#I had this idea since at least last year but I finally got the inspo to do it this time yayyyyy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

veespee · 8 months ago

Text

Jeff the Killer/The Butcher of The Woods - Jeffery Thomas

hello everyone! i got the idea to do my own little remasters of creepypasta characters (yesyes i know, not very original) and I'm starting with Jeff! first of all, i'm giving credit to @freezingmcxn of course for the inspo, although i haven't read her version of Jeff, i love the fanfiction soo much.

!! CW for: mentions of animal cruelty (not detailed), violence, and scenes with murder. !!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ onto my version of him: he has changed quite a bit. first of course, i changed his last name to Thomas to differentiate him from the OG, and also his nickname is now The Butcher of the Woods due some of the photos that were captured of him (his body is muscular like a butcher's). i also decided not to make Liu his brother, and he's an only child now.

other changes include: his face is burned from gasoline now, not bleach. he didn't give himself a Glasgow smile in my version either. he still has his basic appearance (long black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, and i imagine him pretty tall and with quite some muscle).

also important: he was born in 1973 in my AU, and the incident were he got burned was in 1996, making him 23! I'll make a separate post about how he would get involved with Slenderman later, but the whole 'proxy' thing starts in 2000!

Leatherface and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre were HUGE inspirations for this (both Bubba Sawyer and Thomas Hewitt) and i also think he'd act like Bubba, not talking much and rather grunting or grumbling.

anyways, onto the story! there's a TL;DR at the end as well.

Childhood/Teen years.

Jeffery Thomas, born June 6th of 1973, grew up in a small town of Texas, and was raised by his parents, Victoria Garcia, who worked in childcare, and Sebastian Thomas, a car mechanic. Jeff showed sociopathic tendencies since he was a child. He hurt animals, and other kids his age. He also had a strange fascination with fire, his hand often covered in burns when he would steal his dad's lighter and burn himself for fun. His parents got concerned, and took him to the doctor. He was suspected to have ASPD from the age of 12, and the doctor told them he could get diagnosed at the age of 18 if the behaviour persists. He was a living nightmare, breaking things, screaming when he didn't get his way, often hitting his parents. The final straw though was when he attacked one of his neighbour's sons, a 12 year old kid, brutally punching him to the point of the kid having to go to the hospital. He didn't have much of a reason, and when he was asked why, he simply responded “He was annoying. Talked too much.” After that, his parents really considered doing something. They loved their son deeply, but this couldn't fly. Jeff went to juvy for a year, and returned just before he turned 17. He was getting worse and worse as he got older, and after he ruined his dad's car after driving home drunk, he was kicked out at 17. He didn't have where to go, and he was seething. He called and called all of the people he knew, as he wandered the streets, until one friend picked up and told him he had a cabin in the woods that his family owned, but he never wanted to use it. Jeff accepted immediately, and set out to the cabin.

The Woods.

The cabin was small, but it had the necessities. It looked abandoned, and like a hunter leaved there, with animal heads and skulls adorning the walls. He organized everything, and now he was free without his parents over his shoulder, that's what he thought at least. But now, with the opportunity to be isolated and no one else to watch, he could he as depraved as he wanted. First, he took his anger out on animals, hunting them down for food. Although, that was from the need to eat. Then, after being isolated from society for a year, he really snapped. He was angry at the world, his parents, that annoying kid that talked too much, everyone. So he started wanting to hurt people.

Robbing.

At first it was little things, walking around the forest with a knife to threaten hunters and hiker and campers to give him money. He robbed plenty of people, before he started actually hurting them. He got tired of the process, yelling at them with threats, waiting for them to find their money and give it to him, he was bored. So he started attacking immediately, grabbing them from behind and choking them, or giving them a sharp punch on the back of the head. That was only to get them passed out though, not to kill them. He had watched countless of true crime related broadcasts, the News, and even some medical shows, just to know the anatomy of a human and where he had to hit. After a while, that got boring too. He needed more adrenaline, he was a junkie.

The First Kill / Unsuccessful.

It all started when he saw a group of friends. They were out camping, and he had spotted them when he was out for a late night hunt. He watched them, hiding behind the trees. He planned an attack, and he would do it the next night. He memorized their tents, and their relationships. He even learned their names. Three girls, two guys. Names were Suzie, Nancy, Angelica, Liam and Lucas. He observed, noticing that Liam was dating Suzie, Lucas was dating Angelica, leaving Nancy single. He even overheard Suzie and Angelica gossiping, basically shit talking Nancy, calling her some nasty names. They were typical teenagers, he had hit the jackpot. The next night, at 11, he set out to find them. They were sat at the campfire, talking. He had his plan. Make noises, get the men out, and get the girls alone. So he did, he ruffled the leaves, making moves, pretending to be a bear and guiding them deep into the forest. The men left, just as he expected, trying to find the noises. The women were left there, and they were getting paranoid by every noise. Suzie was hyperventilating, and she ran to her tent. Angelica was left with Nancy, but she quickly left to comfort Suzie. That's when Jeff got his cue. He jumped out, grabbing Nancy's hair. She naturally screamed, but Jeff quickly slashed her throat. The girls could hear him from inside the tent, and they were horrified, especially Suzie. Suzie became hystetical, and she ran out of the tent. Jessica followed, trying to get Suzie back, but Jeff spotted them. He started running after them, and Suzie was running around in a panic. Jessica was the logical one, she ran towards the car. She looked inside for any weapons, there was a gun, but the car was locked, and Liam had the keys. Jessica panicked, looking around. She could hear Suzie scream, as Jeff was chasing her down, she wanted to get rid of her first since she made so much noise. Jessica spotted the gas tank next to the car, and she picked it up. Thankfully, Jessica was a smoker, and with shaking hands, she got out her matches. She started running towards the sounds of Suzie, and finally found her. She had a stab wound on her side, and Jeff was holding by the neck, almost taunting her and just watching the wound, letting her feel the pain. With her blood boiling, Jessica threw the gasoline on him. Jeff turned around, letting out a gruff huff. He let Suzie go and she hit the ground, while Jeff charged at Jessica. Jessica fumbled with the matches, managing to light one just as Jeff grabbed her, and she lit him on fire. The gasoline had hit his back and the back of his hair, so the fire spread all over his clothes. Jeff let out a bloodcurdling scream, even dropping his knife to the ground. He viscously glared at the girls with his blurry vision, before he started to run away. Just then, the boys returned, looking in shock at the scene of Suzie stabbed on the ground, although alive, and Jessica frozen in shock.

The Aftermath.

Jeff run with all the energy he had, reaching the nearby river. He fell in, the fire calming down and disappearing. He was still in immense pain, but at least he wasn't on fire. He stayed in the water for a long time, clutching on some rocks for balance. Afterwards, he finally lifted himself up, heading towards the cabin with a limp. He grumbled under his breath the entire way, angry that he didn't get the kills he wanted, and that he was literally outsmarted by some teens. When he reached his cabin, he headed immediately to the bathroom to change. That's when he saw himself in the mirror, his face was burned all from his chin to his upper cheek. He stared at himself, not knowing what to think. He looked horrifying, and when he touched his skin, it felt leathery. Some of his hair had fallen off, leaving thin strands of his long black hair. He stared and stared, before deciding he couldn't care less about his appearance, and went into the shower.

He continued killing, his victims having his burned face and big structure burned into their minds. When the news spread about missing people in the forest, and the rumours started, he was finally dubbed as 'The Butcher of the Woods'.

——————————————————————————————————

okay that's it :3 okay i know this is a lot, and this isn't even half of it 😭 but yeah, if anyone is interested, I'll maybe get more into the details! my asks are open and feel free to ask any questions. 🖤

a TL;DR for anyone that's too lazy to read (valid tbh):

My version of Jeff was a sociopath since he was a young child. He had symptoms such as hurting small animals, or kids that were younger than him. He'd target and pick things that were weaker and smaller to give himself a power trip. At the age of 16 he assaulted his neighbour's son, who was about 12, punching him repeatedly while the kid was on the ground. That incident sent Jeff to juvy for a year. He came back when he turned 17, and his parents tried to see if he got better. Instead though, Jeff crashed his dad's car after driving drunk, and his parents finally snapped and kicked him out of the house. Jeff didn't have where to go, but one of his friends let him stay at a cabin in the woods that he owned but didn't want to use.

In the woods, Jeff would rob campers, hikers, hunters, anyone he could find. He would also hunt and kill animals to eat. But after a while, he got bored, and he wanted blood, human blood. While wandering, Jeff found a couple of teen campers, three girls and two guys. After watching them and observing their personalities, Jeff roughed up a plan. He lured the guys away, leaving the girls alone. He managed to kill one of the girls via slashing her throat, and the other two started running. He gave chase, managing to stab one of them. But while he was distracted with the chasing, the other girl found the gasoline they used for their car. She threw the gasoline on Jeff while he was busy trying to kill the other girl, and it his back and hair. When he tried to attack the girl with the gasoline, she quickly lit a match, setting him on fire. With that, Jeff angrily fled to the river nearby, jumping in. The fire goes out and he let the water run over him for a bit, before going back to his cabin.

When he goes to his bathroom to take a shower, he's met with his new face, burned and red. His long black hair had become thinner, some falling in his hand. But of course, he couldn't care less about appearances, so he took his shower. He continued killing, being dubbed 'The Butcher of the Woods'.

#creepypasta #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeffery woods #jeff the killer #au #creepypasta au #slasher #southern gothic #analysis #character analysis #hcs #headcanons

40 notes · View notes

pulisicz · 2 years ago

Text

have we been here before? - mason mount

i guess things have come full circle

summary - you and mason used to “date” back in middle school, which then led to a more serious relationship in high school, but due to mason pursuing his football career, you two spilt.

now, years later, you two are reunited.

♡︎

pairing - mason mount x fem!reader

song inspo - n/a

warnings! - none, this is straight fluff

word count - 1.5k

note - i will 100% be making a part 2

mason had had a long day. getting back into the season had been hard, especially after the heartbreak of what happened at the world cup.

another loss…

it was hard on all of the guys, but that doesn’t mean that they could just be all sad and not give it 110% for their club teams.

it was, however, nice to get back with the team.

mason had missed all of them a lot, but mainly his two best mates, christian and ben.

“i hate to be the one to say this, but there’s always next time. we had a rough fight, but we did well, lads”. harry maguire says as they all get situated in their plane seats.

after the long plane ride, the boys were finally back in england. yes, loosing the world cup sucked, but being back home was nice.

mason’s sister, stacey, and his mom, picked him up from the airport.

“oh my god, stacey, what are you doing here?” mason said, being more shocked than ever.

his sister lives in australia, and after she and her family came to see mason play, she was supposed to go back to australia, at least that was the plan. but stacey had wanted to surprise mason by visiting england for a little.

the car ride home was nice. he got to catch up with his sister, which was much needed. he also got a moment of peace from all of the craziness in his life, which was very refreshing.

mason didn’t have to go back to chelsea training for another week, so he got to rest and do whatever he wanted for a good while. although mason was excited to spend time with his family and friends, the only thing he could think of at the moment was getting into his bed to take a much needed nap.

you were almost done with your errands, the only place left to go to was the grocery store. you went over your list to see what you needed and headed into the store, list and pen in hand.

apples

grapes

saltine crackers

lemonade

lettuce

tomato’s

shredded cheese

caesar salad dressing

croutons

granola bars

you didn’t need much so it shouldn’t be a long trip.

you were almost finished with your list, only a couple items left when you realized you needed to grab more bread.

you are carefully going over your list and assessing what you had already gotten as you turn to the bread aisle, not paying attention to your surroundings. you collide with someone else’s cart, which shake you from your focus.

“oh shit, i’m sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was go-ing…. mason?”

you stand there, unable to think, but trying to think at the same time.

what is he doing here?

“what are you doing here?” you ask, as if it’s not the most obvious answer. he’s obviously getting groceries.

“i’m getting groceries, and you?”

your mind is racing. it had been 5 years since you last saw him. 5 years since the two of you were dating. 5 years since you were your happiest self.

“doing the same. um. how have you been?”

you really had no idea what to say. for someone you used to know so well, you’re acting as if this is your first time meeting.

“i’ve been good. i just back into town today and wanted to run out to get some things. nothing much though. what about you? are you still into photography?”

photography… he remembered

“yes i am! i’m actually studying photography at oxford, along with english. it’s been a really cool experience. — and what do you mean by not much, didn’t you just get back from the world cup? that’s insane mason! you did amazing!”

“thank you. i tried”

mason couldn’t believe he ran into y/n. all the memories flooded him.

she still studies photography…

mason remembered everything about her. he remembered how she always wanted to be an author, but had the biggest passion for photography. he remembered how oxford was the only school she wanted to go to. he remembered that she had started writing a book their senior year.

her book.

“did you end up finishing your book?” mason asked remembering about her book.

the book was something y/n had put all her time into. she was not passionate about writing it, and mason was ecstatic for her, but she was still in the very early stages of it when they had broken up, so he never got to see it really come together.

“my book?” y/n seemed puzzled. did she forget about it? did she finish it? does she have no idea what i’m talking about? masons mind started wandering. was it weird that i asked?

y/n stood there think for a few more seconds before her eyes lit up.

“YOU REMEMBER?!”

“how could i forget? you poured your entire heart into that book. i never got to see it come together. did you end up finishing it?”

y/n’s smile faded just a little.

“sadly not. i had to put it on the back burner to focus on my studies, and even now i only work on it from time to time. i still want to finish it though.”

this made mason smile a little. hearing that she was still working on her book made him happy. it was like nothing had changed. y/n was still y/n. the only thing is, is that mason is now a world famous footballer, and y/n is a student at oxford.

“i hate to break this reunion up, but i have to finish my grocery shopping and get back to my dorm. my roommate is going to kill me if i’m not home soon. it was so nice to see you mason”.

no.

mason couldn’t just let her leave like he did to her 5 years ago.

“y/n?”

y/n turned back around before leaving the asile.

“can i get your number? i have gotten a new number since senior year and i really want to get together with you some time”.

y/n walked over to mason and he gave her his phone so she could put in her number.

“i’ll see you later, mason”. y/n said, putting a little emphasis on his name.

the second y/n walked out of the aisle, mason did a little celebration dance before composing himself to finish shopping.

—————————————————————————

“would you want to go to the 49 cafe for brunch tomorrow?”

mason had typed and retyped his text about 5 times. why was he so nervous? is just a date. it’s not even a proper date, it’s just brunch, nothing fancy.

delivered.

you were at your desk studying for your upcoming exam in your psych class when your phone lit up.

mason was the name on your screen and your heart skipped a beat. you had hoped he would text sooner than later, but certainly not this early, although you weren’t complaining.

as you read the text you couldn’t help but blush. you pull your knees up on the chair to lean your chin on as you text mason back.

“i would love to! what time?”

you saw the three dots show up almost immediately, which only made you blush more.

“does someone finally have a little boyfriend?” your roommate, emily, asks in a giddy, yet, sarcastic tone. emily has always pushed you to go out more, but being the introvert you were, chose to stay home writing, studying, or editing photos from your photo shoots.

“hmm? oh, no. i just saw a funny video”.

lies.

you had never ever lied to emily, but you couldn’t tell her that you were going on a date with mason mount.

“you’re lying, i know you too well”.

emily hops off her bed and makes her way towards you. you knew you were a bad lier, but no matter how good the lie was, emily would always see right through you.

“so, what’s his name?”

“mason”

emily starts smiling and jumping up and down.

“y/n finally has a boyfriend” emily says in a sing-song type voice while skipping around in a circle like a 5 year old.

“i don’t have a boyfriend, em. it’s just brunch”.

well, i did have a boyfriend.

you hadn’t told emily about mason yet, and you weren’t ever planning on telling her, but being reunited with mason might have to bring you to tell her, but that was a problem for another day.

you look back at your phone to see if mason had texted back the time for tomorrow, and as expected, the blue bubble has appeared.

“11 AM?”

you look at your schedule to make sure you definitely don’t have any classes at that time, and after seeing you have nothing, you text him back.

“works for me”

“perfect. i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n”

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #chelsea fc #chelsea #fanfic #pulisicz

327 notes · View notes

5eraphim · 2 years ago

Note

Hiya!! Could i request a hc abt a yandere reader killing another survivor after they blinded/ threw a pallet on the readers crush?(killer)

With maybe ghostface the trapper and doctor?

Alright gonna be honest here, yandere readers really aren't my thing, so I apologize how short this is. But, I've been wanting to write more for dead by daylight for ages now, so thank you for the request anon!

Characters: The Trapper The Ghostface, and The Doctor

Rating: T

Content Warnings: Yandere behavior, violence

Song Inspo

The Trapper

Trapper decided to single out Mikaela, who stunned him immediately at the start of the match. Though, due to the nature of his traps, he had to take a detour to prepare his snares before he could adequately start a chase.

He was usually so methodical and collected, even when things got personal, and he signed a survivor out due to personal reasons like this. He was instantly distracted from this when he caught you, pinning Mikaela up against a hook directly across from where he stood as you used a decisive strike to slit her throat. Evan could merely stare in utter shock as he watched the young woman's lifeless body fall to the ground below as you watched her suffering with chilling apathy.

Before he knew what to do next, he watched you dash away. Sparing just a moment to give him a knowing smile, the very last he saw of you before the end of the trial.

Would have an instant "What in the name of God?" reaction.

No matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find you, despite a successful match, downing the other survivors with relative ease. It wasn't until after the trial that he realized you must've been stalking him throughout the trial, only risking being seen once to kill one of your own kind before slipping away once again.

Something about one of the survivors, the beings who were meant to be his prey stalking him. With such careful attention to detail, you'd managed to evade every trap he laid, felt bizarrely compelling. Indeed, it was a feeling like nothing he'd experienced in the Entity's realm before now.

He'd never in a million years assume this act of violence came from your love for him, nor could he really guess why you'd done it in any such capacity. Likewise, he couldn't understand you or why you were acting so differently from the others. Needless to say, Evan was more than interested in learning more about you.

The Ghostface

To say a situation like this was unfamiliar territory for someone like Jeb would be an understatement.

He was always so used to staying 3 steps ahead of his prey, keeping his eye on winning the endgame, but the moment he felt that pallet smashing against his face, he knew it was time for payback. So he dipped out of sight right away, focusing all his energy on dissolving into darkness.

He wasn't anticipating Feng's distant screaming from right around the corner to break his concentration. So, Jeb took this as his sign to cut to the chase and swiftly track her down. But he wasn't prepared for what he would see when he did catch up to her.

Rather than finding his victim fleeing in the other direction, he found nothing more than Feng's severed head in the center of the killer shack in a puddle of blood, separated from the rest of her body, which was slumped over and pushed up against a wall. The sight stunned him completely, momentarily freezing him in place. Then, as he drew closer to the corpse of the now decapitated Feng, he saw a message inscribed in the girl's blood written on the walls behind her.

"You've got me head over heels for you, love <3"

For a moment, Jeb hardly knew what to make of what he was looking at. There was a sinking feeling in Jeb's gut he might not have been as alone in the shadows as he predicted, and the idea there was another keeping just out of sight felt admirably thrilling.

Finally, a worthy opponent! Jeb felt you might've been watching him now, or at least he hoped so! It had been too long since he'd felt a real challenge in this realm, and he was all too excited to track you down and prove no one knew stealth and lethality like the Ghostface.

The Doctor

As easily the most sadistic of the three, he would likely be the most "charmed" by such a brutal display.

Herman's mind is a horrific mix of utterly deranged and eerily analytical. Yet, he is the type to instantly take note and feel a kinship with you upon learning about your more violent inclinations. Though he wouldn't assume you were motivated by love, but through more time spent observing you, he would detect something odd about your behavior around him you never displayed when around others.

He knew the instant he set eyes on the beaten and brutalized corpse of Meg, the survivor who tried to pallet stun him at the start of the match. You must've been the one behind this. Herman always knew you were a tougher fighter than the others, but he never would've assumed you had something like this in you! If he was captivated with you before, he is all the more so now.

