#I swear I’m okay in just maybe having a breakdown possibly

[forfuckssakejim]

Personally. I think I’m a little unhinged. But I like it that way.

Not in a “I’m different than other girls!” Mentality but like. More remanant of the weirdo goth in the family of sunshine children. But all the sunshine children are actually great at masking and only take them off around other member of The Family and I’m the only one that wears it proudly on their forehead and like.

Yeah I’m a little unhinged, and I love it. But at least I’m also blunt and forward with the fact that I am so not normal and sometimes feel like multiple someone’s all with varying different arrays of Unhinged and the more you get to know me the more of the different variants you meet.

[anderscim]

✦ a really old minitheory about jax that had been left in my drafts for nearly a year

title is pretty self-explanatory.

// spoilers for the pilot episode of TADC

so, this is actually an old theory that i had created back when the pilot first came out—but i decided that it’s worth sharing now. basically, it summarizes what i think could possibly be a reason behind our favorite rabbitoid’s behavior.

take everything with a grain of salt. (^^)

this might sound like a weird place to start from, but i swear there’s a line of thinking behind it—what could be some of the reasons that a character abstracts?

at the very least, we know for sure that abstraction occurs if a character’s mental state entirely collapses—which could happen for a myriad of reasons. mental breakdown, existential crisis, you name it.

however, the most important effect that comes with abstraction is that they completely lose their sense of identity—which is also shown externally with the abstracted character’s appearance.

this led me to think that a possible reason for abstraction could also play into identity—whether that’s losing it, somehow messing with it one way or another, or, in a crazy scenario, doing something (aka recovering original memories, for example) that would cause them to clash with their current identity. things like that. obviously there’s some very strong theories out there as to what could also be other reasons for abstracting, but for now i’ll stick with the simpler explanations.

okay, but what does this have to do with jax?

basically, i needed to set up the previous context in order to be able to explain a possible reason for jax’s… jacka$$ery. yeah. that works.

as far as i can tell, it looks like he’s essentially being mean to everyone else just for the sake of it. from (allegedly) placing a centipede in ragatha’s room, to constantly bullying gangle, to pretty much every snide comment in general—it seems that he’s completely cemented his role as the “mean guy” of the series. but what if that was his goal?

the reason why i partly discussed identity in the abstraction section is because, to me, it seems like jax is setting up his own identity as the rudest and most chaotic character in the cast as a way to ensure his survival in this digital world for as long as possible. or in other words, this identity of his is something he can consistently fall back onto no matter what happens, which allows him to keep his mental stability a bit better than others. it’s a simple role that was developed only within the context of the digital circus, and he seems completely comfortable with staying in it.

additionally, here are some other circumstances where he could just fall back on his “identity”— - something bad happens to him? sure, let’s call it karma. - in the event that he does something that causes a bit too much destruction? it’s fine, he’s supposed to be the guy that would do something like that anyways. (edit: he did exactly this in episode 2. just my luck. help me.) - hurts someone on accident? wouldn’t be out of the question. maybe even intentionally if the time calls for it.

overall, it feels like his current place as the “rude character” makes it a lot easier for him to stay consistent and keep things less complicated. being nice is difficult and nuanced, you may unintentionally hurt someone by saying the wrong thing—but if you’re already known to harm people one way or another, there’s absolutely no mistakes you can make.

and for jax, it’s a way to keep himself grounded while causing a ton of chaos on the side—which he seems to like doing, so it works. this is pretty much a foolproof method of survival for him; at least, until something happens which he doesn’t expect.

but this is all just speculation. feel free to chime in with some of your own insights (´∀｀*)

———

edit: yes, this is pretty old haha. but i think it still somewhat holds true for episode 2, so i’m posting it for now. would be kinda funny if i was entirely wrong about this though (￣ ￣)

[webslingingslasher]

How about “desperately wanting to be angry, but they can't push past the hurt they're feeling with the trust being broken” from the prompt list? An angsty one with a really fluffy ending? <3

it's a little angsty, little fluffy *reader thinks peter's cheating

It always started with a ‘hey girlie,’ text. 

Any girl in a relationship knew what that meant. 

You thought Peter was a safe bet, there was no way Peter would ever cheat on you, right? 

Two words sent you into panic, your heart was beating a million miles a minute, your vision felt dotty and the urge to throw up, cry and scream was running rampant, even if you were to have a mental breakdown you didn’t know where to start. 

Actually, first things first, who is this chick? You clicked on her name, Cynthia Prescott, no mutual friends. There were only a few pictures, each smile she wore dug and pushed further and further into your gut, there would be no way Peter could ever cheat, unless it was with a girl like that. If you had big enough balls you would watch her story, but you already felt like you were shutting down. 

You wanted to respond. Anything, “hey, sis.” or ��wussup, girlie?” maybe even  “please god don’t ruin anything for me, he’s all I have.” Instead you swallowed your tongue and closed out, if you didn’t ask then she wouldn’t tell, then you wouldn’t have to know. That was the best possible plan, you could pretend this never happened, you didn’t know a Cynthia Prescott, and by the looks of it none of your friends did. 

‘Message me back, girlfriend! I have something to bring to your attention.’ 

A second message, emojis littered her words, it was like sprinkling glitter on an open wound. You wanted to scream, you kept telling yourself it wasn’t real, he couldn’t have done it. For a minute you think about deleting the app all together, but that would make you weak, wouldn’t it? Run away, play pretend that your boyfriend didn’t cheat? 

You should be angry, seething, enraged. You should want to tear apart his dorm room, wipe his computer’s history, email his professors a list of curse words they remind him of, spill coffee on his returnable textbooks, anything to cause him a pinch of the hurt you were feeling. 

It was hurt, wasn’t it? The way your stomach dropped, the way you feel frozen, the way you can’t stop thinking about it. ‘Not peter, not peter, not peter,’ a chant rattled your mind, you collapsed to his bed, ‘hey, girlie, not peter, hey, girlie, not peter,’ you couldn’t help to pick up your breath. 

A full blown panic attack, when was Peter coming back? His class ended at four, what time was it? Where was your phone, the phone with the dm, the one with the text, the one that says he’s cheating. 

“Woah, are you okay?” 

Peter’s hands were held up, he was thrown off seeing you hyperventilate on his bed. Your hands shake, you should be angry, you should be screaming, you should hate him. So why do you want him to say sorry and hug you, kiss you softly, hold you until you feel whole again, why did it hurt so much?

His hands wrap around your shoulders, “baby, you okay?” 

You stared at him in shock, “you’re cheating on me.” A fact, not to be questioned. 

Peter pulls a face, “I am?” 

You nod, “I got a text.” 

“Oh.” He looks at the ground, you see guilty, you nearly break into tears. Your stomach hurts, your chest is tight, you feel lightheaded, nothing feels right and everything just hurts. 

“Can I ask who with?” 

A sick joke, he couldn’t even keep count, he wanted a number from his lineup. You shrug his hands off, wipe at your nose, “Cynthina Prescott,” Peter’s eyes widen, he nods, the name bouncing in his mind. 

“Baby, who the fuck is Cynthia Prescott?” 

“I don’t know! You’re the one fucking her, she told me!” 

Okay, maybe she didn’t but you knew what that text meant. 

“Baby, I don-” 

“Don’t call me that! Liar!” 

He sighs, “I don’t know a Cynthia, Y/N, I swear.” 

Your eyes narrow, “then why did she tell me she did?” 

“I don’t, I’m,” he’s pulling at straws, he feels like he’s the one being gaslighted, he looks for your phone on the bed. 

“Did she tell you in person, or text you? Bab- Y/N, I don’t know who she is I promise.” 

You hold a hand to your chest to settle your breath, “instagram dm,” Peter rested a hand on your head to calm you, his other hand finding your phone and opening up the app, and tapping on messages he saw the culprit immediately. He was ready to defend his honor to death, his next step is tracking them down. Until he blinked at the messages, “honey, did you delete something?” There was nothing that indicated anything of the sort, just a cryptic message, if anything he thought it was spam. 

“No,” you whimper the words, his fingers massage at your head slightly, he seemed confused but you also never would’ve guessed he’d cheat. 

“Baby, I don’t see anything about me here. I don’t know who she is and she isn’t following anyone I know.” 

“It’s a hey girlie text, peter!” 

Peter finally sat next to you, your phone in his grasp. “I don’t know what that is,” you groan, “it means like, hey girlie, your man is doing something sus.” 

Peter scrunches his face, “but I don’t know her, look, just message her, ask her to show you.” 

You shake your head fast, “I’d rather not see it, I don’t want to see you with someone else.” 

He huffs, “I’m not cheating! I’m not skilled enough to do that, let alone have enough time in the day!” You sniffed, peter grunted, “fuck this, I’m asking.” 

‘I’d love to see it, girlie!’ 

You wrinkle your nose, almost on automatic response it shoots a reply. 

‘You’re so pretty, I’d love for you to promote our new product! Just add me and download our app, use my name for a free bottle!’ 

Relief fills you, it was a bot, a simple mlm, a pyramid scheme, no real threats. 

“Oh my god, peter, I am so sorry, I didn’t-” 

“Geez Louise, babe. I know I’m nerdy but fucking a robot? C’mon now.” 

A joke, he wasn’t mad. Even after you accused him of the worst betrayal, he was trying to make you feel better. “I was so hurt and scared, I didn’t believe it, or didn’t wanna believe it, so I didn’t message her back but, like, i’m so sorry petey.” 

 Peter presses a kiss to your temple, “it’s okay, baby. It was very convincing, it said hey girlie.” 

You groan and lean into him, “you don’t understand, you will never understand.” 

“Is that a tone? Are you taking a tone up with me? Should I text Cynthia for a good time?” 

You sock his arm, “too soon!” 

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[who1ssheesh]

Xanxus's s/o being best buds with squalo!!

Xanxus’ s/o being best friends with Squalo

Pairings: Xanxus/reader, Squalo/reader |PLATONIC|

Notes: maybe I’ve taken “buds” way too serious + Xanxus is a little piece of shit here I’m sorry……I’ll prolly will make Squalo s/o being buds with Xus soon lol. I also think I will expand on this one, feels rushed on some moments here and there

Warnings: swearing, not proofread at all, possible break-up 💀

If we take the route you’ve become friends with Squalo after starting to date Xanxus, then ooh boy, that’s a rocky start

Superbia admires Xanxus’ strength and specific traits – Squalo never in his life can terrify people around just by mere existing and suffocate with the strength through red wild eyes alone.

But other than that don’t they HATE each other with each letter in capital?

BTW Xanxus, on the other hand, is so ignorant he won’t admit any of Squalo’s strong traits to save his life, and captain acts much more reasonable here. So maybe you’re the one hinting to your man that he should go at least a little bit softer on his right hand

So. Squalo didn’t think Xanxus would date someone….like…….smart…….

He kind of expected a typical mob wife to be a candy of the eye and suck out (pun intended) money since Xanxus doesn’t care about people, you just gotta be useful to him

He can’t even lie he was dumbfounded seeing you for the first time. You are……..normal. He doesn’t mean ugly, you are pretty in a natural? Regular? way, not in a “I want to be a supermodel way too hard” way. Help me, I sound sexist.

It’s not an insult to you, it’s an “I can’t believe someone ambitious and smart got along with HIM”

100% the first time you see him is when Xanxus is beating the shit out of him with glasses again, and you were looking terrified to say the least. And Squalo was so NASTY, he really wished you would see this as the biggest red flag because he doesn’t want to see that bitch happy.

I mean it, there is just no way to get those two along, it’s a weird hate-infused destructive relationship between them.

You talk for the first time somewhere in the hall after that incident.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Squalo doesn’t answer, but you swear you heard an angry screech of his teeth in return.

You stumbled into each other pretty accidentally. You could be getting coffee for Lussuria (of COURSE you had  to be friends with that-, he would think) and somehow you always got one for Squalo. You are subtle, most of the times not even talking to him, just acting like……you merely treat him as everyone else and don’t pay attention to his tantrums.

You are immune to tantrums with your boyfriend, you’re the reasonable one in the relationship lol

You are the first one to call Squalo out.

“Quit your bullshit”

• You know what’s funny? It worked. Now welcome hell, you can never escape but it’s funny at least.

• You start talking just a little bit, one step at a time, a rare sight seeing Squalo genuinely laugh at something. He enjoys your humor and your brute language, he can now see why you get along with Xanxus.

• You start gossiping with him a lot, he is such a bitch, no wonder Lussuria likes him. As we know, nothing brings you closer than this.

• Anyways, you forgot your furious manchild idiot of a man. And he doesn’t like what he sees, Xanxus unironically thinks you are fucking with Superbia, he is raging and is THIS far from shooting you two

• It’s a long and heated argument, honestly 90% chance it can lead to a break-up. THAT’S IT THANKS FOR READING

• No, but really it’s the first time you have such a scary interaction, it probably includes you having a breakdown.

• Squalo is around there as well, and he is sure to let Xanxus know he won’t let anything happen to you.

• It’s a hard one for your relationship, you probably don’t talk for several days, Squalo will feel guilty despite hating Xanxus with all soul. Xanxus may be a bitch, but you are not.

• Will be your voice of the reason - he can’t and won’t in any way pamper you or pity, but Squalo is good with spitting facts, 10/10 friend material

• Could be having some interactions with Xanxus about the situation, could be not, depends on his mood. But certainly will call his boss a fuck-head

• Sadly, I can’t see your friendship with Squalo go well with Xanxus. Squalo may be the reasonable, but your boyfriend in not

• You both develop a pretty defending relationship, Squalo is sinking with his buds trust me it’s a pride think. So at least you are going to be irritated at him throwing stuff at Squalo -> another argument.

• You don’t go too far though, you both respect each other’s independence and don’t act as mother hen. Rare mature friendship here

• You start going hanging out with Varia a lot, maybe you even meet some of his buds out of Varia. Xanxus is going to be around too btw, some can say he is acting calmer around you

• Squalo is a friend to insult you a lot even as a joke, so thick skin is required. Will be mad at you A LOT, but still is the one to come over at 2am 1000 km away if your car broke down or sum. But if it’s a shitty reason he will get mad and say to fuck your boyfriend’s brain instead.

