#I’ll just look at him and feel whatever I feel is reflected in his captivating eyes

[bongopowder]

getting lucky! (higuruma)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ jujutsu kaisen (higuruma x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, gambling, casinos, drinking, smoking

word count: 5.0k

a tune for you: a little less conversation (elvis presley)

The blaring lights, flickering at every machine, send a colorful wave of illumination shooting across the stained and patterned carpets. The sweet smell of smoke and crisp bills mingle in the air, filling your nostrils with something seemingly toxic, but also intoxicating. And the sounds, sounds which flood every inch of the space, echoing off the wallpaper plastered on every surface of the room. It was a concoction, a collaboration between the loud, drunken chatter of patrons, the occasional clattering of a machine, and the constant ringing of a buzzer, now simply a hum in your brain. Ding! Ding! Ding!

Some might call it sensational. But to you, the feeling was none other than that of suffocation. Overstimulation. Drowning.

You take another sip of your martini, the intensity of the gin doing nothing to repress the anarchy of the casino atmosphere.

“You seem… distracted?”

Blinking a few times to regain your consciousness, you turn to your friend, who sits beside you at the bar, watching you with an inquisitive gaze.

“Something on your mind?” She probes, her stare wandering out to the casino, to find whatever had captivated your attention. “Or maybe… someone?” Her lips tug up into a sheepish smirk, an almost teasing look.

“What… no,” you shake your head quickly, extinguishing any assumptions she might be making. “I was just, spacing out is all.”

She hums quietly in response, scanning the casino floor as if looking for something specific, her eyes narrowing predatorially. Once she spots whatever target she was searching for, she peers back to you, giving you a knowing look.

“What is it?” You roll your eyes, though not seriously annoyed by her antics.

“Him. You were totally staring at him, weren’t you? He’s perfectly your type,” she grins, flicking her head to gesture out to the casino.

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, immediately forcing yourself to stare into the maze of machines and tables to find the prey of her little game.

“The one by the slot machines,” she clarifies. “You’ll know which one when you see him.”

Oh.

You hate it when she’s right.

He’s just there, peeking out from the end of the row of machines, sitting casually in a padded chair, eyes glued to the screen. The colors of the lights illuminate his face in a range of purples, and pinks, and whites; his hooked nose casts a small shadow as he turns his head, studying the game before him with tired eyes, just as you study him.

His suit – with the top few buttons haphazardly open and his tie undone – is consistent with his somewhat disheveled and fatigued expression. His black hair is gelled slightly back, slick and reflective, with a few loose strands falling in front of his forehead. Bringing his whiskey glass up, he places it on his temple, eyes dejected as the light on his face turns red. A loss.

“See? I was totally right!” Your friend exclaims smugly, watching as you ogle the man across the floor. You simply shake your head.

“I’m nowhere near drunk enough for that.”

“For what?”

“To approach him.”

“Oh, come onnnn…” her voice eggs you on. “I’ll be here for moral support. Finish your drink and go, before he leaves! He’s soooo your type, you can’t let him walk off!”

You groan, shaking your head again. Internally, you’re conflicted; you can’t help but know she’s right, and you’d be insane to avoid a man who looks like he’s been peeled straight from the front page of some “sexy business” magazine, but to approach him is… something else.

Your friend cheers as you down your martini in two large gulps, the burning sensation matching that of your mental turmoil.

“You’re gonna do it?” She exclaims in excitement. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be here when you get back… or when you don’t come back.”

You roll your eyes at her wink, but you can’t repress your smile. Without wasting another second, you saunter over to the slot machines, taking a deep breath, hoping that by some miracle, those last few gulps of gin give you something good to say.

“So, any luck today?”

Fuck. That’s really all I could think of?

You mentally curse yourself, but your outward façade is unwavering, no thanks to your ever-lacking flirtation abilities. Leaning slightly against the side of the machine, you smile down at him warmly.

His eyes look slowly up to meet yours, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion at your presence. The screen flashes red again, a bright color which draws his attention back to the machine, his elbows never leaving the control panel. Burrowing his face in his hands, he grumbles softly.

“Does it look like it?”

Sitting back, he grabs his drink again, taking a swig with a sigh. His back presses against the chair, and he adjusts his hips, lifting them softly before he resettles with his legs pushed further apart.

You bite your lip, trying to remain composed as you watch him, thinking of something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I can change that.”

That was a good one…

You push off the machine, moving to sit on the armrest of his chair, careful to avoid the side with any potentially essential buttons. Your bare arm brushes slightly against his shirt, and you adjust your cocktail dress, pulling it comfortably over part of your legs.

“You’re too young,” the man replies, somewhat bluntly, but with no hint of annoyance, as he takes another sip of whiskey, his eyes glued to the machine.

“You don’t even know how old I am,” you quip quickly in return, hosting a somewhat sly smile. He can’t be that much older than me… right?

“I know you’re not old enough.”

“But don’t you want to win? I’ve been told I can be quite the lucky charm,” you lie, hoping it might give you a chance. Leaning forwards, you feed the machine a play with some cash.

He sighs, finally looking up at you through his eyelashes, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent due to your proximity.

“Fine. It’s your money,” he cedes casually, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lights one, simultaneously pressing a button on the machine to spin the wheels. He takes a long drag, now completely captivated by the on-screen stimulation, the lights continuing to accentuate his sharp features as he exhales a cloud of gray smoke.

The first column slowly comes to a halt, landing on a lemon.

Okay…

And the second column... another lemon.

Your eyes widen in surprise, flickering over to his face to see how he’s reacting. Nothing.

The third wheel feels as though it takes ages to stop, continuing to spin even as you think it’s finishing.

And…

A lemon. It’s a lemon.

Your chest tightens, partly out of nervousness and somewhat in surprise. Turning to see the man again, you watch as his expression shifts and he leans forward in his chair.

Quickly, the machine spits out the winnings: ¥6000.

“Well… I guess you are lucky…” The man grumbles admittedly, sitting back again and taking another drag of the cigarette, seemly deep in thought. He gestures to the money on the control panel.

“It’s yours,” you reply, gesturing back. “Remember?”

“I don’t need it,” he sighs, rubbing his head.

“Then buy me a drink with it.”

He lets out a noise, somewhere between a scoff and a light chuckle, finally reaching forward to grab the money. Scanning it, he counts it quickly to make sure the amount is correct, simultaneously grabbing his whiskey again with the same hand that holds his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. He nods at the money, downing the last bit of whiskey before beginning to stand.

“Alright. I’ll buy you a drink with your own money, if you insist,” he replies casually, trying to appear indifferent. As he stands, however, you see him finally beginning to drink in your appearance, his eyes moving slowly over your body in an almost calculated manner.

The two of you approach the bar, a different one from where your friend stands. She shoots you a wink from across the room: your last source of good luck.

“Another one, please,” the man says as he sets his empty glass on the wood, leaning over the bar with his elbow planted. He glances at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, and a martini… dry, please.”

The bartender nods, turning around to pour the drinks.

“I never did get your name?” His voice draws your attention back to those eyes, piercing yours with their dark gaze. You oblige, telling him your name.

“And yours?”

“Hiromi,” he says, taking another drag of the cigarette before extinguishing it on a nearby ashtray.

You hum and nod as he replies, watching as the bartender pours the vermouth into your martini glass. A moment of silence pervades the atmosphere, broken only by the rattling of cocktail shakers and murmuring of nearby patrons. Hiromi’s eyes remain fixed on another bartender and his whiskey, the spherical ice shifting in the glass as the alcohol is poured over top, the liquid almost twinkling under the lights.

He's not very talkative…

“So, what do you do for work?” You ask, leaning against the bar.

“Law,” he replies, his tired eyes not leaving his drink as it’s placed in front of him.

“Oh, that’s nice…” You smile, trying to save the dying conversation as your martini arrives. “So… are you here long or are you visiting from somewhere else?”

“Visiting, for business.” His eyes flicker to yours, for a moment, before shifting back to his drink.

Is he just not into me or something?

“You know,” you start, now deciding to duck out of the conversation, starting to back away from him slightly. “I think my friend is-”

“It’s a conference of sorts,” he interrupts, sipping his whiskey before turning towards you completely. “Quite boring, really. I’d rather hear about why you’re here.”

“Ah- me?” you perk up again at his interest, “I’m just on a trip with my friend, we’re in the city for a few nights, just to travel.” Man, this guy is bipolar…

“Are you staying here?”

“At the casino?” you ask, shaking your head. “No, just a hotel down the road. This place was a bit out of the budget I think.” Chuckling, you allow the alcohol to soothe your nerves slightly.

“Mmm…” he hums, finishing his whiskey in one swig and setting the glass down gently. “I have a room upstairs, got it for the chip discount,” he explains while tapping his casino card on the wood of the bar.

“Also,” he adds, “the liquor here is… mediocre, at best. I keep nicer whiskey up there, so I can go back for an occasional drink.”

You peer curiously into your martini glass, finding the gin pretty decent.

“So you agree?”

“I agree?”

“That the liquor isn’t great,” he concludes, with a nod.

“Oh, right… Yeah, it’s not the best…” You simply nod, convincingly agreeing with the sentiment, but he appears distracted again, already moving to light a new cigarette. He holds the box out to you, pushing one up with his thumb: a silent offering.

You nod, thanking him briefly before taking the cigarette.

Leaning closer, he places the cigarette in his mouth and removes a lighter from his pocket, placing the flame between you. You move closer to him, allowing your cigarette to touch the fire just as his does; the warmth and light from the dancing flames reflect in his eyes as he looks down at you. He pulls back slowly, eyes unwavering from yours as he blows smoke slowly from his mouth with an unreadable gaze.

“Why me?” His words are direct, but inquisitive, spoken as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

“Why you?”

“Why approach me?” he emphasizes the last word, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at you. Your face heats up at the bluntness of his inquiry, and you smile slightly.

“Not every question needs to be answered,” you reply coyly, gesturing to the drinks. “And clearly the universe is rewarding us for my choice.”

“Mmm… maybe so,” Hiromi nods, cracking the slightest of smiles. His gaze flickers around your face, as if studying your features, slowly and tantalizingly.

After the fleeting moment, his free hand reaches for his whiskey glass. The realization of its emptiness causes his face to twist into a soft frown, his eyes shifting down to the glass as he swirls the ice within it.

“Come on,” he sighs, pushing off the bar as he runs a hand through his gelled hair. “It’s time for another drink.”

You watch as he nods his head towards the elevators casually, a neutral expression still plastered on his features. He wants me to come to his room?

“I’m just gonna finish-”

“Leave it. I have nicer gin,” he interjects without turning back around, waving his hand dismissively before putting his cigarette to his lips.

Before you can reply, he’s already striding away, a slight eagerness to his pace. Shrugging, you take one last sip of the martini before quickly catching up to him, leaving the crystal glass on the bar top, alongside your half-finished cigarette.

The atmosphere of the elevator ride is indescribable; monotonous jazz plays roughly through the poor-quality speakers, the sound mixed only with the rattling of metal from the machine. Hiromi is silent, leaning back against the outdating wooden paneling, seemingly lost in thought as he continues to smoke.

Your heartrate picks up nervously, your mind haphazardly running through the scenarios to come. The man is an enigma.

Ding!

The elevator comes to a swift halt, pausing on the 22nd floor. Just as before, Hiromi wastes no time, stepping out and quickly treading down the long hallway towards his room.

Without a word, he swipes his card to unlock the door, holding it open for you and beckoning you inside the dark room. He places a hand delicately on the small of your back, guiding you through the doorway, sending a shiver down your spine.

The door shuts quietly behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the darkness. Your eyes fail to adjust quickly to the change in light, barely able to make out the silhouette of a large bed and small couch, lit only by the distant city lights outside the large, open windows. The sound of fabric sliding draws your attention behind you as Hiromi takes off his blazer, the cigarette between his lips. You somewhat clumsily fumble for a light switch somewhere on the wall, leaning forward and running a hand over the textured wallpaper.

You feel his large hand wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the wall. Within a second, he reaches to your waist, immediately pushing you back against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He releases your wrist almost tenderly, seductively running his fingers up your arm before tucking one under your chin, tilting your head up.

“You didn’t really come in here just to drink, now did you?” His voice is low and rough against your ear as he leans in, his hand unwavering from your hip as he presses you further against the wall.

For the first time tonight, you feel nervous. It’s as if you can feel your heart pumping blood through your entire body, echoing in your brain. You open your mouth to speak, but the words seem to catch in your throat.

“Mmm… What ever happened to that boldness on the casino floor? Not so confident now?” Hiromi teases, his free hand moving up to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face. His touch is almost gentle, a contrast to what you see when you look into his eyes.

“Well… I just...” You pause, trying to find your voice, though it cracks in your dry throat. You look up at him again, your eyes trying to focus on his own rather than his lips, which quirk into the slightest of smirks. “I- I didn’t… expect…”

“Spit it out.”

The words are demanding, but his tone is playful. He studies your face more, eyes wandering across your features like he did to the slot machine, perhaps more methodically now.

“I just didn’t think… it would be so… quick into it…” You manage to whisper, trying to contain your emotions.

“Quick?” He lets out a sultry chuckle, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Oh, trust me, nothing about tonight will be quick,” he mumbles, flicking the bud of his cigarette off into the darkness.

And with those last words, he pulls your face forwards, his lips crashing against yours in a needy, hungry kiss. You return the vigor, passionately tasting the lingering whiskey and smoke on his tongue, your hands wandering up his chest, feeling over the buttons of his shirt.

