#Fascinated by what he might have felt in that moment presumably just after trying to kill him.

[too-many-rooks]

"Right now, River? The mission is you."

'Spook Street', Mick Herron, p. 426

[wario-speedwagon]

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 5

Hello at long last! Sorry this one took so long! Full disclosure, these might start taking longer to come out from now on, so thank you for your patience! <3

Full chapter text below the cut as always!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Jack had finished grilling the three sandwiches and dished them onto plates for the table. He turned and leaned around the wall to peer into the living room.

“Alright you freeloaders, table’s–”

Jack was already disappointed.

“Why…?”

“Look at what we made, old sport!”

There were a whole bunch of unlit cigarettes strewn across the rug that the two had been rearranging into pictures. The two aubergines looked up at him expectantly.

Outnumbered, Jack succumbed to humoring their “art” with a discerning eye.

“...Dave, what the hell did you make?”

“If ya had half a brain, you’d be able to tell!”

“Okay, well, hers is obviously a person–” She beamed at his correct answer; perhaps the first time Jack saw her cute smile–

“��but…”

Jack stared at Dave’s mangled quadruped. The more he tried to identify its cigarette-comprised existence, the more he came to pity it.

“I dunno, is it a horse? Whatever it is, it deserves the mercy of being euthanized on the spot.”

“Pruny, you know what it is, don’t ya!?"

Pruny looked closely again. She promptly shook her head.

“I’m surrounded by fools, the lot of ya! It’s a doggo!”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“...Kinda like the one that’s always appearin’ behind you.”

Caught off guard, Jack and Dave exchanged a long stare as if they’d breached a taboo subject.

“...Y-You see it too…?"

Jack promptly brushed off the topic.

“A-Anyway, hurry and pick those all up so we can eat. Those better not’ve been my cigarettes you just put floor germs on.”

“Sportsy, I’m pretty sure you’re made of floor germs. You work at Freddy’s.”

Dave rolled his eyes as Jack ignored him. He then turned his gaze toward Pruny.

“Well, you heard the man.”

Leaving those two to clean up–

Jack paused. Okay, yeah, that was definitely the clean up song he heard Dave humming.

Trying to ignore it, Jack went to get drinks from the fridge.

*sigh*

Alcohol. Of course the only drinks he had in the fridge were just all the beer cans.

Although to be perfectly honest, after the bad mood today put him in, he could really–

…

No. Never in front of her.

…Dammit, stop. thinking. This is what I wanted to avoid.

Rubbing his temples as he thought of an alternative, it appeared that Dave was on the money with the tap water after all. And speaking of the Devil, the two aubergines finally came in and started sitting as Jack refilled the cups with sink water.

“Ah, these look FANTASTIC! You must really know your way around bread and cheese, if you know what I mean.”

“I– what?” Jack felt his face heat up with unpleasant confusion as he set the cups down. Maybe he did need a can.

“I’m just sayin, the way you put the cheese between the bread–”

“–I don’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. Eat your sandwich.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Pruny had silently started to eat the first piece of her triangularly cut sandwich but stopped before the slice could reach her mouth.

She watched Dave unhinge his jaw to fit the whole sandwich into his mouth. Jack also slowed his process of sitting down to watch in fascinated horror.

“...Ah, good shit.” He spoke through a full mouth before gulping presumably all of it down uncomfortably quickly.

The witnesses blinked back.

...

“So: I been thinkin’–”

“–Oh, that’s never a good sign,” Jack snarked from behind a glass of water.

“Ha ha. Now, Pruny. You wanna stay the night here, yeah?”

With hardly a moment to consider, she nodded. Jack remained silent.

“Well then, she’s gonna need somewhere to sleep!”

“She can take the couch.”

“Stingy, but all right. But then you’re gonna need blankets, and ya sure don’t have any to spare!”

“And why do you know this?”

“That’s none ‘a your business.”

It absolutely was his business, but Jack decided he didn’t want to know.

“Anyway, what I’m gettin at is that we gotta go shopping for a couple things for her if she’s gonna stay here a while.”

“She’s going back with you tomorrow.”

“Oh, to what, the bench I sleep on? Alright then, maybe I can make room for her!”

Dave's sarcasm was right and Jack hated it.

“You don’t hafta worry so much, old sport. I’ll help out! Like hell I’m gonna let you become Prune’s favorite without a fight!” he said, reaching to pat her on the head.

She took it, flinching shyly before returning to her sandwich slices as the two continued to discuss.

But Jack had fallen silent. Given his slumped posture, crossed arms and blank stare down at the table, Jack was clearly thinking, so Dave let him have his silence, taking out a cigarette in the meantime.

If things continued like this...

Jack couldn't foresee an end to this arrangement any time soon, but this wouldn't be sustainable either. He really only barely got by himself because of his immortality considering Faztokens are not a universally accepted currency outside of Fazbender's. He was broke, and it takes real money to feed and take care a living kid so they, you know, stay living.

Dave took out a cigarette.

And speaking of Fazbender's, what were they gonna do with Pruny during the day, leave her to wander the restaurant while they worked all afternoon? It'd actually be safer just to drop her back onto the streets at that rate.

Dave took out a cigarette.

But that's obviously out of the question. Jack may be complicit in child murder, but he wasn't heartless! But then that naturally begged the question: why not an orphanage? Both she and Dave seemed to react negatively to that idea last time he brought it up like it was a touchy subject.

Dave took out a cigarette. Pruny was stifling a giggle.

So what was their deal with that? Because frankly taking her to something like an orphanage was Jack's best bet to get out of this whole mess.

“Dave? I know you–”

“Fourgh! Fourgh higguresh!” he declared the moment Jack finally spoke, holding four fingers up at Pruny.

As if celebrating…whatever that was, Dave promptly took out a lighter, presumably to light his cigarette– er, cigarettes. Four of them to be exact. All hanging out of his mouth.

“Y'know, Dave, these days they're always harping on about smoking around children. Especially four cigarettes at once.”

“Oh bhoo fughing hoo! She'za bhig ghirl.”

“Then at least don't talk with your mouth full of lit cigarettes!” Jack said, taking one out of Dave's lips and smoking it himself.

Dave double checked that Sportsy had really just... done that. Was that… normal? Pruny of course continued dutifully watching and listening to them like a hawk as she always did.

“Anyway, take those out so you can actually talk.”

“Alright, buzzkill,” he said, putting two out on the plate and keeping the third in his fingers.

“Dave, I need you to tell me. Last time I mentioned bringing her to an orphanage, you blew up at me, but I don’t understand. Why are you so against the idea?"

Dave was startled by such a serious question. He was about to snark back but... Old Sport really just genuinely didn’t have a clue, did he?

“A-Are they really that bad!?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really know how it is for most kids.

But for someone like m’self, well. No one likes an aubergine, specially not in the 50s. Parents didn’t want me, the other kids didn’t like me… the nuns sure as hell dropped their whole ‘sweet’ act with me when no one was there to give a shit.

At some point I’m guessin’ they finally decided I wasn’t human enough to be a ‘child in need’ or whatever bullshit they peddled.

I hope most of em are rotting underground by now.”

“W-Wow, uhh…” Jack scratched the back of his head at the sudden tension.

“Prune, were they nice to you at yours? You wanna go back to it?”

She tensed up as their attention turned to her. Breaking precious eye contact in favor of the finished plate in front of her, it took a couple moments before she finally shook her head.

“Of course not. I know the 80s're supposed to be all progressive n’ shit now, but think most people missed the memo with us colored people. E-Er, I meant in the literal sense… l-like us three, n-not…

A-Anyway, the girl doesn’t even talk! Y’think they’re gonna be patient with an aubergine who doesn’t even talk back?”

“Dave, you need to be more sensitive in how you talk about it!” Jack hissed in response to Pruny flushing red with embarrassment.

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean t–!”

“Why… Why don’t we just drop all this and just get in the car to go shopping.”

“Grand idea!” His excitement barely masked his greater relief at the needed subject change.

"C'mon, Prune, let's get you some stuff!"

Pruny's eyes lit up at Dave's words as she matched Dave's smile. As she slid out of her chair, Dave came to offer her a hand which she accepted as Jack got a head start for the front door with his keys ready.

(Chapter 6) ->

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[makeste]

“but I thought about how I needed to say this”

a.k.a. yet another meta dissection of The Apology. I actually wrote most of this up on Friday night based on the original Japanese (@pikahlua​ has an excellent translation up here, and I also used @hanashimas’ translations as a reference as well), but I wanted to wait until the official release, though that turned out to be a mixed bag to say the least lol.

I would also recommend reading @pikahlua​ and @class1akids​’ breakdowns of this scene (here and here, respectively), because they are excellent, and because if any scene deserves to have as many meta breakdowns written about it as possible, it’s this one.

anyway so here goes.

Caleb did a more accurate job with this than the fanscan, even if he did try his best to take us out of the seriousness of the moment by throwing in that swiss cheese line lol. anyway so there are two things I want to talk about here. the first is the line about Izuku not remembering, which I thought was a nice touch. of course he doesn’t remember what Kacchan said back then. he wasn’t exactly in the soundest emotional state after seeing one of the people he cares about most taking a near-fatal blow that was meant for him. I’d be shocked if he remembers anything about the aftermath (including the way he flew into a mindless rage afterwards) right up until the point when he entered the OFA Interstellar Party Void with Tomura. anyway, so I thought that was a nice callback.

and speaking of emotional states, the other thing I wanted to talk about is the part that Caleb got right which the fan scanlation didn’t. “but I had more to say.” in other words, “stop trying to win on your own” wasn’t just a one-liner; it was meant to be the beginning of a much longer speech. “there were other things that I needed to say.”

like, can we just stop and talk about that for a second. because basically what this means is that in that instant, when Kacchan pushed Deku out of the way and got impaled, his one and only thought was that he needed to apologize to Deku. his life was presumably flashing before his eyes, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not, and the only thing on his mind was how urgently he needed to make things right with his former childhood friend.

moving on!

so I have a confession to make, which is that I am relieved to see Katsuki describing this as the reason why he bullied Deku, as opposed to Horikoshi trying to retcon it into some sort of “secretly he was just trying to protect him and keep him out of harm’s way because he was worried” thing, which ngl would not have gelled very well with me. the thing is that I’m really not a fan of the whole “Kacchan Did Nothing Wrong” mentality that some fans seem to have. like, I have seen all sorts of convoluted attempts to find excuses for Katsuki’s shitty behavior, but in my view those attempts undermine what I love about his character in the first place. Katsuki is such a great character specifically because he is not perfect. his redemption arc is so compelling because he was such a giant asshole at the start. he was completely at fault, and he acknowledges this, and takes full responsibility for it. and that is fucking fantastic.

his arc is so great because it doesn’t rely on garnering sympathy by giving him a Tragic Past, or by trying to foist the blame for his behavior over on someone else. it’s an arc that acknowledges that redemption isn’t something you achieve by making people feel sorry for you; it’s something you have to earn by actively working to change and do better. and by forgoing the “misunderstood/tragic past” route, Horikoshi is making a statement that anyone can go down the wrong path, but that more importantly, anyone can also choose at any time to turn away from said path. there is only one requirement for doing so, and that is realizing that you’ve done wrong, and deciding that you want to change.

anyway, so in chapter 284 Kacchan of course had that whole speech about Deku not taking himself into account, and mentioned how that made him want to keep his distance. and a good chunk of fandom took this to mean that Katsuki’s bullying was actually a misguided response to Deku’s reckless tendencies -- sort of an “if I show him how weak and powerless he really is, I can get him to accept the reality that he’s quirkless, and that being a hero will just get him hurt or killed” type of thing. and I won’t lie, for a good while I was wondering myself if Horikoshi was really going to go down that route. and like I said, I am honestly relieved that he didn’t. not only for the reasons stated in the previous paragraph, but also because the message that would have sent -- that there are certain circumstances in which bullying can almost be excused because the bully had Good Intentions and was just trying to save the other person from themselves, and so it Wasn’t That Bad, Actually -- is all kinds of fucked up to say the least. so yeah, I’m glad we ended up steering well clear of that.

(ETA: this post was long enough already so I edited out the 3 additional paragraphs I originally wrote analyzing the dialogue from 284. but just to be clear, I’m not trying to imply that Kacchan worrying about Deku’s recklessness is a retconned thing that Horikoshi only threw into the story recently, because there are multiple instances throughout the story where he clearly is worried and in total denial of it. but I firmly believe those feelings are not what led to the bullying. they’re two separate things. Kacchan worrying about Deku is what prompts him to yell at him in chapter 1 when Deku comes to save him. but it’s not what incited him to burn his notebook and taunt him earlier in that same chapter. that action had a much meaner and more selfish motivation behind it, and I’m glad Horikoshi didn’t try to change it up last minute, because it wouldn’t have felt right.)

thankfully as of this chapter I think we can safely cross that out as a possibility, as we’re given the true explanation straight from Katsuki himself. and the truth is that he bullied Deku out of insecurity and jealousy and fear and intolerance. there was nothing noble about it. there were no good intentions concealed in his actions. there are no justifications given, no excuses offered, and no mitigating circumstances to be considered, other than the fact (which neither he nor Horikoshi bring up) that he was and is still a child, and that children make mistakes.

it’s an explanation that challenges many of fandom’s ideas on who is and isn’t eligible to be redeemed. there is no Ozai in Katsuki’s backstory. there’s no great tragedy that he spent a lifetime trying to rise above. the only villain in Katsuki’s story is Katsuki himself. the only darkness that he has to overcome is his own. and it’s challenging, because I think many people believe the only way someone can be redeemed for doing bad things is if bad things happen to them in return. but what Horikoshi is saying here is that that’s not the case. bad doesn’t erase bad. and the one and only way to truly earn redemption is by doing good.

and that’s what makes this such a phenomenal scene for me. by not shying away from Katsuki’s flaws and failings, and having him take full responsibility for them, Horikoshi keeps the apology from being self-serving, and underscores the true depth of Katsuki’s character development. the level of self-awareness he has here is something most people can only dream of. which is very fitting, as that’s perhaps the most important takeaway from his character arc -- that it’s only by acknowledging your own weaknesses and flaws that you can learn to overcome them and reach your full potential.

one last thing to point out here, which is that in the panel where Katsuki finally acknowledges his terrible treatment of Deku, Deku is not even visible. instead, Horikoshi drew the panel from a perspective that makes it appear that Katsuki is addressing this particular line not just to Deku, but to all of his classmates.

again, he shows him taking full responsibility and admitting his wrongdoings in front of the people whose opinions and approval he cares about most. and just to clarify in case there’s any confusion from Caleb’s translation, Kacchan’s wording makes it very clear that he wasn’t just “mean” to Deku, but that he full-on bullied him (he uses the same verb -- “ijimeru” (苛める) -- that he did back in chapter 284). there’s no attempt to downplay his actions here.

moving on now, this chapter also reaffirmed another thing about Deku and Kacchan’s relationship which I was glad to see revisited -- Kacchan’s unwavering belief in Deku’s ability. this is one of those paradoxical things about their relationship which I’ve always been fascinated by, but which is also kind of hard to explain, because I don’t want it to come off like I’m trying to put a positive spin on something which was unequivocally awful. like, please don’t think I’m trying to say that Katsuki’s bullying of Deku was in any way a good thing. but that being said, there’s also a strange irony at play here, which is that Katsuki’s jealousy and insecurity also betray the fact that even at his very worst, he never once underestimated Deku. he has always believed in Deku’s strength, even when that strength pissed him off and made him afraid and uneasy.

no one else -- not All Might, or even Deku’s own mom -- believed from the get-go that Deku could become a hero. but Katsuki never once counted him out, even when he was calling him a pebble in his shoe. he confesses here that even though he “tried to act superior by rejecting [Deku]”, in truth he was never able to shake the feeling that Deku was above him. long before he ever understood the concept of “win to save”, he knew instinctively that there was a strength in Deku’s heart that couldn’t be measured, and which had the potential to surpass even his own strength. and I’ve always felt that this was so important, because it’s the one aspect of their early relationship that hinted that on some level, however subconscious, Katsuki held the same type of faith in Deku that Deku always held in him. it was one of the few things that hinted at there being a possible path towards reconciliation one day. and it paved the way for the most important shift in their relationship to date, when Katsuki finally realized who Deku got his quirk from, and responded not with resentment or spite, but with acceptance.

moving on, I also really love the way we see them portrayed at the different stages of their childhood throughout this speech, and how it perfectly lines up with the dialogue. from small children (when Katsuki talks about his insecurities first manifesting), to middle schoolers (when he talks about the bullying), to high schoolers (when he talks about the past year and everything he’s learned at U.A.). Horikoshi really didn’t have to go that hard, but he did, and that’s why we love him.

and then we finally get to That Part.

where do I even start with this there are so many things omg.

the bow. this is the one and only time Katsuki has ever bowed to anyone of his own volition as far as I recall. and this absolutely is a bow, just to be clear, even though his form is straight-up garbage (very Kacchan-esque, with his feet and arms spaced apart because he’s still a punk after all). this is Kacchan showing more humility and respect than he’s ever shown to anyone else in his entire life.

regarding “Izuku”, I actually have mixed feelings about this to tell the truth. I think it was a good call here because it was incredibly effective in setting the tone and showing just how serious Kacchan is. however if he continues to use “Izuku” rather than “Deku” from here on out, that would give the impression in hindsight that all his past usage of “Deku” really was meant as an insult, which would undermine some of my favorite scenes. I would really like to believe that since DvK2 or thereabouts, Kacchan has (mostly) been using “Deku (affectionate)” rather than “Deku (useless loser)”, lol. but if he switches to the “nicer” name on a permanent basis following his apology, it implies that the previous nickname was indeed being used cruelly. and so honestly I hope this was just a one-time thing, because I do think that in Katsuki’s mind, the name “Deku” hasn’t been meant as a slight to him for a long time now.

“my truth/this is what I truly feel” -- the word Katsuki uses in Japanese is honne (本音), and if you’re familiar with the concept of honne/tatemae, that’s the same “honne” he’s talking about here. it means that he’s casting aside all of his walls and facades and expressing what he truly feels. and of course, one of the fascinating things about Katsuki’s character is that he’s the exact opposite of most people in that he chooses to put his meanness on full display to the public, and ironically it’s the kindest parts of himself which he tends to keep the most carefully guarded and hidden away. this also means that while his rage and anger are very often insincere and put on just for show, those relatively few occasions where he lets his humanity truly shine through are pretty much 100% genuine, as is the case with this one here.

and Deku’s face says it all when it comes to how powerful those moments can be as a result.

and this, right here, is why it wasn’t enough for Katsuki to atone solely through his actions, and why he needed to actually say the words as well. it’s not that the words are more important; obviously the actions are far and away the most important part, and carry far more meaning. but the reason why Katsuki needed to say the words as well is simply because Izuku needed to hear them. needed to, and deserved to, because this is one of the most important people in the world to him.

and so he deserves to know that the relationship isn’t just one-sided, and that he is just as important to Kacchan as Kacchan is to him. he deserves to know that Kacchan understands how horribly he treated him, and that he’s sorry for it. and he deserves to know that Kacchan, without any expectation of it changing their relationship -- meaning that he will continue to feel this way regardless of what Izuku says or does from here on out -- cares about him. now more than ever, with AFO out there doing everything in his power to make Izuku feel as alone as possible, this is something that he really, really needed to hear.

so this part has some interesting wordplay which neither Caleb’s translation nor the fan scanlation was really able to get across. basically, in the Japanese version, when Katsuki talks about “those ideals”, Horikoshi uses the kanji for “ideal”, but pronounces it as “All Might.” obviously the meaning of this isn’t too hard to decipher, as we all know how much both boys admire All Might. to them, he absolutely is synonymous with the Ideal. so this is a way of showing that respect they both have towards him, even as Katsuki goes on to point out the one fatal flaw that All Might was never able to overcome.

and speaking of interesting wording, as others have noted, at this point in his speech Katsuki switches from “temee” (which he was using earlier during the “your strengths and my weaknesses” part) to “omae” (“omae” being a less insulting word for “you”, though still very manly and tough-sounding), which is definitely a big deal. though fwiw this is not the first time he’s used “omae” for Deku (he switches to it briefly right after DvK2, when he tells Deku “you had the strongest guy lay the groundwork for you -- don’t lose”, and then later when they’re walking back to the dorms and he says he’ll learn and get stronger by watching everyone around him just like Deku did). it’s definitely a good choice on Horikoshi’s part though, as it makes this last part of the speech sound more earnest and sincere.

just a quick note, he does indeed use a plural pronoun here, as in “the obstacles that you can’t overcome, we will overcome.” but as @pikahlua​ pointed out, the “we” here is ambiguous -- it could either mean “we” as in class 1-A -- “we will overcome them for you” -- OR it could mean “we” as in all of them -- class 1-A and Deku. “we will overcome them together.” idk about you, but I know which one gets my vote.

anyway, and so this is the line that finally wins Deku over and allows him to let go of his fears, however briefly. what I love about this is Kacchan’s utter conviction. one thing that Caleb’s translation doesn’t quite get across is Kacchan’s use of the word morenaku -- “without exception” -- when he talks about how they’re going to save everyone and win. it echoes that same sentiment he showed back during the Joint Training arc -- that it’s not a perfect victory unless they save everyone. every last person. and he explicitly lists Deku among their number, just so there can be no doubt.

and Deku’s response to this (or at least his thoughts, since he’s not really able to get many words out) pretty much brings everything full circle here.

he acknowledges that everyone else has gotten ahead of him. which is especially meaningful given who he’s standing directly across from. because for most of the series, as we all well know, it’s been Kacchan who was woefully lagging behind Deku in the character growth department. but now Deku himself is acknowledging that not only has Kacchan finally caught up at last, but that he and the others have surpassed him. which is only temporary, I should add, as I have zero doubt that Deku will catch up again soon. but the fact remains that just as Deku’s rapid increase in strength and skill left Kacchan scrambling to keep up earlier in the series, Kacchan’s extraordinary character development has now left Deku in that same position. as All Might once put it, “when he’s starting at level one, and you’re already at level 50, it’s only natural that you’ll be growing at different rates.”

and what’s so wonderful about this though is that the two of them are finally approaching that point where they’ve both caught up to each other and are finally starting to level out. Deku is a full-on badass, and Kacchan is out here talk-no-jutsuing with the best of them. the two of them have been chasing and chasing after each other this entire time, and now they’re finally just about ready to meet in the middle at long last, with each of them fully embodying both of those two crucial aspects -- win, and save.

just about. because Deku still needs some help catching up. but seeing as help has already been offered -- and accepted -- I can’t imagine it will be very long now, and I can’t wait to see him finally overcoming those fears and doubts with his friends by his side. it’s going to be such a powerful moment.

and last but not least,

or, as I prefer,

you had one job, Caleb. flkjsdlk.

but at least this provides a good opportunity to note that unlike the “we’ll help you handle it” line earlier in the speech, here the phrasing is left up to interpretation, as he doesn’t use a pronoun. so it could be “we know”, or, as the fan scanlation put it, “I know.” or it could be both. regardless, it’s good stuff.

anyway, and so Deku passes out, and in the process Horikoshi gives us one last parting metaphor, just in case anyone still thinks Kacchan is all talk because they haven’t been paying attention for the past 322 chapters (more likely than you think). once again, Katsuki’s actions speak louder than his words (even his nice words) ever could: he is literally there to catch Deku when he falls.

so that’s it! my sincere thanks to anyone who actually read through all of my endless ramblings about this scene which I have been waiting for since day one. props to Horikoshi for taking on an impossibly difficult task, and pulling it off with all of the emotion and care and nuance that I’ve come to expect from his writing. imo he delivered on every single level with the exception of the aftermath, which I don’t consider to have actually happened yet. Deku’s part of this is definitely a “to be continued.” but yeah, as far as Kacchan’s part goes, 10/10. so fucking proud of this kid.

