel in pairs now, that might help."

"Sure it would, lassie." The Conductor mumbled, sounding a bit annoyed as he skipped. Mu raised a brow at that, but didn't question it much. She saw Right nearby when she loaded in and started to follow him. For the next three or so minutes, everything was calm. Then suddenly, the Conductor mumbled "Oh peck this." Before the disconnect sound was played... and the crewmates won. There was a bit of quiet laughter from the teens as the bird crossed his arms. "It was impossible for me to get a kill!"

"You could have tried a little harder, Grandpa." Crow said, crossing his arms before pausing. "Hey, do you hear anything?I think the Storm's over."

"Wait, what- Hattie, take me to the door." Hydartic called out, a hint of what seemed to be panic in his voice. She nodded and picked up the phone, walking over and opening the door. It was still raining, and there were still winds with sand dancing about, but it was much calmer than before. Suddenly, a spark came from the phone, Hydratic appearing in the rain. A bit faded, but it was still him. "I'm sorry, but I need to go now. As much as I loved hanging with you, I rather get home myself and not make you do the work for me."

"Oh, it's no issue! Just be safe!" Hat Girl waved, before the strange figured disappeared, what seemed to be electricity bouncing between drops of rain into the sky. She let out a sigh as she turned off the phone he was in, her eyes widened slightly when she saw the time. Mu looked at the phone she used, and let out a small grone. Almost midnight?

Mu sighed as she got up. "I need to go." She said before she headed out.

Just like that. No dramatic leave. Just covering her eyes to shield them from the faint winds of sand and dust.

Life was like that sometimes.

[eyes-of-rock]

Crossroad

Part: I

Pairing: K.K. Downing X OC {Dee Dee Damage}

Warning(s): None

Plot: Dee Dee Damage was the founding member and guitarist of all girl metal band Stiletto. Until she gets into a bad car wreck and ends up breaking her wrist, leaving her unable to play guitar. Her band chooses to replace her instead of waiting for her to heal. Dee Dee is left with no band and no idea what she wants to do in the future. Stuck between two paths Dee Dee goes to Spain, to see her fellow guitarist and friend K.K. With a bit of help form him and his band mates Dee Dee will find her path again and perhaps love along the way. _________________________________________________

Dee Dee’s POV

I’m pissed.

Really I'm beyond pissed. I'm so angry I want to ruin every one of those wanks' lives. I should have seen this coming, after all me and Kelly have been butting heads for a while on the creative side, so of course she'd take the first chance she could get to kick me out. I founded the bloody Stilettos, when I was sixteen years old. I created the logo and our image. It was my band, yes the other four played an imported roll in it all, but I did most of the heavy lifting. I begged, borrowed and stole to get us a record deal. I wrote, produced and played on all of our songs. It was my vision and I bloody well made sure it came to life, and well it did. Our last two albums went platinum and we sold out arenas, in fact we were about to go out again on a world tour when a drunk driver smashed into my car.

I'm lucky I made it out alive, because the bloke who rammed into me didn’t. I made it out alive but beaten up rather badly and with one of my wrists shattered.

As a guitarist a shattered wrist meant I wasn’t going to be playing anytime soon until it healed up. Instead of being a supportive band and standing by me, postponing the tour for six months till I was back in action, what do these wankers do? They replace me, while I’m still in hospital and break it to me through our manager. The wankers didn’t even have the guts to do it themselves.

It’s been weeks and it still makes me want to punch a wall but the last thing I need is to break my other wrist.

I take a little comfort in knowing I make royalties off all their hits, and that without my song writing sauvy the chances of them ever making another is slim.

Yet the big question remains, what do I do next? I never for saw this day coming, I never had a backup plan. That band was my life, and now it’s been taken from me. I’m torn between two paths, become a producer full time, or continue being a guitarist, but this time as a solo artist. I’m never letting another person rip something I’ve worked my ass off for ever again, that’s for sure. So fuck bands.

I’ve been asked by several bands over the years to produce for them, especially since I produced all our album’s myself. It would be a safer path with less risk, I know I’d be wanted and I know I could do it and succeed.

Yet being a guitarist is my passion, the thing is I’d be starting from square one. I’d have to re-event myself, prove myself as more than just my old self, as better and I’d be going at it all by myself. As much as I want to do this because I love writing and making music, and because part of me wants to stick it to my ex band, I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll fail and all my hard work will be nothing.

That’s why when K.K. Downing, one of the two guitarists of Judas Priest, and a friend of mine, invited me to stay with for a bit in his house in Spain. I agreed to go. After all that’s exactly what I need a few weeks in the sun, with good company and a few drinks to clear my mind.

How I met K.K. is a crazy story in itself. I’m from the same part of the Black Country as him though I never knew him, because though we both share a passion for metal and Flying V’s he’s a bit older than me. I knew of him and his band Judas Priest of course, I had never met them though I had seen them a few times as they played at my dad's pub.