You can feel him smirk against your mouth, his hands now roaming down your body in desperation, as if searching for the best place to settle. He tugs at your dress, bunching the fabric up your thighs until it collects around your hips.

The kiss continues in its hot, rough wake, your teeth occasionally crashing together in urgency, neither of you willing to pull back. Without another warning, he wedges one of his thighs between your legs, grinding against you and pushing you further into the wall.

The sudden friction isn’t lost on you, and you let out a soft noise, the sound swallowed by his mouth. This, however, only seems to fuel his enthusiasm, and he continues to push his thigh back and forth, slowly and tantalizingly grinding against you.

Your hips instinctively buckle into his motions, only driving him to move faster. His hands land on your sides, moving you into the movement himself as he separates from the kiss.

“You’re so desperate for me already…” Hiromi whispers, beginning to line kisses along your jawline. “But I want to hear you a little bit more.” His hand reaches up, gripping your hair in his hand and tugging your head back, giving him easier access to your neck.

Instantly, bites down softly on your skin, the sensation in time with the movement of his thigh. You stifle a moan, biting your lip and pushing your head further against the wall.

You feel his breath on your neck, cold on the area where his spit remains.

“That’s more like it, my dear. Keep those coming…” he breathes softly as he continues to suck at your neck, traveling down to your collarbone.

“You’re… gonna have to work… for it,” you reply, somewhat breathlessly, trying to control yourself as you tease.

He growls softly against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“That sounds awfully like a challenge,” he smirks, pulling his thigh away from you. You feel the vacancy as your dress falls back down, an odd chill running through your spine.

“It’s just like gambling… try something and see if you get lucky,” you taunt, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Lucky, you say?” He grins, leaning down towards your face again, his finger caressing your cheek with small, circular motions. “I think I’ve gotten pretty lucky already tonight…”

His lips just barely graze yours as he speaks, tempting you to move forward to close the distance.

“And I think you’re going to get even luckier.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in mock disapproval before grabbing your thighs from behind, hoisting you up into his arms so you’re straddling his hips. Responding instantly, you wrap your legs around him, his arousal becoming even more obvious between your legs as your hips press against his.

Noticing your eyes widen, he smirks softly, continuing to walk you towards the bed.

“You can handle it.”

The words leave his mouth quickly, and he gives you almost no time to process before he tosses you back onto the bed, his body immediately climbing on top of yours.

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out for me like this,” he whispers, a hint of need in his voice as he settles between your legs. “But I can think of a few ways you’d be even better…”

His hand trails up your slide, lightly grazing over your breasts and coming up to the back of your neck, settling on the zipper of your dress, laying delicately on your spine. Without waiting for confirmation, he tugs on the metal, and the sensation of the zipper teeth opening begins to spread down your back.

Even in the dim light, you can see his eyes widen as your dress gets tossed to the side. He stifles a noise arising from his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker down.

“My eyes are up here…” You tease, cheeks heating up slightly.

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze still unsettled as he takes in your curves and exposed skin.

“But I think you’d much rather have me down here,” Hiromi eventually replies, his index finger trailing down your sternum, eventually stopping at your navel. The cold sensation of his finger causes your body to squirm, much to your distress.

He grins in satisfaction, finally moving his finger further down your body, hooking it around your underwear.

“Or how about here?” He tauntingly runs his finger along the edge of the lace.

His finger slips further into your underwear as he presses his body down onto yours, his mouth lingering near your ear.

“Remember… I want to hear you,” his whisper echoes in your head as his finger slides down between your folds. You press your head back into the pillow, the touch eliciting a soft, but loud breath to escape your parted lips.

“Fuck…” Hiromi chuckles gruffly into your ear. “You’re so wet for me already…” he whispers needily, letting out his own deep breath.

He eagerly slips his finger further down, sliding it deep inside of you. Your hands instinctively grip his back, pulling at his shirt as he moves in and out of you, continuing to plaster kisses to your neck.

Continuing to work his fingers, two now slipping inside, his thumb rubs circles along your clit in time with his kisses, working feverishly, almost in desperation as he pumps his fingers inside of you. His lips trail down your neck, moving across your clavicle and down to your breasts.

Your hands move to his hair, tangling into the strands and breaking through the hold of the gel. He smiles against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing you before he plants more kisses along your breast, kneading the other with his free hand. You arch into his touch, your body writhing against him as he continues his onslaught of pleasure.

After only a moment, he slowly pulls his hand back and sits up; you feel the emptiness, whimpering slightly and shivering, desperate for more. He grins, listening to your sounds of need as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“You’ll get it soon…” he hums as if he can read your thoughts, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt, the fabric slowly slipping down his broad shoulders as you remove your own underwear. He swiftly throws the garment to the floor, leaving his chest bare, the dim city lights trickling in from the window and highlighting his softly toned body.

He keeps his black tie, shifting his legs further up your body and grabbing your arms aggressively, but still with a gentle touch.

“I don’t believe you’ll be needing these anymore,” he says, his voice husky as he begins wrapping the tie around your wrists, extending your hands above your head and tying them around the metal bar of the headboard with the fabric.

You watch, still twitching slightly from the earlier stimulation, your eyes moving from your hands and back to his eyes. His gaze darkens, moving away from the headboard and immediately moving his hands back down to your legs.

His fingers travel along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly getting closer to your core, but stopping tantalizingly close. You groan in frustration, your eyes silently begging him to continue.

“I’m gonna need to hear a little more than that,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips as he uses one hand to begin unbuckling his belt.

You purse your lips, gaze wandering down to his slacks as he quickly slips his leather belt from the loops.

“Please…” you murmur, your cheeks growing red in a slight embarrassment.

“Please what?” he teases softly, fingers now beginning to unzip his pants.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tugs his slacks from his hips, the fabric falling to his knees and bunching on the bed. He shifts out of them, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his bulge now even clearer, hidden behind only a thin layer of fabric.

“I… I need you…” you choke out, eyes trying to tear away from his hips.

He smirks, climbing further onto you and placing a hand beside your head, using the other to tug at his boxers. He slips them off his hips, now leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Wanna be a bit more specific than that?” he whispers, leaning in close to your ear as he positions himself between your legs, which instinctively spread and wrap around his hips. He groans softly against your neck, using a hand to pull your hips flush to his as he pushes you down into the mattress.

“I- I need you inside of me… now… please,” you finally stutter, your lips only centimeters from his, your deep breathing synchronized in the silence of the room.

He exhales sharply, your words clearly having an affect on him as he pushes closer into you, his cock slowly trailing up and down your folds, now slick with your juices. Grinding softly into you, moaning in your ear, he lifts your legs further and positions himself over you.

“Tell me you’re ready for me,” he whispers, voice laced with need as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Please,” you nod desperately. “Please…”

He growls softly before crashing his mouth into yours, his lips working against yours passionately as he slides himself into you, keeping your hips pressed into the bed.

You swallow each other’s moans, the kiss growing deeper as he drives his hips faster and faster against yours. Stars dance across the sides of your vision as you take every inch of him, his thrusts pushing himself further inside of you, hitting all the right places.

Your hands tug at your restraints, pulling the fabric as every inch of your body tenses, filled with pure pleasure as the back of your head pushes deeper into the pillow.

“God, you’re… y-you’re so tight…” Hiromi stammers, using one hand to grab the headboard as he continues his onslaught, his hips moving rhythmically against yours.

A soft light flickers into the room from outside, the illumination heightening the shine of his skin, a think layer of sweat beginning to form as he continues to grunt and move against you. His hair falls in front of his face, the gel notwithstanding your activities.

His hand travels down to your legs, hoisting one over his shoulder effortlessly before continuing his pursuit, your body crunching together as your foot almost touches the headboard. The changed angle has him hitting new places, your body beginning to quiver from his measured strokes, beginning to speed up with urgency.

Your labored breathing is again disrupted by another kiss, one which is difficult for either of you to maintain, the sounds of pleasure continuing to fill the room.

His grip on your hip tightens, and it grows clear that he’s trying to hold back, his body taught with both pleasure and pressure. He’s teetering on the edge of release, his arms beside you shaking with the effort of holding back. He slowly shifts onto one hand, moving his other down your body, quickly finding your throbbing clit and massaging it with his thumb.

The newfound sensation sends you closer to the edge, your moans only growing louder as the frequency of slapping skin grows quicker.

“H-Hiromi.. I- I’m gonna-”

“I know…” he grunts, not stopping his rhythm. “Come for me, l-let go…”

His words bring you to your climax, the orgasm rippling though your body, caressing every limb as you gasp and shake against him, tightening around his cock.

The sounds alone are enough to push him over the edge too; his body tenses on top of yours, and he releases a low, guttural moan as he buries his face into your shoulder, his hips moving slower and slower to ride out the wave of pleasure.

Your breathing continues deeply, as if you’re desperate for air, starved for it even. His sweaty body continues to press against yours, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest on top of you as he processes his comedown.

“Y-you… you’re…” he chuckles softly as he struggles to get the words out, slowly bringing his head up to look at you with those familiar, tired eyes.

He scoffs again with a smile, shaking his head and moving to remove the tie from your wrists, gently undoing the tight knots keeping you in place. With your wrists released, you bring them to your chest, gently caressing the tender skin, worn down from the pulling and tugging.

“Mmm… I hope it didn’t hurt too bad,” Hiromi says as he settles beside you, relaxing and putting an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest as you lay next to him.

“It’s alright…” you whisper breathlessly, placing one hand on his chest, feeling the slick sweat still clinging to his skin.

“You know what might help…?” he says, looking down with a slight grin.

“What?"

“A drink.”

Thanks for reading! <3

[nickistuffs]

Learning new things together

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: A night of laughter, billiards, and heartfelt moments with Harry

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None. just fluff

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

…

Harry called you last minute for dinner at a restaurant he’d been excited for you to try, and now here you were, standing in front of your mirror, debating which outfit best suited the occasion. As you held up options and analyzed yourself in the reflection, the doorbell suddenly rang. Glancing at the clock, you frowned—Harry was early.

Opening the door in your soft blue pajamas, you stared at him in disbelief. “Why are you already here?” you asked, baffled at his uncharacteristic punctuality.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, a playful grin spreading across his face as he took in your attire. “Didn’t realize we were having a sleepover, Y/N,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Haha, very funny. But seriously, why are you so early? You could’ve texted me before showing up.”

“I did get us a reservation,” Harry explained, stepping inside, “but it’s gonna take a couple of hours. Thought we could do something fun before dinner.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Oh? What do you have in mind, H?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying keeping you in suspense. “That’s a surprise. But as much as I love the whole pajama look you’ve got going on, I don’t think it’s gonna fly at the place I’m taking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, loser,” you muttered, shaking your head as you disappeared into your room. Emerging a few minutes later, you held up two outfits in your hands. “Alright, my personal stylist—which one’s better?”

“Oh, this one is casual and cute but still chic,” Harry said, pointing to one of the outfits. “Go on, don’t take too long, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and disappeared into your bedroom to change. A few minutes later, you stepped out, now dressed in the chosen outfit, holding a soft rose-colored lip gloss in hand. Facing the mirror, you carefully applied it, pursing your lips and smacking them together to blend the color evenly.

Behind you, Harry leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes locked on your reflection. He was utterly enamored. There was something so captivating about the simplicity of the moment—just you putting on lip gloss—and yet it made his heart flutter.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked softly, his voice warm as he continued to gaze at you, his expression gentle.

Looking at him through the mirror, you smiled and gave a small nod. “Yup,” you replied, the "p" popping, as you turned to grab your bag. Harry chuckled, shaking his head at how effortlessly adorable you were.

...

Once you were ready, Harry led you out to his car, opening the passenger door for you with a playful bow. “Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he teased, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you replied, playing along as you settled into the seat.

Harry got into the driver’s side and started the car, soft music playing in the background as the two of you pulled onto the road. The initial silence was comfortable, but it didn’t take long for the gentle banter to begin.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going, or is this a secret until we get there?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Harry smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “A surprise is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Depends. If this is your plan to ‘murder me’ kind of deal, I’m jumping out of this car right now.”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Noted. No murdering schemes. But I promise it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. “I’ll hold you to that. So, what made you decide to be early tonight? You’re usually on time... well, not this early.”

Harry shrugged, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Felt like surprising you. And I figured you might take forever to get ready.”

“Forever?” you exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “I was ready in record time, thank you very much.”

“Oh, sure,” he teased, glancing at you briefly. “That lip gloss application was lightning fast.”

You smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Don’t mock the process, Styles.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that charming way that made your heart flutter. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The banter continued, shifting from the perils of being ‘fashionably late’ to a heated debate about Which bakery in the city had the best pastries. Time seemed to fly as the conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared laughter and playful jabs.

When the car slowed to a stop at the destination, you realized you hadn’t even noticed the drive. Harry’s company made everything feel light and easy like you could talk to him about anything and never get bored.

…

When the car finally came to a stop, you glanced out the window, squinting at the neon sign glowing above the entrance. “Ohh, a billiards bar?” you said, the surprise evident in your voice as you turned to Harry.

“Not just any billiards bar,” Harry said, grinning as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “This place is legendary. Great vibes, decent music, and I may or may not have had my fair share of victories here.”

You raised an eyebrow, unbuckling your seatbelt as well. “Victories, huh? So, are you challenging me already, Styles?”