[sserpente]

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

-

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

-

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

-

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

-

A/N: ☕

[pedropascalunofficial]

Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey

Head to head interview

Hunger Magazine, Issue 6. Released December 28, 2014. Photoshoot October 15, 2013.

Thirteen million. That's the number of people, on average, who tuned into each episode of the third season of Game of Thrones. Among them was Chilean actor Pedro Pascal, who was as enthralled by the sex and slaughter as the rest of us. But little did he know that within a few months he'd be pitching up on the shores of Belfast to join the cast as Oberyn Martell, affectionately known as the Red Viper. Sound ominous? It is. The Red Viper is GoTs newest anti-hero, “sexy and charming but driven by hate”. Sounds like he'll be right at home.

Pedro, on the other hand, though he looks good on paper, wasn't the obvious choice for the role. Expecting a big name to ride into King’s Landing, the show's fans took to forums to express their concerns as soon as the news broke. So is he worried? Like hell he is. “The fans had the part cast in their minds already. They knew who they wanted and it certainly was not me. But I'm not stupid, | presumed that people were going to say ‘who the fuck is this guy’. Since I anticipated the reaction it didn't throw me off.”

“There are so many different ways to go into battle with yourself when you're trying to get a job. I felt a certain amount of pressure because I wanted to make everyone happy. The fan base is so specific and, as a fan myself, I understand the relationship that they have with the show. The Red Viper is the best part I've ever played, and in season four shocks come at the most unexpected times. You might think you know, but you have no idea,” he explains.

Looks like the Red Viper could be in line to fill a Walter-White-sized-hole in television, but to test the theory we pit Pascal against Lena Headey, aka the Queen. Because if you can come away from Cersei unscathed, you can handle anything.

LH: So, Pedro, you come into Game of Thrones in season four, playing a pretty major character. Does that fill you with joy or dread?

PP: I'd say it fills me with joy because it’s a really fucking fun part. He’s a badass. He comes up against a lot of the main characters in the show. I'm very aware of the show. I watch it like a fan.

LH: Were you a fan before you arrived in Belfast?

PP: Yeah, I was a proper fan. I was caught up in the drama of it before I even auditioned for the part. I was already up to speed.

LH: I remember meeting you and thinking, “he fucking loves the show’.

PP: I kissed your ass.

LH: Well, it worked. We're friends now.

PP: I was like a tourist visiting the set, and yet I had to act with you and be in a scene with the characters that I had such a specific association with already.

LH: So you’re saying it’s boring?

PP: No, it wasn’t boring at all. It was extremely, relentlessly surreal.

LH: And who were your favourite characters up until that point?

PP: Not you.

LH: I realise that!

PP: There are too many characters to have a favourite, but I was fascinated by the Lannisters because they're so frightening. They scared me and then you would come in and pull sympathy from your audience somehow, and I found that rather fascinating. The Northerners were so easy to like or get behind, but it was quite something to see people sympathise with a Lannister, after you made people see things from their perspective.

LH: Speaking of being slightly ambiguous as a character, you come in as a major player and a very well-loved character in the eyes of people who read the books, and he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Did you base him on anyone?

PP: What does an anti-hero mean exactly?

LH: It means he doesn't wear deodorant, doesn't it? [Laughs]. Someone you shouldn't champion, but you do, like Walter White in Breaking Bad.

PP: No, | didn’t really base him on anyone.

LH: Did you take anything from classic movies that you thought you could use and spin to your advantage playing the Red Viper?

PP: God, that’s a good question. I probably did subconsciously. Now I feel under the spotlight because I need to think of somebody, and I have so many in my mind! I think that’s something that is happening a lot in TV today: the anti-heroes are central to these television shows, and people are really getting behind them, even though they're not necessarily the most moral characters. So I'd say that ‘ve become more familiar with the character who's obviously very flawed but gets you on their side — you have complicated feelings about them. But I think I saw the story too much from this character's perspective to perceive any flaws.

LH: He has some.

PP: I know, from the outside. But I don't see any of them. What are his flaws?

LH: His flaws? He's a dirty bastard!

PP: Why is he a dirty bastard? He likes to fucking fight, for sure.

LH: Back to you as an actor. You've done it for a long time and, as we all know, the path is not always golden, and sometimes you think, “fuck it” and you want to leave it and do something else. Have there been moments where you wanted to give up?

PP: Yes, there have been moments where I came very close to giving up. But I never had anything to fall back on. I think you can understand that.

LH: Because were stupid?

PP: We're stupid.

LH: I can't even make pizza!

PP: We don’t have any other skills.

LH: None at all!

PP: And that’s the odd conundrum. You get to a point where you think, “This isn’t going to happen. This isn’t sustainable. I'm too exhausted, and it can't be good for me.” There were moments where I truly did try to formulate an idea of what I'd do. I thought I'd go back to school, start pre-med again and go to medical school or something like that.

LH: But that didn't happen, you just thought about it?

PP: Yes, I'd have thoughts, but it was still fantasy really. But at the time it felt like a practical life plan. Do you know what I mean?

LH: Yeah of course, you need to pay the fucking rent.

PP: Exactly. You just try to escape from the chaos of what you're feeling by trying to create order in your life. Order seems like a solution to save you from the pain of acting!

LH: It's a mental pain. Who was the first person you called when you got the role?

PP: My sister.

LH: Does she watch the show?

PP: Yes, she does.

LH: Pedro Pascal... or Pablo as I called you when I had too much wine, which was deeply insulting.

PP: Even family members have done that to me! Do I look more like a Pablo? Because it happens with about ninety-five percent of the people I meet.

LH: No, I think I’m just an ignorant drunk person.

PP: No, you were an ignorant drunk person that night is what you're saying.

LH: And now I’m educated.

PP: [Whispers] But | want you to call me Pablo.

LH: Ok, Pablo! When you first arrived on set in Northern Ireland, what was your feeling showing up to a bunch of British actors? Did it feel different to doing an American project?

PP: Yes, but I loved it. It wasn’t intimidating. I found it surreal because I’d watched and loved the show. I hadn't had the opportunity to work on something that I was really familiar with before, so it was overwhelming. But it was far more delightful than intimidating. Also you guys were really cool. Everyone was friendly.

LH: Oh, that’s just fake.

PP: Well, you guys were good at it!

LH: We know Game of Thrones is very popular obviously. Do you have any thoughts, or fears, about what this is going to bring you in terms of exposure?

PP: I have hope.

LH: Oh, God. I don’t mean to shatter that, but give it up.

PP: I don’t know really. It’s all been filmed, and now I'm back to my normal routine, so I haven't really thought about it. I remember when we finished filming and we were on our way to the airport, you asked me, “How does it feel you're all done?” and I couldn't really answer.

LH: You were quite emotional that day.

PP: I was very emotional because I’d had such an amazing time doing the part. Also just being there immersed in the experience... You described it to me best. You told me how I'd be feeling.

LH: We don't know your character's backstory when you enter the show, and you have some rather brutal scenes. Anyone who has read the books will know what I’m talking about.

PP: My character comes in, he stirs a bunch of shit up, and then he makes this fucking enormous exit. Now can | ask you a question?

LH: What is it? I’m not going to sleep with you. Give it up.

PP: Oh, come on! This has gone to shit and it’s your fault, so good luck to whoever has to edit it! But anyway, sometimes I'd hang out with the cast members and we'd go to dinner and they would get stopped constantly. There was no denying who they played because they were so recognisable, but you got away with it because you have this beautiful blonde wig on in the show, and in real life you are...

LH: Grey?

PP: {Laughs] No! You have beautiful chestnut hair! Is it liberating to not be recognised the way some of the other cast members are?

LH: Yes, it is liberating.

PP: Liberating being able to walk down an alley in Dubrovnik without being stopped?

LH: Yes, except sometimes | get recognised in the weirdest places. A woman was emptying my bag at Heathrow Airport's security gates and just went, “Are you the Queen?” while rummaging through my underwear. It was so fucking weird.

PP: It seems they're more respectful to you?

LH: Because they're frightened. Wait until they meet the Viper.

PP: Well, that covers it.

LH: I think we're going to get our own show out of this, you know

Interested in learning more about Pedro? Check out Pedro Pascal Unofficial on Pinterest!

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

🫀𝔐𝔶 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔐𝔶 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡🥀

Tanz der Vampire Krolockxreader

Warnings: Some mild violence and gore (in keeping with the level you might read in classic gothic literature)

🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻🔺️🔻

Chapter 3 - The Cut

I rose at twilight, weary from my recent travels. Tossing off the heavy sheets and crossing over to the mirror in the dim candle light, I hurriedly ran my ivory comb through my hair. A wash and shave would surely help me to shake off the lingering grip of sleep's heavy hands and so I set to the task. As I carefully peered into the weak and insubstantial light, close up to the cold silver of the mirror, I began to run the blade over my jaw. My warm breath had begun to cloud the mirror but I was almost done with my task; the section on the right hand side of my neck was now the only area left to tend to as I rinsed the blade in the basin. Leaning forward once again, my ears pricked suddenly at a sound behind me and I became aware of a presence in the room. A rapid chill spread over me and my hand trembled slightly at my throat as I turned sharply towards the door.

The looming figure of the Count filled the doorway, lingering there in the shadows.

"You s-startled me," I said, cursing the shakiness of my voice.

"My sincere apologies..." he replied, his voice like a midnight breeze gently rustling the forest trees

He detached from the shadows like a patch of darkness, and approached me.

"I came to enquire after you... I presumed to find you hungry after being awake for many hours... but I can see instead you have not long awoken, and that I have disturbed you," he said, surveying the room.

"You needn't apologise, I was only -"

Before I could finish my sentence, it seemed as though my strange host had been struck by some invisible force - his whole body became visibly tense and the flutter of candle light cast twisted shadows upon his face. Oh! His face! The smooth and relaxed countenance suddenly seemed to vanish, the mouth was pulled taught as if he were battling to control some extreme of emotion.

"You have cut yourself..." he said with his dark eyes fixed on me.

Instinctively I felt my neck. When I withdrew my hand my fingers were wet and I cursed in surprise at the discovery. I had not felt the sting of the razor, in my stupor. The distinctive smudge of crimson red finally spurred me into action as I grabbed for my towel. The cut was not deep, but I was now aware of its sting.

Before I could press the towel to my neck, a firm hand stopped me. Startled and confused once again, my eyes met the steely gaze of my host. This was the closest we had been to one another and I watched like a startled hare as the flickering candle light danced in his eyes.

We both stood suspended for a moment, seized by the moment and my breath hitched in my throat. I felt certain that something dreadful was about to happen and yet I could not tear myself away. His grip on my arm was strong and I was struck by how cold his hands were, and by the long nails protruding from his almost skeletal fingers... I shuddered.

He grasped the razor which I still clutched in my other hand and withdrew it from my grasp. I wondered for a brief instant, if he would strike me with it. If he did decide to dispose of me, no one would know or care that I was missing in the dense forest of the Carpathian mountains. I closed my eyes, unable to force my body to move in any other way, and waited.

"I will not harm you," came his voice, once more in that calming, silky tone.

Distrustingly, I opened my eyes to see that he had extended the razor, now clean, toward me.

"May I?" He asked tentatively.

Surprised and relieved, but not altogether calm, I nodded aprehensively. With a surprising amount of care and tenderness he completed the final two strokes of the razor against my neck.

Then he rinsed the blade in the basin and took the towel from me and pressed it to my fresh cut to stem the slow trickle of blood that was approaching the collar of my white shirt.

"It is not deep. It will not bleed much more," he muttered distantly.

"Thank you," I managed to reply, hoping that my trembling body and voice were not as apparent as they seemed.

His eyes seemed to search my face intently for a moment, as though he were considering something carefully. I was not used to being regarded with such fascination and blushed slightly. Uncomfortable with this sudden intimacy, I took the towel from him and continued to hold it in place.

"I'm not used to shaving in such little light," I murmured.

He shrank back a couple of paces before responding.

"Of course, my apologies. I will have Koukol bring you more candles and an oil lamp," He smiled faintly, with a sudden look of tiredness about him, and quit the room.

I sank into the chair, head swimming in confusion. What explanation was there for his strange and unnerving manner... and... Just then, as the whole event was replaying in my mind, I wondered how he had cleaned the blade. I hadn't heard the swill of the water in the basin. I quickly resolved that he must have wiped it upon the towel and thought myself quite foolish. I was beginning to think like one of those fanciful girls who read too much by the likes of Radcliffe and Lewis for their own good. I felt embarassed and resolved to try to forget the whole thing entirely...

[dionnaea]

Promises

pairing: kenny ackerman x reader (platonic), slight levi x reader

warnings: angst, character death, mild swearing

wc: 4.4k

a/n: so, so sorry this took so long!! i decided to combine these two requests and change them up a little, so i hope that’s okay! i’m really proud of this piece, so i hope you all enjoy it, too. xx

side note: technically this is a sequel to my other fic Pot Meet Kettle but it’s not entirely necessary to read that first.

requests:

Your writing’s so good I’m cryin’... Also, I’d LOVE to see what you have in mind for Kenny and Reader’s background! 👀 Were they both underground? was Reader already in the Corps when they met?? did she learn how to punch creeps from Kenny?? Plus I’m very curious about what he meant by her fixing broken hearts!

could you do a part 2 to the pot meet kettle levi fic? i really loved it and i think it would be cool if you could write a part 2 based off the kenny vs levi scene in season 3? like maybe kenny sees the reader and he's like good to see you again and levi is like mf what idk im not creative :(( sorry if this isn't enough

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After Rod Reiss had been taken down, the scouts were sent to search the ruined fields for survivors. It was unlikely that any were left, but Erwin was adamant that no soldier would be left behind. You respected him for that, and went on your way to do your job. 

As you wandered, you ran into a returning scout, someone you didn’t know the name of but were sure had been paired with the Captain for this mission. His head was down as he walked, like there was something he had seen that he shouldn’t have, and your mind began to fill with worries for Levi. Had something happened? 

Making your steps slightly heavier in the grass so that he would notice you, the man finally looked up, quickly saluting to his superior. You brushed him off, instead getting down to business. 

“Where’s Captain Levi, cadet?” 

The man’s eyes darted away from your own before he answered. “Taking care of something, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the soldier’s weary tone. “Oh? And what is he taking care of, might I ask?” Everything about this seemed peculiar, and you weren’t having it. 

“I don’t know. Something… personal.” When he finally met your gaze, he relented, sacrificing the Captain’s privacy for his own sake, too scared to see what your reaction would be if he kept playing coy. “He’s that way, by the big oak tree,” he stated, pointing in the direction he came. 

You squinted, making out the shadow of the tree in the setting sun. You dismissed the cadet, and quickly made your way towards Levi, his body becoming clearer as you approached. Once you were a reasonable distance away, you called out, but were met with silence. As your worry grew, you moved faster, only stopping when you realized what was going on. 

Levi was kneeling, his body covering the person in front of him. It didn’t matter, you’d recognize those spurs anywhere. 

“Kenny?” The name was uttered in disbelief, and as you stepped around Levi, your eyes grew wide with fear. “Kenny!” 

Immediately, you jumped into action, your scout training taking hold of your body as you knelt by your friend. Your hands hovered over his burnt and bloodied body, not knowing where to start but ignoring the possibility that it was too late. “How… How do I help you? I-I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes were tearing up, and your breathing was getting ragged as you struggled to find some solution. “Please, Kenny, tell me how to help!” 

“Kitten…” His voice was rough as he spoke, his usual tones of confidence and charisma gone. You met his half-closed eyes with your wet ones, begging for him to give you some answer, some, any sort of reassurance that things would be alright. 

“Please,” you pleaded. You had never sounded this pitiful in your life, but you didn’t care, and as his shaking hand grabbed your own, a sob wracked your body. “Kenny, please. Please stay.” You couldn’t help, you knew that, but you hoped for once in his life he would listen to you. 

His eyes began to shut, and his voice fell to a whisper as he said, “Stay safe, kitten.” With a barely there squeeze of your hand, his body went limp, his hand dropping from your grasp.  

You stared in silence, shock overtaking you for a moment. But then, all you felt was anger. “No. No! You promised!” You were yelling at this point, fist reaching out to bang on Kenny’s chest in retaliation. A strong grip on your wrist stopped you, but you weren’t done. As if he could read your mind, Levi wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you back from the now dead man. You were screeching obscenities at both Kenny and Levi as you struggled to break free. Soon, your screams turned into sobs, and as you fell limp into Levi’s arms, you let out one last whimper, a last cry for help. “You promised.”

Later that night, as you pulled a camisole over your head, a knock sounded on your quarters’ door. Truthfully, you had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone. You had had a long day, you had just changed into your pajamas, and you weren’t in the mood to join your fellow soldiers in celebration. Still, you pulled the door open a few inches, hoping it would be someone you could easily send away. To your surprise, Levi stood outside dressed in plain clothes and hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. Even more surprising was the newly formed bruise on his cheekbone. The reddish-purple mark stood out against his normally flawless skin, and you found yourself staring, only Levi’s sharp voice bringing you back to reality. 

“You did that, you know,” he commented with a blank face. 

“What?” You opened the door a bit more, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

His left eyebrow cocked up just barely. “When you went berserk earlier. Before I managed to snag both of your wrists,” he explained. He reached up a hand to brush against his cheek. “Damn, you hit hard.” 

You weren’t sure, but the tone in the man’s voice made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to cheer you up. Against your will, the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Did you expect anything less?” You quipped, wondering what his answer might be. 

“No.” He shrugged. “Just surprised it took you this long to punch me in the face.” 

At that, you let out a laugh. It was true, the man had managed to push every single one of your buttons during his time with the Scouting Regiment. The two of you were in constant conflict, arguments over the smallest things popping up out of nowhere. At some point, Erwin had decided that Mike would be the babysitter of you two, keeping you both in line during training and even more so during squad leader meetings. You started to smile at the memory, but when you remembered that Mike, like so many of the others you loved, was dead, your expression fell. 

Moving your eyes to stare down at the uneven floorboards, you spoke quietly, but sincerely, “I’m sorry.” 

Levi knew you weren’t just apologizing for hitting him but for everything, and as he studied your face, he made a decision. “Do you want some tea? I keep a special brand in my room.” It was the only thing he had to offer, and both you and him knew it. 

You froze as you tried to figure out the best course of action. Follow the Captain to his room or mope around alone until you cry yourself to sleep? In the end, it was an easy choice. Still, your heart stuttered in your chest while you gained your composure. You took a breath before responding, “Um, sure.” 

There was a beat of silence, as if the two of you were readying yourself to take on some new, mysterious foe. And in a way, you supposed, you were. About a month after Levi had joined the scouts, there had been an… incident of sorts. It wasn’t disastrous or anything like that, but Erwin had quickly ruled that the two of you weren’t allowed to be in the same room together without someone else present. A wise decision on his part, if you were being completely honest, and something that Levi nor you argued with in the slightest. But now, years later, it seemed both of you were ready to break that rule, Levi making the first move as he turned on his heel and waited to see if you would follow. 

Out of all of the scouts, you were known to be the most stealthy. Mike was usually the only one who could sense you were coming, claiming you had a distinctly pleasant smell that his nose had no problem picking up on. One time, he had even claimed that you were the best smelling person in the Survey Corps, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. Hange had whispered to you later that evening that that was his way of flirting, but you never took her seriously. You weren’t interested in dating anyways. No one had ever really caught your eye minus one man, but you always said it was more of a fascination than a crush. 

Even your ODM gear seemed to be quieter than the rest, and you once managed to spook even the Commander when you landed on the same tree branch as him without him knowing. You naturally existed silently and sneakily so when Levi picked up on the sound of your sock-clad feet shuffling behind him, the pit of concern in his stomach grew. 

Reaching his quarters, he unlocked the door wordlessly, holding it open so that you could enter first. Your eyes widened as you took in the space. First of all, it was much bigger than your room. While you only had a bedroom and bathroom to yourself like the other squad leaders, Levi had a small living area with a couch, small coffee table, and even a desk. There were papers neatly stacked on top of it, and the rest of the area was just as orderly, his tea kettle sitting in the exact center of the coffee table. Only when you sat down on the couch did you see the small fireplace he had. It was just big enough to fit a tea kettle over it, and that’s what Levi proceeded to do. 

You let out a low whistle, capturing the man’s attention. “Wow. When did you get so important?” You asked, motioning lazily about the room with your hand. 

Levi scoffed and placed a hand casually on his hip. “Erwin gave it to me when he moved into the Commander’s quarters. Reward for the highest kill count or something like that.” His voice was so nonchalant that for a moment, you didn’t realize that he was insulting you. No, you thought, it was more of a tease than an insult. 

Now it was your turn to scoff, well aware that your fellow Captain was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Levi watched as you rolled your eyes playfully, firelight glinting off of your irises. Had they always been such a pretty color? 

The whistle of the kettle broke him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned back to take it off of the heat. When he brought it back to the table, he was pleasantly surprised that you had already prepared the teacups, him only having to pour the water in and wait for it to steep. Hesitantly, he moved around the table to take a seat next to you, wondering when the two of you were ever this close. The events of the day popped into his head, and he did his best to ignore the fact that the thing he remembered the most about it was you being in his arms. Still, a question had been lingering in his mind, and he figured now was the best time to ask it. 

“Y/N,” he started, and you looked over with wide eyes at the use of your first name. You honestly weren’t aware that he even knew you had a first name. “Can I ask you a question?” You knew what was coming, but you forced yourself to nod anyways, giving him silent permission to know your secrets. “How do you know Kenny Ackerman?” 

It was a loaded question, and you let out a breath as you tried to figure out the best way to tell the story without getting either you or Kenny into trouble. Even the secrets of a dead man needed to be protected sometimes. Despite it all occurring years ago, the government’s threat towards you regarding the release of information hung heavily in your mind. Both you and Levi would be in danger if you revealed too much. He could swear himself to secrecy, and you would trust him, but the risk would never be worth the reward. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, worrying your lip as you thought of how to start to explain. 

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, gathering your nerves before continuing, “About a year and a half before you joined the scouts, I got myself into a bit of trouble.” He raised an eyebrow in surprise as you were widely thought to be the most well behaved and well intentioned scout there was. He thought he was the only person who could get you riled up, your scoldings from the other squad leaders and the Commander always leading back to him. You sent him a small grin. “I wasn’t always the goody two shoes I am now, Levi.” 

“Anyways, it became kind of a big deal in the Capital, and a lot of higher-ups were calling for my head.” You let out a light chuckle. “Imagine just turning 19 and having almost every MP looking for you. Scary stuff.”

“Wait.” Levi held up a hand to stop you before you could continue. The story had just started, but he was already having trouble believing that this was the truth. If not for the darkness that rested just behind your eyes, he would’ve called bullshit as soon as you said your first sentence. “What exactly did you do?” 

You looked away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment, an internal debate raging on inside your head. With a sigh, you relented. “I… I can’t tell you everything, but let’s just say it had to do with a certain Premier and confidential papers being stolen from his office.” Levi’s eyes grew wide, and you took that as a sign to continue. “No one knows except Commander Erwin, but I spent most of my teenage years in the Underground. I was born within Wall Sina, so I had papers to be up top, but I much preferred being below gro—”

“Why?” Levi was quick to cut you off, his expression hard and tone almost offended.