That all changed the day I saw a beautiful cherry red Flying V in the window of a music shop. I was pretty much as broke as one could be at the time, but I had been saving up any extra money I made helping out my dad for some time to buy a new guitar but I didn’t have quite enough for this one. I got home as fast as possible from Birmingham to Wolverhampton where I lived, to beg my dad for the difference. I got it with a promise I’d work a bit more in the pub to make up the difference. It’s not like he had the expendable income, but he always encouraged my dreams, believe it or not, my mum not so much. Luckily for me or unluckily depending on how you view it they got divorced when I was young, so she had no input on what he chose to do.

I rushed back to Birmingham to buy that beautiful guitar, only when I got to the shop some wank had beat me to it. I was so gutted I demanded to know who bought it, the shopkeeper told me it was a bloke named Ken Downing. Of course I had never met him up until this point but I was knowledgeable of the music scene of Birmingham and the Black Country so I knew of him. Luckily for me, I also knew he’d be playing at my dad's pub later that night.

So being the crazy teenage girl I was at the time I figured I’d give this fully grown man a piece of my mind for stealing my guitar and that is exactly what I did. K.K. to his credit handled it with grace, simply stating there is no way he could steal my guitar considering it never actually belonged to me. He had a valid point but I was still pissed at him.

I never saw him again for many years, when Stiletto and Judas Priest went on a tour together. Of course I was and still am pissed he beat me to that guitar, and K.K. remembered me, I mean how could he not? It’s not everyday a crazy teenage girl gives you a tongue lashing over a guitar you just bought. So naturally that was the running joke between us, I threatened to steal his guitar on several occasions and K.K. made sure he played it around me as much as possible to annoy me. By the end though we realised we had a lot in common and became friends, the guitar is still a joke between us to this day.

I get knocked out of my thoughts as the bell rings, indicating the flight attendant has an announcement.

“We’ll be conducting our descent into Málaga airport. Please fasten your seat belts.”

I do as instructed, as I pop a piece of gum in my mouth to hopefully stop my ears from popping. I can’t help but smile, as I look out the window at Málaga, as it comes closer and closer into view as we descend. I’m looking forward to seeing K.K. again, and I know this is just what I need to bring in the next chapter of my life.

[persoc30]

Kinktober Day 14 - Put in Storage / Useless Keys

Behind Vulcan’s shop was a labyrinthine mess of hallways and small workrooms. The Forte head of the craftwork side of engineering took pains to make certain every operator assigned under her had their own small space to work on personal projects, to encourage them to practice their skill beyond the constant stream of weapons and gear in need of maintenance. This warren of constantly reassembled passages was where Maria Nearl found herself on her day off; planning on putting some work into commissions and gifts she was behind on.

She slid her key ring out of her pocket and absentmindedly waved the attached id at the door scanner, weighing whether to get started on the harness idea her sister-in-laws had run by her last night or get some more work put into the muzzle Grani had been waiting on. Lost in thought she pushed open her door, took two steps in and immediately froze.

Despite the state of her dorm earning her constant teasing from friends, her work station was kept neat and clear, everything exactly where it was supposed to be. The room was well lit thanks to the giant window making up the outside wall that this block of studios had been built against, so it didn’t take her long to notice what was wrong; several rings and buckles and other assorted small metal bits had been knocked off the corkboard she kept them on.

Unfortunately this realization wasn’t quick enough to save her from what came next. The door behind her slammed shut and she was pushed against her workbench. She scrambled to grab something but was quickly turned around to face the intruder.

It was Platinum, one hand on her shoulder and the other raising a single finger to her lips. She fought down the usual ‘is this how it happens’ response to getting ambushed by a woman who once held her hostage, no matter what had changed in the in the months since, and let out the breath she’d caught as a sigh.

“Ah, Plat you scared me. What’s up, why’d you break into my studio?”

“Shut up,” Despite Platinum’s mask of annoyance Maria could feel the hand on her shoulder trembling and saw she was unusually flushed, “Where’s the keys?”

“What keys?”

“You know what keys.” Nevertheless the white haired woman pulled down the high neck of her sweater to reveal a small but unmistakable collar, then pointedly gestured down towards her waist.

“Ah right, guess you did wander off the other night. What about the emergency key I gave you to keep in your room?”

“Don’t give me that, you and Gravel got started talking about knife sharpening or whatever and I was bored to tears.” She rolled her eyes at the idea she was expected to sit through that, “I tried it this morning but you must’ve given me the wrong one because it didn’t work, same as the one in here.“ A dismissive wave at the disturbed corkboard, where the backup/test key was normally hidden in plain sight. ”Where’s the rest of your keys?”

So she just left the gear on for a couple days before trying to take it off? “Well there’s the one on my key ring-” she was interrupted by Platinum snatching said ring out of her pocket and rifling through the attached keys, “- but all my locks use the same key.” This news, and the newest key failing to catch in her collar’s lock, got a long frustrated groan out of the former assassin.