He stepped out of the car and moved to your side, opening the door for you. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you. Beginner’s luck and all that.”

You laughed as you got out, straightening your top. “Who said I’m a beginner? I could be a billiards prodigy for all you know.”

Harry smirked, locking the car as the two of you walked toward the entrance. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll have to take this seriously.”

…

Inside, the place was alive with energy. The sound of clinking pool balls mixed with the low hum of conversation and the occasional cheer from a winning shot. Dim lighting, a jukebox in the corner playing a classic rock tune, and the faint scent of wood polish gave the place a cosy, retro vibe.

You both ordered a cocktail to start the night, Harry led you to an empty table in the corner, grabbing a couple of cues from the rack on the wall. He handed one to you with a sly smile. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You took the cue, twirling it as you inspected the table. “Alright, Styles. Don’t cry when I destroy you.”

He chuckled, leaning casually against the table. “Big words. Let’s see if you can back them up.”

The game started lightheartedly, with Harry explaining a few basics and showing off his skills. But as soon as it was your turn, you sunk three balls in a row, leaving him slack-jawed at you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, holding a hand to pause the game. “Are you actually hustling me right now?”

You smirked, lining up your next shot. “I told you, I’m not a beginner.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, Y/N. Game on.”

The rest of the game was filled with laughter and competitive banter. Harry, determined not to lose, pulled out all the stops, even playfully trying to distract you with commentary and exaggerated moves. Despite his antics, you held your own, the friendly rivalry making the evening even more fun.

As he was concentrating on the ball to hit you looked at him under the harsh fluorescent light, you see his brows furrowed and as he was about to hit the ball he poked his tongue out. Adorable god you can’t believe you’re here with him.

…

The game started with a mix of playful banter and a fair amount of determination from both sides. Harry had quickly taken the lead, his confidence evident in the way he lined up each shot with ease. You, on the other hand, were holding your own but quickly realized that Harry had a few tricks up his sleeve.

"Alright, pro," you teased after his third ball sank into a pocket, "you gonna give me a chance, or are you trying to hustle me now?"

He chuckled, leaning casually on his cue stick. "Hustle you? Please, I’m being nice."

You rolled your eyes, lining up for your next shot. The cue ball cracked against the solid yellow, sending it wobbling dangerously close to a corner pocket before missing entirely. Groaning, you straightened up. "Okay, maybe you should hustle me. Clearly, I need the lesson."

Harry grinned, setting his cue aside and walking over to you. "Alright, let me help you out. Can’t have you going easy on me next round."

Before you could protest, he was standing behind you, his hands gently resting over yours as you held the cue. His warmth was impossible to ignore, and your heart skipped as his voice dropped, soft and instructive.

"First off, your aim’s not bad, but your stance could use some work," he said, nudging your feet apart with his own. "There. Now, grip the cue a little lighter—don’t strangle it."

You followed his instructions, your breath hitching when he adjusted your grip with his hands, his touch steady but gentle.

"Now, look straight at the ball you’re aiming for. See that angle? You want the cue ball to hit it right about there," he said, leaning in closer to point. His voice was calm and reassuring, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him.

"Got it," you murmured, though you weren’t sure if you were talking about the shot or the fact that his presence was completely distracting.

"Good. Now take the shot, nice and smooth."

You exhaled and focused, pulling the cue back slowly before sending it forward. The satisfying crack of the cue ball hitting the target ball echoed, and you both watched as it rolled perfectly into the corner pocket.

"Yes!" you cheered, spinning around to face him. "Finally!"

Harry laughed, stepping back but not without giving your shoulder a playful squeeze. "See? Told you you had it in you."

"Only because you helped," you said, grinning.

"Hey, teamwork makes the dream work," he replied, his dimpled smile lighting up his face.

As the game went on, Harry continued to help you, pointing out angles, correcting your form, and cracking jokes that had you laughing between shots. By the end, the score was close—closer than you’d expected.

When Harry narrowly won, he leaned on his cue stick, still catching his breath from laughing at your exaggerated “angry loser” act. "You’re better than I expected," he said, his eyes warm with admiration.

"And you’re just as competitive as I expected," you shot back, nudging him playfully.

His grin widened, dimples in full view. "I had to win. My pride was on the line."

"Well, congratulations, then," you said, setting your cue aside with a mock bow. "But don’t get too comfortable. Next round, I’m taking you down."

"Next round?" he asked, tilting his head, his voice light but his eyes sparkling with hope.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face, your smile matching his. "Yeah, next round."

"Alright," he said, his tone playful but sincere. "Next round, I’ll even let you win… maybe."

"Don’t you dare," you shot back, laughing as you both began setting up for the next game, the warmth of the moment lingering between you.

Taking a break from playing billiards, you and Harry sat at a small, cosy corner table in the bar, sipping on colorful cocktails. The laughter and easy banter from your game lingered, adding warmth to the air between you.

Harry leaned back in his chair, a soft smile on his face as he watched you take a sip of your drink. “You know,” he said, swirling the ice in his glass, “you really gave me a run for my money back there. I almost thought you’d actually beat me.”

You grinned, setting your glass down. “Almost? Harry, I was one lucky shot away from making you cry.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. I’ll just remind you who walked away with the win tonight.”

Before you could come up with a witty retort, Harry’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly as he read the notification.

“Looks like our dinner reservation’s coming up,” he said, setting the phone down and meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I hope you’ve still got room after those snacks we had earlier.”

He chuckled and stood, offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s see if I can keep this streak of impressing you going.”

You took his hand, the warmth of his palm sending a small flutter through you as he helped you up. Together, you walked out of the bar, the evening air crisp but not too cold, the city lights glowing softly around you.

The restaurant he’d chosen was tucked into a quiet street, its glowing sign and warm, candlelit interior immediately setting the tone for something intimate and thoughtful. As the host led you to your table, you couldn’t help but glance at Harry, who seemed oddly proud of himself.

“Alright, I’ll admit it,” you said as you took your seat. “This place is… impressive.”

“Good,” he said, sitting across from you and leaning back in his chair, his confidence still shining through. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

...

You were both scanning the menu, the soft candlelight flickering between you. As your eyes trailed over the prices, your expression shifted slightly. The dishes looked exquisite, but the numbers next to them made you hesitate. Sure, you could afford it, but fancy restaurants like this weren’t exactly your usual scene.

Harry noticed almost instantly. With a gentle nudge of his foot against yours under the table, he broke your concentration.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, it’s my treat. I did invite you to dinner, after all.”

You looked up at him, his easygoing smile instantly putting you at ease. There was no judgment, no expectation—just genuine kindness.

Still, you couldn’t help but want to contribute in some way. Smiling, you said, “At least let me buy us dessert.”

Harry’s grin widened, his dimples making a charming appearance as he leaned back in his chair. “Deal,” he said, his tone light and playful. “But only if you let me pick what we’re getting.”

“Fine,” you replied, laughing softly. “But if you pick something terrible, I’m taking that back.”

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough.”

As you both returned to the menu, the initial nervousness melted away, replaced by the warmth of shared smiles and the growing comfort between you.

...

As the waiter walked away with your orders, you and Harry sat back, the soft hum of conversations and gentle clinking of silverware filling the cozy space around you. The atmosphere between you was relaxed, the kind that made it easy to slip into playful banter.

Harry rested his chin on his hand, his elbow propped casually on the table. “So,” he began with a teasing smirk, “what’s your strategy for dessert? Are you going to go classic or adventurous?”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, I’m absolutely going adventurous. If I’m letting you pick, I’m going to make sure you’ve got good taste in more than just restaurants.”

“Good taste? Have you seen who I’m having dinner with?” he shot back, grinning.

You felt a faint blush creep up your cheeks but decided to play it cool, meeting his grin with one of your own. “Flattery will only get you so far, Styles. But nice try.”

He chuckled, drumming his fingers lightly on the table. “Alright, fine. But let’s be real—you seem like you’re used to being treated well. I bet your past boyfriends had to step up their game to keep up with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment. A sheepish smile spread across your face as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Funny you should say that… because there haven’t been any.”

Harry’s brows shot up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “Wait, none? You’re telling me you’ve never been in a relationship?”

You shrugged, a small laugh escaping. “What can I say? I’ve just never found the right person—or maybe I’m too picky. Or, you know, I’ve been busy walking my neighbor’s dogs and losing at billiards.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment, his expression softening. “Honestly, I don’t get it. You’re smart, funny, and clearly a good sport when you lose—”

“Hey,” you interrupted with mock indignation, making him laugh.

“—and you’ve got this energy about you that makes people want to stick around,” he continued, his tone genuine now. “Anyone would be lucky to call you their girlfriend.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a moment, you were grateful the dim lighting probably hid the color rising in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice carrying a mix of shyness and sincerity. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

Harry smiled, his dimples making another appearance. “Just telling the truth.”

Before either of you could say more, the waiter returned with your drinks, breaking the moment but leaving a warmth between you that lingered as the conversation naturally shifted to lighter topics. By the time the food arrived, you both were laughing again, but the exchange still hung in the back of your mind—a reminder that this night was turning into something more meaningful than you’d expected.

As the plates were cleared and the conversation wound down, you both leaned back in your chairs, a comfortable silence settling over the table. Harry swirled the last of his drink in his glass while you busied yourself with your phone, an idea forming in your mind.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you scrolled. “Gelato’s nice and all,” you said casually, your tone teasing, “but have you ever had bingsu?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Bingsu? Can’t say I have. What is it?”

“It’s like shaved ice, but better,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “It’s fluffy, sweet, and they pile it up with toppings—fruit, condensed milk, red bean, whatever you want. Way better than plain old gelato.”

He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “Better than gelato? That’s a bold claim. You know I’ve spent a lot of time in Italy, right? Gelato’s kind of sacred.”

“Trust me,” you said, holding up your phone triumphantly. “I’m about to convert you. There’s a place just a few blocks from here that’s supposed to be amazing.”

Harry grinned, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. “Alright, I’m in. But if it doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re officially banned from insulting gelato ever again.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, slipping your phone back into your bag as the waiter approached with the check.

Harry reached for the bill without hesitation, but you leaned over, protesting. “Hey, I said I’d at least get dessert!”

“This isn’t dessert,” he said smoothly, handing over his card with a cheeky grin. “This is dinner. Dessert is your department, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Fine. But I’m picking the most extravagant bingsu on the menu.”

“Good,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to help you up. “I’m expecting nothing less.”

As the two of you strolled out into the cool evening air, you led the way to the small café, the excitement bubbling in you. The city lights glimmered around you, the streets quieter now but still alive with a gentle energy.

When you arrived at the café, its warm, inviting glow immediately drew you in. The menu displayed colorful photos of towering bingsu creations, and you could already see Harry’s curiosity growing.

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, scanning the options. “This is next-level.”

“Pick whatever catches your eye,” you said, nudging him playfully. “But I’m warning you—if you go for the chocolate one, you’re missing the real experience.”

Harry smirked, leaning closer to the menu. “Alright, I trust you. You’re the expert. Surprise me.”

With a grin, you ordered a classic strawberry bingsu, complete with fresh fruit, sweet syrup, and a drizzle of condensed milk. When it arrived, the mountain of fluffy shaved ice and vibrant toppings looked like something out of a dream.

Harry stared at it, impressed. “Okay, I’ll admit, it looks amazing.”

“Wait until you taste it,” you said, handing him a spoon. “But don’t eat too fast, or you’ll get brain freeze.”

As you both dug in, Harry’s eyes widened at the first bite. “Alright, you win,” he said, laughing. “This is incredible. Gelato’s got some competition.”

“See?” you said smugly, taking a bite of your own. “Told you.”

The two of you shared the dessert, trading bites and laughing when Harry inevitably ate too fast and winced from the cold. It was a small moment, but one that felt bigger—an easy, shared joy that made the night even sweeter.

...

Leaving the café, you both agreed a short stroll would be perfect to get the digestion moving. The night air was crisp but pleasant, and the gentle glow of streetlights illuminated the path ahead as your footsteps fell into an easy rhythm.

Conversation flowed naturally, weaving between topics like threads in a tapestry. Harry told you a story about his childhood—something about a particularly disastrous attempt at baking with his sister—and you laughed so hard you had to stop walking for a moment to catch your breath. In return, you shared a memory of your own, painting a vivid picture of your younger self that had Harry grinning ear to ear.

From there, the conversation shifted to your current lives—work, hobbies, even the little mundane things that you didn’t realize could feel so interesting when shared with him. He listened intently, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity, and you found yourself surprised by how easy it was to open up.

As you passed a quiet park, Harry slowed his pace, glancing at you with a soft smile. “Y/N,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “you’re so easy to talk to. It’s like… I don’t have to think too hard about what I say or how I say it. I’m just—comfortable.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled back, warmth spreading through your chest. “I feel the same,” you admitted, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation that just… flows, you know?”

He nodded, his expression growing even softer. “I’m really happy I met you.”

You glanced at him, your smile widening. “Me too. Tonight’s been… really nice.”

Harry chuckled, brushing his hand through his hair. “Nice is an understatement. I think tonight’s been one for the books.”

As you continued walking, the silence between you was no longer empty—it was full of unspoken understanding, the kind that comes when two people feel truly seen. The night seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, and you weren’t in any rush to get to the next moment for the first time in a long while. This one was perfect just as it was.

...

Can’t wait for the next one I have in store!