• Even if you don’t try, you pick up some fencing knowledge lol. Squalo starts rambling a lot and really appreciates you listening. Does so in return, can interrupt you with a dumb joke or some nonsense but just wants to show you he listens

• Squalo can be away for long at missions and develop a habit of bringing you cards with a shitty dad jokes, insults or all together

• You humor synchronizes well, there are a lot of inside jokes, Squalo thinks those are the most important in a friendship lol. Excluding drinking bets

• Has some lines. Won’t get over your house if you are alone. Fair maybe? He wouldn’t be happy if his gf brought Xanxus at their house while he is away. Exception for some emergencies and business questions

• If you ever interested, Squalo will get you tickets to sword fight events. Especially where he participates lol. You don’t have to go, but….he gets you those cause wants to see you ok?? You brobably will go there with Bel or Lussuria

• BROFISTING A LOT AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL. Sometimes that piece of shit bumbs you with a metal hand on purpose

• Since you don’t see each other in a sexual or any romantic light at all, Squalo often forgets you are a woman and could be smaller or not so tough (in a physical sense) and can hit you too hard

• You two rating others’ attractiveness 100%💀💀💀💀 Sometimes Luss involved

• It takes a really long time, but the 3am late chats while smoking at a balcony are a thing (I have doomer panelka vibes in my blood, doing that rn whatchu gonna do about it)

• He one day comes you for a serious advice because he’s unsure, and you are the only one Squalo trusts. You appreciate that a lot. Like…a lot

• He will do a lot in return to show his appreciation for your support, you know there is always a man behind your back, ready to catch you if you fall

• I don’t know, to be honest, of Xanxus ever makes peace with your friendship. He is not jealous, it’s about…trust. He is dead inside thinking that in critical situation you can chose Squalo, and Xanxus realizes his tantrums (that fight) break your trust in him even more, which makes Squalo more valuable to you. So in conclusion….Xanxus breaks his life again and is scared.

• But at some point, you don’t have to feel sorry for him, he also wounded you, and he knows that (he should). Squalo 100% will evaluate your ego and aggression a lot, you become confident in protecting your boundaries.

• So if ever Xanxus makes you choose (and holy shit I can imagine him doing this-), you don’t have to chose him just to please him? But it’s hurting someone’s trust either way.

• If you prioritize Xanxus, your relationship with Squalo grow noticeably colder. You obviously won’t develop an “I can’t trust you my life” friendship, but you notice Squalo is not angry about it and even sees a certain reason in your decision. He respects your view on the situation (since you are with Xanxus longer than being friend with Superbia) and sees this as a logical conclusion - that’s the character he likes you because of, ok? You still have a joke here and there or go crazy together rarely just like with any Varia guardian. You will notice Xanxus’ gaze anyway, but it’s a different one - he knows he is the one for you and can’t get enough of that fact.

• Well…….if in the end Xanxus hurts you too much….Squalo is flabbergasted to say the least and feels a lot of responsibility in here secretly, even tho he understands you both are adults + Xanxus can fuck himself piece of shit go and die + voi + ratio. He becomes distant because of this, all while you are weeping here all alone and having second thoughts. I’m the end, he comes at you door in the most Superbia fashion - with a slap and now you have 23 hour training sessions to get your mind clear or sum (he is trying). He gotta get you back to your feet with confidence and pride better as ever, because he is a friend. He goes to help at 2am, gets you when you are all out of breath and here to beat some cense back to you. He helps you get your place in a mafia life once you are chipped off of Xanxus and are all alone, he honestly the one to see you succeed and make yourself a name AND he will hardcore convince you to become a swordsman as well if a potential is seen. It could be decades, but you are still here for Superbia as he is for you, and everyone knows you are always around each other - loud, arrogant, bashful and foul-mouthed. And he still bumps you with a metal hand on purpose istg

[jenyifer]

Dead Friend Forever ep 4 initial reaction

Well I watched this one without the trigger guide. It did make me almost puke but I wanted to test myself a little. Also man if this isn’t the best BL I’ve seen in a long long time. I love that the BL element isn’t the focus for rn. It’s so intriguing omg. Just really surprising and not relying on magic or anything particularly rogue just true crime, and psychology. Really really interesting I love it can’t recommend enough. Even though yes the blood is an issue for me it’s worth it

Okay let’s get on to the photo review!!

Okay I can’t do that without a gun being pointed at me also Princess White has really struggled throughout this whole thing. He’s arguably the most observant character and the most stupid character. I swear at the beginning when Jin and Phee are looking for a knife to cut Por free with they find a full surgeons kit in the kitchen. Have these boys not been eating as well as not sleeping because if so the mental behavior of at least Fluke is semi understandable.

Phee does have main character energy so I’m not surprised he is doing so well. But what a persistent ex? I mean Jin is leaving. Give it a rest.

Yeah Tee knows Non is dead they killed the shit out of him. Now… I guess we have to think this was Top’s plan all along but… he’s not really doing well so I’m not 100% on board that it was just him running about in a mask. Tan is the smartest boy I’m glad he’s headed back to the house. If I had to pick one to have a crush on I think I’m putting my money on Tan.

Maybe someone who could be wearing the mask as well? I assume we are going to see who he is in flash back.

Okay so the Google translation is that Joe laundered 300 million. So we know these things 1 Por’s family is rich bought the forest they are in 2 Tee is possibly part of a crime family and is rich. Hypothetically if we believe Top is doing this for revenge for Tee and Por getting away with murdering Non then… I’d say their families would be well placed to make Non’s murder conveniently go away.

Kind of think Top killing Por here is a mercy killing at this point. There is no way he would have survived transport. I don’t know how he made it that far tbh. But so Top comes back let’s talk about that. He comes back after fighting 4 guys by himself with green puke on him. Like he’s been… poisoned? Force poisoned? Or was it a rouse? I don’t think so he looked really sick. If Top was the bad guy why didn’t he kill tee when they were alone together so many times. Why did he come back when he heard Fluke was going crazy??? That going back then became utmost importance? Was it because White said he had seen the tape? Why if Top wants revenge did he try to destroy the hard drive. I have lots of questions wish I had had to wait a week for this so I could have speculated with everyone. I bet it was really fun. I would love to go back and watch episodes which is always a good sign.

Okay so Fluke. He’s aware of what happened. He’s smart enough to think of the police. I do think he’s had a mental breakdown from not eating, not sleeping, and the pressure of watching Por then having him die. Also Tee and Top treat him like shit so if I had to imagine how the friendship tree goes I’d say Por was probably Fluke’s actual friend and maybe Fluke was friends with Non and wasn’t sure exactly what happened to him. Not enough to go to the police? However I’m not sure what his plan is? Get rid of everyone hide bodies or get rid of himself?

Top laying all the Blame at Tee’s feet. Wellllll I think it’s probably more than just Tee but I guess we shall see.

What would I do?

If I was in the house group I’d try to keep calm get the gun away from Fluke then hopefully gather as many people and supplies as possible and head out don’t come back until you hit a road and find people. Yea you will be investigated for murder. But my hands are clean and the forensics will show that. Hopefully you have the tape on you.

If I was with Phee and Jin get out of the temple thing follow the road to where ever to find people. Don’t go back to the house. Just find people get help. They are in the best position for it. There HAS TO BE an access trail.

[tragcdysewn]

was that bai lu? oh no no, that was just li susu, a canon character from till the end of the moon. they are twenty six years old, use she/her, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here:

about two months now

what is your character’s job:

she’s working as a private security agent

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom:

right now, the first episode, right after time traveling, but that will probably change in like a week when the finale airs so

has any magic affected your character:

just taking a chunk of her memories away

bonus info:

okay so li susu has got some TRAUMA babey. she comes from an immortal sect in the mountains, and watched basically the entire sect, including her father and uncle, be slaughtered by the devil god, tantai jin. during the final fight, she found an artifact said to be able to lead to his destruction, left behind by the god of time. using that artifact and some other ancient magic, she goes back in time 500 years to destroy the source of his power and kill him, transmigrating into the body of ye xiwu (this is only possible because ye xiwu is actually her too, but we’ll get to that later) who, as it turns out, is both the worst person alive, and tantai jin’s beloathed wife. she proceeds to immediately make some incredibly questionable decisions, such as seeing that ye xiwu forced her husband to kneel in the snow for days and just leaving him there because she’s pissed he's going to kill her family in the future. she does, however, eventually realize that ‘hey maybe he went apeshit not bc of destiny, but because everyone just treats him like absolute shit’ and shows him the first bit of genuine kindness man has gotten since like... infancy. she lies to him that she’s fallen for him and that’s why she’s different now, and then actually does fall for him and is kind of pissed off about it. 

they proceed to not communicate at all about anything ever because they’re both idiots, culminating in her shooting six spikes into his heart on their wedding night because she thinks he committed some murders he did not commit and is truly irredeemable. she does not manage to actually kill him this way, he’s understandably pissed the fuck off, and she ends up in confinement, where the actual murderer confesses and causes her to have the biggest ‘i am a moron’ realization ever. she eventually dies to take tantai jin’s evil bone (i swear to god that’s what it’s called they keep talking about his bone being in her and i’m too immature for this shit) from him so he doesn’t have to become the devil god.

upon dying, she transmigrates back into her real body, in a much different future than the one she left, and realizes that while she did fix that problem, she still has the evil bone in her (lol), and needs to find a way to get rid of it. surprise surprise before she can do this tantai jin shows up like hello i have actually been looking for ur soul for 500 years, and she has a whole breakdown. it’s then revealed she’s adopted and is actually the daughter of the lord of evil and a phoenix goddess. she handles this better than literally all of her other drama, even though objectively it’s the one i think i would be the most upset about. and with how phoenixes work, their soul needs to go through trials before they can be fully born, hence ye xiwu being the worst person alive, as she was all the worst parts of li susu. 

she’s an absolute icon who fights with a HARP (that’s actually her dead mom’s spirit but we’re not touching on that it’s complicated) and while she can be a complete and utter moron sometimes, she’s always determined to do what she thinks is the right thing, even if it will hurt her in the long run. she’s very much a ‘for the greater good’ kind of bitch, but mostly only when ‘for the greater good’ involves self sacrifice she definitely struggles with the ‘kill one person to save many’ part of that ideal. i will finish this when the show is done but she’s a badass and an idiot and i adore her while also constantly questioning every choice she makes

[kodzumaru]

decode

hi! today i offer you your (short  ╥﹏╥ ) daily dose of chuuya x reader! sorry this is so brief, i wish i could write about these matters without having a breakdown everytime. hope you enjoy  (o´▽`o)

nakahara chuuya x gender neutral reader who has a relapse

trigger warning: graphic descriptions of self-harm, depressive thoughts

"darling? are you okay over there?" chuuya asked, gently patting your head through the bed covers you were buried in. he was expecting you wouldn't be alright, but out of all possible reasons varying from your stressful job to your troubled relationship with your family, he was not expecting you to have relapsed.

you had always been very honest with chuuya, so once you two moved in to live together and your relationship got more and more serious, you decided to tell him about your past with mental illness and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

chuuya was not one to judge, he'd suffered a lot himself, and he was one to bury himself in alcohol abuse in his darkest nights. he dared to say he understood how you felt, at least in the slightest.

so when you poked your head out of your blanket fort, bloodshot eyes and dry tears, he was quick to silence your sobs with soft kisses starting from your forehead, to your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your cheeks, and finally, your lips. he repeated the sequence along with sweet words of comfort, hoping that whatever was going on in your pretty little head would leave it alone soon.

"i'm sorry," you choked out, and while you didn't want to make your boyfriend worry, you also didn't want to be alone. for once you didn't care if it made you selfish, you chose to live up to the promise chuuya made you swear.

"tell me if things get hard. don't bottle it all up until it becomes unbearable. talk to me."

you didn't respect that promise, so you apologized. you had bottled things up, and as chuuya had predicted, life became unbearable. it was difficult to get up in the morning when the bed was such an inviting shield from the outside world. you called off last minute any meeting outside of your job, and your efficiency and performance diminished in quality as you struggled with brain fog and memory loss.

so when you sat up in bed with chuuya kneeling down in front of you, he didn't think you would roll up your sleeves and show him the fresh, still red scars covering your forearms. he wasn’t really disappointed, he was just sad that it had to happen to you. he thoroughly examined the cuts before tracing them with a light touch, before looking back up to you. “is this all?”

you shook your head, pointing to the top of your thighs. “i promise i don’t need stitches.” you defended yourself, like a child being scolded. or maybe you said it because you wanted to convince yourself you didn’t deserve stitches. either way, chuuya chose to trust you and didn’t examine further.

“let’s spend some time together then, i’ll call tomorrow off.” he announced, pulling you in a soft embrace. you wrapped your limbs around him, and he chuckled as he effortlessly picked you up and brought you inside of the bathroom, preparing a nice night of bath bombs and movie marathon with snacks on the living room couch. he hoped he’d manage to make life more acceptable for you, even if for a single minute, or a single night.

[thatmerlinwizard13]

Under the Stars | Bruno Madrigal

18+, MINORS DNI!!

Summary: After a few months of dating, Bruno takes you to his secret hideout in Casita.

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, smut, asexual, licking, swearing, soft

Word Count: 1729

“I wanna show you something.”

Bruno gently took your hand and pulled you up the staircases in his room. All of them. After a few months of dating and having become a social outcast in town, you grew weird and a little more distant, sometimes going a full day without letting go of Bruno’s hand. And he was very sweet; squeezing your hand and making sure you were okay.

There were days where you would blankly stare at the walls and didn't eat a thing. You had a small breakdown in the bathtub once where Bruno found you, soaked and wrinkled from hours in the water. "y/n?" You hadn't answered him, simply took his hand and held it to your wet cheek. He'd climbed into the bathtub with you, cleaning your back and braiding your hair until you felt calm enough to get out again. You tried to feel Bruno near as much as possible. He was your anchor - he was your haven through this all.

You climbed the stairs and for the first time in your life, you saw the opening to Bruno’s cave. “Are we going in there?” you asked him but he shook his head. To the side, there was a small hole in the ceiling, the evening wind blowing through it. You followed Bruno as he grabbed some stones and hoisted himself up on the roof. “I am actually – kind of sorry, like I always wanted to eh, to show you this place. It’s where I went when things got a little bit too much for me.”

On the roof there were several pillows and matrasses, as the view was of a million stars in the sky. You mouthed a little ‘wow’ as you sat down. The whole floor was just a soft pillow to lie down in and gaze up to the sky. “What if it rains?” You ask as you take off your sandals and sit down cross-legged on the floor. Bruno sits down behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Casita always puts a little glass roof over it whenever Pepa has had a bad day. That way, it still feels like you’re outside in the rain without actually getting wet.”

You chuckled. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“They are,” he answered after which he pointed to the sky. You followed his finger with your eyes. “Those two,” he said, “the ones that don’t shine so bright.”

You did indeed see two little stars, side by side, that were very dim and sad compared to all the other brilliant crystals shining down on you. “That’s us,” he whispered. You laughed and let your back rest against his chest. “We are pretty pathetic compared to the rest of this family.” He pressed a kiss against your neck and you let the feeling tingle through your body. “Yeah,” he chuckled as he tickled you in your side, “we’re so sad.”

You laughed and tickled him back and for a moment; you were teenagers again – tickling and laughing and playing as you rolled over the roof, throwing one pillow after the next. One landed in his face and he pretended to get knocked out. When you rushed to him to check if he was okay, he grabbed you tight and flung you around. You felt carelessly happy again, maybe the first time in months. “My name is Hernando,” he said, pitching his voice lower than it actually was. You rolled over with laughter from this persona. He raised his arms all creepily as the hood concealed his face. “I am not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anything!”

You put your face behind your shawl, looking like a mighty sorcerer, or something and laughed like an evil witch. “And my name is Nina, I’m a witch and I’m not afraid of the fearless Hernando!”