156 notes · View notes

ynscrazylife · 3 years ago

Note

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @kathryndimitrescu @snipyloulou @big-galaxy-chaos @cc13723things @ycfwmalise14 @unexpected-character (could not tag) @passionswift

MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @caseyfish @sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @xtraordinaryfangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion @yori-nakajima @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown @afraid-to-be-me @lilclownx @acertainredhead @natromanoffxox @lilymurphy03 @thanossexual @avengersz-biotch @kozumekoi @mjaudrey @un-name-d @leyannrae @buckyandstevesbitch @kuzomekou-blog

198 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 3 years ago

Text

detention retention finale p.1

masterlist (read parts 1-2 here!) request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no this series is from my original idea however i did take inspo from quite a few people (credited at the bottom of this)

summary: gryffindor y/n is put to the test when she tries to use her detentions with draco malfoy to get close enough for him to share his secret. unfortunately, things are never as simple as they seem. (set in 6th year)

warnings (plz pay attention to these this time): blood, violence, mild gore, mentions of wanting to throw up, you’re just kinda not having a great time during this chapter. also, kinda dark!harry trope here. it is a little ooc, i know, but it was what worked and so i ran with it. also, i play around with the timeline of events that occur in hbp so just expect that

a/n: the long awaited p1 of the finale is here! the second half is almost entirely written save for a few scenes, and i expect to get that out in the next few days (so much less than a week). i really appreciate you all being patient--i wrote and rewrote the potion scene about 3-4 times because it just wasn’t the vibes that i wanted, but i’m semi happy with how it turned out and at this point i’m just gonna go crazy if i keep trying to restructure it so here we go. all the loose ends will b tied up in the last part and y/n is finally gonna catch a break ;) so as always lmk what you think!

word count: 8.7k

here’s a spotify playlist inspired by this fic!

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

enjoy >:)

Snape’s stores were much more difficult to crack than she’d expected. She’d managed to steal one ingredient from there once, but back then all she had to do was disengage the multiple jinxes that guarded the door. Since, unfortunately, her slimy old Potions professor appeared to have felt a compulsion to fluff his nest and redecorate. A new painting was hung on the door--one of a large raven with beady, intelligent eyes that followed her as she walked past as inconspicuous as she could, no doubt preparing to fly off into the painting’s grey sky to alert his master. Her father had something similar to this in front of his Gringotts vault. She resolved to speak with him over the break to try and find a way in.

Not like she’d had any chance to execute her plan, anyways. It had been two weeks since Y/N had so much as had a simple interaction with Draco. Every time she tried to talk to him, he turned his attention away from her, offering her a disinterested sniff in response or just outright pretending like he didn’t notice her. Pansy Parkinson seemed to take joy in this development, though she was hardly getting anything on her end save for a few dry looking conversations as Draco’s body angled away from her.

Without the “distraction” of friendship and genuine human connection, Y/N had plenty of time to emotionally free-fall into an internal moral crisis. She supposed that Draco wasn’t expecting her to keep up her end of the deal now, just as her Gryffindor friends had given up on trying to make her useful. Physically, nothing was stopping her from walking right up to McGonagall during one of her detentions and telling her that Draco Malfoy was making an attempt on the headmaster’s life. But was it really worth it? Every time the thought crossed her mind, all she could think about was the way Draco looked when he talked about his mother, the way a shiny film glazed over his eyes and his eyebrows knit together.

She’d made a promise. Too much was at stake. While she had failed her friends, she was at least not going to fail Draco...not when the rest of the world had betrayed him.

Y/N was slowly sifting through thoughts like those when Katie Bell stepped foot into the Great Hall for the first time in a month. Her legs, slightly wobbly from being on bedrest for the better half of November, carried her down the aisle towards the trio of Y/N’s now ex-friends. Her soliloquy was interrupted by the familiar sound of Harry’s voice as he spoke, hushed and rather quickly, to Katie, his hands animated and his frame bent slightly lower so he could speak quietly. It didn’t take much imagination to discern what the topic of their discussion was as their eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table. She managed to hear a few snippets as the wind from the owls blew in and carried it towards her:

“Malfoy--”

“Was it?”

“...remember?”

Katie, lips pressed into a thin line, shook her head. Harry bit his own lip and swung around to look at a blond figure further down the aisle. Draco. He was staring at the meeting, his body entirely frozen while he took it in.

Oh, Draco.

Before either party could say anything, he was already turned around and speeding off outside of the hall. She swallowed; Harry and the rest of her Gryffindor peers were conversing and not casting a single look her way. Taking a deep breath, she got up from her seat, leaving her half eaten toast behind.

It didn’t take long to locate Draco--Myrtle’s bathroom was hardly a minute’s walk away from the Great Hall. He was in the same position she saw him there last, his head hanging over the sink basin while his body heaved.

“Draco,” she called out.

He snapped around, his eyes wild and his hair slightly wet at the tips. It occurred to her that he’d splashed his face with water. “Come around again for a formal Katie Bell confession?”

“No!” she exclaimed. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get herself past the doorway. Not when his wand was raised at her like that. “I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he snarled. “Do you really expect me to believe anything you say?”

“Please,” said Y/N. “Please let me explain.” Despite the sting of his words, she couldn’t help but feel some degree of relief when she realized that he was finally speaking to her again, finally acknowledging her again.

He let out a huff of disbelief. “This isn’t about you. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter whether or not you explain. You lied to me. You put my family in danger, me in danger. And for what? A date with Potter?”

“What?” All the air left her lungs as she stared at him. “It was never like that!”

“Save it.” His tone, a bitter blend of vileness and defeat, echoed off the stone of the bathroom floor. Y/N was overwhelmed with the urge to run up to him and just beg him to forgive her, but the fire in his eyes and the angry twist of his mouth told her that that wasn’t an option. Instead, she slowly crept towards him. His eyes blazed as she neared him holding her hands up. “Please, Draco. I’m begging you.”

His composure slipped, his wand shaking slightly in the air while he caught his bottom lip on his teeth and stared at her with a look she couldn’t quite place. She was just about to ask him about it when a pair of footsteps stopped right outside the bathroom.

“I know what you did, Malfoy!” Harry appeared, brandishing his wand and pointing it at him with conviction. “You hexed her, didn’t you? Katie?”

Draco sucked in a wheezy breath, struggling to stand up entirely straight as he held his wand at the ready.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Let me guess, Y/L/N couldn’t get a confession out of me so you’re here to pick up the slack?” Draco finally snarled. “How cute.”

“Shut up!” roared Harry. She’d never seen him look so furious before. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” he said menacingly, the usual cool confidence she associated with him slowly reappearing in his demeanor as he twirled his wand around his fingers. Y/N finally let out the breath she was holding as Harry zeroed his focus on her.

“And just what are you doing here?” he hissed. “Hermione was right, huh? You were with him the entire time. I can’t believe I expected anything different from you.”

Despite the fighting nature of the words coming from one of her best friends, she couldn’t help but glance at Draco as confusion briefly rippled through his features.

He didn’t know. He didn’t know that she was being shunned by her friends for not telling them anything.

“I was just checking on him!” she wailed.

Visibly unsatisfied with the answer, Harry just scoffed and aimed his wand at Draco. “You’re going to confess what you did or I’m going to make you regret it.”

Harry wasted no time with firing off the first spell--a weakly cast Stupefy that hardly missed her head as Draco’s Protego ricocheted it in her direction. She yelped as she dodged it, smacking into the side of the stall door and falling on the ground unceremoniously hard. Frantically, she dug through the pockets of her cloak to locate her wand, but she was too late. A flash of light was headed her way.

Instead of it smacking into her chest with the force of a curse, the green light spread around her, creating a shield-like sphere. She met Draco’s eye’s briefly in shock.

He’d cast a protection spell on her. In the middle of a duel that she was hardly formally a part of, he cast a protection spell on her.

“Diffindo!” The puddles from the eternal broken faucet glowed red as Harry parried Draco’s attack. It again went flying in her direction, breaking through the shell of the Fion Duris charm. In a stroke of luck, she rolled out of the way. A light blue flash followed from Draco--a nonverbal.

Finally. Y/N managed to close her hands around her wand, mind racing with thoughts of who she’d disarm first. Her wand had just begun to point towards Harry as the aftershocks of a Levicorpus charm slammed her to the ground once again, her wand bouncing on the cobbled stone once before rolling under the stall door. Y/N swore. “Harry, stop it!”

Harry was clearly losing composure. Despite his magical talent, the speed at which he was rattling off curses compromised his control...and his aim. Draco sent a few Fion Duris and Protego Maxima charms her way, but it still didn’t help when Harry had completely lost it.

Things turned for the worst when his Tergeo actually sliced Y/N--just barely, but enough to draw a significant amount of blood in her wand arm. Even if she wanted to try and find her wand behind the toilets, she wasn’t even sure if she had the strength to fire off anything.

Her cry of pain prompted Draco to immediately turn his attention from Harry, angling his body towards her instead, an indistinguishable expression etched into his face as he took in the bloodstained white sleeve of her arm.

Under normal circumstances, Y/N would’ve swooned at the fact that he willingly forfeited the duel just to check on her. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Harry’s rage-filled expression and clenched jaw reminded her of this as he reeled his arm back and shouted out, “SECTUMSEMPRA!”

She didn’t think about it. To her credit, there really was no time to think. The cracking crimson light flashing towards Draco’s distracted figure was enough for her to launch herself at him with the intent of knocking them both to the ground--but she was too late, far too late. Glowing red light encased her entire body for a few tense milliseconds before she crumpled to the ground.

The Sectumsempra curse felt like every single nerve ending in her chest was being massaged with a sharp knife. Hot, sticky blood filled her mouth as she blinked, glassy-eyed and dazed, up at the ceiling. Distantly she could hear familiar voices over her body. There was a wet warmth that bloomed on her chest. She managed to glance down at her midsection to see an array of deep, short slashes scattered across her torso.

“Am I okay?” Her voice sounded tinny and funny to her. A pair of light gray eyes came into her vision as she managed another breath. “Draco? Is that you?”

If he leaned closer, she couldn’t tell. His face was beginning to swim in her vision, blending in with the glass ceiling. Finally, a familiar voice, albeit strained and cracking: “You’re okay.”

She felt something shaky brush past her cheek and the coolness of metal rings dance over her skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re going to be okay.” He sounded so far away for someone who was leaning right over her. She could see out of the corner of her eye a figure, cloaked in dark robes, raise its wand and recite an unfamiliar incantation. The metallic taste in her mouth began to subside as she felt the warm stickiness of her own blood seep back into her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for but doing it anyway. She thought she could feel the warmth of someone’s fingers softly cupping her face, but it could’ve been the heat of the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with the desire to just be held, to not be lonely. “Please don’t go,” she begged.

The last thing she heard was a tense, “...Okay.” Then everything went black.

Y/N spent the majority of her break obsessing over the last memory she had of Draco--the startled way in which he gazed down at her as she bled out in Myrtle’s bathroom and felt his soft hands brush the hair away from her face. It was almost as if there had never been a problem between the two of them, like he’d forgiven her at that moment, but she knew that wasn’t true. Their last Potions class together had made that very clear. While he, thank Merlin, wasn’t letting Pansy hang off him like he did in 4th year, he still pointedly ignored her even though she had to nearly hobble into class. So why had he looked so worried if he didn’t care? And why, whilst surfing the high of a cocktail of pain potions, did she feel like she remembered someone with light blond hair at her side in the hospital wing?

“And you’re sure your bandages are comfortable?” Her mother interrupted her train of thought,, the plate of ethically-sourced willowbird lying completely untouched in front of her.

“Yes, Mum,” groaned Y/N for what had to be the hundredth time of her Christmas break. “I told you. Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey made me their top priority over the last week of school. They say that I won’t even need them come January.”

Mrs. Y/L/N hummed as she delicately picked through her salad.

“I can’t believe that Potter boy’s nerve,” said Mr. Y/L/N from the foot of the table. “Hexing his own friend like that?”

“Dad, he didn’t even know what it did!”

“Exactly! What kind of person does that?”

“He’s just stressed,” Y/N mused, though she was personally a tad miffed at the fact that she’d been brutalized by someone she once considered her best friend. “And he was a little angry at me. He thinks I’m in cahoots with Death Eaters.”

“Ridiculous.” Mrs. Y/L/N vigorously shook her head. “Anyways, dear, no relation to the previous topic: I ran into Minerva at Wurgie’s the other day while I was shopping for gifts. She told me something very peculiar. Is it true you’ve become friends with the Malfoy boy?”

Y/N paled. Dealing with the backlash of Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been bad enough, but her own parents? Over the winter holidays? “Draco?”

“Yes, unless the Malfoys have another son I’m not aware of.”

“Well…” Y/N searched her mother’s face for any sign of animosity but found nothing but genuine curiosity. “Yes. We both had det--I mean, we were partnered for a class project together in Potions. He seems to have grown up a little.”

Oblivious to the slip up, her mother nodded. “Interesting. I was actually quite close with Narcissa myself back in the day. The Malfoys certainly don’t have a great track record of picking the right side, but we were two quaffles in a case throughout our schooling.”

“You knew Mrs. Malfoy?” asked Y/N, her eyes wide. “I had no idea!”

“Of course, we disagreed on the pureblood values and traditions that should be followed with children,” continued Mrs. Y/L/N, “But despite that, she was always kind. I hope she’s faring well.”

Y/N gulped as an idea slowly began to form in her mind. “Er, Mum, actually...Draco told me some things about...well, his mother.”

Both of her parents perked up.

“So you know how you guys always talk about how the Order owes you a favor for the time you went undercover in the first Wizarding War?” asked Y/N. They both nodded. “Do you think...we could cash that in right about now?”

A month later, Y/N stood in front of the painting that hung on Snape’s door, frowning at the raven that stared right back at her, daring her to try and open the door. In all the excitement of Christmas and explaining to her relatives that she’d nearly been murdered by her ex-best friend in a haunted bathroom, she had completely forgotten to ask her father how to distract a charmed guardian painting, and it’d hardly be beneficial to owl him during a busy work month. It was still completely up to her.

The dungeons sent a certain chill through her bones as she ran through possible plans, prompting her to tuck her hands into her pockets and shiver so hard that she didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching.

“What are you doing down here?” came the snotty, posh voice that she knew belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

“Parkinson,” Y/N greeted, snapping her head up to see that she didn’t come alone. Draco strode next to her, though he wouldn’t look at her directly. “Come for a rematch?”

Parkinson pulled out her wand and scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on it, but if you’re offering…”

“Pansy!” Draco hissed, yanking her away and forward. “We have places to be. Don’t waste your time.”

“But--”

“She almost got killed by Potter, like, yesterday,” he continued in a hushed voice. “Do you really want to make that worse?”

Parkinson sent her one last sour look before she was dragged off by Draco (who still refused to make eye contact with her). Y/N slumped against the wall, wincing as one of her injured spots bumped against a protruding stone. Why was he ignoring her? He’d protected her during the duel. He was even the one who stood over her as she lay crumpled on the floor.

A lump began growing in her throat again as she realized just how lonely she was. With her friends gone, all she had now was...her owl, Edison? Yes, that was it. Edison and Hannah Abbott, who clearly was just letting her sit next to her for meals out of pity. Y/N wished that she had the strength to sit alone and just say fuck it so she wouldn’t have to be the kickstart to a bleeding-heart Hufflepuff’s philanthropy career, but she was already beat down enough as she was. Sitting alone would just seal the deal in her new life as a social reject who dreaded classes where the professors let you choose partners. It was like she was a shy first year again, too nervous to talk to anyone and instead sitting alone at the breakfast table, praying that she’d make friends with someone, anyone, even though she was too afraid to figure out how.

And then came Ron, the sweet ginger boy who she’d met once when she went to a wizarding play with her dad. He’d plopped into the space next to her one day, eyeing the untouched plate of toast in front of her.

“You gonna eat that?” he’d asked. Y/N had just stared, mouth agape that someone was actually talking to her. “Hey, you’re the Y/L/N girl, right? My dad works with yours.”

Without waiting for her reply, he’d just popped the piece of toast in his mouth and continued talking at her as if they were old friends. Before she knew it, she was getting swept up into the social swirl of Harry Potter and his friends, helping them as they made their way through Hogwarts and took on the challenges brought upon them by Voldemort and his cronies. For once in her life, Y/N felt like she actually belonged.

And she’d thrown all of that away.

“Y/N?”

An unfamiliar, dreamy voice sounded from a little further down the dark hall, snapping Y/N out of it. She hadn’t even noticed, but she’d slid down to the ground and tucked herself into a ball. When she touched her face, she felt wetness on her cheeks. The raven in the painting made some kind of weird cackling sound.

“Who’s there?”

A girl in Ravenclaw robes, strange eyeglasses, and shockingly white-blond hair that rivaled Draco’s stepped into sight. Luna Lovegood. She’d seen her a few times--mostly during the Dumbledore’s Army meetings they’d both attended last year--but had never had a private, one-on-one conversation with her beyond the time that Y/N threw a protection charm to protect her from Bellatrix’s Avada Kedavra at the Ministry and she’d thanked her.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” said Luna as she settled in next to her, crossing her legs. “Isn’t Snape’s raven lovely?”

“I suppose so,” mused Y/N.

“His name is Marvin,” continued Luna, “and he always listens.”

“Huh?” Y/N balked, giving Luna a funny look. No wonder they call her Loony Lovegood she thought. “It--he can...talk?”

“Oh, yes,” said Luna, apparently not noticing her confusion. “Marvin is quite the conversationalist, to be honest. Snape is a very fortunate wizard to have him in his possession.”

As if to accent her point, Marvin crowed a few times.

“I was actually coming here to have a chat with him about you,” said Luna. “I think it’s terribly unfair how your friends are treating you. I thought that Marvin might know what to do. He always seems to.”

“Luna,” Y/N murmured, not expecting the way that her eyes began to swim with tears. “You...you really think so? I’ve been feeling so awful about what I’ve done…”

If she seemed taken aback by Y/N’s emotional outburst, she didn’t show it in the slightest. “Y/N, you just care about other people. And you know what it’s like to be lonely, so I understand why you didn’t want to leave someone alone when they felt that way, even if it was Malfoy.”

Y/N bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

“My mother had this saying about kindness,” said Luna softly. “She told me that it’s easy to be kind to people you already love. But you can really tell how caring someone is by how they treat those who are different.”

Marvin made a sound that was eerily similar to a jackhammer in the background.

“Thank you,” managed Y/N, letting the girl pull her into a hug. “I...I can’t say that enough. I really needed to hear that.”

“I know,” Luna replied wistfully. “I’m sure your friends will come around, too.”

“I sure hope so.” She swallowed, giving her a small smile as Luna squeezed her hand.

“Marvin is such a funny bird.” Luna shifted onto her feet, creeping towards the painting. “He loves shiny things. Now that I know the spell that weakens the barrier between the natural and painted world, I like to give him things sometimes. If he likes it enough, he’ll fly off to his flock to gloat to his murder for the rest of the day. He’s so proud.”

Something clicked in Y/N’s head. Was this her answer as to how to distract Marvin?

“It’s Transcendere, if you were wondering,” continued Luna, making to walk away. “Just in case you wanted to know. I can’t imagine why you’d need to, though. Anyways, I’m off to meet with Snape over a few questions on the exam. I don’t imagine he’ll be around here for the next hour!”

Before she could even thank her, Luna was already gone and down the hall. Y/N felt her pockets frantically, trying to find one thing that might appeal to the raven. He looked at her expectantly.

Her only piece of jewelry was her family ring, and apart from her obvious personal ties to the object, something told her that giving Snape’s guard bird a concrete identifier as to who broke into his stores would not be wise. So that left….She reached into her pocket, taking out the glittery quill that Draco had gifted her last fall. Giving it one last look and closing her fist around the feather one last time, she thought about how much she wished to go back to the simpler time.