[rosylix143]

hallucination | y. jeongin

pairing: siren!jeongin x princess!reader

genre: fantasy, some angst (with comfort), suggestive

synopsis: you're a hopeless romantic of a princess forced into a loveless marriage. but little did you know that one walk on the beach would bring you to the one thing you deeply desired.

cw: MDNI, forced marriage, feelings of loneliness (let me know if i’m missing any)

wc: 5249

———————————・❥・———————————

It has been a long, boring four days in the new palace. You were preparing yourself to get married to some prince you barely knew from some neighboring kingdom. However, despite the weird circumstances, you still wanted to get to know the prince a bit better. He was tall, handsome, and fit to be a king. He fit the perfect standard for your parents, which is why they were so excited to hear that their proposal was approved. And thus, you were standing outside of his study wearing a very simple yet elegant pink dress—perfect for a princess. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, deep breaths.

You knocked on the door, and all you heard back was a stern “What is it?”

“Your Highness, it’s me….” you replied. Your heart raced a little, feeling a little anxious about what his response could be.

“Come in,” the prince sighed.

You opened the door and stepped into the study. Your eyes widened with the very large and tall mahogany bookshelves with gold accents, sunlight reflecting on them. The curtains were royal blue, and the prince was seated at his large desk with a quill in hand, writing on some paper. The sight of him was captivating. His brown hair was smooth and soft, his blue uniform was well-tailored, covered in a few medals and pins worthy of pride, and his gaze was incredibly focused and alluring.

“What is it?” His tone was sharp and guarded—his eyes barely off the paper. Your hands were shaking a little but you needed to muster up some confidence.

“Your Highness, I was thinking about going out for a walk,” you said, “Perhaps a walk down the beach side.”

“A walk? Why?”

“Well….it is sunny and warm outside, and the tides are calm today.”

“I am very busy right now, Princess. I don’t have time for your frivolous activities.”

“But, Your Highness—”

“If you want to take a walk, then go take a walk. I’m not stopping you.”

You were taken aback by his words. His voice sounded so detached and so dry that he didn’t see why you made the offer in the first place. Of course, you could just go take a walk by yourself, but some company wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, all the Prince did was nothing but sit in his study all day working on whatever work he needed to do, not even spending a minute to look at the Princess who would need to reside in his palace until the end of time.

“Surely, it wouldn’t be too much for you to go for a walk,” you said, your voice a little more proper but also shaky. “I mean you have been sitting at that desk for God knows how long. A break wouldn’t be so bad.”

“A break is something I can’t afford, Princess,” the prince said sternly. “Now, I must ask you to leave. I can’t be distracted now.”

The prince waved off his hand to you dismissively, and another attempt to get closer to him has failed. Your hands were shaking a little, your stomach churned, and your heart became heavy. What’s even the point of this marriage, you thought? Well, of course, you knew what the point was, but maybe you’d hope you could get something worthwhile out of it. But alas, not every royal marriage is like the ones in those books inside your palace’s library.

“Alright then…” you solemnly nodded, “I’ll leave you be. Excuse me…”

You quickly curtsied toward him and left him to continue working tirelessly in his study. As you walked away, you hugged yourself, feeling so pathetic and weak for even bothering to try to make something out of whatever was going to be a loveless marriage anyway. The halls were so long and heavily decorated with royal blue silky curtains, large diamond chandeliers hanging from the sky-high ceilings, royal blue carpets with intricate designs akin to a Turkish rug, and large portraits of monarchs you couldn’t recognize. Despite the lovely interior, there was not a single soul near you that could fill in that emptiness in your soul. You looked out through the windows, eyeing the beach like you did this morning. The sun was three hours away from setting, and the tides looked like they were made from diamonds at a distant eye.

After a long walk out of the palace, you finally reached the beach. The beach was more beautiful up close. The sun was now meeting the horizon, creating a gorgeous road of yellow light, the skies burning orange and light pink, and the water was still shimmering like a pirate’s treasure. The winds were cool, but not freezing. It felt nice on your skin, and the smell of the sea and the calls of the seagulls made your muscles feel less tense.

You stared and stared into the distant sea, amazed at how vast it really was. What was beyond there, you wondered. What if there is more to life than just marrying some aloof prince? Your heartstrings were tugged once again, the pit of loneliness within you stirring some more. Back in your kingdom, you at least had the lovely maids you would make easy conversation with, the friendly palace guards who you could joke around with, and even your parents when they were on their good days. But now? You’re a foreign princess in a kingdom with no one to give you the time of day and expected to go through with a loveless marriage.

You clutched the seashell necklace hanging around your neck, as the tears poured down your cheeks. Your knees hit the cool sand, and the tides reach your dress, the seawater soaking the fabric. Your stomach churned even more and you began to feel dizzier, your head feeling lighter as all the sadness poured out of your eyes. The tears dropped down like rain, creating ripples in the water left in the sand before the tide returned again and again and again. Your cries were soft, but you wished that they were loud enough to hear. You wished that the Prince could hear them. Maybe then he would be more willing to spend time with you.

Suddenly, a large tide came forward and hit your face, completely soaking your hair, skin, and dress. You jumped and snapped out of your crying session for a second. The taste of the salt wasn’t very pleasant, despite the sea’s beauty. You quickly moved back from the moving tides, and in that moment, you realized just how ruined your dress was. The fabric was clinging onto you like a second skin, wet sand was crusting every crease and dip, and it would take forever to get the brown stains off the pretty pink. You stood up to quickly brush the sand off, and something caught your eye: a large blue glimmering conch shell. You looked at the conch curiously, noticing that the color was very unusual for a conch. You crouched down to the wet sand to grab the conch, and you were amazed by how iridescent the blue was. You hadn’t really seen anything like it. The closest could be the iridescent purple shell on your neck. You brought the conch close to your ear to listen to the waves more closely, but to your surprise, you heard something peculiar.

Singing?

It was a melody you never heard before, and yet, it made your chest cave in. Your heartbeat rose and fell as the notes went up and down so elegantly. It was like hearing an angel sing. It was so enchanting, but something about it felt so seductive. It was spellbindingly beautiful, and something stirred in your stomach. Your body shivered, as if the one singing was right behind you, caressing your skin with his webbed hands and sharp pearly nails—his cool breath on your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The presence hugged you from behind, pulling you close to it. A breath was coaxed out of you as your skin burned with need. Your heart was racing so much that you could feel it pounding. The singing grew more captivating and intense, and you looked at the cave close by, hearing some sort of call in some mythical language you couldn’t understand.

The conch left your hands, and you gradually walked and walked toward some cave that was close by. The singing only got louder and louder as you got closer to it, and the pull got stronger and stronger. You took more steps closer to the cave before you finally entered it. The cave was darker than the night sky, but the only source of light was the large pool of water with what looked like bioluminescent plants underneath, creating that blue glow. The light was bouncing off the cave walls, making the place look like you were underwater. You walked closer and closer to the pool of water, the singing got louder, echoing in the depths of the cave, and your eyes widened at the scene before you.

Next to the pool, there was a large rock, and on there sat a creature that could only be described in legends. His hair was as black as squid ink, his skin was smooth and shiny like porcelain, and a tail with sparkly iridescent purple and blue scales with the largest pair of fins at the end. His face was akin to an angel’s: round, smooth, eyes shaped like a fox’s, and his voice was even more enchanting up close. The creature was lying back on the large rock, flopping his tail, tracing the intricate patterns of light reflected onto the cave walls, and singing a melody.

You stepped into the water, completely entranced by the creature’s beauty. He looked straight out of some fairy tale you’ve read. The creature took a glance at you and suddenly stopped singing, breaking the trance that you were in. You fell into the water, splashing it everywhere. It was like waking up from a long dream, the adrenaline in your veins suddenly spiked up, and you frantically analyzed the area you were in, not remembering how you got in the cave. Your mind was racing, realizing that you had to go back to the kingdom. You quickly got out of the water, shivering so much from the cold. You turned away, facing the direction you came from, all ready to reach the cave’s entry again—

“Well, well. A princess has entered my domain.”

You stopped again and looked behind you. Your eyes finally met those of the creature. His brown eyes closed into little upside-down crescents as he flashed a rather cute but a little devious smile. Your heart suddenly felt a pull towards him, as if it was forbidden to look away from him.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice a little trembled than intended.

“Just someone who lives in this cave,” he replied, sliding off the rock and swimming his way towards you. Once he pops his head out of the water he analyzes you carefully, already loving the way your wet dress clings onto your skin, revealing more of your curves and body underneath the semi-translucent fabric. His eyes were even captivated by the seashell hanging from your necklace, loving the familiar shape and color. “For a princess, you look rather ruined. So what brings you here?”

“I don’t know…” you tried to recall the memory you had before entering the cave. A couple more seconds later, you suddenly remember. “There was a conch. I heard a voice inside of it—”

“A conch?” the creature laughs a little, realizing what you meant. “Oh, so it was that conch. It was my voice that led you here.”

“That was you?” you asked—more like a confirmation—and suddenly remembered just how beautiful his voice was, creating sensations you have never felt before in your life. “I thought you sirens were a myth.”

“That’s what they all say, my Dear Princess. Little do humans know that myths come from some truth too miraculous to believe.”

“How did you know I’m a princess? I haven’t even told you my name.”

“Sirens like me know a princess when they see one,” the siren stirs his index finger in the water idly. “Besides, you just have the kind of elegance and attitude of a princess. But it is true that you haven’t told me your name.”

You pondered for a second whether or not to give the creature your name, but you also couldn’t help but want to revel in this conversation a bit more. It’s not every day you get to talk to a siren. In most fairy tales, the sirens would skip the conversation and go straight to eating the souls of lost sailors or greedy pirates. Not to mention, it felt almost refreshing to have a real conversation with someone after a couple of days of near to total isolation in your betrothed’s palace.

“Y/N….that’s my name,” you finally said.

“Y/N…” the siren repeated, rolling your name off his tongue as if he was tasting it—his voice like velvet. “Very fitting for a princess.”

“And yours?”

“Jeongin.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you curtisied, all while your mind was littered with many questions aching to come out. “What’s a siren like you doing in this cave? Aren’t sirens supposed to be in the deep seas?”

Jeongin chuckles, finding your question a little cute.

“The deep seas became quite a bore. Pirates were barely sailing on my end, sailors grew to know better, so it left me all alone in my old sea cave. So I swam here instead, maybe to mess around with some naive humans nearby.”

Your eyes widened at his answer. A siren residing close to a kingdom? Unheard of.

“But there’s a whole kingdom close to this cave,” you said, as you decided to sit down on the ground, meeting him at eye level. “Are you sure that you’re okay staying here?”

“I’m a siren, Princess. I have ways of defending myself from enemies.”

“Don’t you also get lonely? I mean….just being in this cave all by yourself sounds isolating.”

Jeongin stopped at your words, looking at you with curiosity and confusion. Why would a princess be concerned about a siren’s loneliness? Let alone, a siren she just met?

“I don’t feel lonely,” Jeongin answered, “I get bored, but I don’t feel lonely.”

“Really?”

“A siren’s sole purpose is to kill and destroy. We didn’t have much to do in the first place.”

“But having company’s nice right?”

Jeongin looked into your eyes, noticing how much wonder and curiosity lay beneath them. Normally, humans who faced him would look at him with eyes of fear, despair, or just pure malice. But you? The complete opposite. You were an interesting one, to say the least.

“Yeah….I guess so,” Jeongin nods.

The siren ponders a little, not understanding why you weren’t so scared of him at first. Many humans he has met would either try to sail away as far as they could or go straight in for the kill. Either you were stupidly naive or you were incredibly fearless, Jeongin wasn’t sure. However, the conversation was cut short when the sounds of the loudest palace bells echoed across the land. Your heart jumped at the sudden sound, but it sank, realizing you had to return to the palace.

“The Princess has to go home now, doesn’t she?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, right before remembering the awful state of your dress. Heat flushed to your cheeks in embarrassment, and you realized how disgraceful it would be to walk into the palace in such a state. “I can’t go back like this!! My dress is completely ruined.”

Jeongin chuckled, finding your little crisis amusing.

“Oh, Princess, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal,” he assured, “Just say that you tripped and fell into the sea.”

“But everyone’s going to say that’s not Princess-like at all” you replied, blood rushing with adrenaline, your stomach churning, already feeling so humiliated. “The Prince is going to think I’m some fool.”

“Your dress is dry now. Besides, I’m sure your beauty will be distracting enough.”

Jeongin said it so casually, but you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment from him. Before you could say anything, you heard the galloping of horses, the clanks of fine equipment, and the commanding voices of the men from outside of the cave. Palace guards. You instantly got up from the ground and looked back at Jeongin who was still in the water, eyeing you intently.

“You’re leaving now?” he asked.

“Yeah…the guards are looking for me probably…” you gulped, looked away from the siren, and stepped away. But the moment you took your first step, you felt something deep within your soul. It was unexplainable. It was a funny feeling—a deep urge—that wouldn’t leave you. However, you knew that you had to press on. “You’ll still be in this cave, yes?”

“Why ask?” Jeongin wasn’t expecting such a question.

“I don’t know. Just wondering.”

“Yes, I’ll be here," Jeongin replied, feeling a little skeptical, but you smiled at his answer. He didn’t know why his heart skipped two beats. He didn’t even know why you would have wanted to know if he was still in the cave or not. But before he could ask, you left the cave, returning to the guards and thus back to the palace.