Then he attacked you, pushing you down to the ground as he pretended to eat you. You both laughed so hard, your stomach physically hurt. He had pinned you to the ground though. He had won the game. After you had laughed your laughs, Bruno also realized he had pinned you. You took his neck and pulled him nearer for a kiss. He wasn’t pulling away, instead, he let his body melt over yours, letting his fingers run through your hair as he kissed little kisses on your mouth and your eyes and your neck and – wow.

He eventually raised his arms and took off his poncho with a little struggle. You lay a hand on his leg. “What are you doing?” You asked as he also unbuttoned his shirt with fidgeting hands. He stopped with what he’s doing and looks at you questioningly. “I just – I thought that-”

“But are you sure?” You ask him. He’s expressed multiple times that he doesn’t need it. That he’s fine without all of that in our relationship. You feel your ears turning red. He nods softly. “I feel like – I don’t know. I want you to see me. Without boundaries or something.” He sniffed. “I’m just eh… I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

He strokes your face and you stroke his after which you climb out from under him and take the position he had over you. His giant eyes watch you intently as you take off your dress. You both feel it, the electricity in the stars and between you. You lean forward and kiss him like he kissed you, on his eyes, his mouth – you bit his ear slightly. You have no idea what you’re doing either, but after lots of fumbling and giggles, you unbuckle his belt and help him pull down his pants. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, the words making him whine as he fixed his eyes on everything you were doing. You knew he loved those little compliments, had him eating right out of your palm.

“y/n,“ he almost whined, rutting up against you as your fingers trailed along the waist band of his underpants. His fingers ghosted over yours, a testing press that made you gasp. “So wet,“ he said mostly to himself. You helped him tug down the last scraps of clothing and took off yours as he sat upright, instantly kissing you again once you were near. You sat on his lap, letting your fingers curl through his hair as he nudged his leg up against your now bare cunt as you rocked against him.

“Bruno“ you said breathlessly, pulling away and holding his face in your hands “need you. Need you right now.“

That breathy whimper left his lips again and it seemed to urge him forward. He turned you over with far too much care but you’d expect nothing less from him, before hoisting you up on a square-like couch in the corner. You shivered slightly, the cool untouched fabric of the pillows a stark contrast to the warmth of his lap.

His lips were on you again, but only briefly.

“Can I taste you? “ he asked, eyes wide and practically pleading. You almost moaned just at the idea, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically at his request.

“Yes. Yes Bruno please…” He pressed another kiss to your lips before dropping onto his knees, never letting his hands leave you. He pulled you to the edge of the couch and carefully pushed your legs apart.

His eyes didn’t leave you once as he pressed soft, wet kisses to your thighs. You clenched around nothing just at the sight. This man would be the death of you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he drew closer, his own hot breath fanning over you and making you shiver again. His fingers carefully spread you apart, his nose brushing against your clit. Your head fell back with a soft whine.

“Bruno…“ he was still watching you intently as he licked a slow stripe between your folds, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“So good,” he mumbled against you, confidence seemingly drowning him as he began to devour you as if you were his final meal. He’d never done this before, you’d never felt this before. But it was heavenly. You were now quite certain that to please you, he’d quite happily give you orgasm after orgasm without even bothering about himself. He’d go at it for hours, making you come over and over until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck- Bruno-” you gasped, hands sliding into his hair and tugging on his curls.

When he slowly slid a finger into you, you moaned so loud they probably heard you two floors down, even more so when a second quickly followed. You quickly slammed one hand against your own lips. His mouth was still preoccupied with your clit, and the mix of his tongue and his thick fingers curling up inside of you was too much. You could never get anything going with your own fingers, but his were magic. “Mi amore,” you whined. “So close.”

He curled his fingers again, hitting the perfect spot that was your undoing and barely a minute later you were coming. Hard. You clenched your thighs around his head, moans and sighs loudly falling from your throat. Bruno continued to lap at you gently, helping to ride you though it and make sure every single second lasted as long as possible.

“¿Estás bien?”

You gave a small laugh and nodded. You ran a hand over his hair and then nudged your fingers under his chin and scratchy beard, urging him to stand again. He stood up from the floor and pulled you along. He kissed you, making you moan into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Shower?“ He asked as you lay your forehead on his shoulder, his small figure perfect for the gesture. “Yeah,” you breathed, your body still tingling with sensation. This was perfect. He was perfect.

Bruno grabbed a big blanket from the floor and tried to lift you into his arms, failing miserably. “Come here,” you said as you offered him a place under the blanket with you. He put one arm over your shoulder and held the other side of the blanket with his free hand.

This way, you both tiptoed to the bathroom with a million whispered I love you’s on the way.

_______________________________________________

My Masterlist

[astartothemoon]

Blue Memories // E.M.

Summary: Eddie and Reader are strangers turned friends turned lovers turned exes. We follow them on one really tense car ride and experience the ups and downs of their relationship through the songs playing on the radio.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female Reader

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of alcohol. Mention of food. Mention of drugs.

Wordcount: 10k + (It’s a big boy)

A/N:  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

Icicles hang from the eaves of the building like tiny cold daggers. A safety hazard for stressed-out Christmas shoppers. 

A group of carolers stands a little off to the side, just far enough not to trigger the automatic doors but close enough to make sure none of the shoppers can ignore their incessant crooning. 

It’s unfair, really. For her to judge them on their singing. They really aren’t all that bad and, on another day, she maybe would’ve even dropped a dollar or two into the red box saying “donations”. Today is not another day though. Today is today and today is very bad, no good, horrible, terrible, all kinds of shitty.

There are arguably worse places to be stuck with a non-working car than a Walmart parking lot an hour outside of Hawkins. That being said, there are also way better places.

Old Sally has been Old Sally before she was (Y/N)’s and though she has never been the most reliable car to begin with, she always pulled through in the end. Judging by the sounds she made just a few minutes ago when (Y/N) tried to start her, this might actually be The End. Full stop. Capital E. The one where there is no coming back from.

So what do you do when you’re stuck on your way home for the holidays? You call your family. You call mom, calm her down, convince her of the fact that you are okay and not dying and then you make her send dad to come get you. And it should work, right? In theory. 

Only not today on this very bad, no good, horrible, terrible all kinds of shitty day.

Because dad has a broken leg from when he slipped on the ice so he can’t drive and mom already had a few eggnogs too many after her holiday party with the ladies from the salon.

“We can send someone else, hun. The Millers’ son is back in town, I’m sure he’d love to give you a ride.” 

(Y/N) scoffed at her mother’s words. Kyle Miller had always been a fucking creep, lusting after her even back in high school. So she assured her mother she’d find another way home and told her not to worry. 

And now it’s not her mother worrying. It’s her.

That’s what you get for stopping because you craved some flaming hot Cheetos, you dumbass.

She could walk, sure but what about her luggage? And what about the absolutely horrifying fact that she is a woman, it’s cold as fuck outside and about to get dark? 

The movies teach us a lot of valuable life lessons. One of them — the most important one maybe — is to never say “it can’t get worse”. Because it will get worse. So much worse.

What the movies don’t tell you, is that even as much as thinking about it has the same effect. Because as soon as the thought crosses (Y/N)’s mind, it gets worse.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on our troubles will be out of sight.” 

(Y/N) wants to stab her fingers into her ears, all the way to her brain if possible. The caroller has a beautiful voice. A voice made to sing this melancholic Christmas classic. Again it’s not her fault that it pushes (Y/N) even closer to a breakdown. Only this time it’s not because of her current predicament. This song rips open wounds far older. Far deeper. Far more painful than anything life can possibly throw her way today.

Christmas lights paint the outside of Hawkins High in a kaleidoscope of bright colors as the soft fall of snow dusts the streets in a blanket looking like sweet powdered sugar.

The music coming from the inside floods out of the gym halls and reaches all the way to where Eddie’s van is parked at the edge of the parking lot. 

The icy cold nips at their noses as Eddie and (Y/N) sit in the back of the car, feet dangling above the ground and the smell of weed wafting through the air. 

“You’re a liar!” 

“No, I’m not!” 

“Eddie, you can’t be serious. Grandma got run over by a reindeer is nobody’s favorite Christmas song! “ 

His dopey smile sends little shivers down her spine. It always does. If there was a price to win for having the best smile, Eddie would always win. At least in her eyes. His smile is phenomenal. It’s breathtaking. It’s perfect. Sure, maybe it’s her loved-up, 16-year-old self talking who is completely, utterly, and unlucky in love with her best friend. But (Y/N) thinks of herself as a rather rational person and she’s almost sure it’s a widely known and accepted fact that Eddie Munson has the world’s best smile. People would have to be insane not to agree.

“Well, it’s mine.” 

A frustrated huff falls from (Y/N)’s lips as she lets herself fall backward into the nest of blankets spread out behind them only for Eddie to follow suit just a second later.

“I can’t believe my best friend has the worst taste in Christmas music.”

“Hey, you are the one whose favorite Christmas candy are fucking candy canes.” 

Their laughter echoes through the air like a song. One of hope and happiness and magic. This is what Christmas should always feel like, (Y/N) thinks. Easy and joyful and soft. 

No stress and no fighting. No rush to be anywhere or do anything. Just here. Just this. 

Her and Eddie and the snow and the sparkling lights. And some pretty good weed.

“Okay, okay next question. Ummm — what’s the best Christmas gift you’ve ever been given?”

You — she thinks. The words tickle her at the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out. She can just barely swallow them back down. Really, it’s not something you tell your best friend. Even if it’s true. He came into her life during the Christmas season and he’s been the best thing to ever happen to her.

“My record player, probably.”

“Good answer.”

It’s silly — she’s well aware, how much Eddie’s approval means to her.

“What’s yours?”

“Nuh-uh. Can’t ask the same thing!” 

Rolling her eyes at his antics she tries to come up with a different question.

“Okay then, what’s your favorite Christmas memory?” 

Eddie considers his words for a moment, carefully crafting a response as if all the world’s fate depends on his reply.

“When I was a kid and had just moved into Wayne’s trailer permanently, that was the first proper Christmas I ever celebrated. It’s not like we had much or anything but it was a lot for a kid who never had anything. Wayne cut down a tree but we couldn’t fit it in the trailer so we put it up outside. Ate Chinese takeout and watched White Christmas — and I got a present.”

“What did you get?”

“A guitar.”

“Did you get Wayne something?”

“Mmmh a mug.”

Her heart fills with delight and love as he tells the story. Eddie rarely talks about his early childhood. Sometimes it feels like Eddie before Wayne never existed. And though both would never admit it, they love each other dearly. They don’t say it out loud but you can see it in so many things, including all the mugs proudly on display, hanging from hooks in the living room area of the trailer. Dozens of “thank yous” and “I love yous” captured in porcelain.

“ Have yourself a merry little Christmas — “ 

“ I love this song!” 

“You do?”

“Mm-hm” 

Eddie glances at her from the corner of his eyes then looks back towards the roof of the van. There’s a shyness about him suddenly, one she has seen so very rarely. Eddie isn't shy. He's loud and confident even if half of it is just for show. Overdramatic and dialed up to 11. He's not usually like this.

"Do you um — do you wanna dance?"

"Huh?"

"Do you wanna dance?" 

His voice is clearer now, stronger, more assured. It took a moment for Eddie to hype himself up. Get the confidence to ask the question, not really knowing which outcome he is expecting, which ones he's hoping for.

"Do YOU want to dance, Eddie?"

He lifts himself off of the van and stands before her all lanky arms and wild curly hair. He's wearing a black button-down that he swears he borrowed from Wayne. (Y/N) doesn't buy it though, the shirt looks crisp and clean. Still the blackest of blacks that only lives through maybe 5 machine washes before it dulls to a dark gray.

"Figured it's Hawkins High winter formal. Might as well do what's expected of us. And you like this song so —"

Not wasting another second on hesitating, (Y/N) takes a hold of Eddie’s outstretched hand and lets him twirl her into his arms. His hands are just as cold as hers, ice against ice. And yet she wouldn’t change anything about this situation for anything in the world. If feeling delusionally happy comes with a few sacrifices, like freezing, she’ll happily take the risk.

“Eddie, since when do you dance?”

He shrugs his shoulders “There’s a lot of things I’d do to make you smile.” 

The cold melts away to make room for something else. A warmth that overtakes her, flesh and mind and everything. A warmth from the inside. All consuming. Magical. 

And as they sway to Frank Sinatra’s voice softly carried by the wind, the warmth doesn’t go away. It wraps them in a blanket, shielding them from the outside world. It’s a moment you want to keep forever. One of those where even right then, as it happens, you know it is so much more than a moment. It is forever a part of your story. A part of you. 

Eddie lets go of her hands for a second and bends down before reaching his arm out up above their heads. 

“Oh, would you look at that, a mistletoe.” 

“Eds, that’s not a mistletoe.”

“Yes, it is!” he insists, that signature Eddie Munson smirk on his lips that lets you know that he is well aware that he’s wrong but there’s no way he’ll admit to it. He is committed to being wrong and to making you agree.

“It’s a pine branch. I literally saw you pick it up.” 

Eddie takes a deep breath, the air turning into clouds against the cold winter winds, as soon as it leaves his lungs. 

“Look, humor me here. Let’s just pretend this is a mistletoe and we’re holding up a tradition. It’s soooo much easier than admitting that I am head over heels, absolutely dumbass in love with you and I might go crazy if I don’t shoot my shot and kiss you at least once. Okay? If we pretend it’s all fun and games then it won’t be so brutal when you end up rejecting me. Okay? Cool!” 

For a second she wants to scoff, tell him to stop joking, to stop playing her for a fool. But there is a sincerity in his eyes she can’t deny. A flicker of something that has always been there but she could never really put a name to. He’s not joking. Not even a little.

“ Okay, sure. Let’s pretend it’s a mistletoe. Cause otherwise I’d have to admit that I am also disgustingly in love with you. “ 

He smiles at her again, that big smile that makes her knees feel like jello. The one that could win all the prizes. Only this time it’s hers. This one smile and this one moment belong to her. To them.

“ Guess we’ll have to stick to the tradition then, huh? “

“ Guess so.” 

… and have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

It’s a cold kiss. Lips chapped from the winter winds and cold fingers grasping even colder faces. It’s hungry and soft. It’s desperate and slow. It’s all a kiss can and should be and more. It’s a hundred little moments wrapped in a perfectly imperfect kiss.

“I think —” Eddie says as he pulls away just far enough to speak. “I think this is my new favorite Christmas memory.” 

A flurry of snow starts descending from the sky, gloomy gray clouds pushing away all of the blue. Icy snowflakes gather on (Y/N)’s hat, her hair, her nose — shaking her from her daydream. Enough trips down memory lane. They always seem fun and harmless until you take a wrong turn, drive down a backroad and end up crashing the car and watch it all burn.

“Well fuck.” 

It’s bad enough being stuck at a Walmart parking lot, it’s worse when the sky glowers at you, threatening you with the potential of a snowstorm.

“C’mon Sally, why’d you have to do this to me today? It’s Christmas time, don’t you have a heart?” 

In place of a response, the old car lets off another puff of smoke from its popped hood. 

“That sounds like a no to me!” 