Maria gave a bright smile to try to comfort the other woman. “Look at it this way, there’s no better place on the landship to have a stuck lock!” She considered her options and bashfully looked away, rubbing the back of her head. “Though doing it without anything in the main shop maaay be tricky…”

[sleeponthephone]

we come back from long-parted ways and our heads have changed color, lavender-blue and milky-white, scarlet as my sunrises and guiltless as pink velvet. yours comes in choppy waves now.

homer hasn’t told you about patroclus and achilles yet. it’s tied at the top of your reading list with some book title about an orange tree. you are settled gently in the mossy things at the base of a tree. I curl up against you as you crochet, snuggle in with my own hand-spun craft.

if I could, I would gather the thick yarn of you all into my hands and burrow into it every spring, surround myself with this laughter, this music, this ease. I am constantly finding odd gifts in the tangle, salt edges and rocks slicked with sea slime. you swallowed so much seawater in the dark on your way here. I remember the stories you dredge up from those years.

the tip of one of the scissor blades against my neck for a moment- but I don’t flinch. and you move to cut and all is well. we would not strike out against one another here, in the sun and the holy silence. there is a different god leaning against my desk, not the one either of us grew up with. they fall in the scraps of platinum, blind with the tilt of the metal in light. in your patient work is a love I could not have manipulated from you. I am glad I have given up. I am glad to find rest in this space. it’s okay that I’m good around you.

we are in my room under the green. I think red moon sounds better with a guitar slightly out of tune. I’ve only heard this song secondhand among the birds. you love it and I do my best to follow your melody. run your hand along my arm to watch the daisies pop up from it. press your palms against the wall to leave the mark of where you’ve been.

(- your flowers and handwriting curling out across my kitchen, the captions set in ink beneath our history. and all the pictures came out green, I guess the film was old. these stories are young still. press a kiss to your knuckles and feel their grace against my cheek, and the mud settles back into the banks of the river. I can see you through the water.)

i’m inside the house i waited months to visit. grandparents away for a week, and the house almost empty. L leads me in, and we sort through cassettes. it’s probably the first time in exactly a month we’ve had a truly calm moment. there are probably two hundred tapes on the dining room table, and we have all the time a sunday love can offer.

we go upstairs, to his room, a room full of art, a truly enriched enclosure. two pairs of black converse highs left on the middle floor. his and hers sneakers. well, maybe—his and theirs. i’m figuring out if hers still fits me, even now. but i pick up the soundtrack from my girl and give him a soft smile. he knows instinctively that’s me. he bites and bites and bites and now there are pretty little bruises on my arms, and larger ones on my thigh. they won’t fade fast.

L makes sangria for us. the first time we were supposed to meet, he asked if he should bring a bottle of sake. i declined. i wanted us to find substance without substances. our tipsy selves are a little more playful.

M comes out in the middle of the grocery store. he taps my shoulder and when i turn around, kisses me in front of the bagel shelves. he takes me by the hand and leads me to the produce, the deli, the frozen sections. i confirm when i first saw him that day and he asks did you not recognize me? and i say I’d recognize you anywhere. on the way home, he drives smoothly, an elderly lady lets him pass and we marvel at how nice she was. old women love me, he jokes, and then says seriously: i think you’re gonna be a cute old lady. i say, L doesn’t like grocery stores, and M says i hate them—but i just wanted to see you—if that’s okay. he cooks dinner for two. lamb, Caesar salad, charcuterie. i meet the family cat. she is an abomination. M leaves shortly after we go back upstairs. L returns and i tell him what he may have missed.

(below is about L, but tangentially about M)

when we fall asleep, we fall asleep together. the blanket covers us both, there is no tugging necessary. you whisper soft “i love you”s into my ear. you say it again when the bus arrives. of course, i say it back each time. i couldn’t think of doing otherwise at this point. my august self is not dead, but she’s a ghost. she haunts my heart for always. she would never say it but she loves you too.

[neon-moon-beam]

Seeing a lot of kneejerk reactions, so I thought I’d offer some perspective...

Just gonna throw this out there...

Do we have any information that any of what dropped tonight is canon at all?

I own and have seen a few art books for Legend of Zelda, and they often include character designs that went unused, as well as ideas that were scrapped or changed. For all we know, this is earlier concept art and a backstory for Ingo that got changed for the final cut.

Some spoilers for PLA follow.

Edit: As of April 16th, the authenticity of the leaks has been verified, but questions as to whether or not the concept art of Ingo is canon remain. I posted about that here.

Wondering because there’s concept art of Ingo laying on the ground and a Pearl Clan member finding him, yet in the game itself, Ingo tells us he was “standing there in bafflement” when the Pearl Clan found him.

It also seems a little weird that he could have been in Hisui for over a decade and yet his memory loss is presented as more urgent to the player, as though it were recent. Even weirder is how quickly a single talk with the player caused him to vaguely remember Chandelure and Emmet, and a single battle caused him to remember even more. You’re telling me in 10+ years he never had any memories jogged by having a conversation with someone, nor did he ever battle anyone else? His talk with the player wasn’t especially deep nor about any topics that would have reminded him about his life in Unova, and seeing how most of the other Wardens battle (even though they do things like send out three Pokemon on one), he’s almost definitely done it before, even if just to instruct someone on how to do it.