Jeongin was very sure you wouldn’t come back. What sane human being would go back to a dangerous creature? Most humans who have escaped a siren would never step foot near one ever again. And besides, you’re just a princess in some kingdom, probably already busy with whatever business royals do. However, you never failed to catch him by surprise.

You gave up on trying to get to know the cold prince, and you continued to see the siren in his dark cave every evening instead. You would just walk back into the cave, sit close to the pool, and have talks with the siren. Either about some of your stories as a human princess, and he would share his. You told him about the many balls and galas you had to attend, dancing with whatever suitors your parents threw at you, and Jeongin shared his stories about drowning pirates who dared to enter his territory.

They were pleasant conversations, sure, but Jeongin couldn’t understand why you kept pursuing them. He, himself, didn’t understand why he bothered to entertain you. After all, you were just a human. It didn’t matter if you were of royal blood or peasant blood, sirens treated them all the same. Jeongin could easily steal your soul—make you his completely with just one note. But why hasn’t he? Maybe it was your deep curiosity about sirens that was stopping him, or maybe he was the curious one.

It was another evening with just you and Jeongin in the cave. You walked into the cave wearing another simple yet elegant blue dress with a picnic basket in your hands. Jeongin’s eyebrows raised, and his stomach growled with the smell that was coming from the basket.

“What’s with the basket?” he asked.

“Just thought I’d treat you to something,” you replied. You sat down close to the pool, fanning your dress out on the ground, and you opened the picnic basket, letting the food’s aroma escape. Jeongin’s stomach growled once more. “I wasn’t sure about what sirens usually eat besides human souls, but maybe some cooked salmon would suffice?”

You brought out a small box and opened it, presenting a plate of delicious salmon. Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he never knew that salmon could look so appetizing, along with the mouth watering smell. You also brought out a bottle of wine, two small glasses, and a cloth that contained fresh fruits.

“You brought all of this for me?” Jeongin asked.

“I figured I’d have dinner with you,” you said, “Care for a bite?”

You took out a fork, picked a piece of the salmon, and offered it to him. Jeongin sniffed the little piece and he wrapped his mouth around your fork, taking the bite. His eyes widened at the taste. It wasn’t like anything he ate before. It was perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection, unlike the raw and bland salmons he ate back in the ocean. You chuckled at how surprised he was by the taste.

“Tasty?” you asked.

“Very,” Jeongin said, “I never had salmon like this before. Didn’t know you humans were capable of making them taste good.”

You offered him more salmon to eat, along with the delicious fruits and wine. It’s been a long while since he’s had something to eat, let alone a companion to share this food with.

“So you sirens don’t eat food like this?” you asked.

“It’s either raw fish or human souls,” Jeongin answered nonchalantly.

“What do human souls taste like?”

“They taste like….I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Do they taste like nothing?”

“If they tasted like nothing, I wouldn’t get why sirens love eating them.”

You laughed at his honesty. His answer did make you wonder about it more. Maybe human souls have different flavors depending on the person, or maybe the taste is so complex that humans can’t imagine it. What do human souls look like? Are they just a large ball of light or do they take the form of the person? Jeongin looked at you more, loving the way your eyes crinkled and the melody of your laughter. It stirred something deep in him. Something about your laughter and beauty felt so familiar to him, but he couldn’t understand why. There was even something about the seashell hanging from your necklace. He remembered seeing it before, but he couldn’t recall where. Why would a human feel familiar? It was like your voice and presence was some kind of call or spell made just for him. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were a fellow siren.

“Don’t you find this strange?” he asked.

“Find what strange?

“It’s strange that a princess like you would be interested in a siren’s company. We’re all just heartless monsters, you know that right?”

“I don’t think you’re heartless,” you said.

“Really?” Jeongin’s eyebrow raised with a judging look. “Like I said before. Sirens are meant to kill and destroy. You don’t even know the amount of humans left unfound in the deep seas because of me, Princess. If anything, you should run away from me. Maybe you’re next.”

“But you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Who said so?” Jeongin scoffed. It was almost laughable just how naive you might’ve been. If he told that to any other human, they would’ve run away fast. “You don’t know if I’m planning on it.”

“Jeongin…” you said his name so sweetly, and it sent shivers down his spine. However, at the same time, it infuriated him a little. Why would you think he wasn’t heartless, he thought. He could’ve just killed you the moment you walked into his cave. He had every opportunity to just sing his song and kill you like sirens are supposed to. Why haven’t I?

“You’re naive if you think I’m not dangerous, Y/N,” he said.

“Why didn’t you hurt me then?” you challenged, “You said sirens are heartless, but you didn’t take the opportunity to kill me. Whenever I sit with you, you don’t push me away. You didn’t even try to lure me in with your singing. You took the time to listen to my stories, and moments ago, you were enjoying the food I brought. Maybe I am naive for not being afraid of you, but, Jeongin, the truth is…you made me feel less alone in this kingdom.”

Your voice was trembling slightly, letting that vulnerability slip through at your last words. Jeongin’s heart panged a little. Maybe it was the soft and solemn tone of your voice. Maybe it was the look in your eyes, as they become glazed with tears. Or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever told him such things. Less alone?

“You’re lonely. Aren’t you, Princess?” he finally asked.

His gaze was stark and alluring, just like his voice. Your heart began to race, your breath was caught in your throat, and you could feel his eyes eagerly looking at you trying to pick at your vulnerability. It was like he was looking deeply into your soul.

“Yeah, I am,” you nodded.

Jeongin’s eyes widened a little, still surprised by your answer.

“How could a princess be so lonely?” he asked.

“This isn’t even my kingdom, Jeongin. I am stuck here because my parents are marrying me off to a man who won’t love me. I wanted to spend time with him to get to know him more, but no matter what, he pushed me away. He probably sees me as some political pawn. And I just feel so out of place all the time when I’m there. I feel like an intruder. A nuisance of a princess….”

You said it with a heavy heart. Tears were beginning to pour out once you finally finished your piece. Your breath hitched as the river from your eyes dripped onto your dress, making little puddles that seeped into the fabric. Jeongin looked at you as you softly cried, his heart breaking a little at the sight. He knew that he shouldn’t feel bad for a human, but he couldn’t help it. Because if anything, there was something about you and your pain that resonated in him. Maybe that was another reason why he left his old sea cave.

“Oh, you poor princess….” Jeongin whispered.

He reached his hand out to caress your cheek, and you instantly melted into his touch. It feels the same touch you felt at the beach. Your skin was warming with want, and the gaze in his eyes was reawakening that desire within you. You pulled away a little, but you were easily pulled back in. You almost didn’t realize just how close your face was to his—your noses almost touching.

“You shouldn’t have to marry that man,” Jeongin said a little sternly.

“Jeongin…”

You swallowed a bit, realizing just how Jeongin’s siren gaze was seeping deep into your soul. And the sternness of his voice made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, Jeongin reached for your hand. Your heart stopped for one moment, and Jeongin was just taking his time touching your arm. He even brushed his cheek against your wrist with so much care and gentleness, despite his pearl nails being so sharp, wet, and cold. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and the heat was rushing to your cheeks. He then began to hum a soft melody. His beautiful voice vibrated in his throat and against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“What are you doing, Jeongin?” you asked.

Jeongin looked at you with innocent eyes before saying, “I can see your wants, Y/N, your needs…all of it.”

“What are you—”

“Don’t go back to that kingdom. Stay here with me.”

Your breath was caught in your throat, never expecting the sudden demands from him. His grip got tighter, his hums making your body feel a little weak. You yelped a little the moment he pulled you into the cold water. Your dress was immediately soaked. The fabric stuck to your skin and became a little more transparent. Your legs brushed against his cold, scaly tail. His arm was wrapped around your waist, and he held you tight, coaxing a breath out of your lungs. You arched your back slightly from the feel of his wet webbed hand. You pressed your hand against his bare muscled chest, slightly touching the small scales on his skin. Jeongin shuddered at the slight touches, and he pulled you closer. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin.

“You smell so lovely,” Jeongin says with a sultry tone, almost hypnotizing and out of breath. “like fresh seafoam and the sweetest flowers.”

“Are you okay? What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, but I also can’t deny that something in me aches for you, Princess...Something about you calls to me. I didn’t know this could happen to sirens…”

He sniffed your neck more, your scent bringing out a carnal need from within him. The urge to sing and devour grew stronger—his sanity hanging by a thread. Jeongin didn’t want to give in, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. He wanted you. He needed you. His webbed hands traveled up and down your back, feeling the vibrations of your soul, as he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck. You melted into his touch like butter—your skin scorching, and your heart pounded against his.

“Jeongin!—” your breath was heavy, and you whined as he dug his teeth into your neck, wanting to at least get a taste of you. He groaned at the softness and plushness of your skin. He bit down a little harder to leave a red mark, and you whined again but louder. “Jeongin, please—”

“I’m sorry, Princess…I just couldn’t help myself…Gods, you have bewitched me.”

Jeongin’s voice…it was so rough and restrained like he’s trying hard to not let his inner beast out. Heat pooled down in your body, especially as you felt Jeongin’s siren tongue against the bite marks he left, making you moan and whimper.

“You really wanna know what human souls taste like?” he asked, his voice still husky and his breath labored. “They do have a taste. It’s mostly boring, but it can be sweet. And I bet…that yours is the sweetest of them all….”

Jeongin kissed your neck more, grabbing your thighs and pulling you close. He really loved the feeling of your body pressed against his. The scales on his body and tail created friction between you two. It didn’t help that he was seconds away from tearing your dress off. Your lungs forced out more labored breaths, and you couldn’t even hear anything properly because of your pounding heart. Your body was on fire, your head spun, and Jeongin was pulling you down in the water. You were like a ship willingly sinking to the siren’s will, captive to his hypnotizing tune.

“I can make you less lonely, Princess…” Jeongin said, almost out of breath. “I can show you the deep seas I came from, I can sing you the beautiful melodies that sank the largest of ships, things you couldn’t even imagine. I can make you my companion for life. I’ll be someone worthwhile to you, unlike that human prince. Would you want that, Y/N?”

His voice ached with desperation and intense desire. He lifted your chin up to look deep into his eyes. His siren eyes. His lustful gaze made your soul sing. Jeongin’s whole face was like a hallucination. He was too beautiful. Too unreal with his squid ink hair, his skin smooth like porcelain, his fox eyes, and of course, his spellbinding voice. Even when he wasn’t singing, his voice was still the most beautiful music you’ve heard. He didn’t need to actually sing for you to fall deeply for him. You were falling anyway, drunk on his touch alone. You leaned in closer to him and pressed your soft lips against his before letting out a hushed answer.

“Yes, my siren…”

———————————・❥・———————————

a/n: let me know what ya’ll thought :))) feel free to reblog if you liked it <3

masterlist | taglist

[the-peak-tmnt]

So Leo sees the world through Raphs or his other brothers eyes right? Does it look normal or is it like fuzzier or blurrier? Or maybe the vision isn't blurry but the comprehension of whats happening blurs in and out a little bit?? I bet Leos perspective of everything happening is so disorientating and sad. Anyway here's a drawing I did. I really like your work!

AHHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!

Holy shit, I love this so much! The colors are amazing, especially with Leo and his shadow against them. And the way he’s boxed in to reflect his captivity…incredible imagery! Raph and Mikey's expressions are just so perfect, too! Just WOW dude! I’m so blown away by your visual interpretation of what Leo is seeing!!!

Thank you so much for the fan art 😭 It’s impossible to express how much it means to me when people are inspired by the story enough to create something. Seriously just so, so, SO rewarding, and it inspires me right back! THANK YOU!

Also, I love this question! I'm absolutely dying to reveal more about how the mental link between the brothers works, and how Leo experiences the world  beyond the place he’s being kept through Raph.

If things go according to plan, we will learn more about this in about 3 to 4 chapters. But I can’t help myself but give a little bit away early since you asked! If you aren’t afraid of some tiny spoilers, I’ll add more below the cut!

SPOILERS (KINDA?)

You totally hit the nail on the head! I literally have the word “disorienting” in my WIP document for a later chapter, because that’s the perfect description of how it feels for Leo at first.

As he continues to develop his skills over time, things become clearer whenever he “tags along” with Raph. He didn’t lie to Raph in Chapter 13 about not being able to hear Raph’s thoughts as clearly as he can when they’re in the dream room together. When Raph is awake and Leo is tagging along, he’s perceiving Raph’s sensory experience more so than his emotional state.

The turtles’ emotional states DO affect the “quality” of the connection, though. It’s implied that Leo’s been experiencing whatever media Raph is watching through the mind link, and that it’s clear enough that Leo can even hear dialogue. That’s because Raph is relaxed and (more or less) content when just hanging out watching YouTube or a movie.

The more unsettled, upset, or distressed Raph is, the less Leo can connect. This is why Leo tells Raph “I couldn’t feel you for a while” in Chapter 6. Raph had a panic attack/dissociative episode after speaking with Splinter, so Leo wasn’t able to connect with him at all. Leo doesn’t understand that’s what happened, though, thinking instead he maybe pushed the limits of their connection too far…

That being said, how everything works could very well change…if Raph ever decides to pick up that book again 😉

PS: I am losing my mind that you included Casey as something Leo saw! Because even though Raph/the reader doesn’t know it yet, Leo is aware that Casey has entered Raph’s life and this is IMPORTANT AHHHHHHH

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

If you want an angstier prompt/don’t have too many others, how about Callum and Rayla comforting each other in the aftermath of their captivity aboard the Sea Legs?