Marvin made a little chirp, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Transcendere.”

The quill poked through the canvas and into the scene, slowly changing so it fit the art style that the painter used to bring the raven to life. He wasted no time snatching it out of her grip, giving an appreciative gargle before he took off, flying away into the grey sky.

She was in. A quick Alohomora charm opened the door, and Y/N made quick work of deactivating the jinxes that guarded the entrance and was happy to see that he hadn’t changed anything else with his security measures. Finding the potion was easy, and before she knew it, she had reset all the security charms, shut the door, and made her way all the way up to the Gryffindor tower with the vial tucked firmly in her pocket.

Getting Draco alone was the hardest part of her plan. Every time she saw him, he was either surrounded by a gaggle of Slytherins or darting off down side corridors that she could never quite locate. Carrying around the vial of stolen potion was getting increasingly stressful, too, especially now that their DADA class with Snape was coming up. He had to have noticed that his stores were broken into at that point, but given that he hadn’t stopped a meal yet to berate the student body on the importance of integrity and “keeping one’s grabby hands to themselves”, Y/N assumed she was somewhat in the clear. On the bright side, Y/N was enjoying mealtime much more now that she was eating with Luna. Her new friend even convinced her to go to the library with her one night to study--something that Y/N was not too familiar with.

They’d left right before the library closed, going their separate ways. Something crossed Y/N’s mind as she realized what day it was--Saturday. Draco always worked on the cabinet on Saturdays, and of course he wasn’t going to bring his friends along with him.

Quietly, she sank down next to the stone wall at the entrance, waiting for Draco to exit. She waited, and waited, and waited. Y/N was just beginning to wonder if Draco had switched his schedule around when the telltale sound of stone bricks scraping against each other snapped her to attention.

Draco looked more frazzled than usual as he stepped out of the newly-constructed entrance, his hands shakily running through his hair and his tie out of place. Y/N felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought that she was going to add even more stress to his night.

“Draco,” she said, standing up and teetering at the sudden motion.

He started at the sight of her before setting his jaw and turning to continue a walk down in the opposite direction.

“Please,” breathed Y/N, jumping forward to latch onto his wrist. “I need to talk to you.”

He immediately snatched his hand away, his scowl deeping in his features. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, though sheer exhaustion seemed to replace the usual venom in his voice. “If you’re here to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.”

“But--”

“I don’t have time,” he repeated once again, desperation seeping into the edges of his tone. “I don’t have the time to figure out whether or not I can trust you again.”

“Then let me make it easier.” Y/N reached into her pocket, producing the potion vial that had miraculously not been shattered after she’d carried it for so long. Draco arched an eyebrow. “Run a diagnostic spell on it. I want you to know that I’m being completely honest.”

“Y/L/N, I told you, I don’t want--”

“Please, Draco,” she pleaded, holding it out to him. “Just do it for me. If you do it, we’ll be even for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to.”

He sucked in a breath, begrudgingly casting the spell. The vial glowed and cast a bright emerald light on his surprised features. “How did you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” rushed Y/N. “Just ask me anything. I’ll take it if you want.”

He looked like he was about to leave her in the corridor alone, so she did the only thing she could think of--uncorking the vial and downing it all in one go. It went down like water, hardly feeling like anything. She was surprised. Wasn’t it supposed to feel more compelling?

“Y/N, you are such an idiot sometimes,” he growled, but he turned back to her anyway. “Okay. Fine. Did Granger put you up to talking to me?”

“No. Harry did,” answered Y/N, the words coming spilling out of her mouth without her even thinking. Draco’s briefly softened expression immediately hardened.

“I suppose that answers it then,” he snapped. “I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish.”

“Ask me something else!” cried Y/N. “Something you don’t already know the answer to.”

His silence was evidence enough that she was maybe, potentially, possibly getting to him. Something twanged in the pits of her stomach, reminding her of the time that she’d eaten bad fish in Greece and was sick for days, but she cast the thought aside for just a moment as he finally responded.

“This is ridiculous,” he clipped. She waited, turning the empty vial over in her hands. Finally, after a few agonizing moments of silence, his voice sounded again. “Why are your friends mad at you?”

Just as she was about to tell him, the tell-tale sound of footsteps and a cat’s meow echoed down the corridor. Filch. Panic-stricked, Y/N launched herself in the direction of the Room before a hand closed over her forearm and pulled her back.

“That’ll take too long,” Draco whispered, so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck and had to try not to shudder. Without waiting for her response, he yanked her into the broom closet across the corridor and softly shut the door.

It became fairly apparent that the broom closet was perhaps not the best hiding space for two adults, a fact that Y/N quickly noticed as she realized that the only place she could comfortably place her hands was lightly on top of Draco’s chest. His own hands pressed into the wall on either side of her head as he used it to push himself as far away from her as possible. When her eyes flickered up, she could see in the dim light that he’d shut his eyes. She couldn’t blame him--when she ran the plan through in her head, it rarely ever included getting stuck in a tiny broom closet together, and it never crossed her mind that it could happen before he’d even forgiven her.

“I heard something too, my pretty.” Filch’s voice floated down the corridor as he neared them. She sucked in her breath, intent to hold it. She wished that she could cast a Silencio on the broom closet, but there was no way to be able to do that in such close range. Plus, she was quite preoccupied with the churning in her stomach that was getting significantly worse.

Filch’s steps were getting louder as he called out, “Anyone there?”

“Yes,” Y/N let as a tortured, strangled whine. Realization flickered across Draco’s face as his hand shot out to clamp over her lips. She tried not to focus on how warm and nice his skin felt touching her and instead on the fact that Filch was still walking.

The footsteps finally paused outside of the broom closet. Y/N could feel Draco’s heart racing under her palm. She vaguely registered that her hands had long since curled into fists, clinging onto his shirt.

“Anyone in here?”

“Mmph,” responded Y/N, hardly able to enunciate anything over the death grip Draco had on her face. This only made the lurching in her middle worse, so bad that she felt like she had bile rising in her throat.

“My lovely? What’s that?” A cat’s meow rang out from across the corridor. “Over by the Charms classroom?” Another meow. The sound of quick shuffling would’ve come to Y/N as a relief if she didn’t feel like she was about to puke the entire contents of her stomach up on Draco Malfoy’s hand.

“Thank Merlin.” Draco exhaled. Y/N could feel his shoulders relax under the grip she had on his shirt and took note of the fact that he smelled very strongly of that stupid rich scent in her Amortentia, something that was somewhat difficult when the cramping in her stomach had gotten so bad that she could hardly stand up straight.

Then he let his hand drop.

“They’re mad at me because I didn’t tell them about you.” The words came spilling out so fast and without prompt that Y/N felt like she was out of body, watching someone else speak for her. “I couldn’t ever bring myself to hurt you like that because even though you’ve been mean to me and my friends and I technically have no reason to want to protect you, I still do and it’s just so complicated because I thought I was just being a good person or whatever but honestly now that I think about it f it came down to it I would choose you over anyone else here and that’s scary and ohmygodIcan’tstop--” Y/N managed to suck in a small breath as the magic in her system propelled her forward, barely catching the widened eyes of Draco, “--It’s been so hard being away from you and I understand why you’re angry at me and I’m such a hypocrite for being upset that you were a Death Eater when I didn’t tell you why I started talking to you in the first place but I couldn’t just confess to you when I finally had a reason to spend time with you and I didn’t want to fuck it all up but I did and Draco please help I can’t stop I want to so badly you were never supposed to know all of this I thought that it would just make me tell the truth not everything--”

“I know,” His hand came up one more time, covering her mouth and muffling her voice. Without being able to move her lips, the words died down once again while the waves of nausea and agony hit in their place. Draco’s face had once again adopted that unreadable, somewhat sad expression as he moved his free hand so he could thumb away the tears that were collecting on her cheeks. Her fingers twisted into the soft fabric of his button down as she choked back a sob against his hand. “I know. That was really fucking stupid, even for you. You do know you’re not supposed to take more than an ounce of Veritaserum, right? This is going to take forever to get through your system. You just have to let it run its course. I’m sorry.” The potion was closing in around her throat as she blinked up at him through tear-ridden lashes. “I hear Filch escorting a student to McGonagall. This is our chance to get out.”

Y/N nodded as best as she could without loosening his hold on her, and they were creeping out of the broom closet and slowly making their way down the hall as silently as possible. He was to her right, his left arm slung around her shoulder so he could keep her quiet without sacrificing too much of his balance. He pulled her away from the direction of the Gryffindor dorms.

“Not happening,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing past her ear. He was so close. She shivered. “Filch went that way. Plus, I need to keep an eye on you until you’re back to normal.”

She nodded again. By some miracle, they made it to the Slytherin dorms without much of a hiccup beyond the awkward shuffle down the stairs. “Purity,” muttered Draco, prompting the cobblestones to rearrange themselves into a door. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Y/N scoffed behind his hand. The Slytherin common room was, thankfully, entirely empty, but very eerie and cold. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that he’d obviously drawn the short straw when it came to lodging, but when she felt his palm tighten over her lips, she was reminded that that wasn’t an option.

“Here we are,” murmured Draco, his voice still low and careful as he led her to the end of the hall of the boys’ dormitories. Something other than the effects of the Veritaserum she consumed set off the butterflies inside of her once again when she thought about the fact that she was really going to see Draco’s dorm room. His door, black and heavy, was completely unblemished apart from the silver numbers of his room.

Before she could think any further, he turned the knob and spun her so he was looking right down at her. “The less you talk, the longer it’s going to take for you to be normal again. Try not to be too loud, though. I wanted to sleep tonight.” With that, he released her once again.

“You have really nice hands,” she blurted out, immediately clapping her own palm over her mouth again.

“Oh.” An uncharacteristic blush rose in his cheeks.

Squeezing her eyes shut and steeling herself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth next, she let her hand fall. “I--I actually think I can control some of what I say now.” She took one more breath in to check. “Yeah. Thank god. It’s not just...coming out of me anymore.”

“I’m not too surprised,” he said. “You were on quite a roll back there in the broom closet.”

“So, um…” She shuffled her feet. “Are we good now, do you think?”

Draco sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone willingly down two state terrorist interrogation sessions worth of Veritaserum just to apologize to me. So, yeah, I guess. I think you should probably try and get some sleep. Chances are it’ll wear off some by tomorrow morning.” With that, he rested his hands on her shoulders and steered her towards his bed.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, sinking down onto his black silk bedding and meeting his eyes.

He shrugged. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything before you sleep?”

“I’d really like it if you held me until I fell asleep,” Y/N said so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to look away from him. He blanched, his eyebrows raising but his lip quirking up.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought you were going to ask for water or something.”

“Draco, please don’t be mean,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out. I would like some water, though.”

“Your wish is my command,” he drawled, disappearing into his bathroom before coming out with an empty glass that he cast a quick Aquamenti into. “Go slow. I really don’t want you coughing up water on my sheets.”

“Me neither,” she said between sips. “Merlin knows I’ve embarrassed myself enough already.”

When she finished, she handed it out to him. “Thank you. I really appreciate you doing this. I mean it.”

He snorted on his way to put the glass away. “Of course you do. That’s the beauty of Veritaserum.”

“You’re actually funny sometimes, you know,” she said.

Draco smirked at her again. “Veritaserum. You’re doing wonders for my ego tonight.”

While he was doing whatever he was before getting into bed, Y/N went ahead and slipped under the sheets, rolling over onto her back so she was closest to the wall. She felt the bed slightly dip to her left and a throat clear.

“What is it now?” muttered Y/N.

“You know, it’s really hard for me to do what you asked when you’re on your back like that,” he said.

“What?”

“Like, do you want me to be on top of you or something?”

“What are you even talking about?”

Draco huffed and reached his hands out to grab her shoulders once again, turning her to face him. Before she could register what was happening, she felt his own hands come around under her arms to rest on her back. Her head lay on the swath of skin between his shoulder and his collarbone, and she could feel the quickening of his pulse. “There. Honestly.”

“This is really nice,” Y/N blurted out, physically cringing when she realized that in her position she couldn’t easily cover her mouth.

“Yeah?” She could feel the laugh rattle through his diaphragm.

“Yes.” Y/N huffed. “Stop asking me questions. This isn’t very kind of you.”

He let out another light laugh, his fingers moving to thread through her hair. “Is this okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted--” Y/N buried her face into his shoulder, silencing the words that were about to come out of her mouth. “Oh, my god,” she said after she resurfaced. “I think I want to take a vow of silence after this is over.”

Y/N could hear his smile as he offered her a, “What a load of good that thought is doing you now.”

“Please, just knock me unconscious until it all goes away,” she groaned.

“Stop demeaning my work,” he said, mock offense creeping into his tone as he continued to card his fingers through her hair in soothing motions. “What do you think I’m trying to do? If you want me to give you blunt force head trauma, then just say so. Sheesh.”

She sighed dramatically. “At this point, maybe.”

“Seriously, though, are you feeling okay? That was a lot of Veritaserum,” he murmured.

“I’m just feeling mortified right now,” she answered.

“You still need to tell me where you got it.”

“Oh. I stole it. From Snape.”

All at once, Draco dropped his hands and pulled slightly away so he could gape down at her. “You did what now?”

“Yeah,” she said, confusion creeping into her tone. “It really wasn’t that hard, you know. I’ve done it before.”

“When?”

She felt another lurching sensation. All of the questioning was starting to make her stomach turn again. “I was a second-year. Harry had to brew Polyjuice Potion and he needed an ingredient we couldn’t find anywhere else.”

Draco let out a low whistle. “At twelve?”

“Eleven. My birthday hadn’t come around yet.”

“That’s…” He’d shifted so she wasn’t pressed up to him, catching his lip between his teeth as he thought. Y/N hadn’t made much notice of this development as the growing pain in her midsection grew. “That’s quite a lot for a kid.” The way his hair glowed in the soft moonlight made her heart twinge. It looked so soft. Y/N noticed that she’d been staring at him for far too long without saying something when he blinked, planning on opening her mouth to apologize or crack a joke when instead:

“I have the biggest crush on you.” The words left her lips without any prior consent, the consonants and vowels forming before she could even think.

He was completely frozen in place, his expression entirely unreadable.

“Oh, god, and now I’ve ruined it all because I know you said that I didn’t have a chance that one time in detention and you don’t see me like that and I’m pretty sure you’re with Pansy and even if you weren’t I’m not enough for you and I wish I hadn’t taken this stupid potion but I know that I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant that you would trust me--”

Her words stopped abruptly as Draco silenced her--not with his hand, but by placing his lips on hers. The kiss was brief and shy, more of a question in nature than a statement. Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt as he pulled away, a rather frazzled and deer-in-the-headlights look etched into his features.

She was speechless. Absolutely, completely, irrevocably speechless. Despite the insistent gnawing of the Veritaserum at the lining of her stomach, she could only manage to blink owlishly up at him, mouth agape.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low.

“Ehm…” Her lips refused to move. Draco frowned, dropping his hands from her sides and sitting up straighter. Something impartial washed over his features, turning his expression from hurt to uninterested, like he’d woken up from a pleasant nap and was snapped back to reality. His legs pulled away so no part of her body was touching him.

“I--er, didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just wanted to make you quiet again, y’know, before you said anything else you regretted. And I thought that...kissing you would shock your system enough to make you stop talking.”

Her cheeks turned a violent red as she realized the depth of his statement. “So you...don’t see me like that?”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair once, took in a deep breath, and dropped his gaze to the comforter. “You should go to sleep. Hopefully you’ll feel better in the morning.”

At the very least the potion was beginning to settle in her stomach as Draco’s breathing turned slow over the next hour or so. She didn’t know all too much about the mechanics of Veritaserum, but at this point, she had almost nothing left to confess anyways.

Y/N tore her eyes away from his sleeping form, turning around to face the wall. His bed was soft. And it smelled like him, like the perfect blend of black tea and sage and snobbery that was in her Amortentia. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished to be anywhere but there. When he kissed her, it felt like he wanted her. Yes, of course he was timid, but she’d thought he was just nervous. But what was there for him to be nervous about? She’d already confessed under literal truth serum. He knew how she felt, and he didn’t even say sorry for kissing her and telling her he didn’t mean it like that. He still didn’t want her. Of course he didn’t when Pansy Parkinson in all her obnoxious Slytherin perfection was right fucking there.

She was just beginning to feel sleep tug on the strings of her consciousness as she felt her hair get tucked behind her ear by a warm hand coming around from behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s better this way, you’ll see. It wouldn’t be fair if I...if it was different.” Despite his words, he let his fingers brush over his jaw as he moved closer, his shoulder lightly pressing into her back.

At that moment, there were so many things that Y/N wanted to say, ranging from “I am never going to live this moment down because I’m positively lovesick over you” to “I am going to beat you up for kissing me and then telling me it didn’t mean anything after I confessed.” Two schools of thought, neither of them perfectly encapsulating the true essence of her feelings. Her most traitorous thoughts told her to stay still and enjoy the final moments of affection she’d get from Draco, but she’d given into impulse a little too much that night.

He must’ve noticed that her breathing had changed because he suddenly shifted his weight onto his free arm, keeping his hand poised by her neck.

“Please stop touching me.” The words that came out of her mouth sounded much more pathetic than they did in her head, a voice crack finding its way into the final syllables. He jolted away.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I thought…” He swallowed. “I thought you liked it when I touched you.”

“Yeah, before you told me you didn’t feel the same way,” she mumbled. “I really would appreciate it if you didn’t make me rehash that again. Today has been humiliating enough. I’m not looking to set a record or something here.”

She’d thought that her quip was pretty good, but Draco remained completely humorless. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. It was stupid of me to act on impulse like that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Never meant to--” She stopped in her tracks, instead letting out a sharp huff. “Nevermind. I don’t want a fight right now. I just want to sleep.”

Much to Y/N’s horror, her throat began to tighten up again with the tell-tale coming of tears. The next breath she exhaled was embarrassingly shaky and loud, and the movement that it sparked in Draco was even more mortifying. He made a small sound of sympathy. “C’mere, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I know that must’ve hurt you.”

Undecided between feeling pissed and just wanting to forgive him, she slowly sat up and faced him. His arms were out in a motion of invitation, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” The Veritaserum in her system didn’t care much about her emotional turmoil, much to her horror. Y/N began to turn away, a watery scowl fixed firmly on her face, but Draco’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“If I...wanted to be with you,” he began, his tone careful and clipped, “It would never work. Okay? Trust me when I say it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong.”

“I kind of did.”

“Yeah, well, we both did. But I don’t want you to think that I, er, never thought about it.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t quite sure what the underlying meaning of that was.

“So... “ He motioned again with open arms. “Do you...want to? I’ll play with your hair again until you fall asleep.”

Y/N stared at him, completely astonished. “Why? If you don’t see me like that, then why?”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight anyways,” he said softly. “And I want to help you feel better.”

She opened her mouth with the hopes of a biting retort coming out, but instead she was met with silence. Against her better judgement, she set her clenched her jaw and gave in.

His arms were wrapped around her in an instant as she tentatively settled back into his chest, her hands lightly rested on his shoulders. Despite the humiliating previous events, it didn’t feel awkward, especially when Draco’s long fingers slowly threaded through her locks and brushed past her neck. A small, forbidden sigh of contentment left her lips when he let his touch linger over the back of her neck. His deep, slow breathing and the steady beat of his heart began to lull her to sleep.

The next morning, she was able to lie convincingly enough to Draco, telling him her name wasn’t Y/N Y/L/N and that she was 80 years old. Confident that she wasn’t about to spill all of his secrets to the student body, he told her she was free to go.

“Draco?” she asked poised by his door.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’ll see you much after this? You know, now that we aren’t Potions partners and don’t have detention together anymore?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll see you around at pureblood functions or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to think about the implications of pureblood functions still existing in the future after this. What kind of world did Draco think this would turn into? “But this is probably it, right? The last time I’ll see you like this?”