A stinging sensation spreads from her heart all the way to the tips of her fingers. His voice still sounds the same as it did 4 years ago. Really, it was stupid to expect anything else. 4 years seem like a lifetime but in reality, they are but a blink. 

She doesn’t dare turn around as if standing there unmoving might make him go away. Like a predator walking on, bored by its prey. Only Eddie is no predator. He never was. Though all the town seemed to think differently, he was always a lover and never a fighter. 

“You can say hi, you know.” 

If life was a movie, this would be the slow-motion scene. The turning around looking at the ex, angel choir singing in the background, love instantly rushing back in. 

Only love can only rush back if it ever left in the first place. Not if it was pushed in a metaphorical box, then shoved to the back of a dark metaphorical closet. 

Facing him is scary. It’s also inevitable. Things are so shit today, it really can’t get worse. There’s no way.

He looks hot. And maybe that makes things a bit worse, actually. He’s still got the unruly curls and he’s still tall and lanky but the awkwardness of an 18-year-old has worn off and he looks more like the man he is than the boy he used to be. 

“Hi, Eddie.” 

“Hey (Y/N). You look good — but Sally. I don’t know about her.”

The fact that he talks to her so casually, both enrages and amuses her. Maybe 4 years really are only a blink but that doesn’t mean nothing ever changes. 

“Thanks um — you too. Yeah, she started making weird sounds and then the smoke started and ugh. You think you can take a look?” 

He grants her a smile and she wants to jump in front of a moving vehicle as the flutters in her heart start. It’s ridiculous that he still has this effect on her. Not after everything. Not after that night 4 years ago.

“I can but I can already tell you’re not driving her anywhere tonight and it’s about to start snowing real fucking heavy. Do you — do you want me to give you a ride home? Your parents’ place I mean. I assume that’s where you’re headed? “ 

“Hmm, yup. Uh — you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, I want to.” 

She wants to punch him. Not in the face but maybe on the arm or something. Hurt him but not really really hurt him. For being so nonchalant. Casual. For being so nice when he had none of that to give that one night 4 years ago and all the months after, right until the day she left for college. Does he think this absolves him? It doesn’t. There is no redemption for breaking her heart, no matter how many good deeds. 

But what is the alternative? 

With a look at the sky and the looming darkness, (Y/N) lets out a sigh and grabs her luggage from the car. Eddie’s old rusty van is parked right next to her. It holds so many memories, none of which she wants to revisit.

“Christmas, The snow's coming down … “ 

The choir launches into their next song and a smile takes over Eddie’s face. A smile (Y/N) hasn’t seen in a long time. One that doesn’t have an effect on her at all whatsoever. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, no reason. It really doesn’t matter.”

Eddie likes Gareth’s house. Not just for the fact that the garage is big enough for them to practice in and his parents are nice enough to allow them to do so. It’s a nice place in general. It’s not big or flashy or anything but it’s homey and nice. For a kid growing up in a trailer park, it’s a palace. Not that he doesn’t appreciate what he has, he does. But it’s nice to dream. To imagine himself in a place like this one day, family included.

Walking up the driveway, guitar slung on his back, the icy ground crunches beneath his heavy boots. The garage door is closed so the boys must not have started practicing yet. Sometimes, when she’s home, Gareth’s mom makes them snacks or hot chocolate and they all sit around and pig out before playing some music. It’s nice of her to care for the boys even if they aren’t her kids. It gives him a little glimpse of what it must be like to have a mother.

“They're singing "Deck The Halls"

But it's not like Christmas at all

'Cause I remember when you were here

And all the fun we had last year” 

A loud voice catches his attention, belting out the Darlene Love song. His eyes scan the neighborhood before settling on the source of the commotion.

The girl stands on a ladder leaning against the house across the street from Gareth’s. A garland of multicolored lights adorns the roof as she regards her work with pride. Her voice still rings through the neighborhood and it has Eddie in a chokehold.

A siren calling out to a sailor, enchanting him, bewitching him. It’s not that her singing is particularly good, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. Yet something about it has Eddie mesmerized. 

It doesn’t seem to bother her what people might think, she’s having a good time and that’s all she cares about. It’s nice, he thinks, to see someone not desperately trying to stick to society’s preconceived notions of what is considered cool. This girl is wearing a big woolen sweater and a hat that seems like someone handmade it and ran out of yarn halfway through so they had to continue with another color. By all means, this girl is not cool. Eddie thinks she might be the coolest person he’s ever seen.

And she’s dancing, shaking her hips to the beat of the song she’s singing. While standing on a ladder. Oh god, she’s dancing — on the ladder.

Life shifts into slow motion. He can almost see it happening before it does. One dance move a little too enthusiastic. A slip. A tumble. A thud as she hits the ground. It happens so slowly and too fast for him to intervene all at the same time. Though as soon as she hits the ground, Eddie shakes out of his mesmerized state and rushes over. 

She’s looking up at the sky with a face scrunched in pain and what he can only assume is embarrassment. Her back is flat against the cold snowy ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

The girl slowly pries open one eye and glances at him in confusion. “Are you an angel?”

“Uh no — I’m just Eddie. I’m a friend of Gareth’s. He lives across the street. Did you hurt your head? “

Pushing herself off of the ground into a sitting position the girl smiles up at him sending tiny flutters through his heart. She’s gorgeous. Even with her mismatched hat and the snow in her hair. 

“I’m okay. Just a bit bruised but I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? That was a mighty fall.” 

“Was it embarrassing?” 

“I don’t think anyone but me saw. And I for one think you put on one hell of a performance.”

Her laughter, he thinks, might be even better than her smile. 

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not. I promise. Hey, what’s your name? “

“Oh sorry, so rude of me— “ she exclaimed before standing up and holding a glove-covered hand out to Eddie. “I’m (Y/N). I just moved here.” 

“Well, again, I am Eddie. I’m in a band with Gareth who lives over there.” 

“You’re in a band? “ her eyes widen at this revelation. 

“Mmh. Corroded Coffin. We play mostly metal stuff.”

“That sounds amazing!”

That’s not the reaction he’s used to. Girls don’t usually take too kindly to his taste in music. It’s not to say there are none who enjoy metal, he just hasn’t found them yet. Until now it seems.

“It does?”

“It does! You think the band would be okay with me sitting in and listening to you guys practice? I don’t really have any friends yet and — “

“Yeah sure, absolutely!” 

There’s no doubt in his mind the guys will be ecstatic. It’s not every day a pretty girl shows interest in their band … or them. 

“Okay cool. Awesome. “

Walking towards Gareth’s house, their boots leave imprints on the fresh snow. A sign that makes Eddie aware that this is not a dream. This is actually happening. Maybe life is finally turning for him. Giving him something good. Someone special.

“Christmaasss, the snow’s coming down.” 

She responds to his singing with a friendly shove of her shoulders against his “Oh come on. Now you’re taking the piss.” 

“I’m not.”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

“You know what that means, right?”

“What?”

“Now you have to play the song during practice.”

A smile takes over his face, pulling at the muscles of his cold cheeks. 

“Huh, I think I can do that!”

He doesn’t know how to play the damn song but if it makes her smile like this, he might just have to figure it out.

“ Sooo — how’s the parents?”

Eddie’s voice cuts through the awkward silence. This is strange and unfamiliar. Back then, 4 years ago, there was never a moment of silence with them that came even close to being awkward or uncomfortable. They always had something to say, to joke around and be goofy. Even if they didn’t, they would bask in comfortable silence, happy to just be with each other.

This feels like a whole different life, an alternate universe. There is so much left to say between them, the air is thick with it. But this is not the time and place to say any of it. Maybe there will never be a time or place.

“Yeah, they’re good. I mean dad hurt himself the other day when he slipped on the ice in the driveway but you know how he is. Always clumsy.”

“Runs in the family.” 

Almost. He almost gets a smile out of her. Almost.

“ I guess so. How’s Wayne?”

Eddie grins though he keeps his eyes fixed on the snowy road in front of them.

“Working too much. Watching reruns of the same old show. Nothing changed. Same old Wayne.” 

It has always been like this, Eddie talking about his uncle. Though his words don’t give it away, the tone of his voice always does. It is filled with adoration, with gratefulness, and love. Wayne is the only proper family that Eddie has ever known and though neither of them will ever outright admit it, at least not sober, the two mean the world to each other.

She misses Wayne, (Y/N) can admit that much. He was always so sweet to her, letting her see behind the perpetually grumpy facade and see the soft-spoken, bighearted man he truly is.

“He still smoking?” 

Eddie scoffs “ ‘course.”

“ He promised me he’d try quitting.”

“ He did try, for like 5 hours.”

(Y/N) shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Tell him I am not happy with him. And also tell him I said hi.”

“ Tell him yourself. You can come by whenever. I’m sure you’ll have a lot on your plate while you’re here but he’d love to see you.”

The thought of going back to the trailer fills (Y/N) with a sense of dread. Not because there is anything bad tied to it. No, that’s the problem. All her best memories are connected to the trailer. It’s all happiness and love. The best of times. Going back would only make her face the brutal truth that it’s all over, forever and she can get none of it back. All that’s left of those times are memories and heartbreak.

“ I don’t know, Eddie. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why not?” 

He asks the question with the innocence of a child. Someone who really doesn’t see the issue. Sometimes she wonders if he does it on purpose or if he really doesn’t get it. Did he move on so easily? Is this not ripping him apart the way it does her?

“Eddie, ex-partners don’t usually go around to visit their ex’s family for the holidays. It’s — it would be awkward.” 

She can tell he wants to say something. Can almost see it on the tip of his tongue before he swallows it down and nods in defeat.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

The awkward silence is back. Worse than before because now there’s the inkling of guilt nagging away at her. Is she being too harsh? She doesn’t want to hurt or disappoint Eddie, and she’d definitely love to see Wayne. But is it worth it breaking her own heart in the process? Does she not get to be bitter still at the heartbreak and the whole mess Eddie created 4 years ago?

The welcome to Hawkins sign is almost invisible through the thick snowfall as they pass it. It’s weird coming home for the first time in 4 years after spending the last few Christmases on vacation with her parents somewhere. It feels good. Involuntarily, she glances to her left at the boy who, despite it all, still holds her heart in his palms. It feels good and it also feels extremely heartbreaking at the same time.

Static fills the car as the radio signal finally gives up and bows to the harsh winter winds.

"Ah shit, hey take a look in the glove box there's some cassette tapes. I think there's even a Christmas one." Eddie instructs, struggling to drive on the icy roads.

Cold fingers reach out to the glove compartment. The fact that the first thing she sees is a little bag of weed shouldn’t be surprising her, it still paints a little smile on her face though. 4 years but a blink. 

There are several tapes, Eddie’s chicken scratch writing indicating what’s on them. Iron Maiden. Sabbath. That one Beach Boys tape he doesn’t want anyone to know about. 

And then there’s the Christmas tape. It’s the only one he owns. She knows this because she made it for him after complaining that he didn’t have any Christmas music to listen to during the festive season. There’s a sticker of a sparkly gold star and another of a candy cane stuck to the case and in big red letters it proudly exclaims “Eddie and (Y/N)’s MiX-mas tape.” 

She thought she was so clever with that wordplay. If only that naive girl knew how things were gonna end up. 

Shaky hands push the cassette into the player. It takes a moment and then the smooth voice of Nat King Cole fills the silence with his rendition of O Come, All Ye Faithful.

This time she can’t suppress the smile. A memory flushes her brain that is too precious and too wholesome and too — important for her to ever stop herself from smiling at the thought of it. 

And it seems she’s not the only one. 

Eddie dares to glance her way and when he catches sight of her smile, he lets the corner of his lips arch upwards too.

“That was a good Christmas, wasn’t it? “

“ Are you kidding me? That was the best Christmas.” 

“What do you mean, Christmas is canceled? “

A gloomy mood rests over the entire trailer park. Families that had been so excited for the season's festivities, who had spent the last weeks barely getting by in order to save some money to be able to give their kids a happy Christmas, now sit inside their cold trailers with sad faces and heavy hearts.

“Power is out. Wayne and some of the neighbors have been trying to get the emergency generators going but those things are so damn old and no one ever comes around to check on them — you know, with us trailer park people being second-class citizens of Hawkins and all. I could maybe power my amp with that generator but that’s about it. Maybe a vinyl player. “

(Y/N) stands on the steps leading up to the Munson’s trailer, a cold dish of her mother’s casserole in her hand and a big silly red bow on top of her head. This isn’t what she had imagined the night to go. She was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with the Munsons. Watch White Christmas or Gremlins or Meet me in St. Louis while the casserole is in the oven. Maybe get a little tipsy on eggnog. Get a mistletoe kiss from her boyfriend and — if she’s really lucky a dance around the Christmas tree from Wayne. 

But this? This is just sad. A bunch of families who already struggle enough as it is, looking devastated and knowing that if the power doesn’t magically turn on again, not only will their Christmas eve be ruined but so will the rest of their festivities. No one’s gonna come check or repair anything tomorrow on Christmas day. Not for people at the trailer park.

“Well shit,” Wayne’s voice sounds from inside the trailer, “if the power is out that means the fridge is out. All those good steaks I bought can go straight to the trash. So much for treating ourselves for the holidays.” 

(Y/N) never believed in higher powers or miracles or any of that stuff but in that moment something shifts. And maybe it’s just a light bulb moment but it feels like a spark of something magical. An excitement that starts in her heart and spreads all throughout her body.

“Eds, the big BBQ grills out by the picnic tables still work, right?”

“Uh — yeah. Why ?”

The innocence and confusion and softness in his eyes remind her of a puppy dog. Oh, how she loves this boy and all his sweetness. She had a plan for tonight. It was supposed to be their magical Christmas eve and she’s not gonna let anything ruin that for her.

“Christmas is officially back on! Get the tinsel, some candles — oh, and your guitar.”

“My gui — what are you plotting here, babe?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

The fact that he doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second, sends her heart into a little frenzy. It really is them against the world. Against snow storms and power outages and every other obstacle there can possibly be.

“I do! So what’s the plan boss? “

Eddie never believed in higher powers or miracles or any of that stuff. And though he liked to get lost in fantastical stories of magical realms and creatures, he was well aware of the fact that true magic doesn’t exist. 

At least he thought so — until now. 

The trailer park is decked out in ribbon and bows, in tinsel and glitter, There is music flowing from a record player hooked to a generator and steaks sizzling on the grill. People are gathered around a campfire, warming their hands with mugs of hot cocoa. 

An ocean of candles and some battery-powered Christmas lights illuminate the whole place and the Mayfields even dragged their Christmas tree out of the trailer for everyone to gather around. 

There is magic, he thinks and lets his gaze move over the crowd of smiling faces where hours ago all he could see was heartbreak. It’s just not the magic they tell you about in fairytales and movies. It’s a feeling of belonging, of community, of love. 

And maybe, (Y/N) is a little bit magical herself.

“ Hey Rockstar, “ the enchantress in question slides up next to him leaning against his van. “ Think the crowd is asking for a song.” 

“ The crowd or you?”

“ Oh, definitely the crowd.” 