“My parents owned land in Wall Sina, and when they died, they left none of it to me, so folk got the idea in their head that I was a problem child. I wasn’t wanted there, so I left.” You shrugged, and Levi’s face softened. “I admit, the Underground wasn’t easy, but I was quick on my feet and smart for my age. I survived and I survived by myself. Help wasn’t something I wanted, but when you’re suddenly being chased by the royal government, it becomes something you need. That’s how I found Kenny, and it’s why I owe him my life.” 

It had been a week since you had completed your assignment, already turning in the materials to the man who had hired you and returning back to your comfortable life underground. All had seemed to go swimmingly, and your confidence had grown tenfold. The feeling of being unstoppable was addictive, and you craved the sensation of that feeling again. You let your thoughts drift to what you could accomplish next, but sudden screams quickly snapped you out of your daydream. Straightening in your chair, you peeked out of the window of the tavern you currently resided in. Fear grew in your chest at what you saw.

Standing right outside were five MP’s, fully equipped with ODM gear and holding up a wanted poster with a poorly drawn sketch of your face on it. It was clear that they were asking for your whereabouts, and you were thankful to see that every person was shaking their heads to say no, they had no idea. Even with the solidarity of your fellow Underground citizens, you knew you had to get out of there and away from the sharp swords that hung off of the men’s waists. Before you could move, though, two of the men entered the bar, their eyes sweeping over the patrons. 

Right before their eyes could meet your frightened ones, your world was encased in darkness, the only light you could see coming from below you. You blinked, trying to understand what exactly just happened, but soon realized that a large hat had been placed over your head. Carefully, you lifted the brim so that you could see, and were met with the piercing silver stare of a man a good amount of years older than you. Apparently your confusion showed on your face because he quickly pushed the hat back down so that it shaded your features. 

He spoke in a quiet voice, only letting you be privy to whatever information he was about to share. “I’d keep that on if I were you, kitten. Don’t want the MP’s seeing your face, now do we?” You didn’t dare speak, but quickly shook your head, showing him you were listening and following instructions. “Good,” he dragged out the vowel, and the table shook as he placed his leg onto the table. Were those cowboy boots and spurs? You were pretty sure people only wore those in stories. “Now,” he stated, “We’re just gonna have a nice, pleasant conversation. Lots of giggles, ya hear me?” You nodded, the hat moving up and down your forehead. 

As the man started spewing nonsense, you did your best to play along, laughing like he said to and keeping your face covered as best you could. You could hear the MP’s getting closer to your table over the man’s rowdy voice, and the hand gripping your drink began to shake in fear. Smoothly, the man took your hand in his, making some weird comment about how soft it was. You frowned. Your hands weren’t soft at all. What was with this guy? 

The realization of what his plan was smacked you in the face, and you let out light giggles in response, putting on your most fake voice as you thanked him for the compliment. The things you were saying to each other became sickly sweet, so much so that you almost laughed at one point. As the soldiers approached your table, the mysterious man leaned in close, his alcoholic breath fanning over your face. Calmly, he swept the hat off of your head and placed it so that it covered both of your faces from the men who were now only a couple of feet away. 

A swift kick from under the table spurred you into action, and you let out a girlish moan followed by an exaggerated giggle. He followed suit, making a comment about how nice your lips were. If it were any other situation, you would punch this man in the face, but for right now, you’d listen to every command he gave you. From behind the hat you heard one of the MP’s mumble about ‘couples these days’ with a gagging noise coming from the other. With one last lovesick comment from the man in front of you, the MP’s retreated, leaving the tavern with muttered curses leaving their lips. 

Your savior leaned back into his chair, a smirk adoring his features as he placed his hat back on his head. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, you in shock and him in some state of glee. You decided to speak first. 

“Who are you?” 

“The name’s Kenny.” He kicked his other leg up on the table with a thwack! as the spur hit the cracked wood. The silence grew again, but this time you were at a loss for words. Sure, his name was Kenny, but was that all he was going to say? Apparently not, but when he spoke up again, it was entirely unhelpful. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You frowned, unamused. “Maybe for you. I should punch you for some of the things you said. Strange men shouldn’t talk to unassuming ladies like that.” Your tone was laced with a bit of sarcasm, and he guffawed.

“I don’t think fugitives from the crown can be considered ladies,” he shot back, and you huffed. His face grew serious. “I’ve been watching you for a while, kitten.”

You raised your eyebrows at the nickname. “It’s Y/N, and, uh, what?” Once again, this man completely took you by surprise. 

He shrugged. “You may not know it yourself, kitten, but you’re well known down here in the Underground. A mysterious girl who arrives without a sound, stealing from the above-grounders and sharing the wealth with the rest of us? You’re practically a legend; some people don’t even believe you’re real, but those that do would protect you with their life.”

This was all news to you. Yes, those were things that you did, but people recognized you for it? You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked quickly as you tried to puzzle the situation out. “I…” You struggled for words.

Kenny held up a hand. “It’s true whether you believe it or not… But, it seems that you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew this time, my friend. Stealing from the Premier? Tsk, tsk.” His tone was more playful than condescending, and you gave him a weary grin. 

You sighed and finally relaxed back into your own chair, studying the man’s face. It showed his experience rather than his age, and you wondered just exactly who he was. Taking a chance, you pried for more information. You hated being in the dark. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Who are you?” 

His smile grew at your curiosity, crooked teeth appearing under chapped lips. “Someone who can help you. If you want it, that is. It seems clear you like to work on your own.” There was a challenge laced into his words, and you wondered what the right decision was. On one hand, getting involved with someone else, someone else you knew nothing about at that, was a dangerous game. On the other, you were in trouble and you needed all the help you could get. 

Taking a chance, you slowly nodded. “Okay. What do you have in mind?” 

He explained his plan. The MP’s didn’t know your name, so it would be easy to get above ground using your old Wall Sina papers. After you expressed your concern and with a chuckle, he dismissed their drawing of you, stating that once you got above ground and cleaned up, you would be unrecognizable from your old self. Then, with his next words, you lost your confidence in his plan. 

“You want me… to join the Survey Corps?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Uh, no way. That’s right under the government’s noses!” 

He brushed you off. “Eh, not really. The government already dislikes the Corps. They’re not gonna care who’s in it; they figure you’ll all die soon enough.” At that, you gave him a very blank stare, and he just laughed, stealing a swig from your mug. “You’ll be fine. You don’t seem like the dying type.”

It was true, you had escaped the jaws of death on multiple occasions, but you weren’t in the business of actively riding towards your demise. That seemed plain idiotic to you, and you made that known. “This isn’t a joke. It’s my life on the line,” you countered.

With a swift movement, his legs were off of the table and his body was leaning in towards yours, the weight on his elbows making the table creak. His eyes turned dark, levelling your gaze. “It’s your life either way. Would you rather die by the hands of the Military Police after they’ve done God-knows-what to you? Or would you rather die on your own terms, possibly fighting for Humanity’s freedom?” 

It was a good question, a fair question, and one you immediately knew the answer to. You sucked in a breath as you resigned yourself to your new fate. “So, how do we do this?” 

With another grin, Kenny explained the rest of his plan. It really wasn’t a bad idea, and you were grateful for the help. But still uncertainty settled in your stomach.

The day you were to join the Corps, Kenny had told you he would meet you before you left. You hadn’t seen him in about a week, and in that time, you had completely changed yourself, moving up top, getting a haircut, and finally wearing clean, untorn clothes. It was weird and different, but a part of you enjoyed it. This was a new start, you had chosen to believe.

“Kitten!” You turned towards the easily recognizable voice with a roll of your eyes, but the playful smile that toyed with your lips gave away your true feelings. “Give me a spin!” He requested, and when you did, he let out a loud whistle. “Damn, you really look like you belong up here.”

You raised your eyebrows with a grin. “That’s the point, right?” 

“Precisely, my friend, precisely.” Slinging an arm over your shoulders, he began to walk with you towards where the ferry would pick you up. His pace was slow, obviously not in a rush to say goodbye, and you felt the same. Somehow, the two of you had grown close over the past month. Even with all of the secrets you both kept from each other, there was an air of freedom when you were in the other’s presence. No lies, no false personalities, just friendship. 

It was refreshing, to say the least.

For once, you both were quiet as you walked. The weight of the future hung over both of you, pressing your mouths shut. He managed to speak first, his voice cracking for the first time since you met him and giving away his true emotions. 

“Stay safe, kitten.” The words were serious, and something in him couldn’t stand to let that be the last thing he said. “You’ll kick those Titans’ asses.” 

Normally, you’d laugh, or at least smile, at his cheesy jokes. Instead, you stopped walking and turned until you both faced each other, looking up to meet his eyes. With a swallow, you asked something of him that you knew was unfair, was selfish, was wrong. Yet, you still asked, knowing Kenny wouldn’t hold it against you. 

“Promise me you won’t die before me.” 

His eyes softened in understanding, crinkles forming around their edges as he gave you the most gentle of smiles. He knew what you needed to hear, knew it would be a lie, knew you’d hate him for it. But, he said it anyway.

“I promise.”

[deep-space-elf]

Haldir x Reader - Unwanted

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A/N: Have you ever been annoyed by having a crush on someone? Like “Nope! I really don’t need this right now. Stahp it!”? Because that’s what I’m going through right now. Anyways, this headcanon was actually supposed to be a ficlet, but I just never got around to write it. So I posted it as a headcanon, according to the motto: Better this than nothing. But now I’ve finally found some time and motivation and suddenly I wrote 1700+ words. Well, that a little longer than I thought... Ooops?! 😶 Summary: Y/N is fed up with her crush on Haldir, thinking he’d never return her feelings for him. She plans on doing everything she can to stop this stupid infatuation but thanks to Rúmil her plan is doomed to fail.  Word Count: 1770 Warnings: A little angsty in the beginning  Reader: fem!Reader, Reader is a historian (though it’s only mentioned)

Y/N stomped towards her home, not paying any attention to what was going on around her. Her cheeks were coloured bright red. What was she thinking?! If she wouldn’t be in public, she’d smack her head against the book she was carrying. 

As she reached her home, she closed the door behind herself - trying her hardest not to slam it - and slid down against it. She tossed the book carelessly aside and put her head in her hands. This couldn’t continue, she needed to stop. This was making her nothing but miserable. 

She spent basically the whole morning sitting near the training grounds, pretending to be reading while sneakily watching Haldir train. The longer she was there, the harder it was to pretend. Her eyes wouldn’t stay on the pages and would find the march warden more and more often. 

Eventually, Rúmil would sit down next to her, a smug smile plastered on his face. “So, how’s my brother doing today?” 

The blood rushed towards her face. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about!” 

Rúmil laughed, a full belly laugh. “Sure, Y/N. Just talk to him. I’m sure it would please him.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Y/N said and stood up. “Why would a march warden be interested in talking to a historian? Anyway, I have to go. Good day, Rúmil.” 

Her friend shook his head. “You’re hopeless. Have a nice day, Y/N and think about what I told you.” 

Y/N groaned, think back at the conversation. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

This has been going on for months now. Whenever Y/N had the chance, she would sneak a peek at the handsome march warden. First, she thought it was simply fascinated with his skill and well, perhaps because he was easy on the eyes. But soon she had to come to terms with the fact that she was developing a crush on him. 

Whenever she would see him, her heart would flutter with happiness. Whenever she heard his voice, she got goosebumps. Whenever she was not concentrating, Haldir would occupy her thoughts. It was annoying! 

She was pretty sure that Haldir would never be interested in her that way, and she wished her brain understood that. The more she thought daydreamed about Haldir, the deeper she fell into this rabbit hole. At this point, she couldn’t even remember what it was like when he was not constantly present in her mind. 

She got up from the floor and sighed. This needs to stop! she told herself once more. From tomorrow on, she would stop seeking out every opportunity she could get to see him or him talk. She would preoccupy her thoughts with work and books, so her brain wouldn’t have a chance to come up with another daydream of him and Y/N together. Tomorrow, things will change! 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It was early in the morning when Y/N walked through Caras Galadhon on her way to work. She was early but it would only give her more time to plan out projects and find books she will read in the coming weeks. Her first step on not thinking about him. 

“Y/N!” She turned around and saw Rúmil jogging towards her. 

“Good morning, mellon,” she greeted her friend. “You’re up early.” 

“Haldir wants us to train harder in the coming weeks,” Rúmil rolled his eyes. “You know, because of the surge in orc sightings. Like they would come anywhere close to Lothlórien.” 

“Who knows,” Y/N replied. “Orcs are not exactly the brightest and attack anything and anyone.” 

Rúmil smirked. “Of course you would agree with Haldir.” 

Her cheeks began to colour. “Well, it is a sensible precaution!” 

“Of course,” Rúmil nodded mock-seriously. 

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she poked him in the sides. “Stop it!” 

“Anyway,” he changed the topic, “would you mind coming to the training ground with me? There’s something I like to show you.” 

Y/N hesitated. Normally she would agree immediately. Rúmil was her best friend and when he asked something of her, she would gladly agree. But after her promise to herself yesterday, she wasn’t so sure if going to the training ground was such a good idea. He would be there and inflame another inner turmoil. 

Rúmil nudged her playfully when she didn’t say anything. “Come on, it’ll be great!” 

If she wouldn’t go, Rúmil would know something is up, and probably be a little pest about it. Get a grip! she scolded herself. You can’t bend your whole life around an ellon to avoid him, just because you have a crush on him! 

“All right,” Y/N said. “As long as it won’t take too long.” 

“Great!” 

Just go there, see what Rúmil wants to show you and leave. Easy. Any thoughts about him will be squashed immediately!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

After a couple of minutes, the two friends arrived at the training ground. The first thing she heard was him shouting commands at the soldiers. Her body reacted before he finished the sentence and sent goosebumps all over her arms. No! No, no, no! Don’t think about it. 

She turned her back towards the training soldiers and looked at Rúmil. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Ah, wait here,” he said and vanished in one of the small huts, presumed to be an armoury, next to the ground. 

Behind her, she heard more commands and instructions being shouted. She didn’t even need to turn around to know when they came from Haldir or someone else. Calm yourself, dammit! But eventually, she couldn’t resist any longer, and her head slowly turned towards the source of the voices. There he was. Through the numerous soldiers, she spotted Haldir instantly. To her, he stood out like the moon between the stars. Bright, beautiful and mesmerising. Nothing and no one could compare to him. 

She was so captured by him that she didn’t notice Rúmil returning, or how he rolled his eyes when he saw her staring at his brother once again. “Just talk to him.” 

Y/N jumped. She turned her back towards her friend. A, by now, well-known feeling spreading through her chest - forlornness. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.” 

Rúmil shrugged. “Anything, really. You could talk about-” 

Y/N peeked over her shoulder and saw the march warden had spotted them. Her breath caught in her throat when he was looking directly at her. He patted on of the soldier on the shoulder and made his way towards them. Y/N felt like fainting. 

“Shit! He’s coming over! Hide me, Rúmil!” she said and tried to get behind her friends back. But Rúmil was faster. He grabbed her shoulders and placed her right in front of him. As if this wasn’t traumatising enough for Y/N he waved his brother happily, like nothing was wrong. “Hey, Haldir! Y/N wants to tell you something! I’ll be with you in a moment.” And with that he sprinted towards the changing area, leaving a dumbfounded Y/N behind. 

I really need new friends. Perhaps that should be my next project - sorting out the people that BETRAY me like this! 

Haldir looked after his brother but didn’t seem to be too worried about his weird behaviour. When he turned towards Y/N a soft smile played around his lips. “Lady Y/N, what can I do for you?” 

How can a person even be this pretty? His eyes… oh my, they’re even prettier up close. And he said my name… Oh, right. Think! Say something! Anything!

“Um… nothing really,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rúmil is just being… Rúmil.” 

She looked down on her feet, not being able to hold his gaze any longer. She could feel her cheeks heating and hoped Haldir wouldn’t see it, or not understanding what caused it. 

“I must apologise for my brother,” Haldir said. “For some reason, he seemed to be set hard on us getting to know better. I am sorry if he caused you any discomfort.” 

Was Rúmil pesting Haldir just as much about her crush on him? That little-

“Oh, now it’s my fault!” Rúmil returned, dressed in his training clothes. He regarded them both with a flat look. “But you’re right, dear brother. I want you two to talk to each other because I know that what you two want!” 

Haldir and Y/N flushed. They both opened their mouths to protest but Rúmil was having none of it. “Nope! No backtalk! For months I’ve heard you two whining that you want to get to know the other but didn’t know how. Well, here it is, the perfect opportunity! I happened to know that you both have nothing planned tomorrow evening, so I friendly suggest - actually, scratch that friendly, you two better follow my advice, or I don’t want to hear about the topic ever again - that you two meet and chat and whatever. Just. Talk. To. Each. Other! It can’t be that hard!” He threw his arms in the air and stomped towards the training ground. 

Haldir and Y/N looked at each other, stunned by Rúmil’s outburst. It was Haldir who broke the silence first. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Rúmil is right, I’d really like to get to know you, Y/N.” 

For a moment Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. She smiled fondly at him. “I’d like to get to know you, too. So… um… tomorrow evening?” she asked and hoped it wasn’t too forward. 

Haldir nodded and Y/N could have sworn his cheeks looked a little red. “It sounds good. I know a nice place… Shall I pick you up, once the sun starts setting?” 

Y/N’s smile grew wider and wider. “Sounds perfect. I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Great,” Haldir said. 

For an outsider, it might have looked like they were having an awkward moment, but for them both it was one of the best moments in their lives. One of many that would follow. They kept on looking at each other for a little while longer, both not believing what just happened. After months of hoping, wishing and dreaming they would finally get to know each other… and hopefully become more than just friends. 

“I’ll see you then,” Y/N eventually said. 

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” Haldir said and walked back to his soldiers.  

With a wide smile and butterflies in her stomach, she walked to her work. Maybe I don’t have to sort Rúmil out after all. Perhaps he actually deserves a promotion on my friends-list. Better not tell him. It’ll only get to his head. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Taglist: @velvetmotel97​ 

If you want to be tagged, let me know! :)

[delyth88]

Thoughts after rewatching Episode 4

Okay, so I took a couple of days to get over the excruciating cringeworthyness of a few many moments in episode 4 and have just finished rewatching it.

And I have to say thank goodness for whatever it is in the human brain that allows us to adapt! lol No, but srsly, I found it a much easier watch the second time, and its definitely keeping up the trend of the first three episodes of being something I can enjoy more the second time than the first.

So, my now somewhat less instant reaction thoughts:

I hadn’t noticed that it’s Sylvie that initiates the hand holding on Lamentis 1.  And I think I prefer this.  One thing I can’t stand is romance in TV or film where it’s all about the guy winning over the girl, like she’s clearly not interested, but somehow by the end of the movie she’s in love.  Okay, that’s a bit harsh, sometimes it’s done well, but it’s a convention that gets my hackles up and gets me all defensive, so I think I was taking some of this into the episode with me.

Interestingly, now that I’m thinking of it, I think this moment and the moment Sylvie asks if Loki is okay while they’re being escorted by the guards are the only moments I can recall where she showed any form of affection for him. *shrugs* 

Poor boy also seems so surprised at this.  And uncertain how to respond.  And I can’t help but see this in relation to the scene in Thor 1 where the frost giant grabs his forearm...  :’(

I also think another part of the reason I so disliked the romance on my first watch is that it was just another example of Loki over-doing the emotion thing in comparison to his previous characterisation. He certainly looks more into it than Sylvie, and this just bugs me, because again I think the way Sylvie is acting here is what I would have expected from Loki based on the films.

In the time prison, while I still don’t like the getting kicked in the crotch gimmick, I do like that they showed us Loki attempting to get out of the situation in what seems quite a reasonable way.  He explains the situation to Sif and asks for her help to escape.  I thought it was quite interesting, because we see his first instinct is to use his skills of persuasion and try to escape. Firstly because it’s an instance where he’s trying to plot an escape, not just avoiding her or fighting her. I like that he seems to have some hope that this is possible and isn’t just 100% resigned to the TVA being all-powerful.  And secondly, he speaks to Sif as a person, he doesn’t just treat her like some sort of solid hologram and try and knock her out, or stand by the door to make a surprise attack.  It doesn’t work, of course, and we’re supposed to find that funny, but at least he tried in a plausible way onscreen. unlike IW  And he asks her to trust him.  Which I found interesting because if he’s asking this then he must think there’s some chance that she will, which means there’s at least some level of respect between them.  And I like that.  I know I’m reading way too much into this that the writers certainly didn’t intend, but let me play over here.

I still don’t like the narcissist line.  But I think I can buy Loki exaggerating in his confession to get her to stop.  He doesn’t seem to be really particularly bothered by what he’s saying.  But when she walks out and says he will always be alone, even after what he’s just said, that seems to have an impact on him.

I do love this image though. He looks so smol. So sweet.

When Mobius retrieves Loki from the time prison after the first time, I can see after a second watch that Mobius is actually a little angry/disappointed that Loki ran off after the variant in Roxxcart.  Its subtle well subtler than Loki’s reactions so I hadn’t noticed.

I still dislike the way they did the romance thing.  The interrogation scene where Loki’s all “eww no, I don’t like her!” and then has this realisation that perhaps he does.  I felt like I was being beaten around the head with it.  Like teenagers teasing someone for liking someone else. smh

I’m also reminded that the English language really isn’t very good when it comes to words for ‘liking’ someone. I mean the UK seems to have ‘to fancy’ which would be more accurate, but gotta say I’m glad they didn’t use that here.

I still hate that Loki seems utterly unable to keep a secret or hide his emotions. To me this was a fundamental part of his character, and yet here we have Mobius calling him out because he can’t help but have this pained expression on his face and can’t keep his voice steady.  Black Widow wouldn’t have had to spend more than a minute with this variant of Loki.

Mobius: “What are you doing?”

Loki: “Passing the time.”

This line made me laugh this time.  Sassy Loki!

I still like the slightly veiled way Mobius apologises to Loki for saying he’s only destined to be the villain to make other people better. Nice, not too over the top. Makes Loki smile.

That animatronic timekeeper stuff was just weird.  There better be some good payoff for this in the next two episodes.

And now to the bit I hated the most on my first watch – that super cringey interrupted confession of feelings.

Looking at this again with fresh eyes I wonder if Loki was about to explain Mobius’s theory that their moment on Lamentis 1 might be able to destroy the TVA.  It just got awkward because to explain that he’d have to explain how he feels.  And I think they exaggerated that to make the impact of the pruning bigger.  

First he says “then who created the TVA?”  Then he turns away and he seems to be looking around for inspiration, and I think he’s actually thinking about this.  It wasn’t just rhetorical. We can see the moment he realises something, and he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it, and then he turns back to Sylvie.

“Sylvie, I have to tell you something.”

“We will figure this out.” I think this is an aside after he’s taken in how upset she is about this. And it’s true that if they take down the TVA then they probably have to learn who’s in charge eventually. And then he gets back to his original point.

“Because… er… back on Lamentis…” I think here he’s trying to find a way to explain that their moment caused the nexus event, and a big one at that, but he’s struggling to do so in a way that doesn’t make him completely vulnerable by telling her how he feels. But it’s not possible to talk about it so clinically, so he hesitates, “This is new for me…”  he realises he doesn’t actually know quite how to put this.

Now, if I can rationalise it in this way as being an important piece of information he needed to tell her that would help them bring down the TVA then I can be more okay with this than if it was just a poorly timed romantic confession (which is certainly what it appeared to be on first watch). Again, I’m probably clutching at straws here, but it helps me not want to gag while watching this. lol

I mean I still think it’s just a cringey awful scene and it’s so very cliche to interrupt someone before they can say ‘I love you’. But this is a way I can rationalise his actions and I’ll stick with this till proven otherwise, presumably in the next episode. Ha!