She didn’t even need to see his nod. She knew. That’s why he offered to play with her hair despite not even liking her--it was his way of apologizing for roping her into this, for tricking her, for shutting her out, for the Sectumsempra curse...for everything. His way of apologizing before they parted ways.

final a/n: ty for reading! first off, congrats to the anons that guessed veritaserum. that shit took me forever to write bc i had such high expectations but it turned out to be quite the challenging scene since i still had to juggle draco’s conflicting emotions/distrust and the fact that i really wanted him to make her feel better fjdkas; i thought i’d mention someone who helped me write this (even tho i don’t think they realized how much they helped lmao)L i’d like to thank my 🌟 anon for giving me some inspiration. i was struggling with the first half of this story in terms of pacing for quite some time but found some help in an ask they sent me mentioning how they related to y/n feeling lonely/would like to see luna and neville mentioned. unfortunately, i haven’t quite been able to fit neville in yet (and i’m not sure if i can without it seeming just like a random extra bit of story that isn’t helpful to the plot), but hearing some affirmation that y/n’s loneliness was something that actually resonated w them really helped. it made me realize that the isolation from her friends/draco didn’t have to just be a logical turn of events for the plot to proceed in a sensical way and instead could be used to explore y/n’s character. i hope you all enjoyed! i promise the stuff w her dad and the order will be cleared up next chapter

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you

136 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 4 years ago

Note

I wonder what the supervillains (the dorm leaders) would do if they get switched with their other self in Twisted Wonderland.

They'll meet a younger Yuu calls them senpai and probably get shivers when they hear someone shout Prefect but then realize its Yuu's role in that world.

Bonus would be if Yuuken's there too, sharing the dorm with Yuu.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

I decided to take a little inspo from my Villainous Paranoiac series for this one! Not a whole lot, but the idea of Twisted Wonderland Yuu being put in the infirmary after the events of Chapter Five!

(Also consider it non-canon, since it kinda involves everyone’s identities being exposed!)

Basically imagine that the supervillains find themselves in what looks like a private school infirmary, late at night. The air is buzzing with a strange energy, almost like the powers back in their home world, but...different, somehow.

The room nearly empty, save for one occupant in a cot close to the door.

Poison Queen and King immediately begin bickering over whose fault this mess is, while Royal Flush tries to get them to keep their voices down or else they’ll be detected. Charon is half a minute from going to curl up in a corner, clutching his freeze ray like a lifeline, while Octo Dealer and Snake Charmer are busy inspecting their surroundings for anything of value or that can be requisitioned into a weapon on short notice.

Tsunotaro has wandered over to inspect the sole other living being in the room with them.

He is pleasantly surprised to see what looks like a younger version of the reporter he’s so fond of, fast asleep in the infirmary cot. Their cheeks still retain the last bit of baby fat from childhood, and there’s some acne left that will fade with age. He may give one cheek a gentle poke, just to satisfy his curiosity. The sleepy mumble they let out is a little more high pitched than normal, but that’s the reporter’s voice alright.

He is less pleased to see dark circles under their eyes, or the bandages around their throat that stink of medicinal salves. If this truly is a younger version of his child of man, then why do they look so worried, even in sleep? Why are they injured and sleeping in this place of healing in the first place? They’re a mere child, barely old enough to operate a vehicle or live alone. Their only worries should be trivial things, not whatever is causing this furrow in their brow and hunch in their shoulders.

The other supervillains have begun to migrate over to where Tsunotaro is crouching in silent contemplation. King flips his eyepatch up to get a better look, whistling lowly. Octo Dealer busies himself with refilling their water glass, sneaking glances at them as he places it within easy reach. Snake Charmer pulls their pillow more under their head from where it’s almost slipped off. Poison Queen straightens the arrangement of the very tasteful bouquet on the bedside table, so the flowers’ best angle is shown to the bed’s occupant. Royal Flush carefully tucks their covers in over them.

Charon takes a picture with his tablet.

He forgot to turn off his flash.

Yuu cracks their eyes open...

To see seven adults looming over their bed in masks that resemble the ink from the overblots that haunt the Prefect’s nightmares.

Cue terrified screaming.

Snake Charmer lunges forward instinctively to cover Yuu’s mouth—

It’s only thanks to Poison Queen yanking him back that he doesn’t end up with an arrow in the shoulder.

Several more follow the first one through the window above the prefect’s cot, cold iron sharp and perfectly aimed to seriously maim if the supervillains don’t immediately get away from the screaming teenager. Rook was lax in protecting the Trickster after VDC ended, assuming there was no more danger after Roi du Poison’s overblot was saved. He will not make that mistake again.

The infirmary doors burst open, a younger Yuuken in a sleep-rumpled uniform barging in from where he decided to sleep outside because Ramshackle felt too empty and quiet to bear, but was forbidden from staying in the infirmary himself. He only has a pillow, but he brandishes it at the strange adults, fully willing to defend his dorm mate in whatever way he can.

The vanguard appears in a flurry of bats though, too many to fight off, small and vicious and furious. Their commander materializes in the center if the swarm, hovering over the head of Yuu’s cot, pink eyes brimming with a cold rage that makes his small and cute form look like it’s bursting at the seams holding something much older and angrier back. He opens his mouth, fangs long and glistening—

Only to stop short at the sight of one of the supervillains. “Malleus? Malleus Draconia?”

Tsunotaro nods warily.

“Wh-What in Twisted Wonderland are you wearing??”

Tsunotaro ducks his head like a chastened child. “I could say the same thing.” He mutters sullenly.

From there the lights get turned on, and the seven supervillains are made to explain themselves to the sleep-deprived students and staff who trickle in to see what’s going on. All six dorm leaders and one vice dorm leader vanished from their beds, setting everyone on high alert until news of these...alternate versions spread.

It is very weird for the supervillains to see all their minions as teenagers (again in some cases). It is only surpassed by how weird it is for everyone else to see their dorm heads and vice head all grown up and adult, even if they are dressed weird.

Ortho still wants to shoot them with a beam until they bring back his nii-san. Luckily Charon is able to convince him that Idia should be fine if he’s in Charon’s lair—he’s got plenty of the latest games, manga and tech for him to play with, so that should keep him occupied for a while.

Sebek is in a state of Malleus awe. He has shut down and will not restart. Silver has taken to pinching himself just to make sure this isn’t a Lilia’s cooking induced fever dream, while Lilia himself scolds Tsunotaro that he raised him better than to go around watching people sleep like that! Tsunotaro tries to use the “but I’m a supervillain” excuse, only for Lilia to shoot back “and I’m a war criminal in some nations, what’s your point?”

King is enjoying watching the overgrown lizard get scolded. Now if only the tiny Ruggie would stop asking him what injury the eyepatch is for, and making remarks about how embarrassing it would be if it were totally pointless—King does not pay his adult self so much to put up with this shit. The baby Jack also needs to stop demanding to know if his adult minion self can pull a sled faster than a moose or something...

Jade and Floyd are attempting to wind up the adult Octo Dealer, trying to see how much they can get away with compared with the normal Azul. Octo Dealer is legitimately at a loss as to how this world’s Azul doesn’t keep them in line without letting them turn to a crime or two. Then he learns about Azul’s contract business and feels a pang of commiseration and understanding.

Poison Queen, Royal Flush, and Snake Charmer are unpleasantly shocked when their dorms address them by their respective secret identities in front of their fellow supervillains out of the blue.

Poison Queen has to put up with King’s uncontrolled laughter as he finally understands the full extent of the incident with White Neige so long ago, while Tsunotaro tries to tell him he liked Schoenheit in his role as the evil dragon prince in the GaoGao dramatization. Royal Flush is about two seconds away from throttling Octo Dealer if the bastard doesn’t stop trying to make a deal to guarantee his mother doesn’t learn about her son’s private activities. Snake Charmer’s just glad his civilian identity flies under the radar enough that Charon has to try and look him up to understand who he is (and fails because he’s not on school wifi and his cellular data is bust).

Poison Queen is also getting a headache from Rook rhapsodizing about how his villain form is another, enhanced mode of beauty he is fortunate to lay eyes upon, as if he hadn’t been willing to skewer Poison Queen along with the rest of the supervillains five minutes ago. He’s at least able to amuse himself by letting Epel run away with his speculations about how he’s the buff hyper-masculine muscle for Poison Queen.

Kalim is crying that Jamil had to resort to becoming a villain in his home world! He must be so sad if he has to do that! He’s mildly cheered up when Snake Charmer tells him they work together on schemes, and that Snake Charmer is actually reasonably happy with his chosen vocation—and then he begins panicking that Jamil will like that world so much, he won’t want to come back.

Royal Flush is glad his counterpart at least has good people around to look after him, even if it is odd to have young versions of Trey and Cater trying to mother hen him despite the fact that he’s the older one now. At least Ace and Deuce acting up seems more fitting now considering their age than it ever did on their adult selves.

Ace huffs a sigh and leans on Yuu’s shoulder. “This is a mess, huh Prefect?”

“You said it.” Yuu replies. “I just wanna sleep forever.”

The supervillains go still.

“I’m sorry,” Snake Charmer says carefully. “But isn’t Enma-san the Prefect?”

“No?” Yuuken replies, confused. “Yuu’s the prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. I’m their vice— or would be, if we had any other students apart from them, me, and Grim.”

Octo Dealer laughs, sounding slightly strained. “Ah, apologies, but you see, that isn’t possible. It can’t be. Yuu isn’t—”

“But I am the prefect, Azul-senpai.” Yuu the Prefect says. “I’ve–I’ve always been the prefect.”

There’s a stunned silence.

Royal Flush places his head in his hands. “What the fuck.”

Back in the Supervillain AU universe, Yuu the Reporter sneezes sharply while trying to wrangle five frightened teenagers, one frightened-but-playing-tough twenty year old, and one confused however-old-he-is-but-younger-than-Tsunotaro fae.

They wonder what the chill down their spine is.

316 notes · View notes

songbirdstyles · 4 years ago

Text

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly.

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp.

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do.

The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry?

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record.

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends.

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants.