In the candlelight you might mistake her for an angel, Eddie thinks. All golden glow and loving eyes. Whatever it is he’s feeling for this girl, he’s never felt this way about anyone else. For a while it was terrifying. Like all new things. Even the good ones. It was unfamiliar. Strange.

He’s not so scared anymore. Not when she looks at him like this, all gentle and soft. No rough edges or sharp points. It might be time to be brave and let himself feel all the big feelings that used to scare him so much. He thinks the big feelings might just be worth it.

“Hey, what you did for all these people today was — I don’t really know how to say it. You’re just so wonderful and kind and — yeah I don’t know. “

Glove-covered hands take a hold of his face as a cold nose is pressed against his. “Whatever it is you’re feeling right now, I want you to know I feel the same. You don’t have to say it. I know. And I hope you know too.”

He does. Not a doubt in his mind.

“You saved Christmas, baby.” 

“I’m like a reverse Grinch. And judging by the color of your nose you might just be Rudolf. Go get your guitar and play us some tunes by the fire. Crowd is asking”

He places a kiss on her lips. She tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint candy canes. Christmas personified. And if he didn’t love her so much he’d think this is awfully cheesy. It is, he’s not going to deny it. But he likes cheesy if it involves her. 

"Alright. But just for the record, I’d play even if it was only you asking me to. I’ll do anything for you.” 

He’s well aware that what she asked for was some melodic tunes on his old dusty acoustic. Something peaceful and slow. And really, he appreciates a good acoustic song, he likes playing them too. But this isn’t where his heart is. It would truly be a disservice to all of humanity if he were to deny the people his electric rendition of O Come, All Ye Faithful. 

There have been noise complaints before, especially when he first got the electric guitar. He can’t really blame people either. It’s loud and he just gets so lost in his music sometimes he forgets there are people around who maybe don’t want to hear him play.

They all don’t seem so bothered now. Everyone has a smile painted on their face. The sadness is washed away, lost somewhere in the candlelight flicker and the crackling of the fire. 

Eddie never had a big family, hell for most of his life he didn’t have anyone worth being called a part of his family. Not until he got sent to live with Wayne. He wonders if this is what it feels like. This sense of belonging of being a part of something bigger. Even if this moment, like all moments before it, will pass and one day only be a memory, he got to be a part of it now and that means — everything.

His eyes meet Wayne’s across the fire, who gives him a friendly nod of his head and while it means nothing to everyone else, Eddie knows what it means. It’s “I’m proud of you, kid.” 

And when he moves his gaze to the right, towards where (Y/N) is bundled up in one of his big flannel jackets, sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, his heart feels lighter than it ever has. 

“I love you”, she mouths to him as the battery-powered Christmas lights dip her in hues of blues and reds, and greens. 

“ I love you too,” he mouths back. And it’s not scary at all. In fact, it is the easiest thing in the world. 

“You really did save Christmas that night!” 

“ Don’t be dramatic, Eddie. I just — I did what I could. You and Wayne and the neighbors helped too. It wasn’t just me. And the power came back on like 4 hours later so —” 

“ Doesn’t matter. You made everyone really happy that day. I still get asked to play a song every Christmas eve.” 

Eddie not only has a great smile, it’s also incredibly infectious. It makes you want to join in even if every particle of your body wants to fight it. A losing game. A fool’s war. 

“Well, I got Wayne to dance with me that night. My proudest moment, really.”

“Oh I know”

He gives her a look that’s hard to describe. It’s laced with a secret.

“What’s that look for ?” 

Shaking his head, Eddie sends his unruly curls moving. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

Right, cause saying that is the best way in getting people to not worry or be curious.

(Y/N) is just about to continue the conversation, to interrogate him a little more. To really get to the bottom of the look that has settled over his face, when the song switches to the next one.

And that one grabs a hold of her throat and slowly closes its iron fist, cutting off her air supply. 

Devoid of air, devoid of all feelings but heartache, the van suddenly feels like a cage. 

“I really like that song, turn it up — “

She doesn’t turn it up. Her hands don’t move from where they are tightly gripping the fabric of her pants. Clammy and cold like she has suddenly been plunged into a fever.

It’s not a sickness. Just a most horrible memory.

“The lamp is burnin' low upon my tabletop

The snow is softly falling

The air is still in the silence of my room

I hear your voice softly calling”

Gordon Lightfoot’s voice echoes through the halls of the (Y/L/N) family home. Mom must’ve changed the records having had enough of Dad’s rock Christmas compilation vinyl.

The house is packed with people, family and friends, and neighbors. All of them gathered here to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year. If things were different (Y/N)’s heart would be full of love and gratefulness. To see all her loved ones together. To have a house filled with laughter and joy. 

Instead, she finds herself leaning against the wall looking out of the window into the inky black night. Snow is falling softly making this whole scene feel like a cheesy Christmas movie. 

Only Christmas movies always have happy endings and there’s a stinging sensation in her heart that tells her this one might not. 

“Honey,” her mother’s warm gentle hand takes a hold of her shoulder “ the Lintons are here. You remember their daughter Mary? She went to college last year, wanna go have a chat with her? Let her tell you about what to expect? “

Just a few days ago she would’ve jumped at the chance. Excitement would have flooded her veins and dreams of a future filled her head. Only that future seems like a distant dream now. One made up by a silly little girl who believed in fairytales and happily ever afters. And a love that lasts forever.

“I uh — I’ll be there in a minute. Just wanna see if Eddie makes it or not.” 

“ Oh, he’s not here yet? “

No, mother. Obviously not. Otherwise would I be standing here like an idiot watching the window like a delusional child waiting for Santa to never come? 

“ Not yet. We — we had a fight. Not sure he’ll come by at all.” 

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I’m sure you’ll figure it out though, you two always do.”

They do but things have never been this bad. He never said the things before he said that night last week. He has never looked at her like that either. 

“Have you tried calling him?”

Calling him? No, obviously not. That would feel like admitting to being wrong. And she isn’t wrong. She wasn’t wrong that night either. Is it so bad to wish for a future together? To hope and to dream of something magical? 

“Well maybe then we aren’t meant to last then. What do I know?!“

His words still sting. It stings worse to know he didn’t immediately regret them after they tumbled from his lips. 

“No.”

“Well, okay. Just come join us when you’re ready. And let me know if there is anything I can do.” 

Her mom pulls her into a warm hug. She smells like wine and cinnamon and jasmine perfume. She smells like mom and Christmas and for a second (Y/N) feels a spark of contentment. 

The spark diminishes the moment her mother leaves to go mingle with the rest of the guests. 

Then it’s just her and the night and the empty street and a heart shattered into a million pieces.

She goes through motions like a zombie. Greet guests, hugs, handshakes, smile and nod, eat, drink, give short but friendly answers, try not to fall apart, smile, hug, drink, watch the clock, look out the window, smile. Smile. Smile.

As the lock clicks into place, (Y/N) leans against the counter of the bathroom, hands gripping the fake marble countertop as if it’s the only thing keeping her afloat. Maybe it is.

It’s almost 10. Party started at 6. He knew. He knows. 

He’s not here and he probably won't be. 

Tears are threatening to fall. Gathering at her lower lashline, turning her eyes glassy. A knot builds in her throat, impossible to swallow. Maybe, she thinks, this is her heart making its way up her body to be thrown up and discarded. Ain’t usable anymore anyway.

Maybe it’s time to admit defeat. To pick up that stupid phone and call him. If not to bring him here at least to get closure. To know for sure he isn’t coming because he doesn’t want to and not because he lies bleeding in a ditch somewhere on the way to her house.

Wiping the tears and fixing her mascara, she makes her way to her room and picks up the phone. Eddie always makes fun of the lip-shaped phone but she loves the thing. Remembering them laughing about it makes her sick.

It rings once. Twice. Three times.

Then a Munson picks up. Not her Munson though.

Wayne’s sleep-laced voice croaks out a tired “hello?”.

She almost feels bad for waking him. But this isn’t her fault. Is it?

“Hi Wayne, sorry for waking you. I was just wondering if Eddie is home?”

“Uh, no sweetheart. Him and the boys are out I think at the Hideout? I’m not entirely sure. I think that’s the place he said.” 

One time, when she was just 5 years old, (Y/N) got a sparkly princess dress for Christmas. It was pink and full of glitter and sequins. She loved that thing. Wanted to wear it every day. Refused to take it off when they went to see her grandparents. So her parents let her. Actions and consequences. She wore that thing even when they went outside to play in the snow. She still remembers how fucking cold that was. It chilled her all the way to the bones.

Hearing Eddie choose to go out drinking instead of seeing her makes her feel a different kind of cold, but one that is just as chilling, just as all-consuming.

“Okay, yeah that must be it. Thank you, Wayne. Bye.” 

The click of the receiver as she puts it back down sounds deafening through the silence of her room.

Her cries are silent though, just tears. There’s hardly room to breathe in her lungs, let alone sob or scream. But then again, pain doesn’t have to be loud to be serious. 

20 minutes later she stands in the living room, some glass of non-alcoholic cranberry cocktail clutched in her hand. 

Mom’s record is on its 3rd or 4th loop because they keep putting the needle back to the beginning and no one bothers to change it.

She’s wearing the red crushed velvet dress that Eddie loves so much and she feels like a goddamn fool. 

But life keeps moving whether you're ready or not.

So she drinks and she eats and she hugs and she smiles. Only this time her eyes never wander over to the window. Not once. 

“Hey, why did you skip the song? I said I like it.” 

“Well I don’t” 

“You put it on there!” 

“Yeah 4 fucking years ago. Eddie this, “ she says and motions with her finger between the two of them “doesn’t change anything. You driving me home. Us reminiscing about the good old times. We’re not friends and I’m still angry at you.” 

“For what? Why are you angry at me? What did I do?”

He says it with such absolute disbelief and confusion. As if he really doesn’t know. 

Does he really not know? 

“Eddie, you broke up with me. For absolutely no reason. “

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on now. Don’t play dumb. We had this stupid fight about college and how I wanted to help you with your grades so you could graduate and you blocked me out completely. And every time I talked about our future you got all pissy.”

“ Because I was embarrassed!” 

“I get that I really do. But I was so understanding and you just brushed it off like our plans didn’t mean shit to you. And then you broke up with me.”

“What are you talking about? I never broke up with you! You broke up with me!” 

He combs his fingers through his hair with irritation written all over his face. What the fuck does he mean? She wasn’t the one breaking up. He was! 

He was …. right ?! 

“ You literally said and I quote ‘Well maybe we aren’t meant to last then. What do I know?!’“

“Yeah, I was talking out of my ass. I was frustrated and sad and angry but not at you. At myself. And I never broke up with you.” 

It’s like the earth shifts. Tectonic plates crashing into each other, shaking everything up, plunging the world into chaos. Her world at least. Everything she thought she knew about him and her and them now seems like a maybe — a perhaps.

“Then why didn’t you show up at my family’s Christmas party? I asked you to come.”

“And then in the car after our fight, you said not to bother.”

“Because I thought you had broken up with me.” 

“And then I woke up to a box of my things on the steps of the trailer.” 

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year !” 

“Oh for fucks sake.” 

“It's the hap-happiest season of all”

It was supposed to be. Only it fucking isn’t.

They were supposed to be driving to lovers lake and meet up with some friends, go ice skating, have a good time, and be a loving couple.

It wasn’t supposed to end up with her head leaning against the car window, watching the snow flurry outside and wiping away tears in a way that she thinks he doesn’t notice.

He notices. And he hates himself for making her cry in the first place.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so weird about this. I just want to help you, Eds. I have this whole plan set up on how to get your grades back on track. But I need you to work for it. If that is too much to ask then — I don’t know.” 

“ No, go ahead. Say it! ” 

“ I don’t know what you mean.” 

“If it’s too much to ask then I will just end up not graduating and all our perfect plans will be ruined.” 

“I never said that”

He knows he is being unfair. It’s not her fault. In fact, it is entirely his own. He’s awfully aware of this and maybe that’s the whole point. This is on him and she should not be the one having to bear his luggage. They’re just 18, it’s too much of him to ask her to deal with his issues, save him from his own demons.

Nevertheless, it sucks. So bad. 

That future she was talking about, dreaming of, he wants that too. More than anything. But it was always too good to be true. Dreams like that aren’t for a boy like him.

He’s not gonna graduate this year, no matter how many study plans and extra work and confidence she puts in. He’s the king of lost causes. Everyone knows. Maybe it’s time for her to realize it too. 

She will stay. For him. Wait a whole year. Put her life on pause. All just for little old him who doesn’t deserve it. Only to what? Realize next year that all that confidence and trust was utterly misplaced.

“You don’t have to say it for it to be true.” 

“Why are you being so unkind? I’m trying to help you.”

“Well stop trying! It’s not going to work out.” 

She’s quiet for a moment and it just about kills him. This isn’t about her or them even. She has to know this, right? That he appreciates her and everything she does. It’s just — useless.

“This as in you graduating or this as in us? “

He hates where this conversation is going. He never meant for it to go there. He loves this girl, he doesn’t want this to end. 

But this stupid self-destructive part of him just can’t seem to shut up. It’s like the devil on his shoulder has completely smothered the angel and is whispering all the wrong things into Eddie’s ear. 

“The graduating part but maybe —”

“Don’t. Don’t even finish that sentence. What about our plans? What about being meant for each other?”

Shut the fuck up. His mind is screaming at him to just keep his mouth shut. To pull over and kiss her stupid and tell her that they are meant to be together. That she is it for him. Now and then and forever. But the reality of it all is that she deserves so much better. And his demons scream louder than his heart beats. 

“Well, maybe we aren’t meant to last then. What do I know?!”

Never in his life will he forget the way she looks at him then. Utter betrayal floods her eyes. Disappointment. Heartbreak. He hates himself for doing this. Why can’t he ever keep the good things in his life? Why must he always mess things up? No wonder everyone leaves. He wouldn’t stay either. The self-sabotaging mess that he is.

“You been thinking about this for a while? Us?”

“ No, of course not. “

“Then why are you saying these things all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know (Y/N).” 

It’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at her and it feels disgusting. Vile. If only he could be like the heroes or magicians in his favorite stories. Brave and strong and maybe possess the magic to change the past or travel back. Back to when things were good and he was able to push his demons back into the furthest corner of his mind. 

“Well, my mom’s Christmas party is this weekend so you better figure it out, or don’t bother showing up. Let me out here.” 

“ It’s snowing.”

“Eddie, let me the fuck out. My house is just down the street. I can literally see it from here.” 

He drives alongside her all the way to her door. She doesn’t look back at him. Not a glance. Nothing.

“It’s good like this. You don’t deserve her anyway.” 

He wonders if the devil on his shoulder is truly louder or if the angel is just agreeing with him. 

“It's the most wonderful time

Yes the most wonderful time

Oh the most wonderful time

Of the year”

“Oh fuck off, Andy!” 

Disgusting. He feels disgusting. Disgusting and sad.

There’s a Christmas party going on right now that he’s supposed to be at. But she doesn’t want him there. Not like this. A guy who can’t even graduate from high school. Who will only hold her back? 

He’s sad and drunk. Wayne thinks he’s at the hideout with friends when in reality he just drove his van down the snowy roads of Hawkins, going all over the place except her street. Because he’s scared of what he might see. 