Oh I am always up for some Finnegrin's Wake-related angst, thank you so much for the prompt!!

Rayla expected Callum to smile when she pulled back from their hug, to see the relief coursing through her body reflected on his face. Instead, his expression was… blank. It sent a jolt of confusion through her before her brain found the explanation. 

Shock. Of course he was in shock, he’d been beaten— and he must have been terrified—

Rayla stood. “I’m going below to get some medical supplies. Finnegrin must have a stash of something that can fix up your face. Not that it needs fixing, it’s still quite handsome, it’s just… well, it looks like it hurts.”

She glanced at Callum, her face hot, but his still countenance didn’t crack. He just nodded.

“…Okay then. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Rayla squeezed his hands and stood, making her way to the stairs that led belowdecks. She had just reached the first step when Callum’s voice stopped her.

“Below? Wait, no— Rayla!”

She shook her head, continuing down the stairs. “It’s really no trouble,” she called back. “I’m sure I can find something.”

“No— wait!”

It was the desperation in his voice that stopped her, a tone far more agonized than that of someone who just wanted to spare her an inconvenience. Did Finnegrin have more crew members down here she wasn’t aware of? Was Callum afraid she’d see what he used to torture him?

A hiss echoed down the dark hall, and Rayla tensed, grabbing her blades. She squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the source of the noise. Had Finnegrin tortured Callum with some kind of electric eel?

“Rayla,” Callum hissed. “Just— come back up here. Please.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid of whatever he’s keeping down here, Callum. Whatever it is, it’s never going to hurt you again.”

Another hiss drew her attention back to the hall. Two slithering figures emerged— were they really eels? No… snakes. Snakes with glowing green eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Rayla cut both their heads off in a single motion and turned to Callum, stumbling back when she realized he’d reached the bottom step. He looked from the bodies to Rayla and opened his mouth, and she tensed instinctively, trying to figure out how to respond to whatever he could possibly say. 

But instead, he burst into tears.

Heaving, open-mouthed sobs wracked his entire body as he sank to the floor, crying in a way she hadn’t seen him cry since he had found out his stepfather was dead. The force of it reopened the cut on his lip, the tears coursing down his cheeks mixing with the blood and falling in pink drops to the floor.

“I— know— I— shouldn’t— have—" he gasped between sobs. “I knew the ocean arcanum, I understood that I— I shouldn’t try to control everything— but you were screaming, and screaming, and then you stopped— and I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose you— and that makes me as bad as them, as Claudia and Viren, I know it does, but I—"

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a round of tears that left him no breath to talk.

Rayla expected to feel the insidious, bone-chilling horror she’d felt the last time she’d seen him do this: rip the life from a magical creature in order to give life to a set of chains. She expected the righteous fury of knowing he’d crossed a line he absolutely shouldn’t have. But none of it came. All she could feel was a heaviness settling over her shoulders, her chest, sinking her to the floor beside her mage with an overwhelming sadness— and gratitude.

I’d do anything for you, he’d told her, and he had proven it. This was a person who loved absolutely, who cared about her so profoundly he would carry a guilt this deep forever for her. And yet— the thought didn’t scare her. It wasn’t the same obsessive love that had consumed Claudia, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she desperately searched her mind for the words to make him believe that.

“Callum,” she murmured as she thought, “I just need you to breathe for me. Nice and slow. Can you do that?”

She felt his nod, and took a deep breath to demonstrate, setting a pointed rhythm until she felt Callum’s chest rise and fall to match it.

“Good. Now.” She let him go to place her hands on his shoulders. “How did Claudia react the first time she did dark magic? Do you remember?”

Callum furrowed his brow, clearly confused about why she was asking, but answered in a small voice. “Well, she was sick for a few days.”

“And then?”

“She was… giddy. I remember her dancing all through the halls of the castle, talking about it to anyone who would listen. She was so happy she could do magic, so proud.”

Rayla nodded. “I thought so. And Viren? Did he ever seem unhappy after doing magic?”

“Not that I can recall.”

Rayla squeezed his shoulders. “But you hate it. Yes, you did it, and it was bad— but there isn’t a single part of you that feels empowered by it. That’s what makes you different than them. All of you have done things for love that you regret— but you never once tried to justify it to me.”

Callum let out a long breath and nodded. His head slumped against his chest for a long moment before he raised it again, finally meeting her eyes.

“Can you forgive me?”

She let go of his shoulders to shove him lightly. “Well, let’s see. You just saved me and all our friends from an evil pirate. We’ve established that you regret using dark magic and never, ever want to use it if you can help it. Beyond that, you risked your life to find a spell to free my parents even though one of them killed your stepfather, you let me live in your castle for weeks, and you forgave me for being stupid enough to walk out of your life for two years.”

Callum managed a small smile, and Rayla cupped his chin in her hand, drawing his head close enough to rest her forehead on his. 

“We’re good, Callum. You’re good. I promise.”

He let out a long exhale, leaning into her touch. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice stronger.

“That being said,” Rayla said, drawing back, “if you want to make it up to me, you can let me patch up your face.”

“I thought you said it was handsome.”

“And imagine how handsome it’ll be when it isn’t covered in blood.” She stood and offered him her hand.

Callum took it without hesitation, allowing her to pull him to his feet, and finally, he gave her a full smile. 

[menshusband]

Hi hi!! How about 🤝, 💞 and 💖 for whoever you'd like?

Hiiyaa Ghosty ! Thanks for the ask ! <33

I think I’ll have Alastor reply to these :)

🤝 Have your F/O tell the story of how the two of you first met.

“Ah, what an unforgettable day, I must say! I cherish the memory. I was fairly new to hell, though had managed to find my way rather quickly, admittedly. ‘t was a day no different from any other, except for the fact that, unbeknownst to myself, I was about to meet the most splendid soul in all of creation! Ahah!

“But I digress—where was I? Ah, yes. I was peacefully walking my way back from my daily broadcasting, in order to meet up with the charming Rosie, and as I went to check my pocket watch to make sure I was on time—oh dear! It had stopped working! That just wouldn’t have done, don’t you think? And so that is how I came to know about a watchmaker and his rather modest workshop, both having an excellent reputation amongst Cannibal Town.

“After informing my dear Rosie about the inconvenience (the lady also suggested that I checked out the little bug’s workshop!), I soon found myself entering said watch-making place—a rather comforting space, I must admit. Thinking it curious that no one was there when the sign clearly claimed that they were “open”, I rang the bell, and immediately he came zooming from the back-shop.

“Truly a sight for sore eyes, Cecil was—and still is. As he warmly welcomed me and apologised for the brief absence, he pulled up on his head the singular goggle he was working with and ran a hand along his adorable little antennae to fix them. All the while looking incredibly charming, trust my word. I simply could not tear my gaze off of them as they quickly worked through my watch’s insides once I’d told him it was an urgent service.

“Naturally, kind as ever, he offered said urgent service on the house and invited me to come back any time (with some quarters on me next time! Ahah! What a humourous man).

“Much to my dismay, neither that first time, nor ever, I’m afraid, will I learn or understand just how interestingly Cecil’s job works, for his furrowed, focused face while he finds and fixes the problems in the clockworks is much more captivating, entertaining and fascinating than whatever his fingers are busying themselves with.”

💞 Have your F/O tell us about something they love about you that you don't like about yourself.

“Why, gladly! I’m afraid my little bug is self-conscious about some parts of him he should appreciate more.

“For example: his smile, and more specifically, his toothy grins. My darling keeps insisting that his teeth are ‘crooked, too small, unsalvageable and I don’t want to talk about it! ’. I, on the other hand, see his smile for what it is: a blessing. You’d think ‘ but Alastor, how do you, a damned soul, know what a blessing is like? ’; well, my dear, blind reader—because you would certainly recognise when you see one, don’t you agree? :)

“Another thing that ticks Cecil when looking in the mirror, I’ve noticed, is his tummy, alongside the shape of his body. For the first one, I fear the little bug cannot find its fat appreciable—and I must strongly disagree! I do not understand how he believes hugging a quite skinny man such as myself feels better than that beautifully soft body of his!

“As for his body shape—most of you might be aware of the fact that, when alive, my darling was born in the wrong body, and he was bound to put up with it until the day he arrived in hell. When they got here, I’ve been told, they were delighted to see they finally had the perfect body! Flat chest and unaltered, ahehm, nether regions, if you know what I mean. But as he got to catch his reflection in the mirror, he realised with horror that this body, too, had an hourglass shape!

“Seriously speaking, I fear my little bug sees this body type as too feminine for himself. I make sure to remind him whenever he needs that he is a truly comely fellow, and nobody thinks his body resembles that of a woman. Moreover, I always ensure he remembers how absolutely entertaining I find it to run my hands down his sides and all the way to his hips, just to get to see him tense up and shake under my touch evvvvery time, hmhmhm!”

💖 Have your F/O tell us about a hidden quality of yours they love.

“Ooh, a tricky question indeed. Cecil does have many hidden qualities, merely because he is too shy to show them off. A lovely quality itself, their humility. But if I had to pick one of the many, that would potentially be his singing voice, and his passion for music. I myself am fond of music, and admire his dedication when singing in the shower, hehe. I do enjoy myself listening to him playing out his little musicals.”

[sirspazingtonthefourth]

Skylight: Chapter 4

1.5k words. Hawks and an OC (Not Romantic!) Fluff with some angst, Found family sort of. Content Warnings: Cursing, isolation, mentions of abuse, blood-letting, let me know if I missed any

Summary: Keigo finds out what exactly has been happening to the kid.

A/N: Hey, another update! I'm probably going to try and get the rest of the fic up today, since I'm thinking about it. I'm also going to go back and change the summaries to reflect the chapter content, that'll be fun.

Whenever Keigo visited after that he brought a few books with him, mostly children’s books to help preschoolers learn sign language. The kid, he found quickly, couldn’t read. They stared at the hiragana the same way he remembered looking at English letters when the Commission had taught him. So he would quietly sound out the words for them, then sign the word. It was a learning exercise for the both of them, and the two of them were soon able to hold short, simple conversations.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am good. How are you, Keigo?”

“I’m fine. It’s cold outside.

“It is cold here. The nest is warm. Keigo, you will follow me.”

The kid’s nest was indeed warm, he found out. Despite being crafted mostly from thin, ratty blankets, the thick one he’d got at the start of winter did a lot to insulate it, and the clothes he’d brought before lent the thing some extra structure.

It was in a different place every time the kid offered to bring him to it. He suspected they just wanted him to know where they were, in case they didn’t respond. He was glad they did come early spring.

The recording devices had picked up on the sounds from whatever happened before the kid got fresh bandages, which had happened regularly, every two weeks or so, throughout the winter. It was a lot of screaming from the kid, a lot of cursing from the man holding them captive, and the occasional word from a third person, younger than the man. This new person, a buyer of some variety it seemed, sounded raspy, and he spoke softly. The only reason Hawks knew he was a client was that the man would respond occasionally that he’d “get his product once this little rat held the fuck still.”

Whatever it was they were doing, it left the kid exhausted after. Exhausted enough that, in the early weeks of spring, Keigo had to search the attic for them. He’d long since become accustomed to avoiding the creaking on the attic floor, following the kid’s movements as they played with his feathers and led him around the dark room.

He found them curled up on the floor. The kid was pale, like they normally were when the bandages were changed. Except there were no bandages this time. The kid was sprawled out, arms extended to show pockmarks up and down the inside of their arms. They were concentrated near their wrists and elbows, but there were some in other places. There was some bloody tubing nearby. One end was attached to a large needle, the other held what looked like a screw top, a few empty vials nearby that looked like they would fit on.

The kid was heaving for breath, eyes hardly open enough to scan the room as he got closer. He tried to sign to them, but they didn’t seem like they could see properly.

“Kid, what happened?” he whispered.

Slowly, shaking as they did, the kid raised one hand to tap their other arm, wincing as they did. Then they traced their finger along their bottom lip.

“Arm is red.” That didn’t make sense. He knew their arm was red. He could see it, some of the pockmarks were leaking blood still.

And there was tubing and empty vials right next to him.

“Are they taking your blood?” His kid just laid still. They were still breathing, labored and slow, but they didn’t move otherwise. “Dammit. Just… stay here, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

Keigo tucked a feather into the kid’s shirt, all the way beneath them so it wouldn’t be found easily, then quietly strode towards the skylight. He made it out right as he heard the attic door open.

He listened through his feather as he flew, trying to remember what foods the nurses in hospitals recommended him when he’d lost a lot of blood. The man knelt down, berating the kid as he pulled on them. They whimpered and he snarled at them to shut up before going back to whispered words.

“It would go so much easier for you if you would just hold still.”

“You brought this on yourself, you understand me?”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“Might need to tie you down tighter next time if you don’t behave.”

“You’re always too damn loud. Hurts my fucking ears, you stupid brat.”

There was a grocery store nearby, and Hawks frantically searched through the shelves for anything with iron in it that was ready to eat. He grabbed a large container of raisins and an American brand of cereal that looked bland but had a decent amount of iron in it. He grabbed two water bottles as well, paid, and left before anyone could try and slow him down, feeling as the kid got up and moved somewhere softer. The man had left the attic by that point, and with no car in front of the house Hawks figured that he’d left. He dropped through the skylight, walking as quickly as he could, considering the creaks, towards the nest where his kid now lay. Their arms had been bandaged now, but with all the marks it couldn’t have been doing too much good. He could feel that they were still breathing, which was a small relief. Near the door out of the attic was a cold steak, left whole on a paper plate.