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

~~~

The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off, waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd.

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly??#im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

865 notes · View notes

sunlightwoo · 4 years ago

Text

Come Back Home

☀︎ pairing: hidden king!Sunwoo x queen!fem.reader

☀︎ genre: there’s fluff for a small part of this, but there is more angst because of the inspo that I got this idea from hehee. WARNING: there are mentions of blood, wounds, and killing in terms of it being a war and a major character death will happen in this.

☀︎ wc: 4.7k

☀︎ plot: The king that the people see in the kingdom that is ruled by him is not the true king, but rather someone else. However, when the life of the king that has been playing the role for his friend’s life is endangered at the stake of a war, what will Sunwoo choose when he knows that he’d have to come back home to you unscathed somehow?

☀︎ a/n: i’ve had this idea back when the music video dropped for Come Back Home by Oneus last july, and loved it as this plot has been collecting dust since then from the switching and changing characters to stopping the kingdom come series that this originally would’ve been for. however after watching the road to kingdom stages i thought that this was fitting after their mama stage too and decided to post it for Sunwoo. anyways happy sunwoo day and hope you guys enjoy this one!!

[ gina is listening to: Come Back Home - Oneus ] [ the spinoff ]

Here comes the king!, the familiar four words that he was used to hearing all the time when he looks over to the man that was walking towards the throne that was on the other side of the ballroom. He watches from a balcony up above, watching the grand man closely as he waited for today’s round of laws to pass by for today.

As though, he was the true king after all hiding in disguise.

His eyes are cast upon his companion, Juyeon who regally sits on his throne for him and connects a short gaze as he goes on with his day helping him out with more laws to go through and be signed. The reason for it; his own safety from the general public.

Ever since the early days of the previous king and queen’s announcement of the regal heir that was yet to take over their place when they passed, nobody knew who the individual was as it was kept a secret in fear that the enemies would use him as a leverage. It was up until he had turned the age of 18, a month after a war that his parents bravely fought in and died in honor of the kingdom that he had to step up and play the role of the king.

However, he couldn’t risk his own identity just yet because he knew that there were enemy lines speculating his friend’s true identity. Hence why he had never revealed his true identity as the king with the royal bloodline that ran in his name, nor had he acted like he was the king whenever he was in the castle since he disguised himself as the royal guard to keep an eye out on the front lines of the kingdom.

Until he had met you.

It was quite coincidental that you, the adopted sibling sister of a friend of Juyeon’s, had walked into the office one day to overhear their plans of making Juyeon play the role as the king until his time was done and you were the least to say shocked. Your reaction to finding your brother negotiating with the true king, Sunwoo, was rather confusing considering you had no other input towards the matter after being in the same room as the man that you had thought to be the royal guard.

Truth be told, you had always thought of him very highly from afar as you thought that for a person that had such high standards and sight in the kingdom, he was rather playful and had lots of charisma for someone that was raised as a king in secret. It took him three months since then to finally court you and eventually marry after having to somehow find a way to have you be Juyeon’s fake queen for the kingdom to rely on when they needed one.

All of the plans were perfectly planned to the brim and executed well, where Sunwoo was rather happy with where he was in the present today, even if he had to hide in secret like he was at the moment on a balcony. It wasn’t until hours later when Juyeon finishes that he looks out the window, noticing how the sun was already on the brink of sundown that he remembers today’s plans with you as he rushes to your bedroom almost immediately.

He makes it into your bedroom after knocking first, hearing a soft hum to allow him inside while he enters to see you sitting on your balcony with a smile on your face as you look at him. Sunwoo lets out a soft chuckle at your idea of a date for this evening as he walks over to where you were sitting on top of a blanket that you had prepared, a quiet picnic just for you two to enjoy.

“You seemed to have remembered about our date this time.” You say as he playfully rolls his eyes at your words and the raised eyebrow look that you were currently giving him.

The golden yellow hues of the sun setting were perfectly reflecting against Sunwoo’s skin, you thought to yourself, as you admired how he looked at this hour. You weren’t sure how you had gotten lucky with having to marry the king, as you were once a noble woman that came from a family that wasn’t as well off as the other ones that you had known of. However you could recall that night when he was supposed to pick who he had wanted his queen to be, as though the flower festival of the week for him to get to know all the other women had been tossed to the side as he chose you that night.

“I was helping Juyeon wrap up the last of the laws that had to be seen out tonight. Have I kept you waiting long?” He asks sitting as you shook your head in response, smiling as he already found purchase in laying his head into your lap, curling his body up into a ball as you were finding yourself playing with his hair out of habit.

“Long enough for my stomach to grumble because I wanted to be nice and wait for you,” You grin and look down at him as he was already staring back up at you with a soft smile on his face, “But I guess I can make some exceptions for you, your majesty.”

For whatever reason it may be, whether it was the stars and fate or even the coincidences that you both were given, Sunwoo felt as though everything was perfect even if it may be a bit misfortunate on his end. Although he could not properly tell the world that you were his, he knew that he was still yours in moments like these when it was just you two and the golden hues of the sun that were setting on you both.

“I love you.”

His random confession of love takes you off guard while heat is already rushing to your cheeks as you look at him, looking into his lovestruck eyes that were boring right into your very own gently but deeply. You think that this must be what it was like to fall in love with your soulmate, feeling happy that Sunwoo was the one person that you could only want in this life and the next. However, it had caught you off guard because he was rather someone that showed his love language through touch instead of words of affirmation, which made you confused at the sudden confession.

“I love you too, my love. Why the sudden confession?” You say to him teasingly with an undertone of confusion, continuing to play with his hair as he lets out a soft breath while holding your hands that were now no longer playing with it.

“Moments like today makes me really want to tell you, rather than just showing you that I do since I don’t say it enough. I love you, Y/N, and I’d rearrange the stars and the universe into your eyes and heart if I could to show you that I do.” He says, leaving small kisses right on your knuckles until he reaches your ring finger and leaves a soft, but lingering kiss right on the ring that he had proposed to you with just about a year or two ago.

There was a warm feeling in your chest as his hand was still holding onto yours, as if you were to leave at any moment now but you felt like you were at home. With him you felt like you were continuously falling in love with him more than the last sunset, and with the warm golden hues that the sun was giving off at this time, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else if it wasn’t with him by your side.

“Cheesy.” You mumbled jokingly and suddenly felt your weight being shifted to where you were now sitting in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist securely as he rests his head on top of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t go anywhere.

“That may be true, but you love it anyways,” He says while grinning widely and you turned your head to give him the same look that you always gave him when he started to get greasy, up until he suddenly steals a kiss from your lips that made you blink from the spontaneous act.

“Come on, let’s finish up the food before it gets too cold and the sun leaves us alone in the dark.”

He was the gift that you never expected to receive in your life.

Today you felt as though there was a heavy feeling on your chest. You were currently sitting at the throne next to Juyeon, listening to your scribe explain to you what has been going on with the surrounding kingdoms around you both from the last few weeks and you could’ve sworn that you were going to give out from boredom right in that moment.

It was one of the rare occasions that you had to be seen with Juyeon, considering you had finished up your financial affairs with the ambassadors that came from those foreign kingdoms days ago after your picnic date with Sunwoo. However you weren’t sure what this could mean for the future of your own kingdom, considering the events of then did not exactly end up on completely good terms.

“Your majesties!”

The sound of the door being barged open to the chambers echoed as the person who had interrupted your meeting, not that you had minded, came in rushing in with hurried feet. You notice Juyeon rise to his feet with a stern look on his face and grabbed his wrist as it made him turn to look at you with a confused look, however you made a small notion for him to leave it as a gesture of boredom was passed onto him from the thoughts that were forming in your head.

Your eyes turn back to the individual rushing in and you noticed that it was one of your generals and good friends, Changmin, and you knew that he wouldn’t have arrived frantically if it weren’t an emergency. His eyes screamed urgency as he attempted to catch his breath and you were almost concerned for how crazed he had seemed, which meant that this was bad.

“King Hyunjin has declared war on us.” He breathes out and there was silence as your stomach churned at the words he had mentioned.

War.

You were almost certain that you had been allies with the kingdom that King Hyunjin had ruled, knowing that he had been a good friend of yours with the rest of the Hwang family. However, an unexpected war seemed almost conspired as you turned to look at Juyeon with a scared look on your face. He seems almost taken aback had he not composed himself from the sudden news, eyes looking off to a distance that you knew was a hidden balcony for Sunwoo to sit in and listen.

But there was no telling what the two could think of, because it was all so sudden.

“Did he say why, or have sent for someone that he wants to declare a war?” You say while standing up from where you were sitting, not caring about how improper you might’ve seen at the moment because of how fast your mind was already racing at the speed of light.

It wasn’t until he motions for you to go with him that you realize it must’ve been even more serious, and you could only assume the worst from the situation. Bidding a muttered excuse from Juyeon and the scribe, you head out of the royal chambers to head out and walk with Changmin towards your office quarters knowing that you could only get privacy there, even with the rambling inevitables that were making you spiral from how anxious you were progressively getting.

With the door shut behind you, you noticed that Sunwoo had already met you there as he stood in front of the chairs that were in front of your desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Both of you looked over towards where Changmin was still looking distressed and it wasn’t until he locked eyes with you that you knew why.

“He knows about Sunwoo’s true status, doesn’t he?” You whisper quietly and he nods in response, nervously looking between you both with so much stress that you could’ve sworn he would’ve exploded right then and there in front of you.

“He wants the war to happen in a week’s time.” Changmin whispered, and that was when the atmosphere fell into a deadly silent room, if it were even possible from how much tension that was also being put into it.

Sunwoo’s identity wasn’t meant to be exposed, which was why you felt a wave of emotions that included fear and betrayal from how someone would stoop so low that they would risk a king’s life for their own. You knew that, and there was also the acknowledgement of Sunwoo having the urge to leave as well knowing that his pride wouldn’t let him just sit back and let the war happen because of him.

However you had your reasons this time around for him to not leave, and you were adament on him not leaving, especially after Changmin mumbles to himself that he was going to dismiss himself after the loud silence engulfing the atmosphere.

“Sunwoo, you can’t go out there into the war, no matter how serious it may be.” You say, sternly looking at him the moment that Changmin shuts the door behind him while crossing your arms in front of your chest assertively.

“Y/N, I know you’re scared-”

“No, I mean it this time, Kim Sunwoo. At all costs, I’m not going to let you go out there and risk your life dying, when you could be safer here. What if going out there is a trap to get you to get into your coffin?” You retort and you could tell that he was thinking about it from how quiet he was being.

The war was due in a week’s time, and only time could tell what could happen in a span of a week because of everything. You blink for a second to realize that Sunwoo is walking up to you with a heavy heart in his hand, the same hand that cups your face momentarily before stroking your cheek for a moment and it took everything in you to not give into his warm and gentle touch. No matter how much you loved him, you still had to stand your ground and be selfish by telling him to not go.

“I won’t go, only because I love you.” He concludes, making your heart feel a bit at ease in the moment as you looked into his eyes for that clarity that he had meant it.

However it was in the time that he kisses you with the same amount of love and passionate that you were so used to feeling everyday that surpassed all the negative thoughts and placed them onto a shelf. He was here now, the kiss seemed to express, and you wanted to hold onto that grain of hope that was filling into your thoughts, but you could only wish that it were true until then.

“I love you too, idiot. Just stay here a little longer… with me.”

“Do you think she’d actually let me go?”

Sunwoo looks over to Changmin with a pained look on his face, one that expressed how dangerous the plan that they had in mind was going to be, but it had to be done. It had been three days into the war that King Hyunjin had declared onto your kingdom and it wasn’t until one of the soldiers that was a close friend of theirs, Jacob, had come back scathed to tell that Juyeon had been killed off after being ambushed during the first night full of snow.

“I don’t think we have a choice… He won’t stop killing our numbers, unless you’re there.” Changmin says as the written paper that was in Sunwoo’s hand felt heavier than earlier.

The written note that he recognized to be Hyunjin’s handwriting demanded that he should show up, along with the additional information that had passed on by Changmin that he had Juyeon at hostage in the snow. The thought of his friends’ lives being put on the line of life and death made him sick and guilty, knowing that this war was specifically targeted towards him and that he wouldn’t be able to do anything if he were to stay back and watched it all happen from the sidelines as he usually would.

“Give me an hour and I’ll meet you outside with my gear.” Sunwoo mumbles almost inaudibly, avoiding the eyes of his best friend with his head in his hands as he could hear him let out a hum in response, feet heading towards the door of Sunwoo’s office while leaving.

In that moment, he felt as though he had just been set up for inevitable death. There were hundreds of thoughts as to how betrayed he had felt about the fact that the war was happening, along with the mourning emotions that filled his heart because he knew that Juyeon might die because of him. However there was still you, who was still waiting for him to fall asleep with you in bed because it was nearly three in the morning.

He was fearful, scared of the fact that he would lose you in the end of all this.

He knew that you didn’t want him to go because he would leave you alone with a king to rule by your side, and that wasn’t seen to be fit for any kingdom whatsoever considering it would be considered unruly. Yet he also felt as though he had to go off and stop the war once and for all against Hyunjin, to find the real answer as to why he was so insistent on exposing Sunwoo’s status to the rest of the kingdom as it was.

The stuff that Sunwoo would’ve needed was just in the room next to his office with a letter that was ready to be addressed to you, everything already having been packed since the first day of war in case Juyeon had died, and he felt his chest grow heavy at the thought of it. He gets up from where he sits in his office to head over towards the room when he flickers on the light to see you standing next to all of his packed gear with the letter opened in your hand.

“You almost forgot something.” You mumbled quietly and tossed him a small item that was in your hand over towards him, and it was the sight of it that made his heart drop into his stomach as you were already on your way to leave the room.

“Love, wait-”

“When were you going to tell me that you were leaving, Sunwoo? Before or after I had found out that you took off the ring and left without another word?”

The ring that was in his hand was accompanied by the one that he had once placed on your hand, both small objects having such a large impact on how everything was going downhill from here and it was like he was caught red handed. You were beyond livid at the fact that he had taken off the ring in the first place when you had gotten up to get a drink of water, seeing as though a letter of his writing saying that he had to make things right had accompanied it, and you felt it get worse as your thoughts were everywhere because of the anger and hurt that you were ready to unleash onto him.

“I thought we trusted each other enough to the point where we could tell anything, Sunwoo, but you lied to me. You said you weren’t even going to leave, but here you are getting ready to go ahead and hurt yourself because you’re scared-”

“I’m not scared of anything-”

“Then let’s just skip our excuses and divorce, if you’re willing to give up your ring so fast.”

Tears had already been glossing in your eyes as the evident twisted pain in your heart was pounding loudly in your chest, your breath not even wavering in the slightest as you looked at him. In his eyes, he felt as though he had already been stabbed in the heart because of those three simple words, because he never would’ve thought that you would actually want to divorce him after everything that the two of you had gone through.

“You wouldn’t-”

“Then don’t leave me here alone without you,” Your voice cracked, tears finally streaming down your face as you could already feel yourself slowly breaking away from the fact that he was going to go anyways.

“If you leave right now, then don’t bother coming back home if you lived to see the light of day.”

Sunwoo wants to reach out to you, to wipe away the tears that were falling down the apples of your cheeks because of the pain that he had caused. He wants to tell you that he was going to make it home safely and that he promises to come home, but he couldn’t find it within himself to hold such an empty promise as he moves almost past you to hoist his bag over his shoulder and turns to look at you with a heartbroken expression on his face.

He takes in every inch of your face one last time, every curvature that he has kissed once in this lifetime and the eyes that he came to love every time that they looked at him with such love, outlasting the entire galaxy and universes that could possibly shine brighter than yours. With a heavy breath that brushes past his lips, he walks over to you with a shaky movement of his hands holding your cheeks with fragility, fear as he is scared for himself.

He knew was going to lose you to the universe in this life, and he doesn’t want you to be taken away from him.

With a final kiss against your lips, he lets out a final breath as he leaves while placing both rings into your hands as he closes the door behind him, blocking out the sobs that he was able to hear from you in the closed room that he just left. He meets with Changmin outside on his own stallion and leaves with him as the two went off into the wintery night to where the war was yet to be finished in this night of time.

He didn’t even say ‘I love you’, when he had left for good.

“Y/N, we need you to make an announcement today.” You hear Chanhee, one of your close friends say from behind you and there was a beat of silence as you were staring off past your window to look at the crowd of people gathered in front of the palace.

“He’s going to come home soon, I know it.” You muttered back, more toned to convince yourself that he was actually coming back as you hugged your stomach closely to yourself.

A week has gone by since he had left, you noted to yourself since then as you had been awake for endless nights waiting for the soldiers to come back home; at least someone to make sure that they were alive. You grew anxious as you fumbled with the necklace that was around your neck, a simple string with a wedding band attached to it as the growing fear of him actually not making it back home continued to settle in your stomach.

It was over, you remember hearing as the scribes from Hyunjin’s kingdom had come to say as you were on the edge waiting for any sign of life. However, nobody has come home as you could feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He had to be alive, you tried to convince yourself as you turned to look at Chanhee, who had been giving you a solemn expression on his face with something in his hand.

“Y/N…”

The feeling of dread suddenly fills your heart as you noticed that the letter in his hand was addressed to you in a familiar handwriting, one that you never wanted to see once again. There was a sharp intake of a breath that you made, realizing what it must’ve been considering there were blood stains on it as you looked up at the latter with teary eyes.

“Changmin was the only survivor… He came back home last night when you slept, and wanted me to give you this.” Chanhee says, walking over towards you with caution as you glanced between both him and the letter.

He leaves you alone in the room with the letter in your hand, your own instincts debating on whether or not you should open it as you knew what this had meant. Your hands were shaky as the weight of the light parchment felt heavy in your own possession, not wanting to open the blood stained letter that can only mean one thing.

Sunwoo’s last words.

The moment that he had written them was one of the most unforgettable memories that he would definitely remember in his next life. The night that he had faced Hyunjin in the snow, the strength that he gathered from the anger of seeing his friends and soldier’s brave deaths because of him, he went down in pride and in pain knowing that he had used you as a way to unleash the last few moments of life and death between the war.

“It’s a shame that you won’t be able to see your beloved queen again, Kim. Maybe she’d be better if she were with me, wouldn’t it?” Hyunjin’s words taunt him just as Sunwoo finally paints his blood onto the snow, his breaths uneven as he finishes him off and looks at his lifeless eyes staring back at him.

“Never in a million years, will I ever lose to you again, Hwang.”

Sunwoo stumbles back to his tent, seeing Changmin already there healing and his friend was ready to treat his injuries when he shakes his head in response. Both Changmin and Sunwoo share a glance of unspoken words that were exchanged, until Sunwoo grabs a sheet of parchment and ink to write down everything that he had been meaning to say to you even if he was bleeding out on that winter morning.

“Sunwoo, you have to save your energy and let me-”

“I’m bleeding out too much, Changmin… Just let me do this and die in peace,” Sunwoo murmurs, already feeling his life being taken away from him as he grew weaker while ending his letter that was supposed to be addressed to you.

“Just make sure that she gets this.”

To you who has always been the golden highlight of my life, the hues of love and adoration in the confinements of the yellow sun to my dark shades of the moon…

I knew what I had forgotten that night., and I should’ve said it before leaving.

I’m not coming back home, my love… and I’m sorry.

We won, and I know that if I were to see light of day tomorrow, you would still let me in despite the fact that you probably hate me at the moment. But you have my ring and that’s all that matters, because only Changmin will come home, and I made him promise that he would take care of you no matter what.

You don’t need a king to prove that you are strong, Y/N, and I know that you are the greatest queen that this kingdom will be ruled under, because you are the strongest person that I’ve ever met in my life.

I don’t regret loving you, marrying you, spending all of our picnics in the hues of the golden sunset in secret, because I knew that I was yours, just like you knew that you were mine.

But don't miss me too much, please. For us.

And I knew what I forgot to say,

I love you.

We will meet again.

260 notes · View notes

davidpastrsnack · 4 years ago

Text

girls need love - mikko rantanen

a/n: here it finally is! mikko is absolutely adorable but also so hot and i think it’s time he gets some more love on here. this is filthy, but you probably already knew that lol. the title is from girls need love by summer walker ft drake, a bop that gave me so much inspo. also major shoutout to @hookingminor for always screaming about mikko with me. i hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think!

word count: 5k

You were completely zoned out, the sounds of the bar overcoming your senses as you stirred your nearly empty, watered-down drink. Nate and Tyson were howling about some locker room argument they had earlier that day while Tyson bumped into your shoulders, falling over in laughter at their foolery. The bodysuit you had on was driving you crazy, you wished so badly that you could be laying across in your sweats at home instead.

You needed more alcohol if you were going to get through this night. Your gaze trailed to the bar, only to catch a glimpse of the one person you had been avoiding all night, a beautiful girl hanging off his arm drinking up whatever story he was telling. You subconsciously rolled your eyes at the way they were drooling over each other, pushing off the table with a scoff to go get another drink.

It had been a rough week for you, but Tyson would not take no for an answer when he called you that morning asking you to go out with everyone. Just five days ago you had broken up with your boyfriend of a year and a half after finding half a lingerie set that did not belong to you under the bed in your shared apartment. Sure, you were beyond hurt that Alex would betray you like that, but it was almost alarming to you how quickly your anger turned to relief.