I can’t help but give a nod to another beautiful example of Tom’s eyes matching his shirt in the mid-credits scene. <3

I also think that what I’m experiencing watching each episode the first time is much more from Loki’s point of view.  Like I’m more personally invested in him doing well, him not being embarrassed, him looking good to others.  And so since the story is actually giving him a hell of a time I’m experiencing a lot of negative feelings on his behalf.  And this is because it’s unfolding in real time in front of me and in that moment it could go anywhere! So it feels more real perhaps??  On a second watch I know what’s coming and I’m able to watch it with an eye for the storytelling as a whole, not just as the real events of Loki’s life.  I don’t think I’ve been this much of a fan of any character in recent times to have experienced this before.  So it’s a fascinating thing to learn about being a fan. *shrugs*

Anyway, in summary, much more bearable on second watch.  Some good stuff in there, and I can ignore a good amount of the stuff I didn’t like – at least until next week.

So again I’m sorta somewhere in between loving and hating this show.

@iamanartichoke​ @scintillatingshortgirl19​ maybe some of this is useful to you?

[yellowsuitcase]

Oblivious - Part 1 // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This took several days to write, I wrote one and a half other imagines before finishing this. And it’s only the first part of three! I hope you enjoy it and yes I know Fred and George would’ve left Hogwarts by now, but let’s pretend they didn’t ;) Also, to the people who’ve requested imagines, please know I’m working diligently to get them completed, I’ve been very busy lately with school as well as redoing my bedroom. But keep looking forward to them, they’re coming I promise.

Summary: Half Blood Prince era. Draco’s been sneaking away to work on fixing the vanishing cabinet. But his muggle-born Gryffindor girlfriend Y/N has been picking up on his suspicious disappearances. During their trip to Hogsmeade, something unexpected occurs.

Warning(s): SPOILERS!! Swearing, making out

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 2

Y/N skipped through the entrance to the courtyard, singing, “He was a skater boy, she said see you later, boy. He wasn’t good enough for her,” at the top of her lungs, drawing quite a few puzzled stares her way. Draco, her boyfriend, reluctantly followed behind her, his face turning crimson.

“Y/N! Y/N, please stop, people are looking,” he pleaded with her.

“Tough crowd, tough crowd,” Y/N mused, “How about, life is a highwaayy, and I wanna ride it all night long!”

People began to laugh at the Gryffindor’s performance. Draco, however, was becoming more embarrassed by the second. “Love, please, enough with the muggle songs.”

“What? You don’t like my singing, is that it?” Y/N asked while she sat down at the base of their favorite tree.

“You know I adore everything about you, just not the muggle music. What is a highway anyway?”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Do you ever pay any attention in muggle studies?”

Draco gave her a sheepish grin while he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N swatted his arm lightly with her roll of parchment she’d taken out of her school bag. “Speaking of muggle studies, I have a 25-inch essay to write. Professor Burbage wants us to compare and contrast an average muggle’s day and an average wizard’s.”

“Well, that ought to be easy, your mum and dad are muggles.”

“It’s still 25 inches, Draco, that’s quite a lot,” Y/N said exasperatedly. She huffed as she unrolled her parchment and got to work; she already had 18 inches done.

Draco admired her as she wrote. The fluffy red quill in her hand bounced with the movements of her wrist as she jotted down a sentence. She was squinting her eyes, trying to block out the sun. Her little nose was scrunched up as well as her forehead.

She was so effortlessly beautiful. The littlest things about her were the things Draco liked the most, like the way her hair framed her face, some loose strands falling from behind her ear, and shining in the sun. Or the way she rubs her eyes with both fists after yawning.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” Draco said.

Y/N gave him a fake annoyed glare. “Well, you’re making it hard for me to focus,” she mumbled under her breath, turning her attention back to her essay while biting her lip to keep from smiling.

Draco smirked, some of his teeth showing, “Hard to focus, huh? Am I that sexy?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. He received a quick slap on his chest.

“Shut up! Oh my god,” Y/N said. Draco complied with her wishes and simply gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before rising to his feet.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. “Where are you going?”

“I just want to get to class a bit early today. I’ll see you in Dark Arts class.” 

Y/N watched as the blonde boy walked away. She thought it was quite peculiar for him to want to get to class early. Usually, he was begging her to stay with him and be a few minutes late. She tried to shrug it off; perhaps he just wanted to ask his professor a question. Y/N picked up her quill and once again began to write, pushing away the thoughts of what her boyfriend was up to.

-----------

“Perhaps Draco is just putting forth more effort into learning Herbology. The whomping willow is quite a fascinating plant.”

“Luna, I love you but come on. You can’t blame me for being a little suspicious. I mean, Herbology and Draco are like Filch and magic,” Y/N said as she and Luna walked to their next class, “it’s never going to work.” 

Luna nodded softly. “It’s a shame Filch can’t do magic. It’s so wonderful.”

“He doesn’t deserve it, he would use an unforgivable curse on a student in a heartbeat, he would.”

Y/N spared a quick glance behind her. She felt as though she was being watched. Sure enough, when her head spun around, she saw Draco. He smiled as he briskly caught up to her and Luna. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Y/N squirmed; she didn’t like people touching her neck.

Before she left to go to her own class, Luna asked, “Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Y/N?”

Y/N had barely remembered that tomorrow was a Hogsmeade weekend. She tilted her head to look at Draco. “Are you going?”

Draco avoided eye contact with Y/N, but he nodded nonetheless. She turned back to Luna. “I wouldn’t miss our trip to Honeydukes now, would I?”

Luna smiled, “I don’t know, you might one day.” She shifted her bag onto her shoulder. “See you then. Goodbye, Y/N. Goodbye, Draco.” 

When Luna was out of earshot, Y/N wiggled out of Draco’s arms. 

“Do you not want to go to Hogsmeade? You don’t have to if you wouldn’t like to.”

Draco shook his head vehemently. “No, no, I’ll go. We can get butterbeer together like we always do. Now let’s get going, I suspect Snape will take 10 points from Gryffindor if you’re late.” The pair headed off to class. 

————-

Draco woke up the next morning with an uneasy feeling in his gut. Usually, his trips to Hogsmeade were enjoyable, but he knew this one would be anything but. 

He’d been given the dreadful task of murdering his headmaster, Dumbledore. He knew he was never gonna be able to do it face to face, so he’d opted for a more indirect option. He and his mother made a trip to Borgin and Burkes early that year and purchased the Opal Necklace. It was reported to have killed nineteen muggles to date. 

He glanced over to his nightstand. The necklace was wrapped in packing paper inside the bottom drawer. His stomach churned when he remembered his plan. He’d have to execute it right under Y/N’s nose. He felt so vile. Since this school year had started, he’d been keeping secrets from her. 

They loved to sit in the courtyard under their tree, often Y/N would fall asleep on his shoulder, and Draco always felt terrible when he had to maneuver her to the grass so he could sneak away to the Room of Requirement. But there’d be consequences if he failed to fix the vanishing cabinet, and he wasn’t about to waste any free time he had. And if that meant keeping secrets and slipping away from his girlfriend, then that’s what he had to do. 

“Goyle, what time is it?” Draco asked.

“Uhh bout half-past nine. Why?” 

“Shit,” he muttered. He was already thirty minutes late for breakfast. Y/N would start to worry if he didn’t show up soon. Mentally preparing himself for the day ahead, he shoved his blanket off and swung his legs to the side of his bed. He opted for his classic black suit. He made sure to stuff the necklace, still wrapped, into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco snapped his head to glare at Crabbe. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he spat with an aggrieved look upon his face. He put on his shoes and strode out of the Slytherin dorms. Soon enough, he arrived at the Great Hall. His eyes located Y/N’s instantly. They were filled with worry, but relief overtook them when they met Dracos. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

Once he sat down, he was engulfed in a tight hug. 

“Whoa there darling, is everything alright?” he asked.

“I’m just excited, it’s been a while since the last Hogsmeade weekend. I’m craving butterbeer, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes danced animatedly with anticipation. 

Draco smiled, “You’re too cute, you are,” he said before he kissed her rosy cheek.

“Are you going out dressed like that? You know it’ll be snowy in Hogsmeade,” Y/N asked. She was dressed in a maroon sweater and black jeans; to her left, she had laid her coat and her Gryffindor scarf and hat. 

“I’ll be sure to fetch my coat before we leave,” he assured her. 

“You’d better go now, we leave for Hogsmeade in fifteen minutes,” said Luna, making Draco aware of her presence. He heeded her words and stood up from the table. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Draco bit his lip. He really didn’t think he could stomach anything at the moment, but he didn’t want to upset Y/N. 

“I’ll save room for butterbeer. Meet me outside?” he asked. She nodded despite the reluctant look on her face. Draco didn’t stay for a moment longer. He turned on his heel and hurried off to his common room. 

“He seems troubled,” Luna stated. 

“I’m glad you’ve noticed it as well. The bags under his eyes get darker every day, it seems.”

“Perhaps he should brew a sleeping draught potion.”

“I don’t think he’d like the idea of sleeping for so long. He’s definitely racing the clock, trying to complete something. The question is what,” Y/N wondered aloud, her face twisted in thought.

"I've seen him coming out of the Room of Requirement. Maybe he's been doing something in there," Luna suggested.

"You have? When? Did he look-," Y/N was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“You coming to Hogsmeade, Y/N?” When she turned around, Hermione was standing there, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Is Draco coming with you?” she asked.

“Yes, but why does that matter to you? I thought you didn’t like him,” Y/N said in a bit of an accusatory tone. What did it matter to Hermione whether or not Draco was going to Hogsmeade?

Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uh, no reason. Just curious is all. See you there then.” Then she ran off, presumably to find Ron and Harry.

“What is going on around here?” Y/N asked nobody in particular. 

“There are so many things taking place at once, but I think we all find out about them one way or another,” Luna said. 

“I hope so.”

-----------

Draco did his best to smile while he and Y/N strolled through Hogsmeade. It hardly worked, though. She was beaming with joy, and he was melancholy. All he could think about was the task ahead of him. His plan was to sneak away from Y/N in the Three Broomsticks and find Madam Rosmerta. He would then imperio her to deliver the necklace to Dumbledore. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to cast an unforgivable curse, but there wouldn’t be any other way to get the package to Dumbledore without raising suspicion. He had to do this.

“Where do you want to go first?” Y/N asked, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. 

“Wherever you’d like to go, love,” he replied, not missing a beat.

She sighed, “I asked you where you want to go. Pick a place.”

Draco smirked, “How about the Shrieking Shack,” he said in a naughty tone.

“Draco,” she said in a condescending tone. “You know we’re not allowed in there.”

“Yes, but we could sneak in.”

Y/N shook her head, “Draco, do you really want to have detention tomorrow?”

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper. Don’t you wonder what’s inside it?”

“Nope,” she said matter of factly.

“You’re telling me you’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, I see now, you’re scared of it. You’re scared of a shack.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. End of discussion,” Draco said. 

“End of discussion? You don’t just get to end our conversation,” Y/N yelled. But before she could give her boyfriend a flick on the head, he began to run. “Hey! Don’t you run from me, Malfoy!”

He turned his head to see her start to chase after him. She was giggling as she was jogging, her smile brighter than the fresh snow on the ground. Draco loved her smile.

He led her through twists and turns, nearly running into several people before he found his destination. He slowly came to a stop and waited for Y/N to catch up. He grabbed her hand and yanked her to his chest when she caught up. She squealed when he did this. 

“How are you so fit? I nearly died just then,” Y/N said, bent over and panting.

Draco laughed, “You alright there, darling?”

She glared at him, “Where did you take us, anyway?” She answered her own question when she took her hands off her knees and looked around. She spotted the shack instantly.

“Draco, I don't know what you’re thinking, but I’m not going in there.”

“Oh come on, don’t be such a wuss,” he said while grabbing her hand. She reluctantly followed him as he went over to the fence. He put his hands on the top rail and lifted his right leg to plant his foot on the middle one. He gathered his strength and pushed himself up and over the fence. Once on the other side, he brushed himself off and turned to face Y/N.

“Right. Your turn now, love.”

“You made it look so easy,” she grumbled. But she put her hands on the fence anyway. She tried to copy what she’d seen Draco do, but when she tried, she found she didn’t have the strength. 

“You got it, just swing your legs over,” Draco instructed. 

Y/N nodded and attempted to do what he said. She stood on the bottom rail and grasped the top in her hands. Unsure of herself, she looked at Draco.

“Come on, hop on over.”

She nodded and climbed to the top of the fence. She bent her arms and launched herself over the wooden rails. Y/N realized halfway through the jump that things were about to end badly. Draco wasn’t able to move fast enough and could only watch as her right foot twisted when she landed. 

She let out a yelp and fell to the snowy ground. Draco rushed over to her and began to take off her boot. 

“I’ve sprained it. I know I have,” she said, gritting her teeth in pain. 

Draco ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve just taken you to get butterbeer.”

“We still can, I think you’ll need to carry me though,” she said while chuckling. 

Draco momentarily looked away from her swollen ankle to look at her face. Somehow, despite the pain she must’ve been in, she was smiling at him.

“You never fail to amaze me, you know that?” he asked her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How so?” 

Before Draco could answer, his attention was stolen by two redheads.

“Y/N? Is that you? What’s Malfoy done to you?” Fred Weasley called out.

“Yeah, Malfoy, what’d you do to her?” George chimed in. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What do you think they’re doing here?” she asked her boyfriend.

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care.”

Fred and George had made their way to the couple. “What’s happened?” George asked.

“Well, I tried to jump the fence, and it didn’t go so well,” Y/N chuckled. 

The twins laughed along with her. “That does sound like something you’d do,” Fred remarked.

“Yes, yes, it’s all very funny, but she’s got a sprained ankle by the looks of it,” Draco said, interrupting the laughter to remind them of the situation at hand. He reached under Y/N’s arms and gently helped her to her feet. She winced when she had to put pressure on her ankle. Draco felt guilt pool in his stomach. He went to jump back over the fence but was stopped short. 

“Malfoy, why don’t you lift her up from that side,” said Fred.

 “And then we can help her over,” George finished.

“Yeah, that’ll be easier,” Y/N agreed. She looked at Draco to see if he, too, thought the same. He nodded and gripped her hips. 

“1...2...3!” He lifted her up and sat her atop the highest rail. He held her steady as the twins helped maneuver her legs to the other side. They then helped her down, being careful not to let her put pressure on her injured foot.

Draco hastily climbed up the fence and hopped down, “I can take it from here,” he said sternly. He crouched down in front of Y/N, allowing her to climb onto his back. Once he knew she was secure, he straightened his legs and started walking. 

Y/N turned her head, “Thank you guys!” she called to the twins. 

“You could’ve thanked them, you know, you would’ve had a hell of a time getting me over that fence without them.”

Draco scoffed. “I would’ve managed just fine without the Weasleys.”

His girlfriend sighed. “I know you don’t like them, but geez, can’t you swallow your pride for one second?”

Draco didn’t reply, opting to remain silent as he trudged back to Hogsmeade.

-------

The pair sat inside the Three Broomsticks, now toasty warm and anxiously awaiting what was to come. For Y/N, it was butterbeer, but for Draco, it was something much less enticing. 

The feeling of the package against his breast made his heart race. He wished he could’ve just enjoyed a drink with his lover, but bigger things were expected of him that day. His eyes hardly left Madam Rosmerta. He was tracking her movements, waiting for the perfect moment to present itself.

“And so I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about. I mean, did she seriously expect me to confess to that? But anyway after that she-,” Y/N stopped talking when she realized the boy sitting across from her was paying absolutely no attention to her story. 

She reached for his hand. “Draco, what’s wrong? Something’s bothering you, I can see it on your face.”

He shook his head, dismissively. “I’m fine, what were you saying?”

Y/N frowned. “Nothing important. But uhm, anyway, what are you doing tomorrow? Maybe we could borrow some broomsticks from Madam Hooch and fly around the pitch,” she suggested. But Draco still wasn’t attentive to her words. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said, suddenly jumping to his feet. He strode away from their table without looking back. Y/N felt her heart sink. Why wasn’t he paying attention to her?

She decided to pass the time by tracing her finger on the cracks and lines embedded in the wooden table. She grew increasingly bored the longer Draco was absent. Until she heard a familiar voice. Upon raising her head, she saw the trio. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They sat at the table behind her. She decided to turn around and make conversation as Draco still hadn’t returned.

“Hi, guys, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey Y/N. Nothing much, how about you?” Ron asked.

“Oh, you know, not much, just spraining ankles,” she said sarcastically. 

Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression. His eyes drifted to her foot. “Blimey, Y/N, what did you do?”

Hermione took notice as well. “Are you alright? Should I fetch a professor?”

“No, no, that’s alright, it’s only a sprain. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it right up when I return. Thank you, though,” she smiled.

“How’d you manage to sprain it, though?” Harry inquired.

“Oh well, long story short, I tried to jump a fence, and it didn’t end so well,” Y/N said with a slight chuckle. “Actually, Ron, your brothers helped Draco get me back over the fence.”

Ron smiled, “Glad to hear it,” after he spoke, his facial expression changed to one of confusion. 

“You mentioned Draco, where is he?”

Y/N sighed and did a once-over of the pub. “He ran off a little while ago, I’ve got no idea where he is. He said he’d be right back.”

Hermione looked at her sympathetically. “He’ll be back...probably.”

“Oh! There he is,” Ron said. Y/N turned her head back around to see Draco emerging from around the corner. He and Harry made eye contact. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Draco rushed over to Y/N.

“Let’s go, I want to stop at Dervish and Banges,” he said while reaching behind her back and underneath her knees. 

“What? We haven’t even gotten our butterbeer. Draco put me down. Put me down!”

Draco glared at her, fury in his eyes. “Don’t make a scene,” he snapped. This shut Y/N right up. She didn’t protest when he carried her out of the pub. He didn’t stop walking until he reached a bench in an empty passageway. He sat her down first and then took the spot next to her.

“What was that about? What’s going on, Draco?” Y/N asked; she was fed up.

Draco panicked. He didn’t have a lie prepared, but he knew he couldn’t get away with not answering her. Not anymore. 

He said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s my dad. He’s been bothering me a lot lately.”

This was true. Draco’s dad had been pestering him with multiple owls a day, always asking for updates on the cabinet. It was quite frankly driving him mad.

“He keeps sending me owls, he won’t leave me alone,” Y/N held his hand and ran her thumb up and down the top of it. “I left you at the table so I could apparate home. He was expecting me.”

She stopped her soothing motion. “You can apparate that far!? Successfully?” she asked, shocked at her boyfriend’s abilities.

He nodded. “My father requested Professor Twycross give me private lessons. That’s where I’ve been running off to lately.”

Draco felt bile rise in his throat. He hated lying to Y/N, but it had to be done. He couldn’t get her involved in his death eater business. It would be better for both of them if she remained oblivious.

“Well, I’m glad you finally told me. I’ll be here if you ever want to rant about him. He sure has been causing you a lot of stress lately, hasn’t he?”

He nodded and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Oh, how he wished he could tell her. “Thank you, love. I appreciate that.”

She smiled and went in for a kiss. He passionately kissed her back. He wanted to focus his energy on her now, to try to make up for all the times he’d neglected her.

Draco held her face with one hand while the other traveled to her hip. Without warning, he squeezed it, causing Y/N to yelp and thus open her mouth, which allowed Draco to sneak his tongue inside. He let out a groan, running his fingers through her hair and gripping it slightly.

They were interrupted by the sound of nearby laughter. Draco reluctantly pulled away; he knew how Y/N felt about kissing in public. She gave him a soft smile, her face flushed, and her lips swollen.

“I can’t believe you,” she giggled. He grinned and gave her another kiss, this one just a quick peck.

“I love you, you know,” he said.

She hummed happily. “I do know. And I love you too, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco laughed and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, prompting Y/N to push him away playfully. “Stopppp,” she whined.

“Alright, alright. I think it’s about time we head back to Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey needs to fix my angel’s ankle.”

“That she does,” Y/N said. She raised her arms and made grabby hands at Draco as he stood up. He laughed at her antics. 

“Up,” she demanded. He complied and lifted her into his arms. She immediately nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and sighed contently. 

He carried her all the way out of Hogsmeade and halfway through the path to Hogwarts before it happened. About ten yards in front of them, Katie Bell rose into the air. Her mouth was wide open as if something was sucking the breath out of her. Draco felt his heart stop. Y/N noticed he’d stopped walking, and she lifted her head to look at him. He looked terrified. She followed his gaze just in time to see Katie fall to the ground. She gasped, and her eyes widened; she didn’t believe what she saw. 

“Draco, we have to see what’s going on, take us over there,” she said.

But Draco had already seen what had caused Katie to float twenty feet in the air. The necklace. It was on the snow, its wrappings flapping in the freezing wind. 

He ignored his girlfriend’s wishes and instead hurried down the path to his left. It was the long way back to Hogwarts.

“Draco! What are you doing?” Y/N asked. She began to struggle in his grip, Draco wasn’t expecting this, and he dropped her. She screamed in pain; he’d dropped her on her bad ankle. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry Y/N, please just let me take you back to Hogwarts, it’s not safe here,” he pleaded with her.

She glared at him and then looked behind her. Hagrid was now holding Katie in his arms. Y/N knew she’d be safe with Hagrid.

Draco let out a sigh of relief when she raised her arms, signaling she wished to be picked up again. “Thank you, love,” he said as he brought her back into his arms. “Thank you.”

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Prompt List #8 - Lines from love letters

All Prompt Lists

All these lines come from a book called ‘The Love of an Unknown Soldier’ which is an antique book that’s essentially a series of love letters from the Great War that were found in a dugout and published. All unsent from a British Officer to an American Nurse he met in Paris. He never told her that he loved her and presumably died before he had the chance.  

I was so many times on the point of telling you - every evening after I had left you I accused myself and spent half the night awake planning the words in which I would confess when next we met. 

I wonder if you have guessed. Surely I could not have loved you so much without your knowing. 

What right have I, who may be dead within a month, to speak to you of love? To have done so would have been the act of a coward. 

You, all the time you would have been lonely. All the time you would have been worrying about my safety. 

And yet there is still time to tell you. I have only to unhook the receiver and to telephone to you. 

Perhaps it was fate; I prefer to think that it was something else. 

You’d never guess how long I spent in polishing my belt and buttons. Yes, men are like that. 

And my emotions! Shall I be frank? They were awfully muddled. They were made up of longing, hope, doubt and the terror that I might appear absurd. 

The longing was all for you. 

The hope was that you might share my longing. 

The doubt was lest I might have idealised a memory which, when I saw you, would fade into reality. Oh, the heresy of me! 

I have spoken of the touch of your hand, but I think it was the sympathy in your eyes that touched me. 

I suppose you’ll never know how proud I was to be seen beside you. 

I felt so keenly aware of you; your beauty was almost painful. 

The paths were slippery; I took your arm at times to help you over places and laughed within myself at its reluctance. 

She does care for me a little, I told myself - that thought kept my heart singing after we had parted. 

One never hears you coming; you are absent - one looks again and you are there. 

You trusted me so much from the very first; is that a good sign from a lover? 

Strange, that I should have conquered fear in the front-line, should have lived for days quite calmly with sudden death, and yet should tremble before a girl.

The letter I shall send you will be strictly conventional and not too lengthy - it will be the kind that I might write to any acquaintance of either sex. And yet - yes, that is the thought that troubles me - we may have met and parted for the very last time. 

Since you will never read this, I will play a game; I will not send you what I write, but I will speak the truth to you on paper. 

I can at least carry the memory of these things back; they are unspoilt by any sadder knowledge. 