Then there’s also that Volo asks Ingo if he thinks the Space-Time Rift caused his memory loss. Considering no one else has amnesia, other than the player to an extent that’s debatable and the player is believed by everyone to have come from the Rift, this isn’t Volo asking Ingo if the Rift somehow targeted him and erased his memories. He’s most likely asking Ingo if coming through the Rift (whether or not Ingo actually did is also debatable) caused it. I can’t find the source, but I was sure an NPC mentioned the Rift had only been there a few months. But in any case, it seems the Rift is much more recent than decades ago; people are concerned about it and the events associated with it are all recent, seeming to happen fairly shortly before the player’s arrival, and getting more intense after. And if the Rift had been open for decades, people would be desensitized to it for the most part. It would have become a fact of life and we’d have younger people who had never known a time before it. Instead, even children find the Rift concerning.

The few details we have on a single scanned page and what we’re told and shown in game aren’t exactly adding up yet.

It’s also no secret that PLA as it is now lacks a conclusive ending for even the main plot (we’ve caught Arceus, now what?) It’s also a relatively shorter game compared to other Pokemon titles. It’s possible that they had other plans that were cut short or omitted for the final cut.

And as other people are starting to point out, Ingo being in Hisui for over a decade doesn’t line up with the time between D/P/Pt/BDSP and BW. Caitlin is 14 in Platinum, and an adult in Gen 5. So besides Ingo needing to return by then, even if it had been over a decade, he can’t go from being in his 50s back to being in his 30s (unless Arceus just undoes everything that happened with PLA or something to that effect).

People are also taking certain phrases out of context for now; we don’t have a whole translation. The page in question barely has any text on it; there’s likely another page with fuller details.

Also kind of funny that people are freaking out over the idea that Ingo could be older. Ingo and Emmet were never shown to be people who have just entered adulthood. They were probably around 30 in 5th Gen at least. They could have receding hairlines at 30. Some guys I went to high school with had receding hairlines before finishing college. For anyone who is not 30 yet and reading this, just wait until you’re 30. There’s a lot they don’t tell you about how your body will change (and not all of it is bad!) because of society’s focus on remaining youthful and hiding all evidence of aging.

Anyway, it’s 6 AM. I’m tired. Please don’t blow up my notes or inbox, I just thought I’d throw this out there because all I’m seeing is panic. We need more information, folks.

[hongjoongscafe]

Can you do prompt 38,39,and 01 with seonghwa from ateez

Hope you like it💓

Prompt list.

01: "Could you hold my hand?"

38: "Because I care for you."

39: "Tell me about your day, baby. Let me make it better."

Therapist

Pairing: seonghwa×reader

Genre: fluff, comfort/cute.

≪ °❈° ≫

"Fuck!" You sighed as you dropped onto your therapist's couch. "Fuck everything!"

"Good evening to you too, Ms. Y/l/n," Seonghwa, the therapist, said playfully. 

"Not today," you mumbled. 

"Oky, sorry," he cleared his throat and sat up straight. "So what happened?" He got up from his couch and sat next to you at about an arm's distance. His clipboard was in his hand, ready to be filled with your rant. 

You rested against the couch and took the special blanket he always took out for only you and wrapped it around you. Your head was against the headrest, facing Seonghwa.

"Could you… Could you hold my hand… please?" You hesitantly asked. It would be a big lie if you said that you didn't crush on your single and gorgeous therapist. He was a walking wet dream of every woman around the world. You felt lucky to be this close to him. It's been about three months since you have been coming here at least once a week or two weeks. 

Seonghwa smiled beautifully and it made your heart beat aggressively. He placed his clipboard and pen on the coffee table and opened his hand in your direction, "why not?" He softly said. 

Your cheeks heated up and instantly gained a nice blushy tiny. You shyly brought your hand out of the blanket and rested in his. His big warm hands intertwined with yours perfectly as he brought them in his lap, moving closer to where you were sitting. 

"Thank you," you whispered. 

"You should be completely comfortable under my eyes. Don't hesitate about asking for anything, okay?" His words did something in your heart. 

"W-why?" You asked. 

"Okay, you know what, tell me about your day, baby. Let me make it better," your eyes widened at the nickname he used so casually. "Why were you cursing like that? Did someone do something to offend you?"

"Well, it was a tough day. I forgot to bring my earphones with me so I had to maintain some conversations," Seonghwa hissed and scrunched up his face, knowing exactly how you felt. 

During these three months, one thing was obvious: you hated being in public and talking to anyone… that added fuel to the fire. 

"That bad?" His thumb caressed the back of your hand.

"It's not it," your tears started brimming your eyes. 

"What happened?" He scooted closer. Now you could feel his body heat. 

"You know, Mrs. Peterson's dog destroyed my flowers and even pooped at my house's entrance! Like how can you do that! And when I tried to confront her, she blamed me! And when I was on the way here, a random dude tried to touch me inappropriately," you sobbed. 