It wasn’t that Alex hadn’t treated you well, until he didn’t, of course, but as the months passed in your relationship so did the excitement and passion. The two of you coexisted in that apartment, always saying hello and goodbye but there was barely anything in between. Not to mention the sex had plummeted downhill. He was never amazing in bed, but in the beginning, you still enjoyed it because you were having so much fun with him. Now you couldn’t even remember the last time you had an orgasm at the hands of someone other than yourself.

You stomped up to the bar, your heeled booties clicking against the hardwood floor before they rested on the base of the stool you sat on. You easily grabbed the bartender’s attention, giving her your order before your head fell into your hands, running them through your hair while you waited.

But of course, you couldn’t just get your drink in peace. Only minutes later you felt a body slide in next to you, shame crashing over you as you immediately recognized the scent of his cologne. You slowly lifted your head, your gaze locking with his as you confirmed that it was, in fact, Mikko.

“What do you want?” you groaned, eyes squinting as you looked up at him.

It was taking everything within you not to drag your eyes down his body. He looked incredible, per usual. He was wearing all black, except for his crisp white designer sneakers. His bright blonde hair was longer than usual, the soft waves hanging over his forehead. His baby blue eyes were sparking down at you, slightly glazed over making it clear that he had his fair share of drinks tonight. His dark pink lips curved in a smirk as he heard your words, a comeback already falling off the tip of his tongue.

“Why so grumpy, Y/N?” he teased, leaning his arms against the bartop encroaching on your personal space even more than his big body already was.

“Not in the mood, Mikko,” you warned, smiling at the bartender as she slid you your drink. “What happened to your little friend, hmm?”

The smirk on his face grew bigger, your jealousy not going over his head.

“So you were watching me?” he grinned, patiently waiting for your response as you sip your drink.

“It’s pretty hard to miss you when you’re eight feet tall,” you threw back, swinging your legs off the stool before heading back to the table. You meant it as an insult, but Mikko saw your bluff, just laughing as he watched you saunter away, his eyes lingering across your frame. His height was one of the things you found so disgustingly attractive about him and he knew it.

You and Mikko had a complicated relationship, to say the least.

You befriended Tyson over two years ago, one of your roommates briefly dated him and you hit it off when she introduced him to the group. You stayed in touch even after they broke up and you now considered him one of your closet friends in Denver. You were immediately welcomed into the crew of his teammates and Mikko caught your eye right away, the feeling mutual. He was in awe of you: the way you laughed at Gabe’s dad jokes, the way you blushed when EJ forced you two to talk, the way you cared so deeply for everyone in your life. You were perfect, but Mikko was as shy as they come. He stayed in his comfort zone, admiring you from a far distance despite the constant encouragement from the guys. He never garnered the courage to get to know you more personally, and before long you were with Alex.

From that point on, your relationship turned from polite acquaintances to the two members of the group that were constantly going at each other. Mikko had been beating himself up for letting you go and it was easier for him to deflect his feelings through meaningless chirps. You felt the same way. You loved spending time with Alex but part of you always wondered what it would have been like if you had just made a move with Mikko.

Now that you were single again, you couldn’t help but think about if things could change. So much had happened since you first met, but the physical attraction was still heavy between you two, if not more now that you didn’t have any reason to feel guilty for it.

You slid back into the booth, resting your head against Tyson’s shoulder as you observed the conversation. He was in for one tonight, his cheeks already flushed bright red and his eyes glazed over. Great, you thought to yourself, already imagining the struggle you were going to have when you tried to get him home later.

Your moment of peace was short-lived, however, your stomach dropping when Mikko sat down directly across from you, his legs brushing up against yours under the table. You picked your head up and rolled your eyes in disgust, bringing your drink up to your lips for a long sip. He left you alone for the time being, but it didn’t take him long for him to turn his attention back to you.

“So, Y/N, where’s our favorite Alex?” he questioned, eyebrows raised as he looked at you, his sarcasm almost as thick as his accent.

Your heart sank and you just stared back at him dumbfounded. Did he not know? There was no way none of the guys told him, right? Was he just playing a sick joke on you? You decided that it couldn’t be the latter, Mikko was a lot of things but he wasn’t cruel.

The table was silent, everyone’s eyes on you waiting for your response.

“Well, Mikko,” you hissed, emphasizing his name, “We broke up so I have no idea where Alex is.”

His face fell as he heard your words, he had no idea. The guilt washed over him instantly, eyes trailing down to where your hands were anxiously twirling the straw of your drink. The awkwardness at the table was like nothing you had ever felt before, and you wished you could disappear at that moment. You were doing fine without Alex, more than fine actually, but you didn’t need to be reminded of your failed relationship in such a cold way, by Mikko of all people.

The tension was finally broken by Tyson, his drunk rambling in full swing as he raised his glass.

“We love you, Y/N,” he slurred, throwing his arm around your shoulders, “Plus, when’s the last time that asshole got you off?”

Your eyes went wide at his words, your head snapping to glare at him. You and Tyson were very close, and for better or worse you shared nearly everything with him. You trusted him with anything, but you couldn’t count on him keeping his mouth shut when alcohol was in the picture.

Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment, only getting worse when you caught Mikko’s eye. He had a soft expression on his face as he stared at you, but there was a glint behind the blue of his irises that you had never seen before.

That was the last straw and you quickly left the booth, heading straight to the bathroom in hopes of gathering yourself. Ever since you and Mikko had started going at each other, you always kept up the facade that Alex was the perfect man. It was now very much so obvious that he wasn’t with Tyson exposing the fact that he barely managed to satisfy you for over a year. You didn’t know what was worse: your embarrassment or your anger.

After almost ten minutes of wallowing in the filthy bathroom, you pulled yourself together enough that you were ready to go back out. Hopefully, by now they had moved on, Tyson’s slip up just a faint memory. You opened the door, only to run into a broad chest as soon as you stepped outside.

Goddammit, Mikko.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was, pulling back right away to put some distance between the two of you.

“Mikko, please,” you begged, “Can you please just leave me alone tonight?”

You finally raised your gaze to meet his, the emotion making your voice shaky as you pleaded with him.

“No,” he spoke, his voice deep as he inched closer to you.

You shook your head, a small laugh slipping out of your lips in disbelief of his audacity. You backed away from him even further until your body bumped against the brick wall. You were stuck, his scent intoxicating you as he inched closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he continued, his fingertips dragging up the skin of your exposed forearm.

Your breath hitched as he touched you, the close proximity clouding your senses and leaving a trail of goosebumps up your arm.

“I want to take care of you, Y/N.”

Your eyes slipped shut as he spoke, his body nearly completely encroaching on yours now in the dingy corner of the bar.

“Mikko,” you whispered, your head falling to look at your feet. There was no way he was saying what you thought he was, what you secretly hoped he was.

He placed his thick pointer finger underneath your chin, urging you to look at him.

“I’m sorry about Alex, I really am, but I don’t think you are. I was a complete idiot when I met you and I’m not doing that again.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, waiting for him to continue. Your heart was racing beneath your chest, your cheeks flushed as his eyes burned into your own.

“Come home with me, Y/N. Let me take care of you like I should have been doing all along,” Mikko finished, his voice trailing off as he stood before you.

One of his hands snaked around your waist, just lingering there, barely touching you as your head fell to rest against the hard brick. His other hand was pressed to the wall right next to your head, his bulging bicep clouding your peripheral vision.

Two years. You had spent two years admiring Mikko from afar. And now here he was, offering himself up to you on a silver platter. There was no doubt in your mind that he would absolutely worship your body if you let him, and you wanted to let him. You were ashamed to admit how many times you had thought about him while getting yourself off over the years. He was just so big, so strong, and you couldn’t stop your mind from imagining what it would feel like to have him wrapped around you.

“Take me home, Mikko,” you whispered, the slightest smile creeping onto your face as he smirked down at you.

“Yeah?” he questioned, wanting to check that you were sure.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “But hurry up before I change my mind,” you smiled, your hand brushing against his chest as you teased him.

He rolled his eyes, a deep laugh coming from his throat. But the tension was back right away, your heart stopping as his gaze flickered down to your lips and he leaned in. You closed your eyes in anticipation, so ready to finally have him touch you, but just as your mouths were about to connect he swerved, instead pecking your cheek. You pouted as he pulled back, a cheeky grin across his lips as he started to back away from you.

“I think you can wait a little bit longer, prinsessa,” he spoke, urging you to follow him back to the table.

-----

Less than fifteen minutes later you were in the back of an Uber, Mikko’s hand sitting dangerously high on your thigh as he stared out the window. After your encounter outside the bathroom, you told the guys that you weren’t doing well and you were going to head out. He took his chance to slip out with you, claiming that he wanted to make sure you got home okay considering his comment was why you were leaving. Or so they thought.

The ride to his place was quick, and you were grateful because you didn’t think you could go much longer without him touching you. The tension in the car was palpable and you were convinced even the driver could feel it in the air. Mikko got out first, offering you his hand to help you slide out. You gulped as you felt his hand completely engulfed yours, your mind wandering to what else was that big.

The painful anticipation didn’t last much longer, Mikko pinning you against the door as soon as you both were inside. His lips found yours immediately and you sighed into the kiss, two years of tension finally being released. You worked perfectly against each other, the first moan of the night coming from you as he bit your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it snap back so he could re-tangle your tongues. His hands were wrapped around your waist, fingertips sneaking under the hem of the black top you had on. He pulled away from your mouth, trailing wet, hot kisses down your jaw and neck.

“Fuck, Mikko,” you whimpered, your hips rutting up as he found your sweet spot below your ear. He smirked against your skin and knowing exactly what you needed he moved one hand down to your ass so he could hike your leg up across his hip. His hardening length was now pressed against your core and you couldn’t control the moan you let out, desperately needing more from him.

“Mikko, please,” you begged, your hands tugging the base of his blonde curls.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, lifting you up with ease and carrying you to his room, his lips still attached to your neck.

He dropped you down on the bed, pulling back from you only to take his shirt off before he was hovering over you. You ran your hands across his pale skin, the ripples of his muscles in contrast with your soft fingertips. He stared down at you, his baby blue eyes burning into yours, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes shut at his tender action, your hands wrapping across the expanse of his back.

He continued his assault on your neck, this time soothing the many marks he made in the entryway. The tops of your breasts were now spilling over your blouse, his plump lips biting into the flesh. You pushed him away just enough so you could yank the shirt off, Mikko swearing under his breath as he saw the black lace bra you had on. His hands slipped around your back, unclasping it before attaching his mouth to your nipples. Your body arched up into his at the contact, Mikko smiling as he trailed down your stomach before pausing at the waistband of your jeans.

“How do you wanna cum first, baby, hmm?” he cooed as you squirmed beneath him, “Tongue? Fingers? Both?”

“Anything, Mikko,” you pleaded, “Please just touch me.”

“Whatever you want, prinsessa.”

Mikko finally unzipped your jeans, sliding the denim off your legs painfully slowly. He groaned as he saw your matching panties, a dark chuckle leaving his mouth at the wet spot seeping through the lace.

“You really need this, huh?” he smirked, his middle finger delicately tracing the outline of the material.

“So badly, Mikko,” you whined, lifting your hips in search of more friction.

Mikko didn’t waste any more time teasing you, instead hastily ripping the panties off and hooking your legs over his shoulders, attaching his mouth to your dripping core. You cried out at the contact, his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit before reaching your clit. He moaned into you at his first taste, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Your head was thrown back against the pillows, your hands tangled in his blonde hair as he flicked his tongue against you. He moved one of his arms to rest against your stomach, keeping you in place as he pulled moan after moan from you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cried out. Alex hadn’t gone down on you for at least the last six months of your relationship, but even when he had it didn’t feel anything like this. Mikko seemingly already knew your body inside and out and he was getting just as much pleasure out of it as you were.

“So good, prinsessa,” he groaned, “So good for me.”

His dark pink pout wrapped around your clit, the pressure overwhelming your senses. He switched between flicking and sucking, your back arched off the mattress as you felt your climax approaching.

“Fuck, I- I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Mikko didn’t stop, rather he went faster, your high crashing over you as your mouth hung open in a silent scream. Your hands pulled his hair so tight, your body tensing as his tongue coaxed you through your high, only stopping when you pushed him away, the sensitivity getting to be too much.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your swollen clit before pulling away, trailing kisses down the inside of your inner thighs while you came down.

“Feel good, baby?”

You laughed at his question, you had never felt better.

“So good, Mikko.”

Your body felt numb, still not recovered from one of the best orgasms you’ve had in years. Your hand pushed Mikko’s hair out of his face, his eyes meeting yours as he smiled up at you. You played with the curls for a few minutes, the smell of sex thick in the air, before he got antsy again.

“Ready for another?” he asked, a cheeky smirk on his face as you looked down at him.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and gave him a slow nod, having an idea what he had in mind.

You were right, as soon as you gave him the all good Mikko’s middle finger was back on your core, spreading your cum around before slowly slipping inside. Your head fell back at the stretch, it only took one of his thick fingers to make you ache. He stared up at you as he moved it in and out, gaging your reaction before adding a second.

“Yes, Mikko,” you whined, your breath hitching each time he brushed your g-spot.

He picked up his pace, the filthy sounds of your wetness filling the air as he pumped in and out. The contrast between the roughness of his fingers and the smoothness of your walls was making your eyes roll back, your high already approaching.

“You want another one, baby?” he hummed, his accent growing thicker.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, just nodding as you looked down at him. He looked so pretty, his face hovering above you as his blue eyes stared up at you, smiling as you lost control of your body. His arm was flexing with each movement, hitting your g-spot perfectly over and over again.

“Mikko- Mikko,” you screamed, your climax overtaking you as he added his thumb to the equation, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

Your legs started shaking, your heels digging into his back while Mikko fucked you through your high, words of encouragement falling from his lips as you cried out his name.

“So pretty, prinsessa,” he cooed, “Such a good girl.”

He finally pulled back, slipping his fingers out of you and licking your cum off of them one by one. You were in a state of complete bliss, your body tingling from the two orgasms and his pants hadn’t even come off yet. He kissed up your body, smiling into you when he reached your lips. You sighed into him, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. It didn’t take long for you to get desperate for him again and you could feel him resting heavy against your leg.

You separated from him, whispering, “I need you, Mikko.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, sitting up so he could shake his pants and boxers off.

You audibly whimpered as you saw him completely bare in front of you, he was large. Without even realizing you were doing it, you reached out for him begging him to come back to you. Mikko let out a chuckle at your eagerness, grabbing a condom from his nightstand before leaning over you again.

“I got you, Y/N,” he murmured, throwing the foil to the side.

“How do you want me?” you purred, giving him your most innocent eyes as you gently stroked him.

Mikko nearly gave out at your touch, mumbling a fuck before he responded.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his hands spreading over your ass when you did what he said.

A soft smile crept onto your lips, you had a feeling that’s what he would want. You arched your back, your ass resting against his lower stomach as he gripped your waist. A whimper escaped your lips as he teased your entrance with his tip before finally sinking in. Your mouth fell open as he stretched you out, he was without a doubt the biggest you had ever had.

“Shit, so fucking tight, prinsessa,” he murmured.

He made sure to go slow, pausing once he was all the way in to let you adjust.

“Mikko, please,” you moaned out once you were ready.

He took the hint right away, swiftly pulling out before slamming back into you. Your mind went blank as he moved, he was hitting so deep within you with every thrust. He slid one of his hands from its post on your waist to the back of your neck, holding you there for more leverage.

“Fu- Fuck,” you cried, surely loud enough for his poor neighbors to hear.

“Feel good, baby?” he questioned, continuing his relentless pace.

He leaned down to rest his body against yours and you whined at the feeling of having him completely envelop you. Your head was pressed into the pillows when you felt his hot breath on your neck.

“Were you jealous when you thought about me fucking that girl like this, hmm?”

His accent was so heavy at this point that his words were barely understandable, but you knew what exactly he said. You couldn't muster up a response, rather a deep groan came from your throat as you nodded.

“Don’t worry, baby, I only fuck you like this, like that piece of shit should have been this whole time.”

Your body almost collapsed at his words, the contrast between the cute, funny Mikko everyone loved and the filthy one that was fucking you into next week clouding your senses.

“I- I’m so close,” you whined

Mikko snapped his hips even faster and snaking one hand down to your clit.

“Come on, baby, cum for me.”

The pressure on your sensitive nub was too much, his small circles sending you over the edge right away as he continued to brush your g-spot.

“Mikko, Mikko, Mikko,” you screamed, your mind completely blank as he fucked you through your climax, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible. You had never had an orgasm so intense, stars filling your vision as the pure pleasure overtook your body.

The way you cried and clenched around him had him giving in as well, his loud moans as he came the hottest sound you had ever heard.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as he finally slowed his hips, leaning over you once again to press a trail of kisses across your spine while you tried to regain your breath.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, moving your hair to the side to continue kissing around your neck before he finally slipped out. You winced at the sudden loss of contact.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Mikko cooed as he went to throw out the condom and get a damp towel to clean you up with.

You laid on your stomach as you waited for him, your body too weak to even think about moving. Before long you heard his footsteps coming towards you, a soft smile on his face as you turned your head to look at him.

“Come here, honey,” he spoke, a quiet laugh leaving his lips as he saw you completely fucked out on the bed.

Mikko grabbed your waist, gently flipping you over so you were now resting on your back. You winced again as he brushed the washcloth against your still so sensitive core, but he tried to relax you with a kiss to your forehead. You opened your eyes to watch him walk around the room, his arms flexing as he pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. Your eyes slipped shut once again, the physical and emotional exhaustion hitting you.

“Here, prinsessa,” you heard from just above you, looking up to see Mikko sitting right next to you. You were surprised that he was still using pet names now that the activities of the night were over, but you were even more surprised to see a shirt in his hands.

“Oh, I-,” you stumbled, “I don’t have to stay, Mikko,” you whispered, realizing that now you would have to figure out what your relationship was going to look like moving forward.

“I want you to stay,” he rebutted, “I mean- if you want to.”

“I want to,” you reassured, sensing that he was feeling vulnerable after his confession.

“Good,” Mikko smiled, moving his hand to push a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You took the shirt from him, slipping the soft fabric over your head. It was huge on you and you didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on the Rantanen 96 that was written across the sleeve. Mikko lifted the sheets so you could slide beneath them, pulling you flush against his body as soon as he was under them as well.

Mikko’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, his fingertips resting under the hem of the shirt on your bare skin. His legs tangled with yours while he tucked his head in the crook of your neck. You were completely enveloped by his large frame, your body relaxing as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

After just a few minutes of comfortable silence, you heard his quiet voice tickle your ear.

“Y/N?” he whispered.

“Yeah?” you responded, your voice barely loud enough to hear.

“I really mean what I said before. You deserve so much better. Someone who can treat you right. And not just with sex, but obviously that too,” he nervously laughed, his tired rambling continuing, “I don’t know if I’m totally out of line here, but I really want to be that for you.”

You couldn’t contain your emotions as Mikko spoke, the tears burning the back of your eyes as you took in his tender words. You had settled for mediocre for so long, and he was right, you deserved better. You turned in his grasp, your hand gripping his forearm as you looked up at him.

“Oh no, don’t cry, prinsessa,” he cooed, his thumb catching the single tear that was rolling down your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled, blinking until you could see clearly again. “I just- yes, Mikko. I really want that too.”

The grin that spread across his face was one of pure joy, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you even closer to him. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, smiling into his skin when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have to say, I’m impressed that you went so long pretending to hate me,” Mikko chirped, the playfulness of your relationship coming right back.

You pulled back with an exaggeration gasp, your eyes wide as you stared up at him. His dark pink lips were spread open as he laughed, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Keep that up and I won’t be pretending anymore,” you challenged, nuzzling back into his bare chest.

“No this is way more fun,” he giggled.

You rolled your eyes at him, sliding your arm around his toned middle as you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

“Good night, prinsessa.”

“Good night, Mikko.”

This was the last place you expected to find yourself tonight, but you knew it was exactly where you were supposed to be.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen imagine #mikko rantanen smut #nhl imagine #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl smut #hockey smut #my writing

742 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 4 years ago

Text

baby it’s cold outside. katsuki bakugo x reader) christmas headcanons🎄

ೃ pairing: (katsuki bakugo x reader)

ೃ requested by @swankiifiied: “hi! could i get some holiday fluff hcs w/ bakugo please?” (your wish is my command! :D hope you enjoy bub!)

ೃ warnings: cursing (courtesy of Bakugo)

ೃ genre: fluff overload!!! ♡

ೃ my ongoing bakugo x reader smau (please do give it a read if you have time!) my writing masterlist (if you want to see more from me! c:

)ೃ i know i’m a day late for christmas and i’m really sorry aaa hope you guys still enjoy nonetheless ♡ tysm for 500 followers!!! it really means a lot to me and i can never thank any one enough for all the support and love.

ೃ song inspo: baby it’s cold outside (cover by Jamie and Gaho)

✧ MATCHING CHRISTMAS SWEATERSSSS!!! You would be probing and forcing Bakugo to wear this cute couple sweater set you saw in the Mall for you guys to wear for Christmas Dinner with your family. However, Katsuki will 100% disagree with your idea before you can even finish your sentence.

"No way in hell am I wearing some shitty and itchy fleece sweater with you."

“SUKI-KUN PLEASE I BEG YOUUU DO IT FOR THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT.”

You eventually got your way though. But, instead, you had to make a deal with your explosive boyfriend that he would be the one to choose the designs imprinted on your sweaters.