We stopped so long talking over dinner that by the time we reached the opera the first scene was ended. 

I am glad I met you. I am glad of the pain I shall carry back with me. 

Your face will be with me, the sound of your voice and the memory of your gentleness. 

I shall be a better soldier because we have met.

If I die, I shall die satisfied. 

I didn’t have much time to catch my train, but managed to stop long enough to order you some flowers. They were roses, deep red, the colours of the ones you wore at the opera on our last night. I bought far too many for good taste - I bought the way I felt. 

How far away you seem - how far everything seems that I have loved. 

You’re a captain in rank, aren’t you? Then you’re my superior, for I’m only a subaltern. 

There must be more in you than I have guessed; to have left luxury and come into danger just to look after other people’s babies, that took courage. 

There’s a sacredness of devotion, which goes deeper than mere beauty. 

Do you begin to understand why it is that you seem so far away? 

You can weave all kinds of fancies out of our nights if you’re in love and have an imagination. Those white flares, appearing, racing, vanishing, seem to me a phantom-city and make me think of Paris. 

The boys came in intending to buy something; they hardly noticed you at first. Then they saw you, stared and tried to spin out an awkward conversation...they’d returned to buy something else. They really returned to get another sight of you. 

You fascinated me as well. 

What are you? You are drifting away from me, becoming unreal already. 

Did you care for me at all, even for a moment? 

Did you ever picture the life to which I was going? 

Was I only an incident - some one transiently amusing, and perhaps a little pleasant? 

For me there was always poignancy in our happiness. The thought was constantly with me of our parting. Something within me kept warning, ‘it is the end - the end - the end.’/ 

If I had only met you earlier, in the days before war started, I could have made love to you honourably. But not now. 

And yet - “I wish I had married my man,” your friend said. It’s a problem. Self-interest dictates that I should tell you. That choice might be more righteous than silence; it depends on you. But because the choice would be selfish I distrust it. 

Had you stayed a moment longer I might have spoken the words which were better left unsaid. I think you knew that. 

At the cry ‘mail up’ I forsook my dignity and went out on the pretence of seeing that the teams were clear of the position. 

For a little while memories travelled back to affections and quiet.

You mean more to me than anyone in the world, yet I have never seen your handwriting. That brings home to me vividly how much we are strangers. 

I never knew a man more in love with anybody. 

Why didn’t you write to me? I had counted the days and made allowances for delays. A letter might have come yesterday; to-night it seemed certain. 

I form so many conjectures...you were busy. You did write, but forgot to post it. You posted it, and it’s held up in transit. Then there are other conjectures of another kind: that you do not care; that the knowledge that I care would come to you as a surprise; that it is the knowledge that I care that keeps you from writing. 

When I remember you like that I feel your kindness. You may not care, but you are not careless. 

To have known you as I have is more than I had counted on - more than I deserved. 

To have had love come to one in the midst of a war, was more than could have been expected. 

All my life I had waited for that; then, when one had sacrificed so many human affections, it happened. It was a gift from the gods. Though you may never know, I ought to be contented. 

I must not entertain hopes about you. To do so would be weakening. 

You have happened in my life - that should be sufficient. To have snatched one last glimpse of loyalty should make me braver; it should be like the sacrament pressed against the lips of those about to die. 

I don’t think I will write to you any more, my dear. These unposted letters, written out of loneliness are becoming a luxury which is dangerous. They make the future seem too valuable. 

I begin to realise how sweet life is - how glorious we could make it. 

A letter from you! Such a jolly letter, so full of yourself! It’s just as though you were at my elbow and I could hear your voice.

I’ve read it how many times? I can’t count. I think I know it all by heart, and yet keep on turning back to my favourite passages. 

To save France, Joan of Arc charged on horseback into battle. You go with less drama, but with an equal heroism. 

You would laugh quietly and say that I make too much of what you are doing - that it’s really very ordinary. 

You can’t love a woman and not gaze into the future. You can’t feel the need of her and be resigned to die. 

I wish I knew that you felt the need of me. In the loneliness of this existence the knowledge that there is one woman who cares supremely helps. 

I mustn’t think of you too often. 

But this is foolishness - one can’t get rid of memory. Since I can’t forget you, I must make your memory a help. 

I write you letters which you will never receive, recording the fact that I love you; but I fail to tell you. 

I persuade myself, as Benham would have persuaded himself, that it is honest and fine not to confess. 

I don’t do the passionately human thing - the thing that Jack Holt did when he won his wife. I act idealistically but, God knows, i’m by no means certain of my motives. 

It’s easy to be brave for one’s self, but to have known that you were in danger would have been intolerable. 

Could I see you I should find you changed, you say; the sleepless nights have done their work. I expect I should find you changed - as metal is tried in the furnace. 

Like every man who loves a woman, the desire of my heart was to shut you up in a cage of unreality. 

I beg you to take especial care of yourself. Don’t run more risks than you can help. 

My mind is full of you to-day. I have been trying to remember your face, the tones of your voice - all the things that make you you so essentially. 

At first, when I feel in love with you, I almost resented your intrusion

I used to mistrust love as a kind of sickness, and yet all the while - I must tell the truth - I longed for it desperately. Love always avoided me. 

I wanted to have something so worth giving to a woman: perhaps that was why I was willing to delay. 

Then a quaint little picture forms in my brain of you and me alone in a darkened room. There’s a fire burning. You’re sitting in a great armchair; i’m crouched on the floor beside you, my head against your knees. 

But one grows weary of being strong; one wants to be loved so badly, just once while there is time. 

It’s the feel of you I need, the protection, the security - the sure knowledge that I am yours, whatever happens. 

It’s you that I want - the feel of your hands touching mine in the darkness and your arms about me. 

I’m afraid i’ve been acting like the traditional Englishman; you’re the greatest pleasure I have and i’ve been taking you sadly. It isn’t much of a compliment to you and I must stop it. Unhappiness is a form of disloyalty.

You came upon me so suddenly; you awakened such longings; your very presence spoke so loudly of a future which, perhaps, I may not share; you offered all that I had once hoped for before I put hope behind me. 

Your presence to me was like St. Peter’s shadow to those sick men; it healed me, but it made me long for more than the shadow. The thought that you would walk through other cities where i could not follow, filled me with emptiness. 

I realised then what a gaiety would fill my world if I had the assurance that you loved me. 

In a vain attempt to make you a part of my world I lie awake imagining half the night. What a foolish heart I have!

How sick I am of my own pose of spurious manliness! What I want is to feel your arms about me and your lips against my eyes, whispering, ‘Mon petit.’

I know at last for certain that I am nothing and you have forgotten me. And yet there was a time when - or do I deceive myself? You could not help writing to me if you have ever cared. You are breaking the news to me slowly by your silence. Perhaps that is the kinder way to do it. 

I know that love in one who is not loved, must always seem absurd. I know that I ought to smile and bow in a gallant sort of fashion, excusing myself for having been so mistaken as to have troubled you with my affections. But the men who used to love like that loved lightly; they had scores of years before them to seek their love elsewhere. 

I love you as a man loves only once, and I may have but a few hours. 

If I come through to-morrow safely, I’ve almost a mind to write you a real love letter. I can picture you reading it, if I were to send it. Those straight brows of yours would draw together. The more impassioned I was, the more puzzled you’d become, It would all be so sudden after my carefully proper letters.

I think of you, as I shall think of you to the end, if the end comes. I do not want you less. I want you more perhaps, only not so selfishly. 

And yet there is always you, you, you, to lure me back from death. You with your grey eyes and your intense atmosphere of rest - you with your unconscious womanliness. 

Aft4er such a long wait, two nights ago I received your last letter. You hadn’t quite forgotten me. You hadn’t forgotten me at all. You have been ill, but you’re better now. 

I dreamt of you last night. It was the first time that this has happened. We were in a garden full of sunshine and roses. You were learning on my arm. We must have been married for some time, for there was no strangeness in our being together. We cam to an old stone summer-house and sat down. You sank your head against my shoulder, gazing up into my eyes, and brushing my lips with your hair.           

My heart cries out for you and hears only the silence. 

If I come through this, I have made a pledge that I will tell you. The last few months have educated me in taking chances. 

I shall never know now whether you would have loved me, or could have been made to care for me. Perhaps you did care, and were waiting for me to give the sign. 

It’s the touch of live hands, of lips pressed to lips that counts. 

I want to hold you and to say nothing. I want-                   

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck is up with Triss and Geralt (in the books)

Hello! and in today’s wtf post, here is a summary of the relationship (or lack thereof, sorry Triss) of her and Geralt’s relationship in the books. 

TLDR: At the end of the day, Triss and Geralt have a clearly described mutual attraction to each other through all the books. However, Geralt’s attraction to Triss does not compare to his love for Yennefer and as such, despite Triss and Geralt sleeping together once, they set boundaries and relegate each other to friends. Geralt never fully stops being slightly drawn to and sympathetic towards Triss and Triss never fully falls out of love with Geralt. 

CW for minority graphic depictions of violence (standard for the books)

More under the cut:

So, let’s start out with their backstory. Here’s a snippet describing their hook-up from Blood of Elves. 

Then Geralt of Rivia appeared. A witcher leading a stormy life, and tied to her good friend Yennefer in a strange, turbulent and almost violent relationship.

Triss had watched them both and was jealous even though it seemed there was little to be jealous of. Their relationship quite obviously made them both unhappy, had led straight to destruction, pain and yet, against all logic… it had lasted. Triss couldn’t understand it. And it had fascinated her. It had fascinated her to such an extent that she had seduced the witcher – with the help of a little magic. 

She had hit on a propitious moment, a moment when he and Yennefer had scratched at each other’s eyes yet again and had abruptly parted. Geralt had needed warmth, and had wanted to forget.

No, Triss had not desired to take him away from Yennefer. As a matter of fact, her friend was more important to her than he was. But her brief relationship with the witcher had not disappointed. She had found what she was looking for – emotions in the form of guilt, anxiety and pain. His pain. 

She had experienced his emotions, it had excited her and, when they parted, she had been unable to forget it. And she had only recently understood what pain is. The moment when she had overwhelmingly wanted to be with him again. For a short while – just for a moment – to be with him.

So Geralt and Triss had sex once, and it is important to note that while CDPR took the interpretation that this meant Triss had assaulted Geralt and used that in their games, this is not explicitly said in canon. The single line “she had seduced the witcher – with the help of a little magic.” is also likely to be referring to how mages use transformation magic in order to alter their appearance to be more beautiful. This is mentioned by Fringilla in Baptism of Fire: 

She herself had regularly ridiculed the crude image painted by gossip and propaganda of the typical sorceress from the North: artificially beautiful, arrogant, vain and spoiled to the limits of perversion, and often beyond them.

Even then, Geralt has a pattern (similar to Yennefer as well with Istredd) of sleeping with other people such as Fringilla herself in Lady of the Lake when him and Yennefer are on a break. So it’s important to note for their relationship in the books, that there is nothing in the text that says that Triss assaulted Geralt and that is simply another literary interpretation of the relationship and not directly canon. 

Sometime after their hook-up Triss is presumed dead at the Battle of Sodden but goes to Kaer Morhen in order to teach Ciri magic. Here is Geralt and Triss’s reunion in Blood of Elves. 

“I’ll take your horse,” offered Geralt, reaching for the reins. Triss surreptitiously shifted her hand and their palms joined. So did their eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” she said naturally. “There are a few little things in the saddle-bags which I’ll need.”

“You gave me a very disagreeable experience not so long ago,” he muttered as soon as they had entered the stable. “I studied your impressive tombstone with my own eyes. The obelisk in memory of your heroic death at the battle of Sodden. The news that it was a mistake only reached me recently. I can’t understand how anyone could mistake anyone else for you, Triss.”

“It’s a long story,” she answered. “I’ll tell you some time. And please forgive me for the disagreeable moment.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’ve not had many reasons to be happy of late and the feelings I experienced on hearing that you lived cannot compare to any other. Except perhaps what I feel now when I look at you.”

Triss felt something explode inside her. Her fear of meeting the white-haired witcher, which had accompanied her throughout her journey, had struggled within her with her hope of having such a meeting. Followed by the sight of that tired, jaded face, those sick eyes which saw everything, cold and calculating, which were unnaturally calm but yet so infused with emotion…

She threw her arms around his neck, instantly, without thinking. She caught hold of his hand, abruptly placed it on the nape of her neck, under her hair. A tingling ran down her back, penetrated her with such rapture she almost cried out. In order to muffle and restrain the cry her lips found his lips and stuck to them. She trembled, pressing hard against him, her excitement building and increasing, forgetting herself more and more.

Geralt did not forget himself.

“Triss…Please.”

“Oh, Geralt… So much…”

“Triss.” He moved her away delicately. “We’re not alone… They’re coming.”

So they have a (bit) of a spicy post-death reunion where Geralt says some very nice and heartfelt things things that make Triss especially horny. Triss almost orgasms from a hug and kisses Geralt to avoid moaning (can you tell this series was written by a man yet?)

Then later, Geralt and Triss have a conversation about Geralt needing to reach out to Yennefer because Ciri’s trances and magic are becoming overwhelming. In fact, in this scene, Triss is pretty shaken up because she was just in a joint-trance with Ciri. So, post-trance in Blood of Elves Geralt brings up their past hook-up: 

“You have to get help from another magician. A more gifted one. More experienced. You know who I’m talking about.”

“I do.” He turned his head away, clenched his lips.

“Don’t resist. Don’t defend yourself. I can guess why you turned to me rather than her. Overcome your pride, crush your rancour and obstinacy. There is no point to it, you’ll torture yourself to death. And you are risking Ciri’s health and life in the process. Another trance is liable to be more dangerous to her than the Trial of Grasses. Ask Yennefer for help, Geralt.”

“And you, Triss?”

“What about me?” She swallowed with difficulty. “I’m not important. I let you down. I let you down… in everything. I was… I was your mistake. Nothing more.”

“Mistakes,” he said with effort, “are also important to me. I don’t cross them out of my life, or memory. And I never blame others for them. You are important to me, Triss, and always will be. You never let me down. Never. Believe me.”

She remained silent a long while.

“I will stay until spring,” she said finally, struggling against her shaking voice. “I will stay with Ciri… I will watch over her. Day and night. I will be with her day and night. And when spring is here… when spring is here we will take her to Melitele’s Temple in Ellander. The thing that wants to possess her might not be able to reach her in the temple. And then you will ask Yennefer for help.”

“All right, Triss. Thank you.”

“Geralt?”

“Yes.”

“Ciri said something else, didn’t she? Something only you heard. Tell me what it was.”

“No,” he protested and his voice quivered. “No, Triss.”

“Please.”

“She wasn’t speaking to me.”

“I know. She was speaking to me. Tell me, please.”

“After coming to… When I picked her up… She whispered: ‘Forget about him. Don’t torture him.’”

“I won’t,” she said quietly. “But I can’t forget. Forgive me.”

“I am the one who ought to be asking for forgiveness. And not only asking you.”

“You love her that much,” she stated, not asking.

“That much,” he admitted in a whisper after a long moment of silence.

“Geralt.”

“Yes, Triss?”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“Triss…”

“Only stay.”

“All right.”

Okay this scene makes me feel a lot of emotions because Triss knows she has to let go of Geralt and she genuinely wants to because she values her friendship with Yennefer more. But like she said, she can’t forget. And it’s also important that in the same way Triss asks forgiveness, Geralt is asking forgiveness too. He knows that he slept with Triss while still in love with Yennefer and while, like he says, he doesn’t think his mistake is unimportant, he is not going to pursue a romantic relationship with Triss. 

This scene is so important because it sets the boundaries for the two of them. Especially at the end with Triss asking Geralt to stay the night with her platonically, it’s them trying to re-gain their friendship without the romantic aspect. Triss is a pretty insecure character in the books. In fact, in an interview when asked what immediately came to mind when her name was mentioned, Andrzej Sapkowski said: insecure and red-headed. So her setting these boundaries for herself is important and Geralt setting these boundaries is important as well. 

After this, Geralt stays as as close friend of Triss, even comforting her when she recounts the Battle of Sodden (which btw is one of my favorite book Triss moments in the series, it’s so powerful). 

Then, Triss is traveling with Ciri and Geralt and gets very bad food poisoning and basically has to be nursed back to health by the two of them and Geralt has to literally hold her as she shits herself in the woods. So it’s nice that he’s being a supportive friends but also it’s a gross situation. 

On the road, when asked by Yarpen who Triss is to Geralt (Triss is currently very sick and asleep) he replies in Blood of Elves: 

“Who is this Triss to you?”

“What difference does it make in this situation?”

“In this situation – none. I asked out of an inappropriate curiosity born of the desire to start new rumours going around the inns. But be that as it may, you’re mighty attracted to this enchantress, Geralt.”

The witcher smiled sadly.

You can tell that there is a still a lingering sense of attraction. But it’s not love and it pales in comparison to what Geralt feels for Yennefer. So it’s important Geralt keeps up the boundaries he set earlier. But it’s not just Geralt who has trouble letting go. When Triss is in the worst part of her fever she says this to Geralt: 

“Oh, Geralt,” she sobbed. “I so regret… I so regret that what was between us”

“Triss, please.”

“…it should have happened… now. When I’m better… It would be entirely different… I could… I could even—”

“Triss.”

“I envy Yennefer… I envy her you—”

“Ciri, step out.”

“But—”

“Go, please.”

It’s hard for the both of them, in my opinion Triss far more than Geralt but they both struggle. 

It’s important to note that at the end of Blood of Elves, Yennefer also finds out the whole story about Triss and Geralt from Ciri:

There was a subject which the girl [Ciri] instinctively and carefully avoided. But one day, she got carried away and spoke out. About Triss Merigold. Yennefer, as if casually, as if indifferently, asking as if banal, sparing questions, dragged the rest from her. Her eyes were hard and impenetrable.

Now, the next time Geralt and Triss meet, Geralt and Yennefer were invited along by Philippa to attend a mages’ meeting on the island Thanedd. Here is their meeting from Time of Contempt: 

They went over to Triss, who was shimmering in shades of blue and pale green. On seeing them, Triss broke off her conversation with two sorcerers, smiled radiantly and hugged Yennefer; the ritual of kissing the air near each other’s ears was repeated. Geralt took the proffered hand, but decided to act contrary to the rules of etiquette; he embraced the chestnut-haired enchantress and kissed her on her soft cheek, as downy as a peach. Triss blushed faintly.

So, Yennefer knows that they slept together but they all seem to be able to co-exist together which is good. Yennefer and Triss even have a sem-nice conversation about Ciri together moments later:

“They’re on excellent terms,’ Yennefer warned her gravely. ‘Be careful, Triss. Don’t breathe a word to him about–about you know who.’

‘I know. I’ll be careful. And by the way…’ Triss lowered her voice. ‘How’s she doing? Will I be able to see her?’

‘If you finally decide to run classes at Aretuza,’ smiled Yennefer, ‘you’ll be able to see her very often.’

‘Ah,’ said Triss, opening her eyes widely. ‘I see. Is Ciri…?’

‘Be quiet, Triss. We’ll talk about it later. Tomorrow. After the Council.”

“Tomorrow?’ said Triss, smiling strangely. Yennefer frowned, but before she had time to ask a question, a slight commotion suddenly broke out in the hall.”

This is an important conversation, because Philippa set up the Thanned meeting as a way to arrest Nilfgaardian mages such as Vilgefortz and Francesca and Triss was in on this planned coup while Yennefer was not. However, I don’t want to get too off-track, so back to Geralt and Triss’ relationship! 

Triss in Time of Contempt, mentions to Geralt that Yennefer is member of the mage’s council and asks Yennefer why she hadn’t told Geralt yet and this is Yennefer’s reply: 

“No, darling,’ said the enchantress, looking her friend straight in the eyes. ‘For one thing, I don’t like to boast. For another, there’s been no time. I haven’t seen Geralt for ages, and we have a lot of catching up to do. There’s already a long list. We’re going through it point by point.’

‘I see,’ said Triss hesitantly. ‘Hmm… After such a long time I understand. You must have lots to talk about…’

‘Talking,’ smiled Yennefer suggestively, giving the Witcher another smouldering glance, ‘is way down the list. Right at the very bottom, Triss.’

The chestnut-haired enchantress was clearly discomfited and blushed faintly.

‘I see,’ she said, playing in embarrassment with her lapis-lazuli heart.

‘I’m so glad you do. Geralt, bring us some wine. No, not from that page. From that one, over there.”

Then, Geralt asks Yennefer once he and her are alone and says: 

“Sure you didn’t go a bit too far?’ he asked coldly. Yennefer’s eyes flared violet.”

“Don’t try to make a fool out of me. Did you think I don’t know about you and her?’

‘If that’s what you—’

‘That’s precisely what,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘Don’t make stupid faces, and refrain from comments. And above all, don’t try to lie to me. I’ve known Triss longer than I’ve known you. We like each other. We understand each other wonderfully and will always do so, irrespective of various minor… incidents. Just then it seemed to me she had some doubts. So I put her right, and that’s that. Let’s not discuss it any further.”

So underneath this exterior, there’s definitely some tension and we see Yennefer’s possessive side come out. Needless to say, Triss isn’t going anywhere near Geralt romantically while Yennefer is in the picture. However, it is important to note that Yennefer still highly values Triss’ friendship, going so far as to daydream about her being in their lives if Yennefer and Geralt were to ever retire. 

Then, during the coup on Thanned, Geralt’s leg is horribly injured and Triss is the one who saves him (although she did help cause the coup in the first place). From Time of Contempt: 

Now Geralt could see nothing and hear nothing. He was sinking, submerging into something warm. He thought Vilgefortz had gone. He was astonished, then, when a fierce blow from the iron staff struck his thigh, smashing the shaft of his femur.

If anything occurred after that, he did not remember it.

‘Hang in there, Geralt. Don’t give up,’ repeated Triss Merigold endlessly. ‘Hang in there. Don’t die… Please don’t die…’

‘Ciri…’

‘Don’t talk. I’ll soon get you out of here. Hold on… Damn I’m too weak, by the gods…’

‘Yennefer… I have to—’

‘You don’t have to do anything! You can’t do anything! Hang in there. Don’t give up… Don’t faint… Don’t die, please…’

She dragged him across the floor, which was littered with bodies. He saw his chest and belly covered in blood, which was streaming from his nose. He saw his leg. It was twisted at a strange angle and seemed much shorter than the intact one. He didn’t feel any pain. He felt cold. His entire body was cold, numb and foreign. He wanted to puke.

‘Hold on, Geralt. Help is coming from Aretuza. It’ll soon be here…’

Triss basically drags Geralt to Tissaia and begs for help. Tissaia reluctantly gives help and Triss teleports Geralt from Thanned to Brokilon to be healed by the dryads and tells only Dandelion where he is and keeps Geralt’s location a secret. Both Yennefer and Ciri are missing after the coup. 

However, once Triss fully commits herself to the Lodge of Sorceresses, she puts  their well-being above all her previous connections. In The Tower of Swallows, she is even willing to let Geralt die as he didn’t serve the purposes of the Lodge:

“The information,” Yennefer said dully, “for his life. Save him, Philippa.”

“No, Yennefer.”

“Because it's not in the interest of the Lodge.” A purple fire kindled in the sorceress’ eyes. “Did you hear that Triss? There, you have your Lodge. You see their true colors, their true interests. And what do you think of them? You were a mentor to the girl, almost – as you put it – a big sister. And Geralt…”

“Do not attack Triss’ relationships, Yennefer.” Philippa retaliated with her own fire in her eyes. “We will find and rescue the girl without your help. And if you succeed, that's fine, a thousand thanks, because you will have saved us the trouble. You tear the girl out of the hands of Vilgefortz and we will be happy. And Geralt? Who cares about Geralt?”