Seonghwa's hands tightened around yours after your last statement. His eyes filled with rage but he controlled for your sake. He saw how your diamond tears were flowing down your platinum cheeks. 

"Hey, come here," he pulled you closer and rested your head on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around your trembling figure. "I won't let that happen again, okay?" 

"How?" You sniffled, cuddling closer in his hypnotic fresh scent. 

"I'll take you to college and drop you back home. If you need to go somewhere else, I'll be your ride," he caressed your hair. 

"Why would you do that?" No therapist would be this caring. 

"Because I care for you," he smiled as you looked up at him. 

"Why? I don't think you do that with your other clients. And isn't it against the rules to be this close?" You pouted.

Seonghwa chuckled and said, "there is no thrill in following the rules… and who wouldn't care for the person one has fallen for?" 

≪ °❈° ≫

[fandom-imagines]

Your Age

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Jealous!Professor!Lupin X Legal!Student!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Jealousy, teacher x student relationship, implied smutty ending. Oh and implied toxic parenting.

Summary: After a rough breakup, Y/N finally starts talking to men again. But this doesn’t sit right with her ex, Professor Lupin.

It was hard for the new DADA Professor to watch the girl he longed for be flirted with by somebody else, Draco Malfoy to be specific.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest as he watched Y/N smile at the platinum-haired boy, her hand resting on his upper arm. She was blissfully unaware of the burning gaze that was fixated on her and the Slytherin.

“You have no right, Remus,” he mumbled to himself, extremely grateful that there was nobody within earshot to hear him talking to himself. “You broke it off with her. You’re too old.”

“Y/N, can you stay behind a moment, please?” Despite his lips being pulled up into a soft smile, his eyes held a different emotion.

“Sure, Professor!”

Once everyone had piled out of the room, Y/N’s friends saying they’ll see her in Potions, Remus finally broke the news.

“This can’t go on,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s so many reasons why it can’t.” The pain in her eyes was something he would never be able to erase from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to get rid of it.

“Got ya,” she smiled, holding back tears. “Is that all, Professor?”

Hearing her use that title whilst they were alone struck a new type of pain in his heart and all he could do was nod.

“That’s all, Y/N.”

That was four months ago, and the Professor had never felt worse about anything. But he knew it was for her own good; he’s too old for her, at least in his mind.

Y/N had never known the reason behind his sudden distaste towards their relationship, instead being left to assume that he had met someone else; met someone his own age.

The first month had been the worst. Constant overthinking, skipping classes and the feeling over never being wanted again.

The second month things got better, not much but a bit. Her parents were still on at her, as they had always been, about finding a powerful wizard boyfriend. It didn’t matter either way. It isn’t exactly like she could have told them who she was seeing. It just stung more with her mother telling her if she doesn’t find someone now, she never will.

The third month was when things started looking up. She was feeling better, less insecure and was finally spending time with other men, most notable, Draco Malfoy. The sleepless nights were over, and she was beginning to feel better.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lupin rushed as he entered the classroom, hair messy and dark bags under his eyes.

Y/N’s hand dropped from Malfoy’s arm, falling to her side which didn’t go unnoticed by the DADA teacher; things like this made him feel happy yet guilty. She deserves better than an old professor in his eyes and she shouldn’t be sad about him leaving.

He caught the Y/H/C-haired girl’s eyes as she moved to take her usual seat in front of his desk. Usually, she would desperately avoid his sight, something that pained him, but it was different today. For what reason, he didn’t know, or at least he didn’t until Draco took a seat beside her.

“You look lonely, Y/N/N,” he smirked. “Want some company?”

“I’d love some,” she returned his smile, one Lupin longed to be directed at him once again.

*

It had been about a week since he had seen Y/N last, and he wished the first time that he saw her again hadn’t been like this.

Malfoy and she were leaning against the wall outside of him classroom, both unaware of his presence. They were talking about something, something that he couldn’t hear and he was about to interrupt them until he saw the blonde lean in and capture her lips on his own. Eyes wide, Lupin turned and left, not hearing or seeing what had happened immediately after.

*

“Look guys,” Seamus laughed, noticing the letter that Y/N had received mere seconds ago. “Y/S/N got herself a howler!”

Y/N, who was now blushing at everyones attention on her, let out a sigh and she unwillingly opened it, aware of the consequences if she did not. The entire halls attention was on her as it began to scream:

“Y/N Y/S/N! How dare you reject Lucius Malfoy’s son! Draco is a lovely young boy, how dare you break his heart like that? He was nothing but nice to you and you won’t even let him take you out on a date? How ungrateful are you? You’re nothing but a frigid little girl, no man will ever love you!”

“Okay mother,” Y/N muttered, watching as the letter tore itself up. “I think I’m going to go.” Were her final words, not waiting for her friends replies before leaving, not realising who had followed her.

*

Tears slipped down her cheeks as Y/N sat herself on the step outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, somewhere she had come out of habit. She always ended up here when she was upset. Nobody was come, it was early morning on a weekend.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice sounded around the corner. Of course he knew exactly where she had gone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she was clearly lying, he knew her too well for her to lie to him. “I just want to be alone.”