Although it was a "risky deal" at least you still get to be cute and lovey dovey with him.

He ended up choosing some rather unique designs. His sweater was colored black with white skulls in Santa hats printed and plastered in every part of the garment. It was very Bakugo and it looked really really hot good on him.

Yours on the other hand, was the exact opposite of his (although the designs are a couple set) with it's lavender color, Rainbows and cute little white bunnies wearing Santa hats sprinkled everywhere... It was very girly and cutesy.

He's teasing you relentlessly because of how childish your sweater looks, and you snap back at him by saying that he was the one who chose this in the first place and you tease him back by saying "As long as I get to match my outfit with you I wouldn't want it any other way."

This catches him off guard as he blushes furiously from your quip.

It also didn’t help that Bakugo thought you looked really hot cute in your sweater too and how it complimented your figure. Making him even more tsundere than usual.

As soon as he arrives at your Christmas eve dinner, your younger cousins/siblings quickly crowded around him. Showering him with compliments, asking him to showcase his quirk, asking him if he could play with them, what training to become a pro hero is like, and what is life like studying in UA.

You try to tell your cousins/siblings to pipe down and give your boyfriend some space but they continue to circle around Katsuki. Pretending not to hear you.

There was no way out of this and at the same time, Katsuki wanted to impress your family in his own little way so he pompously asks the children to follow him out to the backyard.

You follow suit to see the mayhem and to see a heartwarming scene unfold. Not until your cool wine aunt pulls you over to tell you that you scored a good one and he looks like a keeper. You couldn’t help but smile as you quickly head out to the yard.

You continue to admire the scene of seeing Katsuki interact rather kindly and gently to your younger cousins/siblings. It was an unusual sight.

“Katsuki-nii-san!! Come back for New Year’s and use your quirk to light up our fireworks and new year crackers pretty please!!!”

Especially coming from Katsuki Bakugo. As he was very quick-tempered.

Your cheeky little cousin brought out a mistletoe from her bag and waved it in front of you and Katsuki. She couldn’t hold the mistletoe under the two of you because of how small she was, but she was still pushing the two of you to kiss at the presence of the small plant.

You and Katsuki catch each other’s gaze, and stop to look at each other for a moment waiting for one another to make a move. He looks away, his mouth forming into a pout, trying his best to avoid eye contact with you so it doesn’t look too obvious that he was blushing.

He certainly wasn’t going to make the first move so you approach him dutifully at the behest of the peering eyes of your younger cousins/siblings and tiptoe to peck him on the cheek.

The kids all simultaneously squealed in excitement. They jump for joy and began to sing in unison a song they made up on the spot:

“(Y/N)-nee-san and Bakugo-nii-san under a mistletoe! K.I.S.S.I.N.G.!!!”

Once all the splendor had died down, and all your relatives went home, Katsuki had decided to stay for the night with the permission of your parents as you would be visiting the Bakugo’s in the morning too and the two of you could just go together.

Your family goes up to their respective rooms to rest, leaving you and Bakugo downstairs in the kitchen to clean up a few other things. This was the perfect moment for the two of you to finally have quality time with each other specially after an entire night of socializing.

“Hey (Y/N)... Do you want some hot cocoa?” He says begrudgingly, scratching the back of his neck.

You were screaming internally. This is the first time he’s ever offered to cook/make something like this. (As the only time you’ve seen him cook up to this point was the curry incident during forest training camp.) “Yes please!!!”

You watch him make magic in your kitchen, as he carefully pours milk into both of your cups then proceeds to whisk cocoa powder and sugar, then finally, he heats both of the mugs up.

While he continues to create what looks like the tastiest hot chocolate you have ever seen, you suddenly remembered a joke that has been in your mind since the start of December.

“Katsuki-kun... I have a joke. A Christmas joke at that.”

“Don’t even fucking try.”

“Come onnnnn just hear me outttt.” You look at him with your most cutest puppy eyes and signature smile.

“Fine. Do your worst.”

“Okay so... what is the most attractive drink?”

“Forget what I said. Don’t you dare continue your shitty—”

“A hot chocolate.”

“(Y/N) that is the worst fucking joke I’ve ever heard in my entire life. If you think of one again, then your corny ass is never going to have a taste of this hot cocoa ever again.” He says seriously, piercing you with his death stare as he hands over the mug.

“Ahahahah fine. This will be the last time. I promise.” You laugh sheepishly, taking a sip of the hot cocoa and immediately feel a rush of sweetness and exquisite taste from just one sip alone. “Katsuki-kun! This tastes amazing!! This is the best hot chocolate I’ve had in my entire life.”

“Of course it’s going to taste good. I made it.” He ruffles your hair, his lips curving into a smile because of your reaction to his cooking.

You grab his hand and take him to the living room. The fireplace still lit up, with a classic Christmas movie (Love Actually) playing on the TV, and a comfy and soft blanket sprawled upon the couch. Perfect for the two of you to wrap around yourselves and a perfect chance to cuddle with him.

You sit down on the couch, then Katsuki sitting down beside you shortly after as he swaddles the blanket around the two of you.

You scoot closer to him to the point that you could feel each other’s body heat as the two of you began to snuggle.

It was rather an awkward position as Katsuki had no idea where to hold you and this was all pretty much still new for the both of you. You give him a comforting smile and a supportive nod.

You hear him grunt quietly as he props himself up from the couch. You adjust to his new position too and this time, you were lying on his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close. It was soft and warm. You could feel his strong trained muscles and a faint scent of his cologne.

“Thank you for tonight. For getting along with my family and for spending time with me like this. I really appreciate it.” You snuggle even closer to him, whispering softly.

“Yea yea.” He says in a slight tone of annoyance, trying to brush you off. “Anything for you. And besides, I enjoyed seeing your cousins/siblings stare in awe because of my quirk anyway.” He adds, this time in a sincere and affectionate tone as he plays with your hair again.

The two of you begin to drift off into sleep, the two of you bathed in each other’s warmth in a cold Christmas night and life has never been better.

- Fin.

308 notes · View notes

bucksblr · 4 years ago

Text

#showyourprocess

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

Thank you so much for tagging me @lan-xichens, I’ll try my best to explain how I made this set from start to finish hehe ♡ and also a big thank you to @suibianjie @highwarlockkareena @nyx4 @aheartfullofjolllly and you as well Kris for putting this all together! Content creators get a lot less recognition than they deserve for all the time they put into their content, so getting everyone to see the (sometimes excessive) process we all go through to put our content in our blog, I hope it creates a positive change!! 💖

1. Planning

The set in question was actually requested by someone so they could celebrate their friend’s birthday! At first I wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to be able to finish it on time (college is very hectic right now) but I was able to finish it three days before the deadline which was may 1st! ^-^

The first thing I did was decide what characters I wanted to use in the set, I first reached out to the person who requested the set if there were certain characters they wanted me to use but they said they didn’t know enough to really give me any directives outside of the quote. I decided, since the quote is applicable to the entirety of the show, that I would try to put in as many characters as possible.

Thus, of course, came the hunting for scenes. Those of you in the net discord surely know I came into the content help channel a few times to ask for certain scenes here and there, and eventually I had to download an additional 10 episodes to the back then 20 or so episodes I had in my CQL episodes folder.

As you can see I have 30 random episodes of CQL downloaded (slowly but surely getting to the point where I have all 50 episodes downloaded) and I think I ended up using scenes out of at least 20 of those episodes.

I planned out beforehand what characters I would use per gif. I knew obviously I would start out with Wangxian, them being the main characters of the show, and then would work my way down the list. The second gif consists of Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning. They’re all family pairings, two being siblings and one being a married couple. The next gifset consists of the Yi City characters, then the fourth gif consists of the juniors, and the final gif has Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen in it.

I have to admit though that when I had made the first four gifs I’d forgotten who I would put in the last gif and the when I thought about it the first time around I could only think of Lan Qiren and the very cursed Yaoyang ship 😭 it was only at dinner time that same day that I remembered I hadn’t put Jiang Cheng in my gifset yet and that’s when I thought of the other characters as well.

I had already made my first two gifs when I went to check Hanyi’s blog for layout inspo and eventually I decided I wanted to try a triangle-ish layout, which I doodled below. I eventually ended up changing the layout of the last gif in the final design. It was also the first time I would work with a triangle-ish layout so I was a bit nervous as I was scared it wasn’t going to work out...

2. Creating

I use Avisynth 2.5 and Adobe Photoshop 2021 (the paid version, unfortunately, I need it for school except I didn’t need it this year but I wanted it so I paid for it with my own money ouch) to make my gifsets! I always start out with trimming down all the scenes I’m going to use into three to five second videos and putting them through Avisynth. This time around I did it separately for each gif I made, simply because I needed so many scenes. I would include a screenshot of my “gif vids” and “temp” folders but I’ve already deleted all the videos, which is what I usually do immediately after a set is posted.

I’ll try my best explaining this gif by gif since each one had a different layout!

2.1 Wangxian

I think I had up to five different designs of this gif 😭 it started out with the gif on the left originally being more centered and the quote right smack in the center but somehow it felt a bit too... empty? I changed up the design and pulled the gif over to the right and put the two closeups on the left, the exact opposite of the gif I eventually ended up with. I switched things around one more time and saved the gif as you can see it right now, except I didn’t include the lines yet. It was only as I finished up my fourth gif that I decided this gif needed lines as well so I added them ^-^

2.2 Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning

I got the inspiration for the font layout on this gif from this Wenzhou post! I hadn’t tried it before and when I did for this gif I was very happy with the way it turned out :D I wanted to portray that life is a pile of good and bad things, as the quote says, in CQL by mirroring these happy scenes side by side with the sad scenes

2.3 Yi CIty

My first time working with the triangle layout!! Putting in the lines and making sure they would line up with the second gif took me the longest of all actually 😭 I think once I got the line on the left in I just copy pasted it and flipped it horizontally so I didn’t have to fiddle around with angling it anymore :’) my original idea was to get a happy Song Lan scene and a sad A-Qing scene, but when I stumbled upon this A-Qing scene in ep38 I just had to put it in there because her smile is so precious 🥺 Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen in the center are also supposed to be mirrored, with Xue Yang embodying the “bad things” and Xiao Xingchen the “good things” ! I also think the Yi City characters fit this part of the quote very well!!

2.4 The Juniors

Ah yes, the junior quartet!! :D I had this planned out from the very beginning, that I would include happy versus sad juniors in the “vice versa” part of the quote, and I think it worked out quite well! My first idea was to put the “vice versa” completely in the special font and have it typed out over the gifs like I did with the “vice” but as I typed out the “versa” I realized it had one letter too much to be able to do that 😭😭 it took me a while to come up with how I would position the “but” and “versa” and after some moving around I decided to just place them the way I did in the final gif! For the font, I duplicated the “vice” and added a stroke to the duplicate, then I changed the fill setting to 0% so I could slightly drag the duplicate away from the original layer to create the effect that’s in the gif — also, finding a scene in which Jin Ling smiles is really difficult.... he barely even smiles in the scene I ended up using :(

2.5 Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen

The final gif!! I feel like this might come a little across as “I promise I didn’t forget these characters” because they’re a very odd quadruplet to put together, but they were the most important characters left to put in the set! I was thinking of putting Nie Mingjue in here together with Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen, but I did feel he fit more with his brother up in the second gif. Mei @mylastbraincql cheered me on making this gif for which I was very grateful :D <3 the layout came to be after I googled “how to evenly split a rectangle in four” because I didn’t want a repeat layout in the set (*/∇＼*)

2.6 Coloring

For the coloring I pretty much did all of the tweaking on the first gif and then copy pasted all of it onto the second, third, fourth, and fifth gif. This is usually the way I go about my coloring, I will always edit certain gifs if necessary but I don’t think I had to change the coloring much on any of these gifs? Maybe I added in a curve layer here and there, but nothing major! This is really one of my preferred coloring styles, even though I try to step outside of my comfort zones with other sets ^-^

3. Posting

I will always upload sets into my drafts and edit the caption in there as well, clicking on “preview post” a couple times to check everything looks good on my blog as well, before I post a set. However, this time, since there was a deadline and I finished before the deadline, I put this set in the queue so it would automatically post on the 1st of may! Knowing myself, I would’ve forgotten to do so </3

Whew that was... a lot 😭 did it make any sense? Probably not, but it was fun to ramble （ ´∀｀）

I’ll tag

@blinkplnk with this set !

@wuxien with this set !

@wendashanren with this set !

@wanyinxichen with this set !

@yibobibo with this set !

@mylastbraincql with this set !

@sugarbabywenkexing with this set !

@yiling-recesses with this set !

@jiancheng with this set !

Please feel totally free to ignore this if you’ve already been tagged and don’t want to do it again!! <3

#showyourprocess #tag game #this got so long i'm sorry ;-;#very curious to see everyone else's processes!!#thank you for the tag kris <3

62 notes · View notes

coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

Text

A chatty writing update | novels, short fiction, etc!

Hi folks!

It’s been a while since I last wrote an update on this blog! I thought it’d be fun to go back to basics, and just talk about writing. This post chats about: new plans for Feeding Habits, my newest novel, my short story goals & growing collection, along with process reflections.

(image description: a photo of green leaves with the text “writing update” in a white font written on top. /end image description)

Post starts under the cut!

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed)

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites, @avakrahn, @maisulli

What have I been up to?

For starters, I finished my second year of my Writing undergrad last week and got two of my final grades back today (A+ baby)! For anyone who has taken online university, y’all already KNOW, but this year was so difficult. Would not recommend! Really proud of myself to have gotten through this absolute rollercoaster of a school term and am excited to get into some writing. That leads us to:

What have I been up to (writing edition)?

2021 started off so fast. By the time January hit, I was so consumed in my new semester that I did not have time to write Feeding Habits (my novel). In the first few days of the term, I managed to write between class, until I could no longer keep up! Essentially, I did not write any of that novel until exam season (last week), where I did manage to get in about 3k words in ~4 days.

Feeding Habits

I’m currently drafting what I believe will be the last chapter of this book (chapter 10: Swan Song). This chapter is so bizarre for a few reasons. It begins the book’s third part and also marks the shift back into Lonan’s head from Harrison’s. I originally thought this part would be much, much longer, with at least another five chapters to go, but quickly realized the book’s content was nearly completed. In my 4 day 3k palooza, I hit 50k in the book (the word count goal), and couldn’t see myself extending past 60k. Since then, I’ve made the loose decision to write this final chapter as a ~novella. Here are a few reasons why:

1. This chapter is structurally very strange.

I unashamedly shift from present to past to present to past past, and so much more every 12 words. I mapped out the timeline on a sheet of paper, and there were over 20 shifts in scenes (the chapter is only about 4400 words at the moment). The fictive past is incredibly important to this chapter, more important than the present, and I thought it would make more sense to not break randomly for a chapter so I could upkeep the consistent inconsistency of the chapter.

2. The chapter is very abstract

This stems from the structural changes, but there are paragraphs in this chapter of the fictive present that are loosely based in reality. They’re more poems than they are factual paragraphs, and keeping them all contained in one place (so a mega chapter/ novella) would reduce the most confusion!

3. There’s not much left to cover

Like I said above, Feeding Habits is on its last leg, lol! I know exactly where the book needs to end up, which is very, very soon from where I’m currently at on the timeline. Swan Song should cover what 2-4 chapters would cover in terms of arcs.

Feeding Habits and I have a really weird relationship, tbh! When I realized a few weeks ago that it’d been over a year since I started the book, I realized I just needed to finish it. Not that I want to rush (because I’ve taken longer than a year to write a book in the past), but that in order to move onto another project, I’d like to put this one behind first. This book has been the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and has reminded me there’s always a time to let go. This sort of scrounges up a conversation about letting this entire series go, which is certainly something I’ve been contemplating doing soon(ish). If this spinoff series gets a third book, that may or may not be the last Fostered book for a very long time (or ever)! There are many complex reasons to move on, but the main one is that I have other projects I’d like to focus on. This is not a definitive decision, but something I’ve certainly been thinking about!

Here are a few excerpts I wrote recently:

(TW: death, gore)

Dying feels like being a trout dangled out of water. Clinging to a hook. Mouth open. Scales iridescent in a final death cry. It’s like blood spurting up the knuckles, drowning out the flesh. It’s that moment on the long fall down when the clouds cup the body. Easy drifting. The sound a skull makes when it cracks is really just the afterthought.

(TW: death, gore)

Kill shot. Death blow. Coup de grace. Right in the heart. He feels it. The blood swelling, slicking his palms. He can do it. Reach into the cavity. Feel for the ribs. Part each bone. Then cup the humming heart. Stay there. Right. It’s never been easier.

Look at this PURE moment of Lonan holding a baby I CANNOT:

The grocery store was a fifteen-minute walk away. With Olivia clinging to his shoulder, Lonan was acutely aware that she could feel his heartbeat. Open valve. Close. Repeat. Hers pulsed right above his, a miniature drumming. The sky had bruised purple, misted with clouds. The evening air nipped his cheeks, so he made sure Olivia was securely fastened between him and his jacket. With wide eyes, she absorbed the drowsy suburbia, all its family cars pulling into driveways, all its couples heading back home after a sunset walk. When Lonan passed a young boy walking two golden retrievers, Olivia giggled, and didn’t stop, even after he’d spent fifty dollars on groceries and nearly the rest on a red Corolla marked with a MUST GO NOW sign outside a convenience store.

Let’s move on!

Mandy and Cora

I said I wouldn’t talk too much about this project, but I just love it so much?? I wanted to share my SUPER early thoughts on drafting a novel, especially one that is SO different from what I’ve been writing recently. I talked about this before in THIS post, but the summary about this project is that it’s a YA contemporary novel! Can’t believe I’m writing YA again, it’s been so long, but I also think it’s going so well. Everything I’ve learned as a literary fiction writer has been a fantastic primer for transferring back to the genre. Admittedly, I have not written much, but I’m having a lot of fun diving back into a lighter project. This is the summary:

Cora and Mandy are identical twins who’ve always done everything together. But when Mandy decides to go to university out of province after graduation and Cora doesn’t, Cora takes this as an opportunity to “test run” life apart from her sister for the first time by spending the summer at her aunt’s house across the country.

I have come up with a few ~things since I last talked about this project, mostly how I’d like to structure it. As of now, I’d like the book to be structured super loosely. I’m really pulling on a lot of inspo from “We Are Okay” by Nina LaCour (which is SO good), particularly how “nothing happens-y” that book is. This project (which I still need a title for!!) will be structured in short chapters that cover something Cora does on her own for the first time (without Mandy). For example, a few ideas are “Flight”, “Lunch”, and “Groceries”. “Flight” is the first “chapter” (they’re really kind of vignettes) where Cora flies to her aunt’s house. I still can’t determine if this book will take place in Canada. On one hand, I feel like there will be a wider audience if it takes place in the US (is that just an assumption??? maybe?? someone let me know!), but also: don’t really care too much about an audience at the moment! It could also take place in Canada (So Ontario and British Columbia). But if it does take place in the US, I think it may take place in NYC and San Francisco. The problem is: I really don’t like researching lol, and while I’ve been to NYC many times, I will definitely write it wrong! Does this really matter on a first draft?? absolutely not lol, but of course I am already overthinking!

But back to structure: I am looking forward to seeing what this looser structure will do. This is a story that is solely around one half of a set of twins learning to be her own person (and ultimately that she doesn’t have to completely forget her sister in order to do that), and as a twin who KNOWS this feeling, I think this structure of her doing things for the first time is SUPER relatable.

I was worried it might sound silly/worrying to others who are not twins that Cora hadn’t done things like “lunch” or “groceries” on her own, but I feel this so much as an identical twin myself! Not that she hasn’t done anything at all by herself, but as a twin, when you do something without your twin for the first few times, at least in my experience, you notice. If any twins are reading this--weigh in!

This story is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It definitely is an OwnVoices book! Usually, I avoid details that are remotely similar to me because they make me uncomfortable haha, but with this book, it’s all me, lol! The characters are all Guyanese, which is SO fun because I’ve been planning what they eat (my fellow Caribbean peeps know: the FOOD!), which is so fun (yes they have pumpkin and shrimp, yes they have roti, yes they have pera, yes they have mithai). Every time I’ve gone to dabble at this book, or even think about it, I get incredibly emotional for this reason? I don’t exactly know why. I think this is a story I just so want to tell, with the culture I love SO much that I definitely struggled to love as a child. This is reclamation bitchessss!

Not going to lie tho: the prospect of writing ~a book~ is kind of freaky! I’m going to make the minimum word count for this book pretty short (50k) and see where it goes from there. I think I will focus on this project this summer! Originally I was going to write a literary novel this summer, but I think this one’s calling my name!

Here’s a pretty rough excerpt:

Try. I remind myself that’s what I’m doing after the flight attendant fills me a disposable cup of Coca Cola and all I can think of is Mandy and I shoving Mentos into a bottle of the stuff when we were twelve. Just me, wedged in the middle seat between an exchange student heading out for summer break and a middle-aged woman sipping a cocktail, thinking of Mandy and I bursting whole oranges in a blender when we were bored one Winter break as the plane dips through a wave of turbulence. Mandy and I dying our hair neon green with highlighters (didn’t work—our hair is too dark) as the plane lands on the tarmac. Mandy and I arguing so loud last month, we both lost our voices as I lug my carry-on out of the overhead compartment and shuffle off the plane and through the airport, searching for Aunt Vel.

Short Fiction

I’ve written so much short fiction this year! I have a goal to write a short story a month (they can range in length, as long as 1 is “complete”), so my short story brain has seriously been soaking it all up lately. Let’s chat my month to month breakdown so far:

January:

I wrote four stories in January! The first is a flash fiction piece called “Shark Swimming” that follows a young woman who attends a shark swimming class after breaking up with her girlfriend. I wrote this story for a “test” workshop for my fiction class, and it was based off the prompt “think about something you’re afraid to do and make the character do that thing”. I’m not particularly afraid of sharks, but had been wanting to use the title “Shark Swimming” for AGES (literally since 2018).

This story is one of my favourites. It’s only about 900 words, but I think there’s something profound in how mundanely specific it is. The entire story doesn’t even see the narrator swim with sharks once; it actually takes place fully in the sanctuary’s lobby. But I really love this narrator. This is the first story I’ve written in second person in a while, though I felt really connected to the unnamed narrator. She struggles with accepting that she truly is a “boring” person, and there’s something about the final image that really gets me!