“I’m back. I brought some food.” The kid lolled their head towards his voice, and he knelt down as close as he could. They shied away at first, but reached out and grabbed his coat. He waited for them to let go, but their weak grip remained. Slowly, he opened the raisins and handed some of them to the kid. The arm not holding him didn’t move.

“Please, you have to eat. You’ll feel better, I promise, just please take a bite.” The kid stayed still. Their eyes drifted towards the food in his hand, but they made no other move. God, how much had they taken from this kid?

He slowly reached for his kid’s head. He opened their mouth as gently as he could manage, though they tried to pull away.

“It’s alright,” he said, speaking the way one might speak to an injured animal, low and even. It was enough to calm them a little, and they weren’t pulling as hard. “I’m trying to help. I need you to eat this, okay? Please, just…” He didn’t know what he was asking them for. Not to bite him? To eat? To be alright?

He was able to open their mouth and place a few raisins in. As soon as he let go they pulled their head slightly away. There was a long minute as they chewed the raisins, then swallowed, before they turned their head back towards Keigo and opened their mouth.

“Heh. Just like a little bird, huh?” He placed a few more raisins in their mouth, and they ate them just as slowly as the first.

He stayed with them for an hour, most of the time spent feeding them slowly. By the end they were leaning up and feeding themselves, shoveling handfuls of raisins and cereal into their mouth. He thanked God that the cereal was dry enough that they had to slow down to chew it, or he was certain they would have choked.

He handed them one of the waters, and they chugged it down while he used a feather to cut the steak into smaller pieces. He didn’t trust that they wouldn’t try to shove too much in their mouth and choke. It was the only time he’d seen food up there, and he was sure that his kid was already starving, even with the snacks he snuck in. He’d have to start doing that more often.

”Will you be alright?” he asked. He didn’t want to leave them alone here, not with what he knew.”

“Yes. Things do not feel pain.” They signed it like a mantra, like if they just said it enough it would become true.

“You aren’t a thing.” And then it hit him, plain as day.

“Seijin.” The kid glanced at him, and he signed it while he spoke. “Seijin. Your name.”

“Things do not have names.” Keigo was going to rip the man holding his kid to pieces when he got the chance. He didn’t even want to know what it had taken for this kid, for Seijin, to think of themself as less than human.

“You aren’t a thing. And I’m giving you a name, so you can’t be a thing.” The kid considered that, then shakily copied the signs he’d made for their name.

“Seijin. I am Seijin.” A smile started on their face, breaking into a grin as they signed their name over and over again. They noticed as he stood, letting out a short, high coo.

He signed that he was leaving, and they waved back before turning to the steak, shoving one piece into their mouth and then continuing to sign their name. Keigo grabbed the remains of the food he brought and the last recording device and left.

Masterlist

[elysicnxficlds]

Vihaan’s heart raced as he processed Ishita’s words. He couldn’t believe she was giving him another chance. It felt surreal, like a dream he never wanted to wake up from. All their past baggage and divorce disappeared in this moment. He found himself transported back to their early days, when everything was new and exciting. “That’s what you want, right? For me to stop? I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. Her teasing smile brought a smile from him. He liked seeing this side of her again. It was such a relief to finally experience this after such a long time. He’d missed her playfulness—the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. It reminded him of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place.

“I’ll try to stop, I promise. You’re right, I don’t want you to think I’m doubting you too. That’s the last thing I want,” he said seriously. The last thing he wanted was to mess this up again. He’d spent so much time reflecting on their past, on his own shortcomings. He knew he hadn’t always been the best at expressing himself, and it had cost him dearly. But now, he was determined to do better. He looked at her, still blown away that this was happening. The compliment made him feel fantastic in every way. It was like a balm to his soul. “Well, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he replied louder than he perhaps should be talking. “Inside and out.” He meant it. To him, Ishita had always been the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on. But it wasn’t just her physical beauty that captivated him. It was her kindness, her strength, the way she loved their children fiercely. Even through their hardest times, he’d never stopped admiring her.

As she held out the fork, offering him a bite, he leaned in without thinking twice. They locked eyes as he took a bite. The simple act felt incredibly intimate, reminiscent of their early dating days when every touch—every moment felt electric. “Mmm, delicious,” he said. “Though I think the company makes it taste even better.” Over dinner, they engaged in effortless conversation, sharing laughter and exchanging frequent glances. He told her about work, and she filled him in on everything he’d missed out on. It felt normal and good. He found himself relaxing, the tension he’d been carrying for months finally easing. This was how it should be, he thought. This was what he’d been missing. When dessert arrived, he was insistent on splitting a piece of chocolate cake. “Dessert is not dessert if we’re not sharing it,” he said with a smile. “I remembered our first time doing this. I was so nervous I almost dropped the fork. I was scared of messing things up with the most amazing girl I’d ever met.” The memory flooded back, vivid and clear. He’d been a bumbling mess that night, tripping over his words and nearly spilling his drink. But Ishita had found it endearing, laughing at his jokes and putting him at ease. He remembered thinking then that he’d do anything to keep making her laugh like that.

If Ishita was being honest, she'd have been able to tell Vihaan how she truly felt like this was nothing short of a dream as well. After all, who'd have thought the two of them could make it here after so much time had passed? Certainly not her. It was still just so exhilarating to know that the man she'd given her heart to so long ago-clearly still wanted it and more. "Will you?" she asked with a teasing smile before shaking her head, "you can keep being cute—I don't mind." She smiled as she reached for his hand once more, squeezing it and sighing softly. "You do deserve a second chance Vihaan-stop doubting it please. It makes me feel like you're doubting me also." She sighed softly before watching as he processed her words.

It honestly was crazy just how beautiful he was. Vihaan truly was such an incredibly good-looking man. She recalled how it astounded her that he was single when they first met. She did think he was a little nerdy sure but that proved to be an endearing quality to her. The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her, that crookedly perfect smile of his, all of it sent her insides tingling with anticipation and excitement. "I know babe, and I think this time—we know what we can't afford to lose, so we'll do better." She sighed quietly before continuing to try and focus on the food in front of her. His words caught her by surprise as she glanced back up at him, a smile on her lips as she podded, "I might be beautiful but you're the most handsome man around…you know that?" Ishita countered with a wink before digging her fork into her food and holding it out to his mouth. "Try some."

[tangylemonade]

Tales of melancholic love

~ for Yoon Jeonghan

[its-me-jessi]

I Wish I Were Her PT 6 - Finale

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/N and Hvitserk finally find their way to each other.

Introduction Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Right now?!”, I furrowed my brow at him, “Weren't you about to go somewhere?”

“I still am.”, he kept grinning, “but now with you as my date – come on!”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. Multiple senses were suddenly working at full speed. I could hardly decide on which I should concentrate on most. The woody scent of his perfume filled my nose, the warmth of his touch spread not only through my hand, but throughout my whole body, from my feet all the way up to my cheeks, and my vision was filled with his attractive features, his captivating smile, and his pair of eyes in whose pupils I was reflected.

On our way out, he asked me, "Have you ever played billiards?"

"Let's just say I tried once," I smiled awkwardly and shrugged, "why? Is that what we're going to do tonight?"

"Only if you like. We can also just have a snack, a drink..." he suggested.

"We'll see!", I smirked up at him, as he held the passenger door of his car open for me.

Normally I'm not very keen on trying new things and rarely move out of my comfort zone but with him, I thought to myself as he made his way around his car, it's easier for me and I was even looking forward to whatever he had up his sleeve that evening.

Turning the car keys and simultaneously pressing the button activating the seat heating Hvitserk started driving. "How thoughtful.", I thought, sinking into the warming seat.

Who needs a perfectly planned out date when all that matters is the person you spend the date with. Hvitserk made the very spontaneous date perfect, just the way it was. A billiards and dart bar would not have been my first choice for a date night, but it turned out to be the unthinkable best choice. We had the most delicious but also most spicy cheese nachos thanks to the jalapenos. They must have been harvested directly in hell. Luckily, they had milk there. How on earth could Hvitserk eat that without even making a face, except for the moments when he laughed heartily when I fanned myself or took a big gulp of the milk. "Be honest, it's more me than the nachos, isn't it?", he secretly teased me, and I poked him in the shoulder as I emptied my glass. "Oh, shut up!", I said, followed by a laughter. “But you didn’t deny it!”, he grinned at me.

“Which of you two lovebirds is up for playing billiards?”, one of his friends called out and therefore I got around an answer.

And who would have thought that I would also get along quite well with his friends and not just because they let me win at billiards. But seriously now, I'm really bad at billiards. If Hvitserk hadn't helped me so often, I wouldn't have won even then. Although you could have thought I was doing badly on purpose, just to have Hvitserk close to me, to feel his chest against my back and his hands on mine when he showed me again and again how to hold the billiards cue correctly. Who knows? Everything’s possible. We will never know. 

Either way, at least I could score true at darts, even without help. So, I honestly earned the drink bought by the loser of the round, which happened to be Hvitserk. "Because you distracted me!" he argues, but I argue otherwise. I may or may not have distracted him purposely by giving him the glad eye.

A few hours and drinks later we left the bar. Hvitserk had kindly offered to drive me home. I did not drink much, however, to get my car and drive myself was too risky at that point. I would go to pick up my car first thing tomorrow, until then it was well kept in front of Ivar and Hvitserk's apartment. 

And I was definitely in safe hands, too. I felt so comfortable with him, especially here in his arms, enclosed in what was intended to be a it’s-been-a-great-evening-I’ll-see-you-around-hug.

“Um, well…”, he loosened his embrace, "I guess I'll see you...."

“Actually…”, I started. Standing there, feeling like my heart is about to jump out of my chest, I realized I didn't want the evening to be over yet and most of all I didn't want him to leave just yet.

“Would you like to come in for coffee... or something?”, I asked, hoping the offer wouldn't come across weird.

“If you don't mind.”, he smiled down at me, starring directly into my eyes, “I’d actually love to… come in for a coffee or something.” And there he went teasing me again, didn't he?

“Come on in!”, I said, opening the door to my small apartment, and simultaneously reaching around the corner, turning the light on.

“Make yourself at home!”, I said gesturing to the suede couch, “I'll get us coffee.”

While I waited for the coffee maker to warm up, I heard Hvitserk walking through the living room, stopping here and there, then moving on. He was probably interested in all the embarrassing photos that hung on my walls and adorned my dressers. "Damn, I should have left the lights off," I joked to myself. 

Distracted by the loud sound of grinding coffee beans, I didn't notice Hvitserk joining me in the kitchen. I noticed him only when he turned my head to him and kissed me unexpectedly.

Completely caught off guard, I could hardly react, as he already loosened the kiss again. “I’m sorry, I just felt the urge to do it.”, he explained.

I grinned up to him like a Cheshire cat. “Fine by me.”, I said, “to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.”

His lips twisted into a smirk before he lowered his hands to my hips, pulling me against him, granting my wish. Again. And again. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy and I felt intoxicated.

He lifted me onto the kitchen counter and his lips worked wonders on my lips and on every part of my skin he could possibly reach at the moment.

"What about the coffee?", I asked breathing out.

“I don't want coffee.", he answered plainly, “All I want is you!” And that I gave him willingly.

When I woke up the next morning, under the warming blanket, nestled against Hvitserk's chest and enclosed in his arms I couldn’t feel any happier.

Slowly and gently, as not to wake him, I looked up at him and thought: “I no longer wish to be her. I am exactly where I belong. Right here. With him by my side.”

Thank you so so soo much for reading. Really, I am so grateful for you reading my stories. I really appreciate it and I don't take it for granted. 💚😇 I really hope you enjoyed reading the last part of “I Wish I Were Her”. Feel free to leave any kind of feedback. 😊

Have a good start into the new year!!🎉

Tagged: @ecarroll1978​ @istorkyou​

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

[complexicn]

A dark hole. Did he mean a black hole? Kitty eyed the envelope in silence, thinking only of what she had missed in that lonesome moment of reflection before she met his eye, the twinkling kindness in his gaze an intoxication that left her grin to etch itself into her face. She had somewhat suspected his feelings, his affection never quite shielded from her attention, but she had always believed that he deserved someone more willing to reciprocate it — for she did, of course she did, she looked at him whenever he looked away and more often that not hovered her thumb over his display name in her cell, moments away from calling him just to hear his voice when she woke up in those night time sweats. Mostly she thought herself broken beyond repair, but sometimes she liked to believe that she was too busy searching for her brother to entertain the idea of romance — it was easier to deny the obvious, she had told herself, as she muffled a snort of amusement behind her balled up fist.

“Okay sure I’ll take it, Scully, in fact I look forward to the dedication, perhaps it’ll even make me swoon,” Kitty teased, for though some inch of her yearned to believe in the wonders that captivated Jude’s mind, she couldn't help but sincerely devote herself to fact. Where had her brother and his friends disappeared that lost evening? Who was sending those invitations without claim? Such questions and more filled her head like a heavy fog, leaving her nearly adrift in an ocean without a paddle — but to be with Jude was at least a comfort that could’ve evaded her, as she followed his lead with the unfolding of the envelope, raising her gaze only to play with the idea of what he described — not that she thought too deeply on the matter of falling to her knees before him, because that was obvious within itself, wasn’t it? Fighting the grin from growing too large across her face, Kitty looked back to the papers and watched as Jude pointed out a pretty useless document.