It would’ve been so easy to just take another right turn and knock on her door and say sorry. But what if by now she realized how much better off she is without him? 

So he doesn’t show up. Instead, he drives back home, parks the van behind the trailer and gets drunk. And because he is a huge masochist and loves hurting himself, he puts on the Christmas tape she made for him.

“Ding Dong. Ding dong. It’s the most — “

“Ding dong. Ding dong. Shut the fuck up, Andy!” 

It’s all too much. The songs and the weather and the heartbreak and the self-pity.

Slowly he drags himself out of the van and up the trailer stairs. His feet feel heavy, his heart even heavier.

A wave of warmth engulfs him suddenly as the door swings open. Wayne looks less than excited to see him. Why would he be? If he weren’t so drunk, maybe Eddie would notice the softness in the man’s eyes. The concern edged onto his face.

“Kid, you okay?”

“Just peachy, uncle Wayne.”

“Mmh. Well (Y/N) called asking for you.”

It feels like a bucket of cold water being poured over his head and suddenly all the haze of the alcohol is gone. She called. She cares. Oh god, she still cares.

“What did she say?”

“Not much. Just asked if you’re home.”

“And what did you tell her?” 

“The truth. That you’re out with the boys.”

“Ah shit Wayne, what’d you do that for?”

“What? What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not going to do that. What is going on, Eddie?”

A shuddered breath leaves Eddie’s lips.

“We had a fight. A bad one. I messed things up. I gotta go see her. Shit, I gotta fix this.”

Wayne reaches out and grabs a hold of Eddie’s jacket, pulling him into the warm trailer.

“You’re not going anywhere, kid. You’re drunk. I sure am not gonna let you drive in this state. Go to bed, get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow morning you can drive over and fix it. And you need a goddamn shower.” 

He falls asleep at 4am. Wakes up at 6. He has a whole speech prepared. Starting with I’m sorry and ending with I love you. He takes a shower, gets dressed. He even wears the sweater she likes so much. 

And as he pulls open the door he is greeted by a box of his stuff sitting on the steps of the trailer. 

“So we both thought the other broke up and actually neither of us wanted to actually break up?”

“God, what a mess, Eddie.”

She’s not sure if she wants to laugh or cry. It’s all too much. Her heart is beating too fast. Her mind is racing. 

“What do we do now?”

“Nothing, Eds. It’s been 4 years. What does it matter now?”

Everything. It matters and it changes everything but admitting that is scary. 

Eddie pulls up the gravel driveway of her childhood home. Two heavy hearts and a million unsaid words fill the car as she grabs the door handle.

“Is this goodbye again?”

“Neither of us said goodbye last time.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle.

“You have a point. First time for everything, huh?”

A stinging sensation starts behind her eyes, pushing the tears to the brink, as she steps out of the car and out into the harsh winter winds.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Hey, (Y/N)” He calls out as she drags her suitcase up the steps of the house.

“Yeah?”

“Just for the record. Even if it doesn’t change anything. I still love you. It matters a lot to me that you didn’t want us to end either.” 

He doesn’t know what hurts more. The fact that she nods or watching her walk away and close the door behind her.

She didn’t say goodbye this time either.

Oh, holy shit — she didn’t say goodbye!

“What’s this?” 

(Y/N)’s mom sits at the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in hand and a mischievous smile on her face. It’s way too early for any of her shenanigans even if they come in the form of a vinyl record wrapped in a big red bow.

“Don’t know. It was there this morning when I opened the door. Right there on our front porch. Looks like a record to me though.”

“You know who left it?”

“No,” mom shrugs and points to the record resting on the kitchen table. “There’s a letter though.” 

It’s a small blue envelope and her name is written on it in a chicken scratch she immediately recognizes. At least it’s still shut which means her mother hasn’t peaked inside and studied all the contents of the letter.

“When did he bring this?” 

Her mom denies everything. Even goes as far as throwing her an “I don’t know what you mean”. What she doesn’t account for, is the fact that she is a horrible liar. Truly abysmal.

“Of course you don’t. Well, I'm gonna go upstairs and read this. In peace!” 

Her mother’s laughter follows her all the way up until she closes the door to her childhood bedroom and drops down onto her bed. 

A beehived Brenda Lee smiles back at (Y/N) from the cover of the vinyl record, a present clutched in her hand and a Christmas tree sparkling in the background. 

Why he chose that specific record, she has no clue.

With shaky fingers, she opens and unfolds the letter. Eddie used to do this a lot back when they were together. Leave her letters and notes. She thought it was very old school and very romantic at the same time. Something poetic and artistic about it. Where he wasn’t good at saying the words out loud, he was quite the phenomenal writer.

“(Y/N),

let me start by saying I’m sorry. That’s also what I wanted to tell you that night of the party — and the morning after. I should’ve. I should’ve fought for us and told you how I felt even when I thought we were over. I just never felt like I really deserved you and some fucked up part of my brain made me believe that sooner or later you’d realize that too. I guess I thought it was easier this way. Like ripping off a bandaid. It wasn’t easy. Not even a little bit. That part of me is still there, I doubt it will ever go away. But I am better now. I like to think I have matured but Wayne says I just lost a bit of my stupid in the last few years. I graduated! Crazy I know. I have a job now too. And while I will never be the smartest person in any room, I like to believe I made something of myself. You still deserve better but I hope that maybe this version of me can be enough.

I understand if this changes nothing for you but it changes everything for me. I still love you as much as the moment I saw you fall down the ladder, or kissed you in the snow, or watched you save Christmas. 

I knew we were gonna be forever when I watched you across the trailer park, illuminated by candles and Christmas lights. You were dancing with Wayne! It’s the first and only time I’ve ever seen him dance. Both of you were laughing and life just felt like a movie or a song or both. 

Brenda Lee was playing in the back and I knew I loved you then and I would love you forever. You were my family then and you always will be.

Now I’m not expecting you to come running back into my arms and start back up where we left it but if you find the time in your busy schedule to come see me during your holiday visit, that would mean the world to me. 

Maybe listen to some Christmas tunes.

And even if you don’t I just wanted you to know that my favorite Christmas gift was you. Every year that we were together, it was always you.

I love you (still)

Eddie. “ 

A frantic knock sounds from the front door of the trailer and shakes Eddie from his nap on the couch. After not being able to sleep at all last night he must’ve dozed off somewhere between the morning cartoons and the breakfast TV.

He really needs to get Wayne one of those big ass keychains that you can clip to your jeans or something. That man forgets his keys at least 3 times a day.

“I’m coming, geez. Wayne, you really gotta — You’re not Wayne!” 

She regards him with a smile and that special spark of magic in her eyes. The one he hasn’t seen in 4 years. The one he so desperately missed.

“Well, I hope not. Otherwise what I’m about to do would be pretty weird.” 

“What are you — “

But he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence when her lips meet his in a kiss. It’s sweet and chaotic and rushed and soft. Familiar and nostalgic. She feels so cold against his warm skin but she still tastes like peppermint and smells like winter.

“ So, “ she says as she pulls away from the kiss, just barely but enough to take a breath. “ wanna listen to some tunes?”

The Brenda Lee vinyl is clutched in her hand as she bites her lip in anticipation.

As if there’s a chance he’d ever say no. 

“There’s nothing in this world I’d rather do.” 

[capaimagines]

ateez - you have an emotional breakdown

Pairing: Ateez x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: anxiety, panic, depression, swearing, few mentions of suicidal thoughts and ideation | WC: 1.9k

request: so if you’re accepting requests still could I possibly ask for Ateez’s reaction (if you could all that would be fab if not Seonghwa, Hongjoong & San please) to coming home early one day and finding their s/o in an emotional breakdown and how they’d go about maybe comforting them?

Kim Hongjoong 

The sound of your sobbing from the bedroom was enough to have him almost kick down the door to your apartment. He hadn’t heard from you all day and he knew that you had been struggling lately with your mental health. He had come to check in on you and make sure that you were okay. Although, the moment he went to put the key in the lock, he heard a heart wrenching sob from the other side. He sprinted to your bedroom, finding you curled up on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, eyes squeezed shut and rivers flowing from your eyes.

“Y/N? Baby? I’m here now,” He gently sat next to you, placing a hand on one of yours. 

You barely opened an eye to look up at him, tears fogging your vision, "I can’t do it anymore, Joong. I’m so tired of everything. I can’t do it. I just want to sleep.” 

His heart broke and tears welled up in his own eyes as he heard the words fall from your lips. How desperate and defeated you sounded. He laid down next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I’m here, angel. I’m here and I’m not leaving. I’m going to help you, through it all. You can do it, you’re stronger than that.”

Park Seonghwa

Walking through the door of your shared home, Seonghwa was not expecting to see you flying in a fit of furry around the living room. You were mumbling to yourself, throwing open drawers and cabinets, pulling papers out and throwing them around the room. Even from a distance he could see that you were trembling.

“Y/N?” He called out and you barely stopped what you were doing to acknowledge him. 

“I can’t find it! Seonghwa I can’t find it! I need to find it!” You pulled open another draw, tears spilling from your eyes. 

Seonghwa quickly dropped his bags and made his way to you. He grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him, “What can’t you find baby? Tell me. Let me help you.”

“My dad’s medal. I need it. I told my mom I would bring it to the funeral and I can’t find it! It was right here!” You broke down into a heap of sobs, collapsing to your knees. Seonghwa followed you down, catching you before your knees could hit the wooden floor. He pulled you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

“Calm down. It’s here. We’ll find it. I’ll help you find it. But I need you to breathe and calm down first,” He didn’t let you go and kept whispering how much he loved you into your ears until you finally stopped shaking. You sniffed and pulled away and he smiled warmly at you.

“C’mon,” He held his hand out, “I won’t sleep until I find it”

Jeong Yunho

When he walked into the bedroom, he could immediately tell something was off. You were just laying there, like how he remember where he had left you this morning. It didn’t look like you had moved at all, “Baby?” He called out gently and only a muffled grunt left your lips. You were just laying there, a dead look in your eyes as you stared at the plain wall.

“What’s going on in there, dove?” He teased gently, tapping your forehead as he kneeled in front of you. He could tell you weren’t looking at him; more like you were looking through him. He was worried; this had happened only once before. You fell into your mood swing and unlike when other people would lose it, your breakdown just left you mostly mute and lost in your head.

“I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s too tiring to try anymore,” He felt his heart clench at your words, immediately climbing over you and pulling your back against his chest. You didn’t fight him and let him as he kissed the top of your head, linking all his fingers with yours.

“I know, dove. But I want you here and so do others. Let me help you find reasons to stay.”

Kang Yeosang 

Yeosang was in a panic himself when he entered the house to find you crying on the couch. You had seemed fine earlier in the day when he had called and he didn’t know what had happened to make you so distressed within just a few hours.

“Y/N! What’s wrong? What happened? Who am I beating up?” He kneeled in front of you and you couldn’t help but let out a tired laugh. 

“We both know you won’t fight anyone,” He breathed in relief. At least you could still joke with him. 

“What happened, love?” He sat beside you, taking your hand in his and playing with your fingers.

“I don’t know. I was fine and then I wasn’t. I just feel so stuck and lost right now,” He pulled you to his side, leaning his head on yours. 

“It’s alright to feel that way sometimes. But you have me, your dashingly handsome boyfriend to help lead you through and keep you from staying lost.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand lovingly, “Thank you, Sang-ie.” He kissed your head, “I’ll always help lead you out of the dark. Always.”

Choi San

The last thing you ever wanted was for San to walk through the door after a long day of work and see you like this. Curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, sobbing and shaking and not able to breathe. You weren’t even sure what had caused the breakdown. All you had done was spill a little bit of the broth on the counter and you just lost it.

“Y/N!” San shouted. He saw the steam rising from the spilled broth and then you in the corner crying. He was worried you had burned yourself. He ran over to you, immediately trailing his eyes all over. 

“I-I’m okay,” You stuttered out. He cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head. 

“Maybe physically. But you’re not okay in other ways. Let me help.”

He peeled you off yourself, making you sit up straight and bringing one hand to your chest and another to your stomach. 

“I only want the hand on your stomach to move when you breathe. Look at it. You can do it, I know you can,” It took a few minutes to follow through, but finally it felt like the binds around your chest had broken and you could breathe again. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” You quivered, “I don’t really know what happened.”

“Don’t be sorry,” San took your hand in his, the other one cupping your cheek. “Everyone has a breaking point, love. You’re allowed to feel this way. What do you say? I clean this up and we just order something for tonight and watch movies?” That sounded like a much better option than continuing to cook. You nodded and he chuckled, helping you stand up and kissing your forehead.

“Go get comfy for me, I’ll be right there.”

Song Mingi 

Mingi knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. The amount of stress from work you had been experiencing the past two weeks was only increasing.. He knew you were just a volcano waiting to blow and he was just about to see it happen. Tonight, you went off as soon as he walked through the door. He accidentally pushed the door a little too hard, knocking over one of the vases that was placed behind it.

“How could you fucking do that?! That was my grandmother’s vase! She gave it to my mom and she gave it to me! It’s ruined now! You ruined it!” You were screaming, angry tears threatening to spill over as you kneeled down and tried to assemble the vase back together like a puzzle.

Mingi kneeled down next to you, grabbing your hands to stop you, “You’ll cut yourself, it can’t be fixed. I’m sorry, Y/N. It was only an accident,” The tears spilled over and you tore your hands away screaming at him about how the accident had now caused a family heirloom to be rendered unfixable.

Mingi wrapped his arms around you, letting you scream and shout and bang your fists on his chest until you finally just leaned against him and cried. His heart broke for you, but he knew you weren’t really that angry about the vase. You were just angry and stressed about life and you had finally reached your breaking point.

“It’s okay,” He murmured, “I’m sorry about the vase. I’ll clean it up and see if there’s someone who can fix it all,” He rubbed your back as you squeezed your arms around his waist. 

“Clean it up later. Please, just hold me,” He smiled slightly and pulled you a little tighter.

“I’ll hold you forever if that’s what you need.”

Jung Wooyoung 

Wooyoung had been watching you stare at yourself in the mirror for at least twenty minutes now. It was your fifth outfit you had tried on and he was becoming a little annoyed. 

“You looked perfect in the last two,” He mumbled. Much to his surprise, you broke out in tears and covered your face.

“Woah! Hey! I’m sorry! You look perfect in this one too!” He rushed to your side and you only let out another sob. 

“I’m starting to gain so much weight, Woo! Look at this!” You pointed to your stomach, “And there’s wrinkles starting to form under my eyes and my eyeliner isn’t even!”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, turning your face to him. His brown orbs bore into yours, “You look beautiful. You always look beautiful. Even when you're just in one of my shirts and your underwear with your hair tied up and giving yourself an all-access concert event while you clean.”

You leaned into his chest and took a few deep breaths as he rubbed your back and hummed a tune to help calm you down, “Can we just stay in tonight, please? I don’t have the energy to go out,” He smiled down at you, walking to his dresser and throwing you one of his oversized t-shirts.