A sigh left Lupin’s lips as he took a seat beside her, robe almost tripping him which would have been comical if not for the situation at hand. “She’s not right, you know?” He chimed in.

“What?” Y/N turned to face the man she was once involved with, only for him to already be looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not unlovable,”

Confusion enveloped her body as Remus took Y/N’s cheek in his hand, finger roaming the flesh. “I love you,” without hesitation his lips pressed gently against her own, not thinking of the consequences. He enjoyed the way she kissed back immediately, being too used to his lips against hers.

But she pulled back moments after. “No you don’t,” she said. “If you did you wouldn’t have gotten rid of me.” Her hand reached up to snatch his hand from her cheek, missing the pain that flashed across his face.

“Can we talk in my office?”

“I guess,”

And so she followed him, noticing how dishevelled he looked along with the locking of the door. Despite his messy look, he was still attractive.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I didn’t do it for any reason other than wanting to protect you,” he admitted, flicking his wand to give her a seat as he took one beside her, tilting it so he could face her. “You need somebody your own age, somebody that won’t have to disappear once a month, someone that isn’t me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession, unsure as to how to respond. “But I don’t want anyone else. I love you and only you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure Malfoy would beg to differ. I’ve seen to way you two act.” He swallowed deeply, looking anywhere but her face.

“Are you jealous?”

The professor hesitated. “Yes, I want you to be only mine. I know that’s selfish but you’re all I can think about, you’re all I want. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

His hand reached to grasp Y/N’s own, intertwining their fingers whilst he enjoyed the blushing. His spare hand reached for her cheek once again as he spoke. “Forgive me?” His breath fanned across her lips, having moved closer to her face.

“Always,” she pushed her lips against his, something she had missed dearly. “I missed you so much.” She murmured as he pulled her into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as they kissed.

“Me too, darling,” he groaned at the feeling of her pressing against his area. “Let me show you how much.”

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[360iris]

Poly!Draco Malfoy x Blaise Zabini x Ravenclaw!Reader Blurb

Content warning: A dash of smut and a drop of daddy kink

Blaise was never close with anyone from his house. Whether it be, because of their attitudes or underdeveloped ideologies, but he remained to himself. That is until he was paired with you during a potions lesson in your second year.

Even as a child, he was never one to laugh much, but you were intelligent and funny. The two of you instantly clicked.

After that day, he found himself seeking you out. Whether you were curled up outside under a tree reading or falling asleep during a divination lesson, he’d slip in beside you and happily listen to whatever thought crossed your beautiful mind.

He doesn’t waste his time speaking unless there’s something he actually wants to say, otherwise he’s silent.

With you he’s adoringly attentive; with others, he comes off as blatantly unimpressed.

You’re best friends and share your first kiss at the age of fourteen, but don’t start formally dating until your fifth year.

Lots of cuddling in comfortable silence or Blaise quietly listening to you complain about Professor Snape, while not taking his eyes off of his book.

“He marked down my essay by a whole letter because he claims the herb isn’t recognized by that specific name anymore! What an absolute tosser! Every year I gradually understand why he’s always alone! No one can suffer his company! The funny thing is that I was just starting to feel like he was a decent guy!” You vent, blood boiling just recalling the interaction.

“Y/N?” He exhales from above you, your face currently squished against his chest.

“Hm?” You respond, lifting your head to face him, before suddenly feeling his lips on your own. It was disorienting, and then wholly consuming. But right as you bring a hand up to clutch his jumper, he’s pulling away.

“Don’t talk about other men while you’re straddling me, love.” He replies, turning his attention back to the pages in front of him. Your mouth drops as the butterflies in your stomach do airplane maneuvers.

“Wha- Blaise!” You try to appeal but you can tell by the smirk on his lips that he’s not budging.

“Don’t be a brat; that was all you’re getting.”

Sixth year was when Blaise introduced you to Draco. You had seen the platinum blonde boy over a dozen of times during your years at Hogwarts, but had never actually spoken to him. You were one of the lucky few.

Blaise later informs you that the boy had a fall out with his usual gaggle of idiots and needed to be around more grounded individuals.

“So... you want me to suddenly be best-mates with Draco-fucking-Malfoy? I thought you couldn’t have cared less about him?”

To say you were confused, was a severe understatement.

“He wouldn’t have even gotten in this predicament if he hadn’t spent the majority of his time here, devoted to pissing everyone off.” You huff, collapsing onto Blaise’s assigned bed. He’d snuck you in here many times over the years.

“I know what I said, Y/N. Now I’m saying that I pulled a couple of strings and he’s going to be my roommate.” He drawls out, rolling his eyes at the socked foot playfully prodding his torso.

“It’s not up for discussion.” He states, grabbing ahold of your foot and utilizing it to make room between your legs.

His usually pristine, ironed slacks wrinkling as his knees dug into the duvet underneath you.