“Did you hear that, Triss?”

“Forgive me,” said Triss Merigold dully. “Forgive me, Yennefer.”

“Oh, no, Triss. Never.”

While Triss takes many steps to try and find and save Ciri, she does nothing of the sort for Geralt and it appears that she has abandoned much of their friendship (and Yennefer’s) in favor of The Lodge. Despite this, Triss still showcases jealously whenever someone else mentions being involved with Geralt. 

For example, in Lady of the Lake, Fringilla is summarizing her seduction of Geralt and his responses and says: 

“December came,” she continued. “Then Yule, then the New Year. The witcher calmed down to the point where Ciri’s name no longer showed up in every conversation. The monster hunting expeditions, which he regularly undertook, seemed to completely avail him. Well, maybe not completely…”

She trailed off. She thought she had seen Triss Merigold’s blue eyes flash with hatred. But perhaps it had just been a reflection of the flickering candle flames. 

Seeing The Lodge like this is a turning point for Triss and she regrets joining The Lodge and her actions in The Tower of Swallows and says as much to Nenneke in Lady of the Lake:

“I cannot go madly hurrying after Ciri to help her, I cannot run like crazy to save Geralt and Yennefer. Not only that, there is a war, which you have sent your girls… A war, that Jarre fled to and I am refused the possibility to even stand on a hill. To once again stand on a hill. Knowing this time, I’d made the right decision.”

“Everyone has their decisions and everyone has their hills, Triss,” the priestess said quietly. “Everyone. You cannot escape your own.”

This arc of jealously, betrayal, and love comes to a head when Triss accompanies Ciri and Yennefer to Rivia to try and rescue Geralt from an uprising. Yennefer rounds on Triss and the two of them have an absolutely vitriolic fight. From Lady of the Lake: 

Triss averted her face, determined not to give Yennefer any excuse. She did not expect it to work. For a long time she had been sensing Yennefer’s anger and aggression growing stronger as they approached Rivia.

“You, Triss,” Yennefer mischievously insisted, “do not blush, do not sigh, do not drool or wiggle around in your saddle. Or is it that you think because I agreed to your request that I want to have you with us? That I was interested in seeing you spend a meeting with an old love? Ciri, I asked you to go on ahead. The two of us need to talk!”

“It is not a discussion, it is a lecture.” Ciri dared to argue, but under the threatening glare from violet eyes, she immediately recoiled, clucked and galloped off on Kelpie on the road ahead.

“You’re not going to meet a loved one, Triss,” Yennefer continued. “I am not so noble or stupid enough to give you the opportunity, or him the temptation. But just for today. I could not deny myself the sweet satisfaction. He will know what role you play as a member of the Lodge. He will thank you for that with his famous look. And I’ll be looking at your quivering lips and trembling hands, I will listen to your lame apologies and excuses. And you know what, Triss? I will faint with delight.”

“I knew,” Triss grunted. “That you would not forget, that you would take your revenge. I agreed to this, because I was actually at fault. But one thing I must tell you, Yennefer. Do not count too much on fainting. He knows how to forgive.

“He knows what was done to him, of course,” Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “But he will never forgive you for what was done to Ciri. And me.”

“It is possible,” Triss swallowed. “He may not forgive. Especially if you insist. But he won’t fly into a rage. He won’t lower himself like that.”

“Yennefer flicked her horse with her whip in anger. The animal whinnied and leapt and the sorceress swayed in her saddle.

“Enough talk,” she snapped. “More humility, you smug viper! He is my man, mine and only mine! Do you understand? You have to stop talking about him, to stop thinking about him, you have to stop admiring his noble character… As of right now, right now! Oh I want to grab you by your matted red hair…

“Try it!” Screamed Triss. “Just try it, you vindictive bitch and I’ll scratch out your eyes! I…”

The both fell silent when they saw the cloud of dust as Ciri galloped back towards them.

That fight was particularly ugly and it’s built out of a lot of repressed feelings and betrayal over the course of the story that these two refused to properly address. However, the two of them put this aside in order to work together and fight together in the end of Lady of the Lake, but this post is not for analyzing Yennefer and Triss’ relationship so I won’t link the quote. 

TLDR: At the end of the day, Triss and Geralt have a clearly described mutual attraction to each other through all the books. However, Geralt’s attraction to Triss does not compare to his love for Yennefer and as such, despite Triss and Geralt sleeping together once, they set boundaries and relegate each other to friends. Geralt never fully stops being slightly drawn to and sympathetic towards Triss and Triss never fully falls out of love with Geralt.  

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

a poem for small things

by Admin 1 & 2

The time has come, the first proper post for this segment we’ve settled on calling a poem for small things, a nod toward BWL and its Korean title. Like we said in our call for submission post, this is supposed to be something like a place full of positivity for vminnies (and perhaps the occasional namjinist) where you (and us) can share whatever we’d like in connection to vmin, both as vmin and as Jimin and Tae the individuals, and have something to raise our mood and also strengthen our vminnie confidence. We’ve gotten several wonderful submissions and quickly realized that for this first post the theme is mostly how I became a vminnie, even if three submissions talk more about vmin moments they enjoy instead.

I think it’s a really interesting theme, especially since everyone’s story is different, and everyone seems to find something else about vmin that captured their attention and hearts so sharing these memories and experiences is a great way to start off this segment. We’ve said it many times before, though I don’t think you can say it enough times, but this bond that Jimin and Tae share is truly special and so one of a kind, it’s wonderful to see how we all relate to and resonate with it in our own way and find something in it that makes us fall in love with their loves, regardless if we see it as platonic or romantic love. Love is love after all. 95z is love.

For the order of these submissions, we’ll simply go in the order in which we’ve received them. Most of them came from anons, which is more than okay. We’ve also opened the possibility of submitting posts for those who would like to submit wordier posts/asks, should we do another edition of this. It all depends on how much you’ll enjoy it and if you’ll come through with more submissions that could be gathered for future posts.

Anyway, enough talking from our side, let’s dive into these submissions below the cut, shall we? Like we said in the original post (and demonstrated in the preview post), we’ll add some of our commentary and observations along the way, too.

From anon: This is going to be long winded story but Vmin is like a Serendipity to me. I've heard of BTS mainly from my hubby when he complains that times sq is packed because of BTS (when they’re in town and doing their rounds of morning shows). I knew they were very popular but it was a great surprise that i discovered them after watching ILand during lockdown. Their songs were great and i started playing their classics like Fire, DNA Fake Love etc. Then they did an appearance in the show...

I love how you heard about BTS because of your husband and Time Square being packed, this is honestly the most original and unique version of how I’ve come across BTS I’ve read over the years. Amazing!

I was drawn to Taehyung's beauty during their appearance in Iland. And my first Vmin ? moment was when Tae commented about being handsome and attractive are 2 things and being attractive weighs more - along those lines... then JM made a comment that its unfair that he's both and Tae was like Im talking about you... I went like ok he thinks JM is attractive- theyre good friends.... then Jimin did the FakeLove choreo and the camera focused on Tae and he had this wide smile...The Iland Tae/Jimin clips made me do a double take but I dismissed it since it was just only a few seconds worth of screen time but still...

I-Land vmin was really something else in both episodes. 

Fun fact: I-Land was the first Korean survival show I’ve ever watched, mostly because it had something to do with BH and since it was streamed online with subs in real time. Unfortunately, my faves—Daniel and Taki—didn’t make it into ENHYPEN, though I’m happy that Taki will be in a future Japanese BH group.

But, going back to vmin, that moment with Jimin dancing FAKE LOVE and Tae looking at him with that boxy smile as though Jimin hung the stars in the sky? I melted, even if it was just one of those brief moments, yet still it’s so cute! And it was all over sns being shared by vminnies and non-vminnies alike. What a great time that was.

Then VMAs Dynamite perf happened- both Vmin looking good. I saw a lot of their promos especially the Jimmy Fallon interviews... and I noticed in hindsight how JF was so careful when referring to Jimin ... Since Tae was my first bias, I searched YT for Tae related content eventually saw in my YT feed Vmin moments. Theres a lot of Vmin content in YT or maybe the T*ek*ok ones didnt really register as extraordinary to me. But defo the Vmin moments were extraordinary to me,,,the BV4 sleeping together, kitchen role play & BV3 JM excited to see Tae and them holding hands and then Tae crying and then Tae's busking with Jimin cheering him on were all amazing to see. Up to this day this specific YT vid stood out to me first 

I actually went to check what video this is, and also looked at the comments where my favorite was this one: The staff member went straight to Jimin to tell him V was crying. That's all you need to know. They’re not wrong with that one, are they? That is pretty telling. BV3 vmin were a work of wonder, truly. Jimin watching Tae sing that Sam Smith song during the dinner in the sky looking all soft and endlessly fond?

Jimin encouraging Tae to busk and gently petting his hair was just such a pure moment and showed how much Jimin appreciates Tae and the talent he has, how in moments when Tae might brush aside wanting to do something, is a little hesitant and unsure, Jimin will stand up for him and give him strength/encouragement, which reminds me of Tae’s vlive in April 2020 and the fact that Jimin had told him that he wants to be his source of strength. Beautiful. And it shows that it wasn’t just pretty yet empty words, but something he truly meant. They both do.

Then i came across vid trans of Friends & cried first time hearing it especially when it got to the part "One day when the cheer dies down, stay hey.." It felt raw and honest to me. Then there's MOT:E concert and that part in Dynamite where they bumped their heads seemed bizaare to me - i was like were they fighting? because JM looked really fierce(or maybe emotional) then i saw the close up. i couldnt remember the exact moment I became a Vminie but it made quarantine easier...

This, I’ve noticed, seems to be a recurring theme among quarantine ARMY and vminnies, the fact that becoming ARMY and vminnies made it easier, and it fits with what we’ve been saying about BTS for years: they will find you when you’ll need them most. And in these trying and uncertain times, it’s certainly proven true once again.

Thank you of much for your submission and sharing your story with us, and I’m glad they could make quarantine a little easier for you.

From anon: I've been following BTS on and off since BST, but only really consider myself a true fan late 2019. I can't recall having a bias at first, but I was captivated by Jimin's everything when I binge-watched all their content. I must admit, my first OTP is T*e/k*ok, where I fell down the route of considering Jimin 'an interfering 3rd party' in their relationship, and it shamed me. Since then I've been cycling through Jimin ships, namely yo*n/m*n, j*n/m*n, m*ni/m*ni, and I even thought that j*/k*ok was real at some point. Strangely, Vmin never struck me as something extraordinary. I don't want to blame anyone, but Vmin caught my eye after I watched official BTS content without filter (presumed bias/judgement) all in their glory. I realized that while other ships may go up-and-down as in one day there's a frenzy and another day quiet af, Vmin has been and is still going constant. That's what makes me love Vmin, and for the first time in my fandom life, I have no qualms about whether they are real or not. Their bond, whatever it is, is already precious and something to be cherished forever. Thank you for providing us vminies a special corner to speak up about our experience 💜

You’re very welcome! I hope you’ll like how this turned out as well. Thank you for sharing your story with us and personally I find it fascinating how, despite Jimin being the one who captivated you most at first, you still fell into the “he’s an interference for my ship” trap that’s quite popular with that particular ship. I’m glad though that that never ruined your love for Jimin. It’s also really interesting for me how you went through different Jimin ships yet it took you the longest time to notice vmin. I feel like, because vmin and vminnies are more “low key” than the other bigger and louder ships, as well as Tae and Jimin simply being quieter in their interactions (not always but you get the point) as compared to, for example, Jimin’s interactions with Hobi, Jungkook, or even Namjoon, it takes people a while to really notice them.

This is my favorite part of what you wrote, and I think it’s a great way to describe vmin in general and what makes them different from other ships in the grand scheme of things: I realized that while other ships may go up-and-down as in one day there's a frenzy and another day quiet af, Vmin has been and is still going constant.

From vminot7: So i fell into BTS hole after watching blood sweat and tears mv casually on youtube. Jimin immediately stole my attention with his unique voice, graceful moves and handsome features even though i didn’t know their names at that time. I watched more MVs and jimin continued to hold my attention but i was also extremely drawn to taehyung's voice and facial expressions. So i started looking for more content such as RUN BTS and other compilations and realized my love for all 7 of them. I also noticed how jimin always had a soft spot for taehyung and was curious about their dynamics. I started looking at more of vmin content and i was really surprised to see how in the early days they were nowhere near as soft with each other as they are now. I think they have a unique bond and i have never come across anything quite similar. Now vmin are both my biases and my bias wrecker is hoseok.

I admire jimin for being a hardworking, passionate perfectionist but also a caring soul who is always ready to offer love and comfort to people in need. I love taehyung for how he looks at the world in his unique ways and how he has a childlike awe for things and how he is so passionate over the things he loves. The thing i love about vmin together is how they are so different yet work so hard on their relationship when it would be easier to just not try that hard.

Ah, another mention of the queen that is Blood, Sweat and Tears. The MV truly is such a masterpiece so I’m not surprised that it caught your attention, and especially Jimin since he was…something else in that MV, or like Tae said, his eyes were temptation (this boy, I swear). Since you mentioned how in the first years they were nowhere near as soft with each other as they are now, I think watching their dynamic and relationship change and evolve over time showcases the one thing I think a lot of people (as well as movies and TV shows) forget or gloss over, despite it being so incredibly important: in order to make a relationship of any kind work, especially in order for it to grow as deep and strong as the one between all members and especially vmin, you need to put in the emotional work to make that happen. You have to make an effort, have to learn to understand the other person and teach them to understand you as well, learn to appreciate and love their little quirks and how to accept others. And it’s so clear that that’s what vmin did, continue to do, and it more than paid off in the long run. I’m glad you highlighted that in general but also as something you love about them.

While the overall bond between the members is a class of its own, I think especially what vmin have achieved is a whole masterclass in relationships and fostering strong ones, in and of itself. There is a lot I think we can learn from them and I’m so happy that people recognize how special they are.

Thank you so much for your submission!

From anon: There’s this small moments in Dear Class of 2020 that i just adore! I’ve watched it at least 20 times this past month

It starts with “Spring Day”- tae and jimin laugh and look at each other and it’s just so sweet!

Also, maybe it’s my delusional mind but after tae’s and jin’s small and adorable moment- it seemed that jimin did the same with junkook right after maybe out of i duuno if jealousy but like “pay attention to me too” kinda way- dont know really and maybe it’s me being extra🤷🏻‍♀️

I agree partially, in that Jimin watched Tae’s and Seokjin’s adorable moment, obviously must’ve thought of it as cute just like we did, and thought he could do the same with JK. I don’t think it had anything to do with jealousy, especially if we work off of the idea that vmin are a thing, but also because it’s a performance and these things primarily serve the purpose of being cute and entertaining use, in other words, it’s fanservice (which isn’t the evil word some portray it as). Also, within that same performance, Tae and Jimin actually sang some of the lyrics toward each other, therefore they, too, had a cute moment they shared with big smiles and everything, just like you mentioned.

But we’ve gotten to see much more of Tae’s friendship with Seokjin in 2020, and especially the second half, so it was really sweet to see them interact during that song. Their friendship and dynamic is really a beautiful one, just like JKs bond with Seokjin, which I feel we’ve also gotten to see more of in recent months. Part of me (and that part can very well be wrong) feels that perhaps once the members caught on to Seokjin feeling the way he said he did/does, they decided to give him an extra dose of love and affection, off camera but also on where we can see it. That isn’t to say that they didn’t show him any of that before, but maybe they increased the intensity a little, a reminder that Seokjin truly is loved, that he deserves all of this, that it’s just his imposter syndrome (or at least what sounds like it) lying to him.

I’m still so touched and moved by the fact that he trusted us enough to share his feelings with us, to gift us Abyss and how it came to be, and that Bang PD was on his side and coaxed him into pouring his feelings into music, even if it would be “bad”, that the fear of it potentially being “bad” shouldn’t hold him back (and Namjoon helping in even if just a tiny bit with the lyrics). It was one of those times where I feel like we were all reminded that regardless of our opinions of BH and their doings, the members are surrounded by kind people who have their best interest in mind. After all what’s good for Bangtan is also good for the company, a win-win for everyone.

…wow, okay, I kind of went off on a tangent, I’m sorry…

Either way , then we have “Mikrokosmos” where we have a sweet moment at their part and towards the end where they switch mic and hear each other

I love this performance overall and especially “spring day”- jin’s and j-hope’s lovely voices and of course tae’s!! This song fits them so well and all the members of course

Well this is my rent , i love your blog and always wait for another post! Also i love the new idea and look forward to it!

Thank you so much for your submission and for bringing up their Dear Class 2020 performance. It was a truly magical one, and after reading this the first time, I did go and watch it again. To this day I’d still very much like to know how and when and why the mic switch between vmin happened, and I kind of hope that we might get a Bangtan B*mb or EPISODE about this eventually and it might shine some light on that question. Overall it was one of my favorite performances on 2020.

From Sky: While I enjoy cute, physical moments with VMIN, I really do value how emotionally attached they are to each other. For example (I don’t know if it fits as vmin moment but), I love how Jimin asked V to take the Promise cover photo, and how he ended up putting V’s name for credits on the cover. (Special Thanks to V, Best Photographer) This really shows a lot. Coz he can easily choose any Bighit photographer to take it. He could have chosen JK because we know how he takes good pics and vids too (and also apparently alot of people say that vmin had a falling out and that Jimin and JK were much more closer, lol). Or he could’ve asked Suga too bec he’s into cameras too. But he didn’t. He chose V, and chose to shout it out to the world how thankful he is for V’s help. RM co-wrote Promise, and maybe had offered more help in this project, but he didn’t put it in the cover. I’m not saying Jimin is ungrateful for not crediting RM in the cover. The difference is that he and RM had a vlive regarding the making of this song, a lot of people already know RM’s participation, he was officially credited as co-writer and Jimin really showed how thankful he is to RM. But no one knows of V’s participation (except for a snippet in that Run ep), so Jimin felt the need to tell it to everyone. I’m sure it’s not only the photos, I think he wanted to acknowledge how V helped him through the process, whether directly or indirectly. Also, remember this is Jimin’s first non-album solo single. By putting V’s name in it, he is sharing this very special song with his soulmate. How endearing it is! V also included Jimin in his first full English song. He used the two bears given by Jimin as Winter Bear’s cover photo and he included the photo Jimin took (sleeping V in the plane) in the MV. Like, seriously, they are trying to consciously imprint each other in their life’s milestones, openly or subtly. I’m crying. 😭

This was lovely, and yes, Jimin could’ve asked whoever to take those pictures, could’ve chosen any other ones, and yet he wanted Tae to be the one to take them, wanted those specific ones as covers. It’s very sweet and creates this subtle connection between Jimin, the song, and Tae. Sure, it isn’t the first time a picture Tae took is the cover for a SoundCloud song (the picture of JK on the 2U cover was also taken by Tae if I remember correctly), but it’s the fact that Promise is Jimin’s first non-BTS song, his first solo release, that makes it that much more special. Even more so when you think about how meaningful that song is to Jimin, and by having Tae as cover picture photographer, he’s in a way forever attached memory wise to that song as well, right?

The same also goes with Winter Bear and the two ceramic bears. Remember how excited Tae looked when I kinda spoiled that gift being a thing happening in an upcoming RUN episode during Jimin’s vlive during the summer 2019? Adorable. It’s also curious how though the title is singular—winter bear not winter bears—there’s two ceramic bears. One for Tae, one for Jimin? Maybe, or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Either way, it’s really cute, and it was a very thoughtful gift, even more when we think about just how much Jimin loves that song.

From anon: Love this idea it's super cute!! 1st thing that came to my mind is a rather simple moment, jimin bopping taehyung's nose and making a lil game out of it

Taehyung asking for more and that dazed smile 🥺 he had the same expression in that concert when jimin placed his face just above him, tae's smile afterward... it was so pure u could almost read "love" in his eyes lol

What a lovely note to end this post at, thank you for that. I don’t know what got into them during that photoshoot for Season’s Greetings 2020 but this was so disarmingly adorable. I remember when that moment appeared all over every sns and everyone just melted, myself included. Their smiles, the cute clothes, Tae’s head on Jimin’s chest, the softness and innocence of it, just all of it. It truly was so pure and like this sweet visualization of ‘love’.

And with that, we’ve reached the end. Did you like this? I had a great time reading your submissions and adding my little comments to them. If you’d like for us to continue this, same rules as last time, send in a submission marked with “VMC” and once we’ll have enough of them gathered, we’ll do this again, if you’re interested in more, that is. Send in whatever positive vmin you have, a thought, a moment, a memory, whatever you’d like.

Thank you once again to everyone who participated! :)

[riversofmars]

Hi all! So sorry this update took a while, I got side-tracked with the RiverDoctorPromptWeek which was a lot of fun :D But now that that's over, back to business! Hope you like this next chapter! <3

Chapter 13: Into the Lion’s Den

Torchwood Two Hub, 2021

“I did not expect that to be down here,“ Jenny observed, sounding thoroughly impressed as they followed the Doctor into the Torchwood Two hub.

“Looks can be deceiving,“ Vastra mused but she was surprised as well. Humanity really had improved on their defences since the time they lived in.

“Thank you for coming, Doctor,“ Kate greeted them, her expression one of relief. She felt better already for having them here. She looked the Doctor up and down, her new body would take a bit of getting used to but her identity was still unmistakable.

“That’s… the Doctor?“ Gwen raised her eyebrows, mumbling to Martha who was just as surprised.

“I’m sorry to be pulling you away from whatever you’ve got going on…“ Kate hadn’t expected the Doctor to arrive with as big an entourage as she had. She eyed the Doctor’s numerous companions with interest and, in the Master’s case, concern.

“I actually think both our problems might be connected.“ The Doctor didn’t stop to chat, she carried on along the corridor to where she presumed the main working area was.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a cell, would you?“ Vastra asked, giving Kovarian a little shove to walk along.

“Who is she?“ Kate asked with a frown.

“Long story but locking her up would be most helpful,“ the Doctor retorted.

“I’ll see to that,“ Gwen volunteered. They were set up for all eventualities in the hub.

“These are my friends Vastra, Jenny and Strax.“ The Doctor made their introductions as they reached the main area.

“And this…“ Kate had read the files on what had happened with Daniel Barton. It couldn’t possibly be…

“Oh don’t mind me…“ The Master looked around the room, hands in his pockets managing to somehow look bored, and yet scan his surroundings with interest. It was disconcerting.

“Doctor is this a good idea?“ Kate reached for the Doctor’s arm and stopped her in her tracks.

“I told you, I was busy too, there is a lot going on…“ The Doctor replied, watching, as the two Osgoods regarded the Master with surprise and distrust. The last time they had encountered the Master hadn’t ended well. She chose to disregard it for the moment, there were far greater concerns. “You said there were disappearances and potentially experiments going on? Any idea where I can find whoever is behind this?“

“We lost contact with Ryan, Graham and Jack when they were following a lead to an address that seemed to be connected to this project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke up, trying her best to ignore the Master who seemed to be intent on freaking them out as much as possible. He maintained a predatory smirk and mumbled threats. The Doctor hated his sense of humour.

“Daniel Barton is providing funds, that’s about all we know. The address was planted as a trap, we should have realised that,“ Kate continued ruefully.

“We had but they wanted to investigate regardless,“ Martha interjected. It wasn’t that they hadn’t realised that it was a trap, they had just decided to take the risk and it hadn’t paid off.

“Daniel Barton, eh?“ The Doctor regarded the Master with a frown.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for,“ the Master snapped, taking her meaning.