“Sounds like a perfect date night to me,” He winked, “I’ll even show you what I love about you. Every part.”

Choi Jongho

Jongho was worried when he found you in the bathroom, leaning against the tub and staring at the tiled floor, “Y/N?” He slowly entered and walked towards you but you didn’t say anything, “What’s going on?” He inquired as he sat cross-legged in front of you. You looked at him and he could see that under your eyes were a little red.

“I’m done fighting, Jong. I’m just so over everything. Life itself,” Panicked, he quickly crawled to your side and gripped your arms and turned you to face him.

“Don’t say things like that. You’re strong, beautiful and you can fight. You will fight. I’ll help you fight. But please, baby, please don’t leave me here.”

A few stray tears spilled over your lashes and he wiped them away, pulling you into a tight embrace, “I love you, I love you so much. Please, fight with me.”

You loved him too. Even if it was hard and even if you didn’t think you had any fight left in you, you’d always have a fight left for him.

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Baby You’re (not) a Haunted House

A/N: Okay I know I’m publishing this in the middle of July and this takes place in October and is Halloween-esc themed but we all need a good caring, angsty, good ending story sometimes. Also, I hate horror so this was kind of a self-indulgent story. And despite the title this probably takes place Black Parade era but y’all know I had to throw a good pun in there. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word count: 4,101 words Warning: Swearing, angst, description of panic attack and anxiety, alcohol consumption, fighting.

You had always found it a bit ironic that out of every person with any possible interest in the world you wounded yourself up with a boyfriend who loved horror.

It wasn’t your aesthetic that was so contradictory to this, or your personality for that matter, but for as long as you could remember you hated horror. No, despised it.

You could barely watch horror movies, always snuggled up next to him and looking away when you sensed a gore scene or jump scare coming. Sometimes, if you were too overwhelmed, you would even cover your ears to not hear the grueling screams of the actors and to help take you away more from the movie.

Gerard had never pushed this much, after seeing the one and only reaction he had ever genuinely seen to you getting jump-scared, which is when he jokingly snuck up on you during one of the movies and you flipped the fuck out. As in screaming and crying and having a breakdown in front of him.

He genuinely felt bad after, of course, but never quite understood your strong distaste. I mean, horror was so blatantly not real and the parts that seemed somewhat realistic were fun. There was an adrenaline rush behind those scares, an entertaining way to pass the time.

So now both of you stood questioning the same thing: how the hell did you end up here? Apparently, the band and some of their friends had a whole yearly “let’s got to an amusement park during October when all the scary attractions are open and do them as a group” thing, and you were invited. You were hesitant at first until you remembered that amusement parks were more than just haunted houses and scare actors this time of season, you had an array of other fun rides and overpriced alcohol everywhere, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

And so here you stood, one of those weird, clingy couples in the line for a haunted house as your back was against Gerard’s chest, his arms wrapped over your shoulders and hands clasped above your chest as you leaned into him and he placed a kiss on the top of your head. Of course, he was more than excited to be here, but he could sense your anxiety and could feel how tense you were all over. “You sure you wanna do this?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay. As long as you go first.” You replied and he smiled, giving you another kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll go first, I promise.”

You had to admit this was freaking you the fuck out in many ways. You were beyond nervous about everything here, the lights and costumes and noises and aesthetic- you already hated it and you weren’t even in yet.

However, as soon as Jamia came running back with some beer for you and her you took a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You let out a baited breath and practically chugged the cup, everyone looking at you a bit strange. “What? I told you all I hate these things. I need the confidence.” They all shrugged it off understandingly.

You had tried so hard not to overthink this, and as you finally approached the entry door you began to regret not rethinking this over and over to a point where you chickened out. But you were way too deep in this now to just back out, you had to do it.

You clutched onto Gerard’s hands that were still wrapped around you a bit tighter, which of course he noticed, as he adjusted himself to wrap an around around you but be besides you instead, “It’s gonna be okay,” He whispered to you with a smile, “Remember hon, this is all fake.”

It was kind of hard to remember that as you entered the dimly lit attraction with some haunting music. Thankfully, multiple people were in front and behind you, so hopefully the scares directly on you were limited, but as soon as the first person jumped out you jumped back a bit and towards Gerard, clutching on his hand again as your breath sped up. You could feel him smile and chuckle off the scare, meanwhile you felt like you were fighting for your life internally, but you knew this was stuff he had been through before and handled flawlessly.

The second scare came soon after, and the flashing lights and loud noise caught you off guard as you nuzzled your face into Gerard’s hoodie as if trying to get it to stop. Gerard didn’t think much of this, too distracted by the fun he was having getting scared left and right, and simply moved his hand to run his fingers through your hair assuming it would help to alleviate the problem.

And jump scare after jump scare you could feel a panic attack rising. Your breathing became short and limited, your head spinning as you began actually shaking and practically frozen, only your feet guiding you. There was one last scare before the end, and finally tears pricked at the bottom of your eyes, emotion running high and your brain on full speed.

You stayed silent as everyone else walked out, laughing a bit and talking about how fun it was. Meanwhile, you were still trying to just breathe and not pass out, your lungs feeling like they were squeezing together. Gerard was smiling, but as soon as he looked down to check on you he realized how much he had fucked up. “Honey?” He asked, and when you didn’t respond in any way and he noticed how dramatic your breathing was he immediately realized you were having a panic attack.

“Mikey,” He quickly turned to his brother, “Y/N and I are gonna run to the bathroom, just text me with where you guys end up.” The younger brother nodded as Gerard quickly grabbed your hand and swooped you through some of the areas around the edge of the paths where he hoped the scare actors around would not scare you more, and more importantly, him, because at this point he would sucker punch one of them.

Once he found a secluded area next to one of the bathrooms and away from everything he grabbed your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands, “Honey, I need you to take deep breaths, okay? Count to three with me and starting breathing in, then out.” He began the count from one up to three, each time showing you how to deep breath in and out until your breathing felt more controlled and not staggered. And that’s when the tears silently rolled down your cheeks. “I knew this was a shitty idea. Fuck, I’m an awful boyfriend.” He muttered, rolling his sleeves over his hands to rub the slow trailing water off your cheeks. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You nodded a bit letting out a little sob as he held you as closed as he could, making sure to wrap his arms tight around you and letting you cry a bit into his chest before you calmed down a bit more. “I- I’m s-sorry.” You muttered out, wiping your own tears with the sleeve of your hoodie now. He gave you a completely confused look. “I- I shouldn’t h-have come and r-ruined all the fun.” You tried to explain, catching your breath, “This i-is not my thing a-and it was stupid.” “No baby.” He tried to explain, “Just because you don’t like scary things doesn’t mean you shouldn’t come. There are so many other things and I should’ve taken those into consideration and suggested the group split up. Besides, Jamia and a few other people don’t even like the scary stuff as much.”

“Y-yeah but still.” You sobbed a bit more and he continued to hold you, “I-I’m ruining your fun.”

“You’re not ruining a single thing for me.” He tried to explain as sincerely as possible, “I would be more than happy to just ride roller coasters with you for the rest of the night.” “N-no,” You began, “You love all this scary stuff, and- and you get it one time a year. It’s unfair I’m here making it worse.”

“Honey-” He tried again to explain despite feeling partially defeated in this battle, “I have horror movies year round, and there are haunted places everywhere all the time. Trust me, this is not just about me. You’re supposed to have fun too, and I should’ve known better than to have let you pressure yourself and go in there.” “But I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else.” “Sweetie, in this situation I need you to think about yourself, m’kay?” He softly smiled, “I crossed a boundary and I’m sorry I made you feel this way.” “But I did it to myself.” “And I should’ve stopped it and suggested we do something else.” He rubbed your back a bit as you finally cooled down. “So now, let’s make it through this one last section of jump scares, meet up with the group, and we should split up.” You nodded this time in agreement, giving in.

Gerard kept you closer to him than ever as you made your way through the final scare zone and found your group near the entrance to one of the other haunted houses. “Hey guys,” Gerard beamed, putting on a good face again as everyone smiled back and you tried to smile too, “I was just thinking it might be a good idea to split up. Ya know, maybe the people who like scary stay here and the people who don’t do the actual rides.” “Finally.” Jamia sighed, “I don’t wanna do this again, I’ll lead the second group and we’ll go somewhere else.” She proclaimed and Gerard nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll go with the other group.” One of the other girls spoke up.

“Me three.” So did another guy.

“Y/N?” Jamia asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you guys.” “Okay, great.” She smiled, walking over to you, “Now you weirdos have fun getting scared and we’re going to go and ride actual, fun rides.”

Gerard gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, “If you need anything, call me or text me, alright?” You nodded as Jamia quickly dragged you away and down towards the entrance. As soon as you crossed the line, you took a deep sigh of relief. “I hope none of us made you feel pressured to go into that haunted house. I know you hate horror.” “No, none of you did.” You admitted with a shy smile, “i just pressured myself and ya know, ended up embarrassing myself.” She rolled her eyes.

“A panic attack is not embarrassing,” She insisted, “Listen, you tried something and didn’t like it. Doesn’t mean you have to do it again.”

“Yeah, true.” You replied, “I just feel a bit bad that I dragged Gee away, ya know he really loves this stuff.” “Yeah, he’s kinda a weirdo like that.” She said and you lightly laughed, “But then again, they all are. Let them have their fun. Besides, roller coasters are way more fun anyways.” “True.” You happily smiled for the first time that night.

Gerard wasn’t worried about you now, being safe in the presence of Jamia and normal amusement park things and not the shit show he had dragged you into. While he doubted the guys would ever do such a thing, he was incredibly grateful to hear them actually be more sympathetic for you over judgmental. Gerard kept his mouth shut for the most part, partially because there wasn’t much to say, and partially because he did miss you.

He almost regretted staying here and doing his usual thing, considering you were way more fun anyways. You always had stupid little games to play in the lines, and despite him not drinking, and in general not condoning anyones drunken state, he did find it amusing when you were a bit tipsy and let loose. You were always funny, charming, and sweet, but when you were drunk it just amplified.

“You doin’ alright, Gee?” He heard Frank ask in the line and he nodded.

“Yeah, fine.” He replied.

“Ya know you can go with the others if you want, it’s really no biggie-” “Nah, it’s alright.” He smiled a bit, “Besides, I think Y/N needs her space.” “You don’t seriously blame yourself for what happened, do you?” Frank asked and Gerard shrugged a bit.

“I mean, kind of. She took the blame fully, and I know it was her decision, but I really should’ve stuck up for the logic more and, ya know, been a bit more guarded. Especially in there. I was too lost in the stupid scares and shit to notice my girlfriend entering a fucking panic attack.”

“Well, still, it was her decision.” Frank responded, “I mean, I applaud her for trying, ya know, but regardless, her decision.” “But it’s not that simple Frank.” He sighed. “Like, if Jamia were to put herself in danger, and she wanted to, but you knew better, would you not try to stop her and help?” “I mean, depends on how persistent she was.” Frank admitted, “If she was sure about it, I wouldn’t. I would respect her decision. If she was less sure, I might try to talk her out of it. But Gee, you have a really stubborn woman on your hands. She’s not gonna give up without a fight. Good in most situations, but maybe not here.” Gerard couldn’t argue with that. Maybe stubborn wasn’t the right word, that implied that you just wanted your way, but persistent definitely matched your personality. You were logical and reasonable, most of the time, but he still felt a ting of guilt.

“Hey man, it’s okay, really.” Mikey consoled Gerard as he stood next to him, “Y/N’s fine now, she’s through the worst of it off having fun with everyone else and doing what she wants to do. She came here because she wanted to with you, went out of her comfort zone, tried, and it didn’t go well. This is her time, don’t think about it. She’s probably on a roller coaster screaming her head off and having the time of her life.”

“Shit, that was so much fun!” You squealed and threw your arms up in the air as you exited the gates to another coaster.

“I know right?” Jamia laughed, grabbing your hand in hers, “This is way more fun than haunted houses and stupid jump scares.” “You’re absolutely right.” You smiled, “I could go for another drink.” Jamia sighed.

“I mean, I could too. Should I? Logically, no. Will I? Yes, I will.”

You had probably spent a solid 40 bucks by now on drinks, now on your fourth as you happily sipping the edge of the plastic cup, skipping around with your newfound group of friends who had partaken in the much more fun version of this trip with you.

Did you miss Gerard? Sure, a little bit. But you were having the time of your life and had never felt better. He was probably having a good time too, so what did it matter? Distance was good. Having friends together you could hang out with separately was also good.

“The best part about this entire thing is that there are like, no lines.” One of the others in the group, John, maybe? Or Jason or- something spoke up and you smiled.

“Yeah, those losers are probably waiting sooooooo long and for what? Someone to scare them?” You scoffed, “This is all way more fun.” The three of them nodded along with you.

“The park closes in 20, we should probably try to meet up with ‘em guys. Ray spoke up as they all exited the last haunted maze for the night.

“Yeah, I’ll text Mia and see where they’re at.” Frank spoke up, pulling out his phone.

Gerard pulled out a cigarette and his lighter, quickly making sure to light it properly before taking a deep whiff in and out. You hated when he smoked (although he knew you secretly loved the look of it, he wasn’t dumb and could easily see you starring with big doe eyes). He let the cigarette dangle a bit, leaning against a railing and letting the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, the dopamine hitting him just a bit after already coming off of an adrenaline high from inside the maze.

He was worried about you, which in the grand scheme of things, was ridiculous, but he was still worried.

“Okay, they’re towards the front of the park, they just got off a ride so this is the perfect time to meet them.” They all nodded their heads in unison heading that way.

Gerard was more than relieved to see you from afar with a huge smile on your face and laughing. He took a deep breath realizing that you were okay again, and clearly doing pretty well. As soon as the group saw them, you guys all waved and Gerard smiled when your eyes met his.

“Hey Gee!” You happily beamed as he came over and hugged you.

“Hey, hon.” He replied, still smiling, and wrapping his arm tightly around your back. “How were all the rides!” “Soooo fun!” You lightly laughed, leaning onto him pretty heavily, a tell tale sign to him that you clearly didn’t just go on rides. “Jamia’s, like, the best ride buddy ever! And there were no lines, ugh, it was great.” You contently sighed as Gerard held onto you a little more for balance.

“I’m glad,” He replied, “How many drinks did you have?” You grumbled.

“Don’t parent me.” You replied.

“I’m not, I’m just asking how many drinks you had.” He innocently smiled.

“Four, I think.” You replied, “I’m just tipsy, that’s all.” “Just tipsy.” He repeated with a shake of his head and chuckle under his breath, mentally preparing for the grump you would be in the morning with a hangover.

You all said your goodbyes, and headed to your own cars. Gerard happily plopped in the driver’s seat, you taking passenger as he swiftly backed out and managed to beat traffic out of the park. “So, did you have fun?” He asked.

“So much,” You smiled happily, leaning your head against the headrest, “I wanna go again. Just, without the haunted stuff.” He nodded, still feeling that ting of guilt brewing within him. He probably shouldn’t have even asked you to come in the first place, despite wanting to take you and how it all ended up fine, but he probably should’ve stopped thinking about you going with your typical reactions to horror movies and such.