“So, in short: All I want to hear from those pretty, little lips of yours is a confirmation that you’ll be a good girl and behave when he gets here.” His hands gripped at your exposed thighs and your skirt, ever so slightly hiked up to reveal more of your soft skin.

Biting your lip to keep in a whimper, your attention switches to the source of a surprised sputter from the door.

“Oh! Um.. Zabini...” The boy’s pale face already becoming red and splotchy from embarrassment.

It took a while for Draco to adjust to his new company. Most likely due to the fact that, for the first time ever, he couldn’t control his peers. Neither of you cared about his status or his daddy’s money. He soon realized that there wasn’t a need to put on an act anymore.

Within a short span of time, he learned to stop bothering other students. Whenever he unnecessarily detoured to pester an underclassman on the way to a lesson, Blaise and yourself would simply keep walking. Ultimately leaving him by himself.

Naturally everyone noticed the drastic change in his demeanor, and while you did get questions from girls in your house asking why Malfoy was suddenly trailing after you and your boyfriend like a lost puppy, the school appreciated the loss of one of it’s primary bullies.

The most to least talkative in the trio: you, Draco and lastly Blaise.

Oldest to youngest: Blaise, you and Draco.

Draco wasn’t accustomed to people being as sarcastically playful with him as you are. Teasing him as much as Blaise would allow, before he pulls you away from the younger boy by the waistband of your skirt.

Riling him up was by far your favorite pastime.

As months went by, you noticed the bonds the boys were forming, even if Draco seemed oblivious to it.

“He’s growing on you.” You say in a sing-song manner after Draco heads off to his next class. You smile when Blaise pauses his quill mid-stroke.

“Don’t you have an assignment you should be completing?” Is all he responds but you don’t let up, poking him under the table with your shoe.

“I think he likes you, though he probably doesn’t even know it yet.” Switching your gaze onto your hand, inspecting your manicure. He’s not looking at you anyway, bracing himself on the table with his forearms and face turned away.

“Do you want to sleep with him?” You ask, crossing your arms and he jolts.

“Merlin, Y/N!”

“What it’s okay! I do too! He has a puppy-dog energy to him.” You respond nonchalantly and Blaise scrunches his face, clearly overwhelmed.

“Wha-“

“I’m admitting it, so that you can admit it and then we can move on to the next step!”

He inhales deeply and sits back in his chair. Clearly taking a second to collect his thoughts. “And what’s the next step?” He asks, one of his perfect brows arching.

“So you know how we’re dating?” You ask and he stares back at you blankly. 

“Yes, Y/N. I’m aware that we’re dating.” He replies dryly but you continue.

“Well, I know he likes you. I mean, I have functioning eyes! He’s so reliant on you, it’s really cute! Anyway! I noticed that he likes me too! When I’m around, he’s always looking at me. Like when I make a joke or put my hair up, or if I’m just reading! It’s the same way you look at me.” You excitedly ramble.

“And how do I look at you exactly?” He questions coolly.

“Like you love me. Like, you’re seeing me for who I really am, and you must like what you find because you don’t turn away. If anything, you stare harder.” You say tenderly, daring him to deny it but he doesn’t. He nods his head and brings a hand up to his mouth.

“So what do you want to do?” He finally asks and you smile.

You decide on testing how far Draco would let you treat him as if you both were dating him too.

For Blaise this meant speaking softer and sweeter. Wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder when they walked together in the halls.

As for yourself, you made a point of sitting closer to him. Brushing your exposed thigh against his hips or pressing your chest on his arm when reaching for something. You might even act as if you’re removing an eyelash from his cheek or tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He got the most flustered with you. When you got close he always froze in place, holding his breath nervously as if you were a skittish butterfly.

“Aren’t you tired, dear?” You ask with a faux furrow in your brow, innocently batting your eyelashes.

“Wha- What do you mean?” He replies confused as you sit almost flush against him as he’s seated at the end of Blaise’s bed.

The eldest boy looking up from the book in his lap, legs crossed as he leans back against the headboard. Watching as you drag a hand through Draco’s hair. He’s silent and unmoving when the blonde boy turns to anxiously meet his gaze.

“Don’t you want to touch me, Draco? Aren’t you tired of just looking?” You’re caressing his cheek as you speak and you already know you have him looped around your finger because he already looks so desperate.

“Do you want to touch me, sweetheart?” You ask again, and he nods eagerly causing you to chuckle.

As you straddle him, you look up at your boyfriend. His stare is intense and you smirk. This was going to be fun.

“Draco, dear.” You purr, situating yourself on his lap.

“Hm?” He’s looking at you with such adoration, your smile widens. Lacing a hand into the hair at the base of his neck, you press a kiss on his cheek.

“Let’s see how much we can get away with before Daddy intervenes.”

[s1utforronweasley]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK // D.M

[female reader, based on the Olivia Rodrigo song 1 step forward, 3 steps back]

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

It was a cold winter morning and the weather made the tip of your nose turn red and made your fingers feel like ice. You tightened your scarf and rubbed your hands together, trying to create warmth, as you walked across the courtyard.