“Well, it’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it,“ the Doctor shot back sarcastically.

“Well, who knows maybe it was the Thirteen all along that’s been playing you and been working with the Kassavin.“ The Master rolled his eyes at her.

“Very funny.“

“Just saying, maybe I have been a good boy all along,“ he carried on mockingly.

“Shut up,“ the Doctor groaned, annoyed. She felt herself being pulled back and forth between wanting to trust him and remembering that experience had taught her not. The Master had been a genuine help at Demon’s Run - in his own destructive way, but a help nonetheless. But for whatever reason, the coincidences just kept happening, stacking the deck against him. It was beginning to look purposeful.

“So what is he doing here?“ Martha asked with distaste, recalling her own unpleasant experiences with the renegade Time Lord.

“I found him,“ the Doctor answered vaguely.

“Is he connected to this somehow?“ Kate asked, wondering if it might not be advisable to put him in a cell as well.

“Don’t know yet,“ the Doctor replied thoughtfully and the Master groaned, exasperated.

“Doctor, for the last time, I was sitting on Gallifrey while all this happened…“

“Then why does he have your face?!“ She snapped and he just stared her down, holding her intense, questioning gaze.

“I’m not following…“ Martha shook her head to herself.

“Nothing for your weak little ape brains to worry about!“ The Master exclaimed with surprising rage.

“Get it together,“ the Doctor snarled, her voice threatening as she stepped up to him.

“Stop goading me. I don’t know anything about it.“ The Master didn’t move back, if anything, he stepped even close, his eyes twinkling with madness, his darker instincts seemed to be struggling for control and he was just about holding them at bay.

“Perhaps if you could tell us what you have been doing… you said you thought there was a connection?“ Kate interjected, hoping to calm the situation.

“We have to find where their hideout is.“ The Doctor turned away from the Master, abruptly changing her priorities. She made her way over to the Osgoods at their workstations. “What sort of scanning equipment have you got here?“

“State of the art and then some but what are you looking for?“ One of them asked, relieved to be back in an area they felt comfortable with.

“Time Lord life signs. Scan for people with two hearts. If we connect the hub to my TARDIS, we should be able to do it,“ the Doctor explained, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she considered the logistics.

“You believe other Time Lords are behind this?“ Kate asked, surprised.

“If things are connected then yes, for sure. One particular Time Lord, that is.“ The Doctor nodded. “Chances are the Thirteen will be wherever they’re keeping Ryan, Graham and Jack. And my son.“

“Your son?“ Martha was the first to echo in disbelief while the other UNIT members just stared at the Doctor in shock.

“He was kidnapped, we have been chasing after his kidnappers ever since,“ Vastra interjected sensing that the Doctor’s mind was already on other, more practical matters as she leaned over the computer screens.

“Doctor I’m so sorry, I had no idea…“ Kate started saying but the Doctor wasn’t paying attention.

“He’s bound to have a Time Lord life sign too… between River and me…“ She explained to the Osgoods and took one of their keyboards off them to start typing.

“Right, okay, let’s get to work,“ Martha interrupted the stunned silence, calling them all to action.

——

Unknown location

“Tempting offer, mate, but I don’t think you can just turn people immortal,“ Ryan replied, looking around the room.

“Talking of immortal people, where is Jack?“ Graham asked, noticing his absence.

“Oh, he will be quite useful. He may not have the kind of immortality we are looking for but he might be just what we need to differentiate the genes,“ the blonde man answered graciously.

“Is that what your experiments are about? Making people immortal? You’re not doing a very good job, are you, if you’re killing them,“ Ryan snapped, pulling against restraints that had been fixed to their wrists. They had to find a way of getting out of here and get help, else they would be next in a long line of dead bodies.

“Every attempt takes us closer and we’re confident, we’re almost there now. You could be our first successes,“ the man carried on with charismatic confidence. He seemed awfully convinced of what he was promising.

“If you’re so sure about that, why don’t you try it out on yourself?“ Graham shot back, trying to get out of his restraints as well but to no avail.

“No need, I already have that ability, it’s your species I’m concerned with,“ the man answered and Ryan and Graham exchanged confused glances.

“What?“

Before they could ask any more questions, the door opened at the far side of the room.

“Padrac! There you are!“ A familiar voice barked.

“What…“ Ryan and Graham couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched the Master strolling into the room.

“Impossible.“ Graham shook his head. “She said you’d died on Gallifrey!“

“Did she now?“ The Master barely regarded them with a glance but it seemed to have picked the other man’s interest, who appeared to be called Padrac.

“You know of Gallifrey?“ He raised his eyebrows, surprised. He clearly hadn’t realised who they were.

“’Course we bloody do!“ Ryan snapped but focused his attention back on the Master: “We stopped you once and we will do it again. Just you wait, the Doctor will be on her way, once she realises this has been you all along.“

“The Doctor, ey?“ Padrac smiled, intrigued.

“I very much doubt that, you see, she’s pretty busy right now,“ the Master retorted. “You are the last thing she’s concerned with.“ Then he grabbed the other man by the arm. “Padrac, we need to talk.“

——

Luna University, 52nd Century

“Wow,“ Yaz breathed, looking out of the window as they made their descent to the moon’s surface. The university campus was quite a sight from above. Large domes were keeping the emptiness of space at bay and provided pleasant living conditions for the people below. They docked to what appeared to be a space port, for lack of a better word. It was a tall structure that stuck out between the domes and provided passage into the area below.

“What time period are you from?“ River asked, watching the fascination play on her young face.

“2020,“ Yaz answered absentmindedly as she moved away from the window.

“Ah, a little way off then, Luna University is the hub of academia in my time.“ River gave her a kind smile as she picked up Dorium who scolded her for tipping his box a bit too much. River chose to ignore his protest as they left the shuttle.

“What is your time?“ Yaz asked as they found their way to an elevator that would take them down to the surface.

“That’s a question and a half…“ River chuckled. “My parents were from your time, 2010 or something there about… and I lived there for a while… until the Doctor whisked me away and stranded me here, 52nd century… I guess I consider it my time, that’s where I spent most of my linear life… and it’s where I died. A time traveller doesn’t really have a home but Luna University is as close as it gets for me,“ she explained as they rode the elevator to the surface.

“It’s where you live when you don’t jump through time?“ Yaz understood what she meant. The elevator opened and they stepped out into the foyer of a large building of massive stone and impressive architecture. It reminded Yaz of a class trip they had taken to Oxford once where they had passed by the university. This appeared to be the Oxbridge of the future and it was very impressive.

“I teach here, too,“ River revealed with a smile. “This way.“

“Archeology, wasn’t it?“ Yaz asked as she looked around the entrance area, signs and arrows on the floor indicating which way each department was situated. “Isn’t that cheating when you can visit any time period?“ She realised she was falling behind a little bit, getting distracted by the sheer impressiveness of it all. She quickly caught up to River again.

“I certainly am the most hands-on archeologist out there,“ River chuckled. “Admittedly, not everyone is a big fan of that… but I don’t usually mention the time travel bit. Here we go…“ She grimaced a little, then put on her best smile as a middle aged man hurried to meet them. Quickly, she closed the door on Dorium’s box so as not to draw attention. A muffled protest came from the box but River gave him a little shake to be quiet.

“Ehh… Professor Song?“ The man greeted her, stammering, utterly surprised to see her by the looks of it. He was rather short and unimpressive looking, his suit was ill-fitting and there was a stain on his tie.

“If I have missed any classes, I’m very sorry, my last expedition ran over,“ River explained.

“Ran over? We received word from the Lux Cooperation that you died during the expedition,“ the man replied, utterly stunned upon seeing her. It was understandable given the circumstances.

“As always, accounts of my death have been vastly exaggerated.“ River gave a brilliant smile and a crystal clear laugh, hoping to put the matter to bed, just like that. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my quarters…“ She didn’t want to waste time on idle chit chat.

“Well…“ The man went slightly pale around the nose and uncomfortably tugged at his collar to loosen it a little.

“Where are my things?“ River frowned.

“Storage. We tried to reach out for your family but when thirteen different people turned up claiming to be your spouses we decided it best to keep your affects sealed for the time being…“ He answered awkwardly.

“What can I say, I’ve had a good life, didn’t expect them all to come back and haunt me after my alleged death,“ River sighed, though oddly touched that the Doctor would go to such lengths.

“Quite.“ The man cleared his throat. “I’m just gonna need some identification, bio-scan or… just to prove you are who you say you are, you understand… doesn’t happen every day someone returns from the dead…“

“Here, hold Dorium.“ River handed Yaz the box. Dorium complained loudly and the university clerk jumped away from them in shock at the talking box. “Lead the way,“ River sighed at him exasperatedly. “There better not be anything missing!“

——

Torchwood Two Hub, 2021

“Here we go, that should do it.“ The Doctor had finished linking the Torchwood computers to the TARDIS and transferred Time Lord biodata prints across for reference, now it was just a matter of time.

“Scanning now…“ One of the Osgoods announced.

“Two here, that’s the Master and me…“ The Doctor smiled enthusiastically when the first results came in. It was working.

“I still can’t believe you brought him here,“ Martha huffed.

“As it happens, I have been very helpful through this process,“ the Master shot back.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,“ Mickey backed up his wife.

“It might be easier if you start scanning where you lost track of your friends?“ The Master ignored their quips. “Idiots.“

“Doctor, does he really have to be here?“ Kate asked softly, stepping closer to the Doctor. “No-one seems comfortable with having him around.“

“Well, I don’t like being here, and I don’t like playing nice, I would quite happily murder each and every one of you but we can’t all have what we want, can we?“ the Master bellowed, losing his temper at last.

“Master!“ The Doctor snapped, her eyes shooting up to him. They had been toeing a fine line and it was becoming increasingly hard to justify his presence to the others.

“Sorry. Sometimes my emotions run away with me,“ the Master took a deep breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Doctor!“ The Osgoods chanted in unison and the Doctor returned her attention to the computer screens.

“There we are!“ She exclaimed excitedly. Finally they were getting somewhere! “But… that’s not possible…“ She frowned, leaning in closer, doubting the findings and her ability to interpret them in equal measures.

“What is it?“ Vastra asked, concerned.

“There are three Time Lord life signs there…“ The Doctor revealed after a moment’s consideration. “Even if the Thirteen really came here and that is where they’re keeping my son, there should only be two…“

“They must have succeeded,“ the Master announced. “With their experiments.“ He laughed and shook his head: “Making more Time Lords, just after I thought I’d wiped them all out… that’s what you think they’re doing, right?“ He looked to the Doctor.

“We have to go now,“ she said, straightening herself up. They had no time to lose. They had no idea what exactly was going on in that place but it was entirely possible that the Master was right.

“I hope you’re not expecting to go alone,“ Kate spoke up and the Doctor looked around, finding everyone getting to their feet, determined faces looking back at her.

“No, I’m not. I’m quite happy to bring down the full force of Torchwood and Unit down on them… whatever it takes to get my son back and stop them,“ the Doctor smiled with vengeful fury behind her calm facade.

——

Luna University 52nd Century

“I can take it from here, thanks.“ River took the key card from the university clerk that had insisted on walking them to the storage area personally. He also insisted on asking the most impertinent questions about what had actually happened to her during the expedition and why she was only returning now. By the time they reached the storage locker, River had had enough.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…“ The clerk started but River interrupted curtly:

“Quite.“ He handed over the key card and when River made no attempt to open the room in his presence, he finally got the message and departed.

“How long have you been dead for?“ Yaz asked as the archeologist unlocked the door at last.

“I’m not quite sure… but it is getting dusty in here, isn’t it,“ River commented as they stepped inside the room and flicked the lights on. They were garish and bright, almost clinical and all of River’s personal effects, her furniture, her books, her life - for all intents and purposes - looked incredibly lifeless, as if they were entering a morgue.

“What exactly are we looking for?“ Dorium asked, as River opened up his box and set him down on a sideboard.

“Well for a start, this,“ River replied when she opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a blaster gun. It appeared out of charge as she checked it over but that was easily remedied.

“Is the Doctor happy about you carrying a gun?“ Yaz raised her eyebrows, remembering many passionate speeches about how terrible guns were.

“Never but they’ve given up arguing,“ River answered with a smirk and attached the gun to her belt.

“Is that ‘cause they always lose the argument?“ Yaz chuckled. Her eyes fell on a box on the desk, full of picture frames that had probably once decorated said desk in the professor’s office. She picked up a picture of River and a tall, white-haired man. They were standing on a balcony, a beautiful sunset stretching across the sky behind them and two large towers of stone in the distance. Yaz turned the picture over, there was a note on the back that read “The Singing Towers, Darillium. “She said she used to be a white haired scotsman…“ Yaz mused as she turned the picture back around and smiled. It was a beautiful picture for sure but what was even more remarkable was the expression on the Doctor’s face. So full of joy and adoration. While River was looking at the camera and smiling, he was looking at her, as if the rest of the universe ceased to exist.

“Yaz?“ River drew her attention.

“Yeah?“ Yaz looked up, blushing a little, quickly she put the picture frame back where she found it, embarrassed. She probably should have asked before looking at her personal effects.

“Can I trust you?“ River asked, searching her expression for a truthful answer.

“Of course, why do you even have to ask that?“ Yaz was genuinely surprised.

“I don’t know you. Vastra, Jenny, Strax, Dorium even… I have history with them, you’re… new,“ River explained and it was obvious that she wasn’t trying to be unkind or distrusting, she simply had to ask before they got any further. “And for what we’re about to do, I need to know I can trust you, completely.“

“Of course. The Doctor is one of my best friends and to think what you’ve been through, both of you… whatever you need, River. I mean it.“ Yaz nodded, her assurances genuine and determined. After everything that had happened to the Doctor, Yaz wanted nothing more than to make sure she got her family back and found some happiness at last. It was long overdue.

“Good. I thought so.“ River smiled and waved her along.

“What exactly are we going to do?“ Yaz asked and picked up Dorium’s box as they carried on further into the room.

“We’re gonna be the cavalry,“ River revealed, she seemed to know exactly what she was looking for.

“And how do you intend to do that?“ Yaz frowned, stopping as River did too, in front of a large cupboard.

“Here we go!“ River announced, full of enthusiasm.

“An old cabinet?“ Yaz asked, confused. It was pretty, solid oak and classical craftsmanship but she couldn’t see how it would help them in their quest.

“I would have thought by now you would check every cupboard for extra dimensions,“ River chuckled as she opened the door.

“It’s a TARDIS?“ Yaz exclaimed as it opened up into a vast room in its own right, fully furnished with computer screens and a control console.

“Let’s go and see what that wife of mine is up to. I imagine there might be trouble as she hasn’t been around to pick us up yet.“ River grinned.

——

The TARDIS

“Are you sure it’s such a good idea to just fly in there?“ Kate attempted to be the voice of reason as they piled into the TARDIS.

“I’m done messing around,“ the Doctor retorted as she started working the controls.

“Just like back in the old days…“ Martha hummed looking around the control room. The Osgoods had agreed to stay behind and provide intel as needed. Everyone else was crowded into the control room.

“Everybody ready?“ The Doctor cut through the chatter. She was tense, it felt like they were finally getting somewhere and she was eager to get going.

“Ready when you are,“ Kate confirmed and there were nods all round. Without further ado, the Doctor launched the TARDIS. Their journey only lasted a few seconds as suddenly, they were knocked forwards, almost as if they had crashed into something. The TARDIS was shaking, instead of grinding to a halt as they had expected, it felt more like they were spiralling.

“Not as easy as all that, is it?“ The Master called over the racket with amusement.

“They’re using some kind of force field, I bounced right off it,“ the Doctor explained, ignoring the Master’s quip.

“If these are Time Lords we’re dealing with, I’m not surprised they prepared for that eventuality,“ Vastra pointed out, just as the Doctor managed to stabilise them.

“Let me try,“ the Master stepped up to the console, pushing her away.

“Don’t be stupid,“ she snapped, giving him a shove in turn but he ignored her, focusing on the controls.

“I’m not being stupid, in fact, I’m being extremely clever, now move,“ he snarled and after a moment’s consideration, the Doctor gave him room.

“Doctor, is this a good idea,“ Vastra mumbled to the Doctor who was watching him work. Before she could reply, the TARDIS ground to a halt.

“We’re in,“ the Doctor realised, surprised. She started laughing with relief. “How did you do that?“ She had watched closely but she couldn’t quite explain what he had done but she didn’t care, he had succeeded. She reached out to touch the controls, scan their surroundings when suddenly, the power started draining. The TARDIS wheezed and whined, almost as if she was in pain. The yellow crystal pillars started dimming, the lights were going out.

“Doctor, what’s happening?“ Kate asked, trying to remain calm as concerned mumbled erupted amongst the companions.

“I… don’t know!“ The Doctor’s fingers flew over the controls, trying to work out what was going on, trying to hold on to her oldest friend but the screens flickered off, the buttons stopped responding and the humming died down. “She’s shutting down!“ She exclaimed, in near panic. They had just landed in enemy territory and the TARDIS stopped working. Why was this happening?

“Oops… we’ll isn’t that unfortunate…“ The Master chuckled and utter silence fell around them, all eyes on him. Before anyone could say as much as “Told you so“, the silence was interrupted by a loud transmission:

“How nice of you to join us, Doctor, raise your hands everyone as you exit the vehicle in an orderly fashion.“

“Padrac?“ The Doctor mumbled, recognising the voice instantly, she was stunned. How was he here? What did he have to do with this? Maybe the Thirteen wasn’t working alone after all… Working with Padrac and probably even working with the person that had led them into this trap. The Doctor looked to the Master who grinned. Despite her better judgement, despite the many lessons she should have learned over millennia… she couldn’t believe she had fallen for it again. He started laughing now, clapping his hands together, enjoying his moment of triumph as silence fell in the lifeless TARDIS.

[jamilelucato]

Muggle [F.W.]

*gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle!Dursley!reader

Request: (anonymous) Could you do a imagine where the reader is a dursley aka Harry’s cousin. But when Fred and reader meet they don’t know, and they fall in love since she knows about magic. But she’s a muggle of course. So when Fred takes her to meet the family Harry’s so shocked. Maybe they use to love each other and trust each other like siblings but when he discovered he was a wizard they fall apart. Because Harry has other things going on. And maybe after forth year, they completely stoped talking and they both regret it. So when they see each other it hurts both of them, but they end up making up.

Summary: y/N Dursley is tired of being away from Harry because of her parents because he’s a wizard and because he stopped reaching out. She starts going after her cousin herself and she has the help of the Weasleys to do so.

Words: +6,3k

A/N: Had no idea where this was going until I wrote it. Hope you all like it; tried to keep it as coherent to the request as I could. There’s a scene where it was supposed to be Harry and y/N but I thought it would make more sense if it was other character speaking (you know it when you see it).

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

___

“Wait up, girls. I think I might know these guys,” she says just when her friends’ laughs are dying out.

She takes one last look to her back, hoping nobody will notice she’s checking out the tall and red-haired boys.

“Really? From where?” asks one of the friends in a whisper.

But y/N ignores the question. She takes one last sip from coffee and rush to catch the boys before they leave the place.

“Hey, you two!” she calls out after noticing she’s never going to catch them — one of their steps equals three of hers.

One of them looks at her first, tilting his head confused. The other one finally turns too, but he seems less intrigued than his twin.

“Are you... Weasleys?” she says when she gets close enough to them and whispers the last name as if it could be a curse-word or something. It was definitely prohibited in her household.

The twins exchanged looks, confused. They pretend to not recognize her — because they sure can’t remember from where they know her. She still doesn’t know why she decided to call them out anyway.

“Two of them, yes,” one of the boys answered, taking his time to mess with his red hair. The movement certainly showed some charm. “Why?”

She gulps — she was not expecting to be asked. However, the second twin, silently until now, decides to speak up.

“Aren’t you one of Harry’s cousins?”

She shakes her head yes, pressing her lips together at the same time. Remembering to have good manners, she offers them her hand.

“It’s y/N Dursley, actually.”

“Sure I presumed your name wasn’t ‘Harry’s cousin’,” giggled the twin that shook your hand first. He had a firm grip and a welcomed warm hand. He took his time with her hand, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m Fred, by the way,” he smiled, finally freeing her hand.

The other twin quickly took your hand in his as soon as you were free.

“I’m George.”

“I remember you two. Left my brother with a big purple tong just a couple of weeks ago,” she commented, trying to diffuse the tension.

They exchanged looks, scared if the right reaction was to apologize or to laugh. It sure was rather fun watching the fatty get what he deserved for years of bad things to Harry.

Y/N noticed her comment had the wrong reaction and tried again. “It’s fine, you can laugh. He sure deserved it.”

The one who presented himself as Fred chuckled, more because of her face than because of her brother. However, the one said to be George remained in silence.

She gulped, noticing the awkward situation.

“Well, I just stopped you two because I wanted to know... about Harry,” she says with an anxious tone. Talking about Harry was always a hard thing — with her parents or with his friends. “I sometimes write him letters, you see — not that he replies — but he never shared your family’s address, and I’ve been... Rambling,” she chuckled, pressing a finger in front of her lips. “Sorry for the non-stop talk. I want to know if Harry’s okay, that’s it.”

George steps towards her but stops when he realized his twin had done the same and was faster to speak up.

“Harry’s perfectly okay,” says Fred with a smile that showed no teeth.

“He’s been well-taken care of,” added George. “Did your parents want to know?”

“Who? Petunia and Vernon?” she asks before burst into laughter. The idea that her parents could be worried about Harry was absurd. “No — it’s me who wanted to know.”

She breaths hard before stepping backwards, away from the boys. She’s starting to feel blue, and she doesn’t want them to see her in that way.

“Well, anyway... thank you, boys, for telling me. I was worried, and then I recognized your red-heads...” her voice died out. She raised her head and stared at the twin said to be Fred. “What were you doing here? Harry said wizards don’t hang in ‘munnel’ places.”

She had a great point.

“It’s ‘muggle’, dear,” George corrected y/N trying to hold his laugh.

“And we generally don’t. We have a friend, you see, muggle-born, that tells us this place has the best coffee in the world,” Fred raises his own cup of coffee to go. “We decided to see if it was true.”

“Don’t tell our parents,” chuckled George.

“Nor our little sister,” added Fred and they both started laughing at their particular joke.

Silence fell upon the three of them again. Y/N looked from George to Fred, taking her time to look at that last one. Somehow, he had captured her attention, and it wasn’t just today. Since the day they came to Harry’s rescue a couple of years ago — of course, she knew about the flying car, her window gave her a great view of the three red-heads inside it —, y/N has been fascinated with the family. She wished she had been born a witch, like Harry. Maybe he would stop avoiding her if they were equals.

She turned her face back to take a look at the coffee shop before facing the twins again.

“Sorry, boys, gotta go. Can’t let my own coffee run cold,” she smiled sympathetically. “Tell Harry to write to me, would you?”

“Sure,” answered Fred promptly.

“Thank you,” she replied and started walking away as slow as she could. That was the closest she had ever been to real wizards besides Harry, and she actually managed to keep a conversation! That was new, because last time those two same boys were in her living room, she blushed, frowned and hid behind a pillow. And that had happened just a couple of weeks ago!

“Hey! Wait!” a male voice shouted from behind her. She was turning while one of the twins was running towards her. She presumed it was Fred, although she couldn’t be sure — they were wearing the same clothes.

“What is it?” she asked, stopping her tracks so she could wait for him to reach her.

“I can give you our address. Would be easier to get a reply from Harry if you were to be the one to contact him,” he suggested, shrugging as if he didn’t care if she took the address or not. “Muggle’s post-men generally pass through our house.”

She shook her head yes non-stop, excited for the niceness of the boy.