“Yeah,” He nodded to himself, “Ya know, maybe we could go again in the summer. I’m not sure if fall is the best time with all that.” You shrugged.

“Eh, fall’s kinda nicer. It’s chillier and prettier than summer. I’ll just stay away from the haunted things again.”

“But what if you can’t.” He began, the self judgment and punishment for his lack of prevention of you making a dumb decision that in the end hurt you all hurdling at him at once. “And what if all this happens again and then you enter a panic attack because I let you go and do something you shouldn’t have done.” “Gee,” You fought back a bit, “I- it was my decision and we both know that! I decided to come, I decided to go in there, and I faced the consequences of my actions.”

“Yeah, and do you know how fucking easy of a move it would’ve been for me to have just thought this was a terrible idea like it was and stopped you in the first place?” He raised his voice just a bit out of frustration. You took a second to consider what he was saying, but it all clearly rubbed the wrong way.

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then you shouldn’t even tell me about your stupid events with your friends and just go by yourself.” You turned away from him, crossing your arms and looking out of the window at the highway which was relatively deserted from cars at this ungodly hour. “Huh?” He now asked, his eyebrows and voice both knitted in confusion.

“If you’re embarrassed to bring me to these things just say it!” You spat out, simple and hard. He gave an even more confused look.

“When did I ever say that?” “You didn’t have to say shit to me, all your fucking context clues helped me solve the stupid puzzle.” You responded, “Being distant, fucking pushing me away- listen, I know I’m not good with scary things and I tried this once because I know they make you happy. And I didn’t say a single thing about you coming to ride a single fucking ride with me because at the end of the day you only get your scary paradise once a year so who am I to ruin that. So I’m sorry I end up being so embarrassing to bring to these things, I just wanted to make you happy. But if you would be happier with me at home or doing something else I’m fine with that too.” “Honey, that’s not what I meant at all I-” He collected himself to a calm and soothing manner, letting his voice become more genuinely himself over fueled by anger. “I want you to come to these things, of course I do! Everyone likes you, you’re funny and friendly but- listen, most of what I said is just me blaming myself for making you feel that way.” “Why would you ever think that?” You asked next.

“Because- just like you said, I know all you were trying to do was make me happy and you pushed yourself way outside of your comfort zone to try and do that to a point where you entered a panic attack all to try and make me happy. Honey, you have to promise me to never put my happiness over your own.”

“Gee, sometimes you have to do that in relationships.” “Well yeah, sometimes when one of us gives in to going to the other’s choice of breakfast spot but that doesn’t lead to a full blown panic attack.” He argued, “I never meant to put you in an uncomfortable mental state.” “You didn’t!” You said back, “Gerard, how many times do I have to repeat it, I put myself in that situation. And listen, you should be feeling absolutely no guilt right now for anything. You didn’t make a single decision for me, and while sure, making you happy might have influenced my decision making, I still made that decision. Not you. And it’s my decision to live with. Not yours.” He took a deep sigh and rubbed his temple a bit, still keeping his eyes on the road as you reached for his hand that now sat on his thigh, holding it. You had always loved how your hands were so small in his, how he could just squeeze around yours and it seemed like it would disappear.

“It’s not your fault. At all.” You repeated one last time for good measure and he nodded a bit. “Besides, it all worked out anyways. What’s the point in worrying about something that happened in the past when we can’t go back and change it and it all ended up okay?” “You always make real good fucking points.” He grumbled and you laughed lightly.

“Thanks,” You smiled.

“Ya know I’m not embarrassed of you, at all, right?” He asked next. “I still don’t know how to be with someone so perfect, if we’re being honest.”

“I’m not sure if I’m that perfect.” You said, biting your lip a bit and trying to hide a growing blush, “I mean, I did just have a panic attack in front of your entire friend group, which is kinda very embarrassing, by the way.”

“Maybe that’s just a reminder to everyone around you that you’re human, not the literal fucking goddess you look like.” “Stop,” You grumbled with a smirk, “Handling compliments like that takes a lot of emotional energy. And I don’t know if I have much left after tonight.”

“Alright, hon.” He softly smiled squeezing your hand again, “So, are we doin’ this again next year?” “Absolutely.” You nodded with a smile of your own, “Just maybe minus the haunted houses and me. That’s not a good combination.”

[justashthewriter]

Not myself

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (F)

Genre: fanfiction, comfort, 3. person

Warnings: !possible triggers!, swearing, breakdown, family problems, fake personality

Summary: You were the gifted child, the perfect student and child. What happened?

Notes: Haven’t seen this, so here you go. Hope I’m not alone in this mess! Also, enjoy being spoiled today, two posts in one day. Unbelievable. :D

Love you and take care! Don't forget to drink and eat something, maybe take your vitamins (if you take some). :)

Words: 589

(Y/N) was always called a gifted child. Everyone praised for being good at school, having straight A’s and playing (instrument). At the beginning it was fine. Everything was okay, subjects were easy, and she enjoyed every moment. That was until she started feeling different about herself. When she turned (age), she started feeling overwhelmed. School became harder, playing (instrument) lost its meaning, and she started falling. The (hair color) managed to get into UA, what a miracle, right? No, she was meant to do it because she was perfect.

            It all started with small comments on her body and how she “can’t answer such a simple question”. Yeah, the perfect prodigy didn’t know the answer. Even Denki got it right! Then her grades started to look different, A’s and B’s, sometimes worse. Her parents yelling at the poor girl for being stupid and failing a test wasn’t helping at all. Everything was too much to handle. She started skipping meals and sleeping less, so she could study more.

            At the beginning of their second year, she fell in love the hot headed blonde. She was one of his friends, and they knew these two will never get together without their help. Soon, Bakugou confessed, and they became a power couple. Being at the top and acting happy was draining her. She just wanted one day for herself, maybe with Bakugou.

            It was late, almost midnight, and the girl was still studying. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her brain was foggy, the subject was too difficult to understand. She left her phone on the bed and didn’t notice the missed call from her partner. He was now on the way to her room. No good night? Nah, he won’t let that happen.

            “What are you doing, for fuck's sake!” the boy almost broke her door.

            The poor girl jumped and almost fell from the sudden sound. She immediately stood up from her seat and went to him.

            “I’m sorry, I was studying and forgot to tell you,” she said with a weak voice.

            (Y/N) maybe thought he wouldn’t notice, but he did. And he knew she wasn’t okay. Dried tears on her face were enough.

            “Why are you doing this?” he asked, a little pissed off.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Why won’t you talk about your feelings? Why won’t you ask for help? Why the fuck won’t you talk to me?!”

            It felt like a knife, right into her heart. New tears appeared in her eyes, and the deafening silence was too much. Her legs felt weak, she felt weak. A strong arm hugged her small body as he sighed.

            “You’re not alone, you know? I know I don’t look like the type to care, but I do. Please” he stopped for a second, “let me help you.”

            She just nodded, hugging him tighter, breathing in his scent.

            “Thank you.”

            The red eyed boy took her to her bed and sat next to her.

            “Do you want to talk about it?”

            The night was long, hard, emotional, for both of them. He listened to everything and let her talk it out. And she did. Everything that was hurting her. She let it all out that night. Later, they both fell asleep hugging each other.

            The next day, she looked a lot better. Her smile was genuine, she felt better. With him by her side, she knew she’ll make it. For him and for herself, too. It will be a long walk, but he’ll help her to get better, confident.  

Ash, 22.5.2022

[rayofsunas]

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy. 

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening​ 

​

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude 

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly 

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was. 

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti. 

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared. 

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed. 

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case. 

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character 

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response. 

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.  

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time. 

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance. 

“I can’t help but think about what they did.” 

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa. 

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment. 

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action. 

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.  

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was. 

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily. 

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic. 

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop, 

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you. 

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort. 

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?” 

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.” 

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him. 

“You always wait for me, darling.”

- 

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh. 

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried. 

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.” 

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded. 

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-” 

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood. 

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-” 

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff. 

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now. 

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.” 

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times. 

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas 

[1kook]

commercial break: eleven

this is a netflix & chill drabble <3

SUMMARY You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small.

WARNINGS sadness, vulnerabilities, insecurity, self confidence issues, an idea of “feeling ugly”, tw // mental breakdowns and feelings of regression, crying, jk doesn’t want anyone near, oc tries her best to comfort him

RATING e for everyone

WC 1.2k

NOTES i love the idea of jk being the perfect man, but I also want to show moments where he isn’t so perfect and where he’s not the mature man oc thinks he is… I love my boy so much 😭😭 also it’s 1am helloooooo ALSO it’s formatted ugly bc I’m posting this from my phone 😀 I’ll fix it tmrw promise

Jungkook hates to admit it, but some days are harder than others.

Some days, Jungkook wakes up with an uncomfortably stifling feeling in his chest, one that threatens to wiggle its way into the loneliest parts of his heart and find permanent residency. A drowsy one, makes him linger in bed well past his preferred wake up time, the blackout curtains in his room ensheathing him in a sea of darkness that his heart is adamant on replicating. But it’s worse than drowning, because his lungs are clear; it’s just that he doesn’t have the strength, the willpower to force another breath— he just wants to lay there and do nothing.

“Good morning,” he hears from beside him, and a different weight presses against his side. You’re warm in the morning, soft too. He likes how you feel, he always does. But not today. Today, he doesn’t know how he feels about the overwhelming presence at his side. You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small. “You sleep okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. The words don’t catch in his throat, but in the recesses of his mind instead, overlapping and overflowing until it feels like tv static, fuzzy and blurry— confusing. You shift beside him, and his heart kicks up an anxious rhythm. It’s not the normal butterflies that beat their wings against the walls of his rib cage when you smile, nor is it the thundering gallops of a dozen horses when you touch him just so. It’s this nauseating, terrified feeling, one that screams at him to answer lest he upset you with his silence.

There’s a hand on his chest, and he doesn’t like how it feels right now, just another suffocating layer to add on, but even worse he doesn’t know how to tell you that.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to. It slinks away, but that warning bell in his head is going off anyway, makes him look over at you in panic, only to find you propped up on your elbow, inquisitive eyes focused on him. Your features are still soft, and Jungkook is pretty sure there’s traces of last night’s makeup clinging to your lash line. You’re so pretty— you always are. Jungkook can’t handle this right now. You’re too pretty, and Jungkook feels ugly. (Ah, so that was the feeling.) You can’t look at Jungkook when he’s ugly, you won’t want Jungkook when he’s ugly.

“Hey,” you say softly, gently. Jungkook’s heart aches. A pair of fingers brush along his cheekbones, drag through the wetness that escapes the corners of his eyes, trails down toward his ears—when had he started crying?—where you delicately tuck his hair back. “I’m gonna get started on breakfast,” you tell him, voice hushed, whispering. Jungkook is hanging onto every single word, feels like you’ll disintegrate before his very eyes if he isn’t careful. You can probably tell. “You don’t have to eat right now, but it’ll be down there if you want, okay?”

You move to get off the bed, scooting away from him, leaving him behind. He’s fine with it until he isn't, until your hand touches the door knob to his room and a shameful sniffle escapes him. Loud too, loud enough to make you turn back in surprise. And that alarmed look on your face is enough to make Jungkook want to hide, hurriedly rolling over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow, arms clutching at the softness as he cries. You hurry back. He doesn’t want you to leave, but he doesn’t want you to see either. He doesn’t know what he wants.

“No,” he begs, turning the other way when your face comes up beside him, kneeling beside his side of the bed. “Don’t look at me— please.”

There’s a hand on his back, and Jungkook hates how much he loves it, hates how much he instinctively yearns to find comfort in you at a time like this. He was getting better, he’s been getting better. He swears he has; he has journals full of feelings to prove it, vulnerable text message threads with Namjoon to prove it.

But he won’t lie. The Valentine’s Day incident had left a bad taste in Jungkook’s mind, and these past few months have been hard. He feels like he’s regressing, like he’s back to being a teenager all over again. By itself, that knowledge sucks. Combined with the warm palm on his back and the loving voice calling his name— combined with the fact you've been watching Jungkook these past few months each and every time he’s woken up like this… it’s humiliating. “Don’t look,” he chokes out, each drag of your fingers through his hair sending a confused pang of emotions straight to his heart.

“Why can’t I look?” you ask quietly, toying with the strands of his hair. He sniffles. “What would I see?”

“Me,” Jungkook sobs, wishing the mattress would just up and swallow him.

You’re silent, a fact that Jungkook wishes he could appreciate had it not made the sounds of his anguish even more obvious. It makes him self-conscious, more than he already is, so he forces himself to quiet down. It doesn’t feel better, but it does let him hear your next words. “I like looking at you,” you tell him, and the bed dips down beside him. After a moment, you speak again. “Do you feel ugly today?”

Careful, calculated. Like he’s a ticking bomb and you don’t want him to blow. Briefly, he had explained it before, skirted around it in embarrassment as he talked about the way he felt. It had been months ago— maybe the weekend after Valentine’s —so he’s surprised you remember. Jungkook nods.

“Then I’ll wait,” you announce, and eventually he feels you settle in beside him. His head is still turned the other way, hiding shamefully, but he can feel your warm breath against his skin when you slowly cuddle in close. An arm wraps itself around his back. He doesn’t mind it this time— he just wants to be held now. “I’ll wait until you feel pretty again.”

Part of Jungkook wants to snap at you; he doesn’t want to feel pretty, he’s never felt pretty. Jungkook felt average at best, and on days where you stroked his ego, maybe even handsome. But pretty? That’s not something that’ll ever happen, and he doesn’t want you to waste your hopes on a possibility that does not exist.

But that’s mean, and he doesn’t want to chase you away, scare you away, even if he doesn’t want you to see him like this. So Jungkook shuts his mouth, stays still, tries to match the soft rise and fall of your chest against his side instead.

Some days he’s fine in a few minutes without a single tear shed. Other days are long. Other days are so painful and uncomfortable, he just wants to hide. He wants to climb into his shell and never come out, hide his ugliness from the world and never have to worry about being seen again.

You don’t lie to him, don’t feed him empty promises while you wait. You just lay silently at his side, pulling him closer when his sniffles get louder. You don’t say anything unnecessary and you never make it about yourself.

Lately his shell has grown bigger, wider, comfier. Big enough for someone else to squeeze in, hold him close when he doesn’t feel like himself.

He doesn’t hate it.

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

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

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

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

word count: 11.6k

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

happy reading y’all

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

Her life was ending for sure.

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

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

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

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

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

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

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

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

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

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

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

“Malfoy?” she spat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No promises, but maybe.”

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

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

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

~

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

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

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

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

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

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

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

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

“Ick!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

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

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

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

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

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

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

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

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

“I don’t understa--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That shouldn’t matter!”

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

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

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

“You’re not going back to the party?”

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

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

But the walk was creepy.

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

“Who’s there?”

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

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

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

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

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

“But why? This is my spot!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please leave.”

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

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was this castle so dark?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about neutral terms?”

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

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

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

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

He stared blankly at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

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

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

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

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

Ouch.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/L/N?” 

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

“Wait!”

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