I’ve been submitting this around, though it’s been rejected a handful of times. Hoping I can secure it at a magazine one day because I really love it!

The second story is “Joanne, I’ll Pray for You” which is actually a rewrite of one of my very first short stories (the first story I did not write for a class haha), “NYC in Your Apartment”. I LOVE this rewrite a lot, and also learned the original is not a very good short story! Revising this story taught me just how much I’ve learned in the 2 years I’ve been writing short fiction. Seeing the 2019 version versus the 2021 version side by side is fascinating because I essentially “gutted’ the 2019 version of its beginning and end until all that was left was the middle of the story (aka the actual story). AKA: this is the only story I’ve ever written with a hopeful ending and I cut out all the happy bits lol I am SO sorry (that arc is more for a novel or novella). That’s how this went from a 5k word story to an 1800 word story (my Submittable thanks me for this lol). A lot of details and scenes I included were more pertinent to a 3 act structure/novel, which of course short stories don’t often have because of their brevity. I love rambling about writing theory, and seeing that actually pay off is so fascinating!

(TW: trauma)

Like the original, this story follows Joanne, a woman in her early twenties, who spontaneously breaks up with her boyfriend. She claims the poltergeist haunting her drove her to this decision. The original draft focused a lot more on the traumatic events Joanne survives, but this draft really loosens them up. It focuses less so on the events themselves, and more on how Joanne’s life is affected. I found the details of these events were less important, and even sort of contradicted Joanne’s insistence she is being haunted. Instead, the poltergeist really takes more precedence in the new draft as a force Joanne doesn’t understand. That ambiguity, I think, is what the story truly needed.

I also centralized Joanne’s relationship with her boyfriend, Julian, here. Now don’t get me wrong, I really didn’t add anything to this draft. It was a matter of trimming the fat around it to leave the lean “meat” in the centre. But by removing that fat, I was able to emphasize what was most important here, and that was her relationship. Julian always played a really big role in the original draft, but I feel like his role as both a friend and partner to Joanne is much more emphasized since this draft literally is only two scenes now. Because there is less, there is more room for Joanne to reflect, which I’m happy about!

A final change I made was the setting and therefore the title. The original, which was “NYC in Your Apartment,” I couldn’t keep because I shifted the setting to Toronto (this is how I originally saw it, but in 2019 I just?? couldn’t?? write?? canlit??), and “Toronto in Your Apartment” sounded sort of gross LOL. The new title comes from a line in the story which I think is more relevant to the themes!

The next short story I wrote in January was “How to Spell Alpaca.” This one is super fun because I wrote it SO fast (in about 15 minutes or so). THIS is the writing update if you’re interested in learning more. I talked extensively about this one in that update, but some developments are that I dove into an edit a few weeks ago to really understand the core of the story. I’m still not quite there (this is just an intuitive feeling; I know not everything has “clicked), but I am really intrigued by the two mothers in the story, the narrator, and her newfound acquaintance, Violet. Both really struggle to understand their place as mothers (the narrator even declares she isn’t a mother anymore). The narrator, who is in her 50s, sees herself in Violet, who is much younger (~20s), and so she views Violet’s relationship with her daughter in a cautionary, yet mournful way, like she can see it will end up like her own relationship with her daughter, despite wanting the opposite. This is a really subtle story. I feel like if you blink, you’ll miss the message. But I think it’s compelling for that reason. It’s really a portrait of parenting and how to grapple with mistakes you may make that inevitably affect your children. Wow just unlocked the theme writing this lol.

The final story I wrote in January is “The Party,” which may be in my top 3 faves I’ve ever written. This story follows Aida, a recent divorcee in her ~40s. The day her divorce turns official, she moves into a new house and receives a party invitation addressed to the previous homeowner, yet RSVP’s anyway. At this party, she’s hoping to find some sense of noticeability, having struggled with being nondescript her whole life. Things seem quite normal at the party, until it gets bizarre.

I LOVE this story, y’all. Like “How to Spell Alpaca” it really delves into motherhood. Aida, our narrator, is incredibly hurt after her divorce. She now lives farther from her children she struggled to feel connected to in the first place, and doesn’t really know how to reignite her life. This party is a means to do that. This is the first story I’ve written that contains a “twist” which is strange because I really prefer stories that give us as much info as possible upfront, but yes, this one sort of twists.

February

I wrote one story in February, and that was “Protect the Young.” This title is SO changing when I think of a new one because it’s thematically incorrect, haha, but this story follows a woman in her late 40s whose daughter, Lindy, announces she is married the same day all their backyard chickens turn up dead. The discovery of dead chickens prompts our narrator to recall her ex-husband’s murder and the role her daughter may have played in his death.

I love this story so much! I think this would make a great closing for my short story collection. It just has that vibe! I wrote this for my second fiction workshop. I thought I had to hand in the story a week earlier than I had to, so I panicked and wrote this in one sitting! Little did I know, I did not need to do that lol but I’m very happy because this story is so fun. We get to learn more about Arnold (her ex), his relationship with Lindy, and how that translates to Lindy’s relationship with her new husband, Malcolm. I LOVE true crime (I listen to about 3-4 hours of case coverage daily), and this is my first “true crime” story. Because of that, I’m very sus of a few details that probably wouldn’t slide in actual investigatory work, so I’ll also be working on that in a revision. My professor also gave me a great suggestion that may alter the story’s structure a bit, though I look forward to toggling with it in the future.

March

In March, I was really on a Criminal Minds kick lol. I’ve been watching this show since I was seven (oops), and dove into a rewatch since it hit Disney+! This story, “Where to Run When the Lamb Roars,” is very clearly Rachel watching 5 episodes of CM a day. Oops! We follow 14-year-old Astrid as she and her older half brother kidnap a young girl to sacrifice for their yearly ritual.

I knew a few things going into this story, but the main thing was that I did NOT want to show any details of a potential murder (if one even occurs). I really wanted to keep all of those elements off the page because this story is not about those events, but about Astrid’s relationship with her brother. They are a murderous duo, with Astrid actually being the dominant partner. I wanted to explore that. I knew her brother, Fox, was more of a submissive partner in their team, even when he used to do this same thing with his father when he was much younger (chilling!), and so it was a task to explore how this young girl’s desire for violence works. The end actually comes right before the story starts, one could say, but I like it for this reason. It really made me contemplate the story by the time I finished it, and helped me examine what it really was about versus what it appeared to be about.

April

(TW: sexual content, non explicit)

I was so busy this month! Who knows if I’ll write a story last minute, but I did write one story this month called “Five Times Fast.” I wrote this during a “writing sprint” that was being hosted at a flash fiction workshop I recently took with one of my favourite writers ever, K-Ming Chang. I learned so much from this class, and am so happy I came out of it with a draft! This story is just over 300 words, so the shortest flash I’ve ever written, but I’m really happy with it. It was based off the prompt “describe the last time you or your character was naked.” In this case, the narrator has a “friends with benefits” relationship with Ricky who works at a laundromat. This story highlights a moment in this relationship (and also Ricky’s goofy personality lol). I really like it! Hopefully I’ll submit it to some magazines soon.

My short story collection

Very briefly I wanted to touch on my short story collection which I’ve titled “She is Also Dead.” I’ve been meaning to make a blog post on this, so look out for that in the coming months, but this collection is already at around 35k words (about 14 stories so far). The collection also surprisingly has a solid amount of flash fiction which is kind of fun! There’s definitely a range here, which is what I personally love in short story collections.

I feel very professional now that I have a ~collection chart. This is her:

(image description: A chart with the title “She is Also Dead.” It is broken into four columns: Story, Status, Word Count, and Published. Entry 1 - Story: Slaughter the Animal. Status: Revisions, Word Count, 3982, Published: N/A. Entry 2 - Story: Joanne, I’ll Pray for You, Status: Polished, Word Count: 1809, Published: N/A. Entry 3 - Story: Primary Organs, Status: Published, Word Count: 2342, Published: The Malahat Review. Entry 4 - Story: Faberge, Status, Polished, Word Count: 619, Published: N/A. Entry 5 - Story: The Wolf-Antelope Will Not Come for Us, Status, Polished, Word Count: 1556, Published: filling Station (forthcoming). Entry 6 - Story: How to Spell Alpaca, Status: revisions, Word Count: 1327, Published: N/A. Entry 7 - Story: Blink Twice for Final Judgement, Status: Polished, Word Count: 6572, Published: N/A. Entry 8 - Story: The Species is Dead, Status: Published, Word Count: 1208, Published: Minola Review. Entry 9 - Story: Shark Swimming, Status: Polished, Word Count: 907, Published: N/A. Entry 10 - Story: The Party, Status, Polished, Word Count 2339, Published: N/A. Entry 11 - Story: Fig, Status: Polished, Word Counter: 947, Published: N/A. Entry 12 - Story: Protect the Young, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4128, Published: N/A. Entry 13 - Story: Where to Run When the Lamb Roars, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 2174, Published: N/A. Entry 14 - Story: Phantom Limbs, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4844, Published: N/A.) /end image description.

This order is DEFINITELY not permanent (at this point whenever I write a story, I just fit it randomly into this chart lol), and some of the info is outdated (for example, Slaughter the Animal is now polished!!! thank god!!!). But just an idea of what I’m thinking of including.

This is the summary so far:

In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, characters are pushed to act on their gravest impulses. A small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A college dropout who insists she’s being haunted by a poltergeist unexpectedly breaks up with her boyfriend. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s murderous tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die. A young girl caters the funeral of a girl rumored to be killed by a wolf-antelope. A newly-divorced mother RSVP’s to a bizarre party she was not invited to, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent desires, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

This is also so subject to change as I may pull and add stories to the collection!

I think I’m going to leave this update here for now! I’ve written TONS of poetry too, but I honestly ~hate my poetry right now lol, so! Hope you enjoyed this chill rambly update. Hope writing has going well for you all! All the best!

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

57 notes · View notes

piceuscelus · 4 years ago

Note

The witchers buy a teenage omega (Jaskier) so that they can augment their dwindling population. The Witchers treat their slave like little more than a walking womb, stuffing him full with a half dozen or more pups each year and using him during their ruts even if he's already knocked up. I know birth isn't your thing but if you could focus on how big Jaskier is and how little the witchers care about his comfort as he gets more and more swollen with their young, that would be great :))

hhhhhh anon this is just - hhhhhnnnngggggg jesus christ

i had so many ideas for this and like,,, so many specific things i wanted to try and do but it was just Too Much. i might have to write more if the inspo strikes me tbh.

non-con, breeding, and pregnancy below. (no birth, only vague mentions of babies.)

It’s somewhat rare that an omega is compatible with Witchers, but when they do find one – well.

Jaskier is his name – at least, that’s what the slave trader had told them. What his name is doesn’t really matter, overall; he’s a breeder. The world needs more Witchers, and the easiest way to make them is to find a compatible omega, and he’s a compatible omega. Past that, none of them really care.

When they first buy him, he’s a tiny thing, thin and just barely coming in to his purpose as a womb; his breasts are tiny, his hips barely wide enough for birth, but that’ll change soon enough. It always does. After the first pup, an omega’s body gets the message and adjusts.

And they’ll be giving him much more than just one pup.

– – – – –

“Present,” Vesemir orders, and the omega squeaks but does as he’s told. Either because he’s been trained or because omegas always do what Alphas say, none of them know, but like his name, it doesn’t matter enough to think on.

Jaskier goes to hands and knees first. Eskel kicks his wrist out from under him. He squeaks again at the kick, but doesn’t protest; instead, he just shifts his arms back and drops his chest to the floor, turning his head so he can press nearly flat. The motion raises his hips higher, but Geralt nudges at his waist to make him lift them even more, until he’s nearly unbalanced on his knees.

“Hands,” Vesemir says, and Jaskier wobbles a little but manages to stretch his hands out behind him so he can grasp at his asscheeks and pull himself open, baring his cunt and his asshole. His cock is just barely long enough to see it past the curve of his pussy, probably a bit longer if he gets hard, but none of them care much about that. It’s not the important part of him, after all.

Vesemir bends and prods at the omega’s asshole, then his cunt, spreading the folds and testing the automatic production of slick by shoving two fingers inside him with no preamble. Jasker makes a sound, shocked, but there’s no pain in his scent and no blood on Vesemir’s fingers, just the first thin, watery beginnings of slick. It’s a good sign, means they’ll be able to fuck him full properly once his body gets the message that he’s being bred.

“Never had a pup, have you?”

“N-no,” Jaskier mumbles. Vesemir tuts and smacks the tender join of ass and thigh. Jaskier shouts, but quickly tacks on, “Alpha, no, Alpha, I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Vesemir says. “Well, you will with us. More than one. Probably more than a dozen.”

Lambert snorts. “More than that,” he says. “Between the four of us…. Never mind if any of the others join in.”

Vesemir chuckles. “True. Alright, up, omega.”

Jaskier grunts and scrambles to his feet, shivering when he’s finally standing. He does look good, even with as thin as he is, and he smells like a dream – he’s probably the most fuckable omega they’ve ever found. Just means they’ll be putting a lot of pups into him.

Vesemir reaches out and adjusts the omega’s collar so that the decorated ring is at the front. “We’ll have to get you some matching cuffs,” he muses. “Be easier to get you on the bench if we have something to anchor to.”

“Y-yes, Alpha,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at the floor.

“When’s your heat due?” Vesemir asks.

Jaskier makes a little, thoughtful sound, and there’s a moment’s pause where he clearly does the math in his head. “Two months, Alpha,” he declares, and Vesemir hums.

“Lambert, your rut is closest, right?”

“Two weeks.”

“Right, then you’ll pair with him first. That should trigger his heat, and that way we have a better chance to get him bred with a litter the first time around.”

“What if his heat doesn’t trigger?” Eskel asks. Ever the pragmatist, he’s been the most concerned about the logistics of such a young omega as a breeder since the moment they bought him. “Lambert’s an unfamiliar Alpha.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll use the potion,” Vesemir says. “It’ll increase fertility anyway.”

Geralt hums. “Lambert’s pairing first,” he says, “but are we joining?”

“After the first two days, sure,” Lambert says. “I’ll be too possessive before that.”

“Fair enough.”

“A-Alpha,” Jaskier mumbles, quiet and shaky.

“What, omega?” Vesemir answers, even though they all turn when he says Alpha.

“Can I – will I have any clothes?”

Vesemir chuckles. “No, omega,” he says. “You’re a breeder. If you’re not pregnant, we’ll be breeding you to get you there. If you are pregnant, we’ll be breeding you to give you a litter. And if we can’t give you any more, well, we’ll be breeding you for the stress relief. Got it?”

Jaskier makes a small noise. “I – y-yes. Alpha.”

“Good, omega. Now, come on. We’ll need to measure you for those extra cuffs.”

– – – – –

They end up lucky; Jaskier is even more fertile than expected.

They can all smell it when he catches the first time, when Lambert’s rut starts and he takes Jaskier to the floor without preamble. Jaskier cries out and struggles, but only for a split second before Lambert’s cock is sinking into him and he’s going pliant, instincts much louder than any of his conscious thoughts. He catches on that first knot, which makes Lambert preen like an arrogant knothead.

Never mind that when Jaskier catches again the first time he takes Geralt’s knot, and then again on Eskel’s turn, they both preen the same damn way.

Three for a first pregnancy is a lot, but it’s fine. Omegas are built for birth, for breeding; and if he doesn’t survive it, well – omegas are plentiful. It’ll be harder to find a compatible one, but if they spend a season searching all the slave auctions, it shouldn’t be too hard.

And really, Lambert’s rut is more likely to kill him than the pregnancy.

“Alpha,” Jaskier whines, clearly overwhelmed as Lambert knots him for the fifth time in as many hours. “Alpha.”

Lambert chuckles. “Feel full yet, omega?” he asks, rubbing a large hand over Jaskier’s belly. “You’ve caught three times now – you’re gonna be bedridden, you’ll be so big.”

Jaskier squirms and sobs, thighs trembling as his body milks the knot settled deep in his guts even though it hurts. “Alpha, please.”

“Please what?” Lambert asks. “I’m already giving you more than you could ever want, omega. Got you all nice and knocked up, and you’ll never be empty again. Not if we have any say in it.”

“Too much,” Jaskier pleads, and Lambert snorts.

“Should probably get that phrase out of your vocabulary,” he says. “Oh well. We’ll train you up soon enough.”

– – – – –

Since Jaskier’s heat had triggered with Lambert’s rut, it means they spend even more time breeding him. Even with him already caught, the heat is vicious, as if his body thinks it can take more.

They’re definitely not complaining. Jaskier makes the sweetest noises strung out on their knots, pained and desperately wanting all at once, and he’s so full of their seed that his belly is swollen no matter how long they leave him to leak.

“Hell of a claim,” Eskel says, petting over the curve of it as he shoves his knot into Jaskier’s abused hole. The omega gives a choked scream, but his hips jerk back into the pressure all the same, eyes hazy with the heat. “Wonder if he’ll go into heat again like normal after this.”

“Shouldn’t, since he’s caught,” Geralt points out, shoving three fingers into Jaskier’s mouth to muffle his sounds. He sucks at them, sloppy wet and obscene, and Geralt’s cock twitches slowly back to life between his thighs. As soon as Eskel’s knot goes back down, Jaskier will get Geralt’s again.

“Yeah, but this heat is pretty brutal considering he’s already caught. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve ever seen if he still cycles as usual.”

Geralt hums. “Gods, that’ll be something – knotting him when he’s really swollen. Three pups already – he’s already shaping up to be the best breeder we’ve ever had.”

Eskel grunts and grinds his knot further into Jaskier’s body, making the omega choke on Geralt’s fingers. “Yeah,” he agrees.

Lambert mumbles sleepily where he’s still recovering from his rut. “Still need to train him, too,” he says. “Think it’ll be easier or harder with him carrying?”

“Easier,” Geralt guesses. “He’s already pretty suggestible. Obedient, too. All hopped up on pregnancy hormones and surrounded by alphas I think he’ll be easy to mold.”

“Hope so,” Eskel sighs, giving one more grinding thrust before his knot deflates and he shoves Jaskier’s hips toward Geralt’s lap. It’s easy to turn him, he’s so small and light, and slide right into his hole, gaping wide from the constant use over the last week.

Jaskier melts into him with a high, pained little noise. “Alpha.”

“You can sleep,” Geralt offers. “We’re not going to stop, but you don’t need to be awake for it.”

Jaskier sucks in a trembling breath. “Oh – oh...okay.”

Geralt snorts and grinds his cock deeper just to feel the way Jaskier’s body spasms around him.

– – – – –

“Witcher pups don’t need milk as long,” Vesemir informs Jaskier, as he’s lying bedridden and so round with three pups that he almost looks comical. “You’ll birth, breast feed for two weeks, wean them off for one, and then we’ll give you more.”

Jaskier groans, clearly upset, but doesn’t protest. “Yes, Alpha,” he mumbles. “I – oh.” He jolts and reaches up to rub at his side. “Kicking,” he explains, when Vesemir raises a brow.

“Hm. Well, it’ll be over soon,” he says. “Get some rest. You’re due to go into labor in a handful of days, if that.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Jaskier says.

– – – – –

The timing of the birth ends up great. Vesemir ends up going into rut almost as soon as Jaskier is ready to be bred again, the triplets weaned.

He’s exhausted, clearly, bags under his eyes and a frown etched on his face, but none of them care. And he’s obedient, well-trained after an entire pregnancy of being fucked whenever they wanted; when Geralt gets him out of bed just to drag him downstairs and strap him to the breeding bench, he only grunts his discomfort at the pressure on his still-sagging belly.

“Don’t worry,” Geralt reassures him. “It’ll be swollen and full again soon.”

Jaskier mumbles something unintelligible, but when Geralt pets over his cunt, he’s already wet.

“Good omega,” he praises, chuckling when Jaskier shivers clearly against his will. “Vesemir’s probably gonna give you another three all by himself. Wonder how many we could get you to carry, hm?”

Jaskier just makes more unintelligible noises, but then Vesemir is striding into the room, eyes bright with rut-fever, and Geralt backs up quickly.

Vesemir is mostly silent for his rut, no teasing or humiliating words like the others. For some reason it’s almost worse for Jaskier, being treated entirely like an object.

His cunt is still wet, though, and the more cum Vesemir pumps into him, until the pressure of the bench on his belly is more painful because of the swell, the wetter he gets.

“Look at that,” Lambert whistles, coming in to watch near the end of Vesemir’s rut. “Fucked you all through your pregnancy and you’re still desperate for it. What’s that rule we taught you, omega? Repeat it for me.”

“Whenever, wherever, however,” Jaskier repeats, voice breaking with each of Vesemir’s brutal thrusts. His knot is forming and against his will, Jaskier wants it.

“Again.”

“Whenever, wherever, however,” Jaskier says. Before Lambert can even ask again, though, he’s doing it again, and again, and again, until Vesemir’s knot slams into him and he’s taken in an orgasm he can’t control, body shaking hard enough to rattle his restraints on the bench.

“Good little bitch,” Vesemir growls, and Jaskier just clenches harder onto his knot to milk it.

“Think I’ll have a go when Vesemir’s done,” Lambert muses. “After all, you’re already on the bench. No reason to waste the position, is there?”

Jaskier moans tiredly. “Whenever, wherever, however,” he repeats.

“Exactly. Good little breeder.”

– – – – –

Jaskier gives them nine pups in his first three years as a breeder. In his fourth year, between Geralt and Eskel’s ruts hitting at the same time alongside Jaskier’s heat, and several fertility treatments, they manage to give him seven at once.

It barely takes two months of that pregnancy for Jaskier to be bedridden and beside himself with the intensity of it. That doesn’t mean they stop using him, though.

Why would it?

Lambert’s rut hits just after Jaskier becomes bed bound. He spends the whole week of it in the same bed as Jaskier, forcing Jaskier to hold his own weight up on hands and knees so Lambert can take his pleasure, filling Jaskier even more full with cum.

“Look at you,” Lambert growls, grinding his knot into Jaskier’s body just to yank it out and then do it again. Jaskier screams with it, arms trembling where he can barely hold himself up, belly heavy and painful as it sways below him with each of Lambert’s movements. “All fucked full with our pups and still so fucking wet for it, like your cunt doesn’t know it’s done it’s job. We got seven this time, think we could get you to nine at once?”

Jaskier sobs. “Alpha,” he pleads. “Alpha, please.”

“Hush, omega,” Lambert orders. “Take your knotting like a good little bitch. What’s your rule?”

“When – ah – whenever, wherever – h-h – ow, however.”

“Exactly. We get to decide when you’re done being a nice little hole to fuck, not you. Gods, you squeeze so fucking tight when you hurt, fuck.”

Jaskier sobs again, and hears as well as smells Vesemir’s approach. “Alpha,” he mumbles, head dropping. He’s so tired and everything hurts and – oh.

“Yeah, just like that,” Lambert coos. “You always do come on our knots. Such a good little omega. You do know your purpose, don’t you? You just get a little forgetful, sometimes.”

Vesemir chuckles. “Think we should bring the other two in here again? Make him remember for real?”

Lambert laughs, too. “Oh yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck, he feels so fucking good when he’s all sloppy and tense at once like this.”

“Oh, I know,” Vesemir agrees, and a hand cups Jaskier’s jaw. He lifts his head with the pull to find a cock in his face, and he takes it into his mouth with ease, not bothering to repress his gagging or choking as Vesemir slowly fucks his face. They’ve knotted his mouth so he passed out, before; a little gagging is hardly enough to put them off using his body. “Best breeder we’ve ever gotten. Think we’ll keep him once he can’t pop out pups anymore, even. He’s already such a good toy – may as well keep him for it.”

#celus writes #prompt fill #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #celus non-con CW #celus breeding kink CW #celus pregnancy kink CW #celus free use CW #celus dehumanization CW #celus A/B/O CW #oh boy this one got filthy #god bless this prompter #Anonymous #breeder jaskier verse

75 notes · View notes