“Here, do you have a...” his voice died before finishing the question because he had no idea what the muggles used to write things down. But he got a piece of paper anyway — it was the paper that surrounded his coffee to make it easy to hold.

“A pen?” she completed his phrase, chuckling. Then, getting one pen out of her pocket, she continued, “Always care one with me. Quite useful.”

“Pen,” he whispered, not to her, but to test the word in his accent.

She offered the thing to him. He stared at it as if it was magical.

“Never seen one, have you?” she asked, giggling with joy in her heart, but he was already writing down the address.

Fred tried to give her both the paper and the pen, but the last one she did not accept back.

“Take it; you’ll like it more than I do,” she explained when he looked at her, confused.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely grateful, but she said nothing, and slowly he walked away, playing with the pen with his fingers. His twin met him half-way, and soon they were gone from her sight.

*** 

She had written to Harry. Twice, actually, and none of those times she got a reply. The first letter she sent to the address Fred gave her and the second one she sent to his school. It was funny because, although Harry Potter seemed in no mood to talk to her, his owl always showed up from time to time in y/N’s window, as if she waited for her to have something for Harry. And y/N usually had.

She was in the middle of her own classes in the public school, but she wasn’t paying attention to the History class. Frankly, she already knew what the teacher was teaching.

Inside her notebook, laid Fred’s note with his house’s address. She didn’t exactly know why she carried it around. Perhaps it meant she knew the address of a hot boy; perhaps it meant she knew a place only wizards lived. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop staring at it and rereading it all over again.

It also had a kind of joke written on it. Fred didn’t give his real name to the waitperson, and, at first, she thought he was just scared of his name being too wizard-like. But it really wasn’t. His name was completely okay. Different from the one he actually gave the waitress — that one was a bit stupid.

Behind the address to the Weasleys, a single name was written: Merlin.

It took her a couple of minutes to remember where she knew that name from, and then she felt completely dull for not immediately getting it.

Merlin was King Arthur’s advisor and a powerful wizard, at least, that was the children books told her when younger.

Perhaps Merlin was real to them. Oh my God, Merlin was definitely real to them!

She tried once more to pay attention to the class instead of the note she had memorized, but it was worthless. When the bell announced she was free to go home, she felt some sort of relief. Part of her was thinking of writing a letter to the address she had, only this time it wasn’t going to be to Harry.

But that was stupid, right?

She didn’t have much time to think because as soon as she got home, one letter already waited for her.

“This came for you today,” said her brother in a disgusted tone.

She took the letter from his hands, desperate to see what was it about. Opening it up, she read:

Dear y/N Dursley,

This is Molly Weasley, the mother of Harry’s best friend, Ron. I’m writing to you because I’d figured you would like to come with me to Hogwarts, to watch Harry’s thrid task at the Triwizard Tournament. I’m sure by now you know all about it, but maybe your parents can’t come because of their muggle jobs — I don’t really know how it works — but perhaps you and your younger brother would like to come.

Please, write me back with a reply as soon as possible.

With love, 

Molly Weasley.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. She read it at least twice before putting her backpack on the floor. Dudley stared at her suspiciously, he couldn’t understand what the letter was about or who was it from.

When she was sure she understood every word Mrs Weasley wrote, y/N rushed to the kitchen where she knew she’d find at least one of her parents. And there her mother was.

“Harry’s a participant in some Tournament?” she asked loudly.

Her mom looked up from the dough she was preparing, with an uptight look in her face. She didn’t like her kids screaming.

“Huh?!?” y/N threw the letter to her mom as if showing evidence. “And we were invited to watch? Never cared to mention, did you?”

Her mom got the paper and took her time to read it.

“What is this woman insinuating? That you are going with her to that wizarding place?” Petunia asked in a mocking tone before tossing the letter to the trashcan, but not before she tore it in pieces.

“Oh, I’m going!” you shouted. “Harry needs us, needs me.”

Petunia gave her a challenging look. She didn’t know y/N had memorized the Weasley’s address and therefore would not need to get the torn to pieces letter.

Y/N got a paper from her school bag and wrote a reply, saying yes she would go, any day that was. She also mentioned she knew nothing about the Tournament so if Mrs Weasley could explain, she’d like that very much.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Petunia asked from behind her daughter. Dudley watched excitedly.

“Replying,” she simply said. But now that it was written, what would she do? Fred Weasley had mentioned it could take days before a muggle post-man would pass their house... 

The answer didn’t need to be given. As if she knew and she waited, Harry’s owl came flying through the kitchen window and stopped right over the table, in front of y/N.

“Take this to the Weasleys, would you?” she said, giving the note to the owl, who didn’t wait for Petunia’s approval to leave the place.

“I can’t believe it! Your father wouldn’t like this, young lady!” her mom frowned.

“It doesn’t really matter to me. Now, how many letters has Hogwarts been delivering here about Harry that you guys haven’t told me about?” she retorted, getting up.

Her mom opened her mouth to speak, but she didn’t let her.

“Don’t say it doesn’t matter! Harry’s your nephew, my cousin! The only one I have!” she exploded, letting the anger domain. “I bet that if those letters invited you to study there, you’d have said yes! I bet you’d have gone!”

She walked away, but her mom fetched her by the arm.

“Young lady!” she shouted angrily, but y/N didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you, huh? Or would you have gone?” she turned her face to see her mom, but the woman said nothing. She seemed hurt, which meant y/N had won. “Because I know I would. God knows I’d give anything to be out of here!”

And with that, Petunia let her go to her room.

***

Mrs Weasley and a pretty man named Bill Weasley appeared in front of her house in Privet Drive. They had a car with them — a flying one — and it was with that they were taking y/N to Hogwarts.

Y/N had counted hours to that moment. She even accepted Mrs Wealsey hug with a tight embrace, so thrilled she was.

Bill was the one driving while y/N was sitting in the back, but the trip was not awkward at all. Mrs Weasley asked y/N every possible question, and for once, y/N was glad someone could finally see her point of view about Harry and the wizards.

“I love Harry, I do. It’s just, he kinda left me behind with this thing of being a wizard, you know,” she said, hoping Mrs Weasley would understand her.

Bill seemed to get y/N’s point rather quickly, and she was glad for it. The Weasleys seemed so pleasant, all of them. And very handsome too, may she add.

“So, did Harry’s owl have any trouble finding you?” you asked when Mrs Wealsey’s questions seemed to have ended.

The woman exchanged looks with her son before gulping. Only then she answered:

“Well, actually, dear, I think Hedwig committed a mistake, even though that owl is incredibly good...” y/N raised a brow while listening. “You see, she delivered your letter to Fred and George at Hogwarts. They were the ones who sent the letter to me.”

Y/N could feel her facing frowning, the face of shock and confusion. She thought she had been specific to the owl, but I guess saying “the Weasleys” can mean a nine different people and there was no way the animal could know.

Bill, however, misunderstood your face.

“Fred and George are the twins, I don’t know you’ve met them...” he said, but his mom seemed to have a different opinion about the last part — Molly knew y/N remembered her twins, because they told her so, and, frankly, Molly had never seen Fred give a muggle so many compliments.

“Oh, I’ve met them,” y/N sighed, remembering that day so many days ago. She could visualize it as if it was happening right in front of her.

The flying car made a delightful trip. Molly told y/N that they usually never used it, but since they were caring a muggle, that was the only way they could take her to Hogwarts. Mrs Weasley informed that she made her husband upgrade it to make it safer.

“And he wants you to tell your experience with it, as a muggle,” continued the woman. She was nice but being called a muggle so many times was beginning to hurt.

When she finally arrived at Hogwarts, y/N was kind of disappointed. Is this it? An abandoned, ruined castle?

Bill noticed her look. “Don’t let it fool you. The castle is beautiful; it’s just that, from outside, muggles can’t see it,” there it was again, the little word y/N started to hate.

They walked in, and y/N finally saw what he meant. Hogwarts was more than beautiful — it was delightful, enchanted, unique.

That day y/N met so many wizards, she was sure that she would remember it as if the best day of her life. There were wizards from other places in Europe today as well. Some of them were Professors, some of them were parents of the other champions.

Now, she knew everything about the Tournament because Molly Weasley sent her — along with instructions of the day — a copy of a book about the competition and she spent the three whole nights reading it.

She asked if she could keep the book — a memory that wizards existed if Harry decided after today to cut relations with y/N — and Molly said she had bought it just for her.

They waited a bit before Harry finally walked in the room they were at. They were close to the fireplace, and Harry walked towards them. He didn’t seem to have noticed y/n was there too.

“Surprise!” Mrs Weasley smiled broadly and then she kissed him in the cheek.

“You all right?” said Bill, noticing Harry had finally seen his cousin.

Harry Potter stayed silently, and it seemed as if all the other families were watching the two interact. Harry loved her too, but he also knew her. She was always a fantasy lover, she would have loved to be a witch. Harry was just scared his own enthusiasm could hurt y/N.

“You came,” he said, simply.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Harry,” she smiled before ignoring her shame and pulling Harry to a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t write much this year, I didn’t know about the Tournament,” she whispered in his ear while her tears fell.

Harry was more than a cousin, sometimes more than a brother. Y/N was just a couple of years older, but she saw him as her little boy. She had to raise him anyway because her mom couldn’t care to do it.

“I’m so sorry, y/N,” he whispered back, not letting her go yet. “I shouldn‘t have...”

“Shh..” she interrupted him, finally pushing him a bit away just to see his beautiful eyes. “It’s okay. Nobody wants to be friends with the muggle.”

She shrugged, hoping it would make Harry feel better, but it had the opposite result. She, however, didn’t let him say anything else.

Bill asked Harry questions about the castle — if it was still the same — and Molly joined in, telling her own experiences. Y/N had none, so she stayed in silence, hearing.

“Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?” Bill asked, and she knew he was doing it for her. It made her like the Weasleys a bit more.

“Yeah, okay,” agreed on Harry. 

After a few minutes of walking — the castle was enormous — a couple of other red-head found the four of them.

“Fred, George, what are you doing here?” asked Bill, pulling them to a short hug. Fred barely cared — he had his eyes locked on you.

“Paying a visit,” said Fred.

“We never see the family,” added George and Harry laughed.

They said hi to y/N too, but she replied blushing.

“I believe you two are gonna follow us in the tour,” said Mrs Weasley, raising a brow towards the oldest twin.

“Why not, mum?” said Fred, smiling. 

Harry just shrugged and continued guiding the group around. Fred and George always added information to Harry’s description — only to your ears because they were scared of their mother’s opinion — such as which prank they had done in each place, and where were the secret passages. Y/N like the company; it made her feel wanted.

They all stopped at the Great Hall, where they sat down at the Gryffindor’s table, as Harry explained to y/N.

“Oh, I’d like to sit at the green table,” y/N commented, pointing to it. 

Harry widened his eyes while Fred and George came to y/N’s rescue.

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Fred. But he said nothing more to explain what could possibly be wrong with that table.

The other Weasleys that still attended the school and a girl named Hermione Granger also sat next to them while they ate. They all seemed excited with each other, talking about all things that sounded really cool but you had no idea of what it meant.

The tour continued after eating, and y/N loved every moment of it. She was sure she’d love to study there. Would she and Harry be housemates? — oh, yeah, the Weasley girl explained to y/N why they sat at the red table instead of the green one.

Fred and George, surprisingly, followed Harry, Bill, their mom and y/N around all day. Something told y/N they were there for her, but her insecurity never let her be sure.

They were always making jokes and — when their mom wasn’t looking — they’d cast sparkling spells just to see her surprised and amused face.

By the time they had to go back to the Great Hall for the evening feast, y/N had no more doubts that it had been her favourite day of her life. She would have to write it down in a diary or something. For one day, she was just like Harry. For one day, she was a witch.

And that was all she ever wanted.

Then, it all happened.

They called Harry to the task, and they all left to watch. Y/N said her good luck to her cousin and watched him disappear inside the maze. She was uptight during the whole thing. Something didn’t seem right. Was a school suppose to send students inside a make in the middle of the night in an activity that could kill them?

Maybe being a muggle had its perks.

“He’s taking too long, isn’t he?” y/N asked Fred, the twin sat down to her left.

“I can’t tell. Never seen a Tournament before,” he answered.

“But what about the other tasks? Where those this long?”

”No,” sighed Fred.

He noticed she was apprehensive, and he wanted to do something about it. George, who was sitting at y/N’s other side, raised just one hand high enough for Fred to see and he understood.

“Take it,” he offered his hand to her, “you can squeeze it if you are too frightened.”

She looked to the hand and back at him. Such a pretty boy... why would he be nice to her? But it was her good day, so she didn’t think much more before grabbing it.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Every time y/N heard a noise, she would squeeze his hand. Sometimes, she worried she was using too much strength to do so.

When Harry finally popped out of the maze, y/N didn’t think much before pulling Fred into a tight hug. He gripped her with all his force, scared that would be the last and only time he could do so. She probably thinks I’m a freak, he thought to himself.

But then, silence fell upon the crowd that once was cheering. Noticing something was wrong, y/N let go of Fred and rushed down to the field where Harry was over a dead body.

Cedric Diggory was one of the champions, and he laid lifeless in the ground. Next thing she knew, the place was chaotic. Mrs Wealey and Bill took her out of there, but she protested, saying she’d only live when she knew Harry was alright.

They decided to use one of the classrooms to stay with y/N as they waited for information about what was happening. Bill wandered around but quickly came back, noticing it was better to stay and protect his mom and the muggle.

When the door opened a couple of hours later, and it scared Bill for a second before he realized it was only two of his younger brothers.

“George, Fred, what are you doing here?” Mrs Wealsey asked, hugging her boys.

“Keeping you all company,” answered Fred.

“Actually, Mum, Bill, I think Ron wants to talk to you,” added George. 

“Ron? Why would...?” but Molly stopped talking when she realized how her son Fred looked to the muggle girl. She pressed her lips in a short smile before grabbing Bill. “Come on, Bill. And, hm, George, I think you need to show us the way.”

“Of course, mum, of course! Follow me,” and just like that, they left y/N alone with Fred.

“Take care of the girl, would you, Freddie?” requested Mrs Weasley.

“Sure, mum,” said Fred.

Y/N seemed unaware of the sat up, and Fred was glad for that. He wanted some time alone, maybe ask her on a date, but it seemed wrong now that he was about to do it. She was worried about her cousin.

“He’s fine, you know,” he started saying. “Harry is okay now.”

She looked at him, tilting her head unconsciously.

“The Diggory boy had an encounter with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, Harry faced him too. But Harry lived,” continued Fred, but he was rambling. Y/N was confused about those terms.

There was a dark wizard after Harry. Maybe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name was the guy. And Harry survived, so things were... fine?

“Where’s he?” she asked, unaware that Fred was glad they were alone together in a quiet room.

“Talking to Dumbledore,” he said, but that didn’t explain much to y/N. “Our Headmaster,” he added, pressing his lips together in the end.

Y/N sighed, getting up from her chair and walking around the room. There were many thoughts inside her head, and Fred started worrying if you were going to lose your mind. He would never have sent you here if he knew what was going to happen — if only Fred knew then Fred’d have burned that letter Hedwig gave him, but instead, he thought it was some type of sign and sent it to his mom.

He wanted to see y/N. He didn’t know why, but something about her face, her voice — even her mom side with Harry and, definitely, her curiosity with the Wizarding World — made him want to know more about her.

If you asked Harry, he’d say Fred was quite annoying, more than ever. He had all sorts of questions about the muggles to Harry, and he always made the conversation go to the Dursleys and end with y/N. Anything Harry knew about her, Fred now knew too.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do here...” y/N pondered aloud. “Perhaps I should go home. Petunia will be expecting me today, anyway.”

Fred couldn’t understand her words, so he stayed silent. That caused y/N to turn and face the ginger boy.

“Petunia’s my mum. Still don’t feel like callin’ her mum, though,” y/N said what she thought was an explanation, but Fred was still confused, even though he nodded, pretending to understand.

“If you wanna go home, I can get Bill to take you. ’M sure Mom won’t leave Hogwarts so early,” Fred sighed, thinking he would’ve to let her go without a chance to know her more.

“Thank you, Fred,” y/N stepped closer to the boy. “I wish I could stay, and God knows my rebel side is saying stay, but one of your teachers already notified me that, as a muggle, I shouldn’t stay much more.”

Fred bent his head and moved closer to her too. He was thinking.

“Perhaps you can. Sure there are exceptions, and Harry lives with you, so...”

“You can make them allow me to stay?” she asked, and her emotion was making her eyes sparks. Just then Fred noticed that, although worried and scared, she didn’t whine or cry, not even once.

Fred grabbed her hand in a rush of confidence. “Come with me, let’s find someone we can talk about this with.”

And they left. *** It was Professor Sprout that talked to Fred and y/N and honestly, she didn’t understand a word the teenagers were saying. She understood the girl was a muggle — it was obvious by the way her eyes shined, fascinated with the Professor’s clothes and wand — and she noticed Fred Weasley was in love with her.

Fred couldn’t stop side-looking at the muggle, and he nodded at every word she spoke. He also was holding her hand as if his life depended on it. Sprout had seen a lot of teens in love to recognize a couple at first sight.

So, of course, she said yes to the girl’s stay. She just warned:

“Keep her out of your dorm, will you, Weasley?”

The way both of their faces got blushed only confirmed Professor Sprout’s suspects, and she walked away laughing.

Y/N and Fred decided not to mention Professor Sprout’s comment and went to see Harry, who in the hospital ward.

They stayed there, accompanied by every other person that wanted to see Harry Potter — and believe, the place was crowded. The doctor — actually, Fred explained she isn’t a doctor as muggles know it — was a bit mad with all the people around, but y/N did the same as the others and said she wasn’t going to leave Harry’s side.

Even the twins left the place, and two other gingers with the bushy-haired girl, but y/N and Molly Weasley stayed behind.

A lot of things happened, and more than half of them, y/N did not follow. She was okay with not understand if it meant she could stay, but after the mourning of her third day in Hogwarts, Molly decided it was time for y/N to go back home. She couldn’t give worry to her parents any more than she already had.

It was Bill who took her back home with the flying car. He noticed how sad y/N looked — her eyes looking at every detail of the sight of Hogwarts and then her loud breaths as if she fought tears.

“What is it?” he asked, worried. “Is it Harry?”

She was caught by surprise. “Harry? No! He’s fine now, I saw that.”

Bill raised a brow when he side-looked at her for just a second before looking back at the sky ahead.

“I...” y/N sighed, discerning she would have to speak the truth. Something about the guy didn’t let her lie. “I will miss that school. It is so beautiful, and enchanting and... well, magical.”

Bill listened to her every word with a respectful silence.

“I’ll miss being around wizards and witches. You guys are so nice and so lucky! Do you even know it? Do you know how lucky you are because you can do magic? And God! No wonder Harry doesn’t wanna go back to my parents! After meeting your family, neither I want to go back,” y/N sighed, noticing she babbled. “I don’t want to go back to being a muggle,” she whispered, speaking with disgust the last word, and turned her face to the window.

Bill made a sound y/N wasn’t able to decipher, and he waited a while before speaking.

“I’m sorry if this is gonna sound offensive, but you are not going back to being muggle — you are a muggle. You were a muggle back at Hogwarts, you are back at home,” he said, trying hard to appear gentle. He was speaking the truth, but it still offended y/N, so she kept her eyes on the window.  “But — and believe me, I’m sure of this — you are, as well as Harry, always welcome at the Burrow.”

Y/N finally stared at him.

“Burrow, you know. My family’s place,” he added that extra information that she had already picked in the air. “Mum loved meeting you. And she wasn’t the only one.”

She kept staring at him, curious.

“Anytime you wanna have a meal with the fam, they’ll have you. You are an incredible girl, and I did not get to this thought all by myself,” he said.

“Thank you, Bill. For the invite and for the, well, help,” y/N pressed Bill’s arm gently, showing her gladness. “It’s good to know you guys like me.”

***

There was nobody home, or so, y/N thought. Bill left her in front of her house, and she walked out of the car empty-handed because before leaving y/N wasn’t planning on staying long at Hogwarts. The clothes she wore back then were Gryffindor uniforms given to her by cute little house-elves, as Fred and George explained.

She walked into an apparently deserted house, so she went directly to her room. She was not expecting to find her mom there, holding one of y/N’s pillows close, sitting in the bed with a sad look towards the mirror.

“Mum?” y/N didn’t feel confident enough to call her Petunia to her face.

The mom turned to see her daughter on the door, and she let go of the pillow.

“I do wish I had gone to the wizard’s school. I wish that every day,” her mom said, surprising y/N. She was not expecting to hear an answer to a question she asked long ago. “I want to be a witch since Lily found out she was one and I’m sorry I deprived you of being as well.”

Y/N gawked at her mom like she was seeing the woman for the first time, and she probably was.

“Mum, it’s not your fault I’m not a witch,” y/N finally said, sitting down next to the mother and hugging her tightly. “It’s not something to blame someone for. We are who we are, but we don’t have to be mean to others because we aren’t who we crave to be.”

Both Dursleys hugged each other for a couple of minutes, in silence. They were about to cry but never gave in — they hated crying.

“What counts is what we do to be closer to our goal. You have a wizard in your house, mum, and you’ve never shown interest in him,” she said when she pulled away from her mother’s embrace.

“It’s hard for me,” Petunia sighed. “You are young and kind, different from your father and me. If anything, you get it from Lily.”

Y/N tilted her head. That was another thing she wasn’t expecting to hear.

“You are curious when I’m not. You are great and destined for greatness,” Petunia said. “I love you, honey. I know I don’t say it often, but I do.”

“I love you too, mum.”

***

One hot day of July, when Harry was back at home, but wandering downtown and the rest of the family had gone fishing for the day, y/N had the house for herself. She tried to enjoy it, but her mind was somewhere else.

Every day was like that. She started thinking about Hogwarts, then her mind would shift to the Weasleys, and she would end her thought with the face of Fred Weasley.  She was going crazy. The Weasleys were barely talking to Harry — to y/N, they were practically strangers once again.

It was insane of her to think about Fred holding her hand, hugging her again, saying everything was going to be okay...

She generally had Harry to bring her back to senses and to the horror to have Voldemort walking around, but Harry wasn’t home that day. It was just y/N and her thoughts.

Until the knock on her front door; Y/N jumped from the couch and rushed to get it.

And to say she was surprised to see the person behind the door was saying the least.

“Fred?” do I have the power to summon people with my mind? Am I a witch?

“Hi, y/N. Sorry I came here suddenly,” y/N agreed, but she also didn’t mind. “It’s just... I can’t take you out of my mind.”

“Me? I’m a muggle!”

“So? That doesn’t stop you from being the most beautiful, kind and interesting girl I’ve ever seen!” It was like Fred was expecting her to be doubtful.

Fred didn’t need to say more. Y/N had learned a lesson about not enjoying the moment ahead of her, and she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

She threw her arms around his neck and practically jumped towards the ginger boy, pressing her lips hard on his. Fred was shocked, but when he understood what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist, making sure she was trapped in him, and Fred kissed her back, just like he had been dreaming of doing since the day he noticed her when was trying to hide behind a pillow in her living room.

They stayed like this, focused on each other for God knows how long before y/N finally push him away gently while gasping for air.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she whispered, looking up at his eyes as he smiled shyly.

“Can we do this more often?” Fred asked, going back to his normal-self and smirking flirtatiously.

“You know, there’s nobody home but me. It’s no Burrow but...” y/N was smirking too eagerly.

“Say no more,” Fred pulled her close again, playing with a lock of her hair with just one hand.

They kissed again, and this time, y/N was going to make sure they were going to do it forever.