Finally approaching the great hall, your eyes scanned across the bustling room, until your eyes finally fell on a very familiar mop of platinum blonde locks.

You made your way over to your boyfriend and sat in the free space in between him and Theodore Nott. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek as you sat on the bench. "How are you this morning, Draco?" You asked in your usual soft tone

Unfortunately, all you got in return was a look up and down, a deep sigh and watching wipe the spot on his flawless face you had just kissed. You pinned it on his bad moods that seemed to be a lot more frequent than usual.

You blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes and turned to talk tho Theodore instead. He was always perfectly kind to you.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

When you fist joined Hogwarts, you always had a smile on your face and a spring in your step. You were the type of person people naturally gravitated towards, always very forgiving. You couldn't care less what anyone else though.

And even though you may not have noticed at first, the person you once were slowly changed once you began dating Draco Malfoy.

You found yourself staring in the mirror for a few minutes longer than usual, comparing yourself to other people, even your own best friends. You were slowly changing your ways all so that you could please your boyfriend as much as possible.

Although you would never admit it, you hate that he has power over that kind of stuff.

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

Sometimes, when Draco was in a good mood, you would go for picnic dates by the black lake, where you would lay together in the sun. Talk, laugh eat and sometimes lay in a comfortable silence.

However, the next day you would come crashing back down from cloud nine when you would walk into the great hall and be ignored or find him with his arm around another girl, the same angelic laugh suffocating your senses as yesterday. Only this time he wasn't laughing with you. You didn't even know he was laughing at you.

You were always walking on eggshells around Draco, always double checking what you were about to say in your head before speaking aloud.

Sometimes you would be hanging out with his friends, sitting as close as possible to eachother, laughing and joking. This bliss would last until you would say something wrong. He would kick you out your own common room, telling you to "go to bed." because you've "ruined the fun again.". Sympathetic smiles offered from his friends.

You never understood him, and you soon came to terms with the fact that you probably never would.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Before Draco, your previous relationships had been predictable. You had always craved something more, someone who would keep you on your toes. That's exactly what Draco Malfoy was.

Whenever you went out with him, you never knew exactly which Draco Malfoy persona you would be meeting today. Would he cherish every moment with you and let you fall asleep in his arms or treat you like dirt under his shoe and send you home crying.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Months into your relationship with Draco, your best friend also got a boyfriend. You saw the way she was treated. Hello and goodbye kisses, sweet nicknames, holding hands and whispering "I love you" whenever possible. Soon enough, you saw the true colours of your relationship.

This were the events that lead you to the point where our knuckles met the hard material of Draco's door for the last time.

He swung open the door, wearing only a pair of black joggers, his hair was wet and messy and his featured were as defined as ever. His attractiveness only making your job harder.

"Come in."He said in a monotone voice.

"No, it's okay. This won't take long."

"Alright, have it your way then." He muttered.

"We're over." You watched as the colour drained from his face and the cocky look on his face changed to a more vulnerable one.

"No. Wh-what do you mean. Y/N/N, you know I lov-"

"NO." you shouted. You drew in a breath, calming yourself down. "no Draco. You don't get to say that now. Not when I've loved you with everything in me only to get nothing back. So please, don't tell me you love me, because nothing can take back what you've done to me."

You shoved the box you were carrying in your arms into his chest, causing him to stumble back a bit.

"I hope one day you find someone who waits around long enough for you to get your shit together, because merlin knows I couldn't. Have a nice life Draco."

You turned around. took a deep breath and began to walk back down the hall, before his voice stopped you once again.

"Y/N." He spoke. "I um, I really am sorry. For everything. I hope you find someone who treats you properly, because merlin knows I couldn't." He repeated in a whisper.

You mustered up a small smile.

——————

That was 15 years ago. Now, you were sitting with your little girl on your knee, both dressed in dark green gowns, with your beautiful. loving husband, Theodore Nott sat next to you.

You were watching Draco Malfoy marry Astoria Greengrass, a stunning woman who waited around long enough for Draco Malfoy to learn to love properly.

It was 9 o'clock when you and Theo decided to leave. You walked up, hands linked together as per usual, while your daughter slept peacefully in his arms. You walked up to the newly wed couple and Theo immediately fell into a hushed conversation with Astoria, leaving you and Draco to chat.

"Y/N"

"Draco."

"It's great to see you again."

"It's great to see you again." You both spoke at the same time, causing you both to laugh, quickly followed by shushing noises from Theo and Tori.

"You deserve this Draco. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you Y/N/N, I wanted to thank you, for making me see my mistakes. Without you I don't think I'd be here right now, married. So thank you, really."

"None of this was me, Draco. It was all you."

You held eye contact for a few seconds before you both pulled eachother into a tight hug, staying there for a minute or so.

"Love you, Y/N/N."

"Love you too, Draco."

"Stay in touch?" He asked.

"Of course." You replied.

You pulled Astoria into a hug, congratulating her on her marriage, telling her to keep in touch, before Taking Theo's hand in your own. He gave you a quick kiss before leaving the wedding, with a guarantee you would be falling asleep in his arms.