“And you can make anything out of it? Well done you, all I see is trash,” Kitty answered in her trademark pessimism before he mentioned the previously hinted invitation. To Kitty, it seemed clear that whatever they were due to do to the town, that she would be working that evening or any night hence, as was her station in life. She couldn’t really imagine going, or entertaining the notion in the first place… but something about it intrigued her, as if she could see something predestined, as if she could yet hear the rumblings of her brother’s lost voice coaxing her forth. With the shrug of her shoulders, she tried her best to play it down before finally giving in to the biting nip of her curiosity, that led her to put her hand on his in order to stop his trailing thoughts.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jude. I mean it.”

"It could be Kitty. Or a key to something -- I'm still convinced there's a dark hole in the middle of this town." Jude's revelation agreed with Kitty's features mightily -- her eyes twinkled gleefully, her lips unable to hide the allurement his great find brought. If she could at all suspect his heart was an instrument of humiliation in her hands, she made no acknowledgement. "What, do you think I have another Mulder tucked away in my back pocket?" For Kitty was Mulder, surely; that spiteful hag named reason sat gracefully upon her shoulder, guiding her thoughts with a deft hand. Had Jude lacked her clearness of thought, he would gladly pine away in melancholy; in turn, he fashioned himself the perfect figure to maintain the ferment of her spirit. "For being the best guinea pig, I promise my devotion to you in my forthcoming book about this will be incredibly long and tear-jerking." Jude followed Kitty without need of command, a happy shepherd heading the call of an earth-bound seraph. Quietly he observed her movements, watching an array of documents spread across the surface, cipher's and maps writhing beneath their gazes. No calamity wounded Jude as greatly as the false curves of Helltown laid bare before him; the twisted spine of his town promising to leave him as unnerved as before. He followed her movements further, his focus appallingly acute -- that feeling once more piercing through his heart. "When we find the secrets to this town being built on a former witching ground, I will buy you lunch and you will kiss my hands and worship me as the almighty Jude. " Naturally Jude would defend himself from the imputation his theories were too fantastic (they often were) but he derived delight from the knowledge his words would surely invoke a harsh whack from Kitty; deserved, but a token of affection all the same. "This is what I was looking for -- even if its just tatters." He tapped a finger against a redacted, eroded document detailing the founding of St. Michael's. "I know it seems like a useless relic, but I can work with this. But with this, Kitty I have to ask -- did you get that message?"

[damn-stark]

Final chapter The boy I love

Final chapter of Different light

A/N- I really hope you guys like it

Warning- Angst, talks of death and blood, violence, long chapter! fluff.

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There was a beauty in the strangest things. In tragedy.

Like now for example, the white-blue glimmer from the shield protecting Hogwarts stuck out against the dark night, like stars against the night's dark canvas. Everytime a bright bolt of attack was shot from every Death-eater and hit the shield was breathtaking.

It was bad feeling that way, you recognized that, but you couldn’t help but feel so captivated. Perhaps it was just a trick your mind was playing so you wouldn’t let your guilt cripple you, or maybe you were drowning in an ignorance bliss, but whatever it was worked. Because at this very moment that you stood on the cliff behind Voldemort, and surrounded by Death-eaters, and an army of followers, you felt no ounce of the sadness, guilt, or disloyalty.

The shield was suddenly struck down by a powerful, angry driven counterattack from Voldemort, and all you could feel was relief and awe-struck while you watched the shield come crashing down.

“It’s time,” Draco murmured beside you. “The dark-lord disapparated, it’s time.”

Breaking from your stupor, you turn your head to meet his eyes reflecting the bright crashing shield, and a fear he was failing to hide. “Right. Good luck.”

Draco blinks rapidly and his face contorts before he spats, “what? You’re not coming with me?”

Your eyes flicker to the castle as the shield no longer glimmering against the night, signifying that it was completely down and the path to the school was free. Once everyone realized that, it sent a frenzy that caused everyone to set off to the school by foot, flying the skies, or apparating to the grounds, whilst you stayed in place for a few lingering seconds more to reply to your brother in an unrecognizable tone. “No. We have our separate missions, I have to fetch the Diadem.”

Draco’s expression turns to a scowl and he scoffs. “You don’t even know where it is.”

“I have an idea where to go.” You assure him.

Draco steps back and shares a moment of silence before noticing how your lips twitch, but he didn’t know if it was to smile or frown. He was going to go without saying a word, but he needed to reassure you. “Fine. I’ll meet you there then. I’m sure we’ll cross paths with your boyfriend. You’ll need the help. Afterall he has something of mine I need back.”

Finally you let your lips turn to a soft smile as you gave him an agreeing nod before you watched him disapparate. After he left you turned to your family who was still accompanying you, and with one single look the three of you set flight to the school.

You were going to separate to go your own different ways once you go to the school, but before you could fly into the courtyard, an unsuspected stunning bolt hit your shoulder and knocked you out of your smoke form and dropped out of the sky. And without hesitation, and knowing she had no wand to protect herself, or to actually use to help you, Narcissa hastily followed you to try and catch you before you hit the ground. Your father caught her sudden actions and followed suit, his own black smoke form flying past her so he could at least grab your hand, or leg, but they were too far and you were falling too fast.

“Y/N!” Narcissa bellowed.

Because of the sudden spell that had hit you, you were trapped in a short haze that threatened to knock you unconscious, but at the sound of your name coming from Narcissa's lips, and the rush of rapidly falling from the sky, you fight the urge and rip your eyes completely open. That’s when you saw your fathers hand out, wanting to grab any part of you he could, but he was too far, you would never be able to reach for him either, so before you could hit the ground, you flipped around in midair and managed to whisper a spell that prevented your fall just inches from the stone bridge.

“Fuck,” you whisper out in a shaky voice. “Fuck.” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and relief washes over you as you swiftly stand on your feet. Yet, the relief you had felt when you were safely on the ground soon turned to fear when you noticed that you were in between dozens of suits of armor. “Oh…fuck.”

Narcissa then lands beside you, whilst your father lands in front of the both of you even if he had no wand to protect himself either—“Y/N,” he muttered, slowly pulling his hand back. “Give me your wand.”

You reach for your wand hidden within your sleeve, but before you could give it to your father, an idea goes off in your head and a devious smirk tugs on your lips. “I have a better idea.” Before either parent could argue against you, you shove past your father to keep him behind you and to stand your ground in front of the dozen stoned suits of armor blocking the way. “Their shields will deflect every spell,” you explain over your shoulder as you open your hands and slowly raise them. “But there's a weakness if you aim right.”

You snap your head around to face the stone guards, and widen your smirk as you point your palms at their heads. “Reducto,” you murmur smugly, seeing bright blue bolts erupt from your hands and crash into each stone guard in front of you. However unlike before, the spell didn’t work in a split second, this time when the bolt of energy hit their heads, it began to crack down their entire bodies like bolts of lightning, basking their entire bodies in the spells bright blue hue before the spell exploded within them and turned them all into ash.

The aftermath was just a wave of bright blue that the three you shielded your eyes from. The path to school was clear after that, and both of your parents couldn’t help but stand completely bewildered and proud. Yet neither spoke on what had happened, they just quietly watched as your figure disappeared from the bridge as you apparate inside the school, in some lonely hall. Since you couldn’t actually appear inside the walls of the room of requirement, you had to apparate nearby. Now the only problem was finding the door.

“Okay,” you exhale as you come to a stop in front of an empty wall. “It should be around here.” You take a step to the side and then stand there to watch for a slight shift. Yet nothing happened. Making you close your eyes and whisper in some desperate hopes the door would appear. “Please. Please. Plea…”

Your words trail off when you catch the sound of the bricks moving. When you open your eyes, doors begin to form on the wall before you. However when they’re complete and you move your hand to throw them open, the doors open by themselves and a blazing heat wave instantly crashes into you, smoke burns your nose and the heat begins to suffocate you.

The feeling to just turn away began to overrun every thought, but your instinct to go in overpowered that. Which is why you slowly began to walk in even if you did worry over the rising flames devouring every single object inside the room.

Nonetheless before you could fully enter the room, the wall of flames ahead of the entrance opened up and Hermione flew out. Upon catching you in the way, she swerves just as you jump to the side, having to think quickly on your feet to swerve Ron with Blaise riding behind him. Seeing them completely caught you by surprise, and left you unaware of Harry and Draco on a third broom flying directly towards you.

When you did catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eyes, you tried to move aside, but they were riding too fast. So as to avoid crashing into you and injuring you, Harry hopped off the broom, but his body collided into yours regardless. The good thing was that at least all you felt was a headache beginning to form alongside a couple of dull aches, but otherwise you seemed fine, and once the daze and the burning feeling on your skin wore off, like a bright beam against a dark night, sat the diadem on the floor in between Harry and you. The moment you snapped your head up, he did too. Now you were both laying down on the floor staring down at each other as neither made the first move.

“Y/N,” Harry whispers slowly, “you need to let me destroy it.”

You narrow your eyes on him and clench your jaw, but don’t move anything else beside that. Draco, Hermione, Blaise nor Ron dared to move either, they froze in the tense silence that you both created.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” you grumble, whilst you let your fingers twitch. “But I can’t fail them, this is the only way.” Before he could talk back to try and persuade you, you throw your hand out and drop your fingers on the Diadem to try to apparate to the end of the hall where Draco was. But right your fingers barely grazed it, so did Harry’s, so instead of apparating alone, his body snapped along with you. Much to your annoyance.

Moreover, the both of you stare into each other’s eyes for another lingering second out of shock more than anything else, and then you surprise him by tugging back. Yet he acts quick and tightens his grip to counterattack with a harsher tug, neither getting the upper hand.

“Harry please,” you try to insist. “If I don’t give to him he’ll…kill me and my family.”

You know that those words were like a stab through his heart, but he couldn’t let you manipulate him, no matter what was on the line. “And if you do, he'll kill many more. Not only that but he will cause chaos and darkness. I can’t…” he pauses and swallows thickly. “I can’t let you take it. I need to destroy it like we destroyed the locket.”

At the sound of his comment you stiffen and your lips twitch. Harry notices that slight reaction twitching on your lips unlike anyone else in the room, and plays with that. “Everything your father risked to get the locket was not done in vain. It’s all done.”

Your lips want to form into a shaky smile as you feel relieved to hear his words, as you feel relieved to know that your father, your actual biological father, could rest peacefully now. His death as unfortunate as it was could be filled with purpose, and Kreacher could live a peaceful life without having to torment himself over his unfinished task—however, no matter how happy you wanted to be, you couldn’t let yourself get lost in that emotion, so you quickly forced yourself to focus on the task in hand.

“I thank you for that,” you remark softly, your eyes averting Harry’s. “But I still can’t let you have this.”

Quickly you think of a spell and discreetly flick your fingers to send Harry flying back to crash to the floor again. Hermione and Ron gasp, but neither go to his aide right away, they’re both stunned and both face you as they turn their wands on you for the first time. Not like they would do a thing since they stood at the other end of the hall.

“Let’s go boys,” you direct at Draco and Blaise, who don’t hesitate to walk over to you and grab one shoulder each so they would be able to disapparate with you.

Before you could leave albeit, you face Harry and smile. “I truly do love you.”

A flash of darkness erases the image of him and his friends, and light snaps you to a different hall much lonelier than the last. Yet it still seemed that he was before you even after you apparated somewhere else, the image of his face was vivid in the back of your eyelids. Out of the guilt that instantly began to torment you from what you did, your mind played cruel tricks that made your heart ache, that made you falter.

The Diadem was ready to be destroyed, Harry could’ve done it and you took it to hand it to the monster you hated, the one that terrified and tormented your family regardless of the loyalty brand on your arms.

It wasn’t too late to take it back?

Yet why was it so easy to take it from him even through the struggle your heart and head fought?

Voldemort could easily kill Lucius and Narcissa, they were close to him, too close for comfort. No matter if they lied, you had to recognize that their intentions, albeit seemed strange, were pure. They had no obligation to take you in, yet they did, regardless of what your father had done to “taint his reputation”. They’re part of the reason why you were moments away from summoning the cruel lord, but the morality that your heart tried to keep strong and wanted to overpower the dark cloud your mind made stronger, held you back.

The mental battle caused physical pain to your head, it was throbbing and aching. It’s as if you were beginning to be torn in two, Draco tried to talk to you, but his voice was a muffled echo. “Y/N, are we really doing this? We can still destroy it?”

“Destroy it?” Blaise exclaimed, his tone heard shaky even through your struggle to focus. “Why would she do that?”

Their’s silence, deafening silence for a moment, but then Draco spoke the unbelievable. “Because it’d be the right thing...” His voice trails off and seconds later his hand grabs your shoulder to spin you around to face him. His blue eyes, and face pleading for reassurance. “Right? Y/N?”

His voice sounds clear, but his question creates a tougher battle—“I…” you shake your head and grab onto your temple. “I don’t know…” you step back and let out a shaky exhale. “What happens if we destroy it? He’ll find out who did it and then he’ll….hurt people.” You began to breathe heavily and quickly felt the headache worsen. “I can’t be the cause of that.” Your eyes sting, and no matter how much you tried to fight it, tears ran down your cheeks. “I'm going to give it to him. I can’t let him kill you, our parents, or you Blaise.”

Said boy averts his gaze for a second before he clenches his fists and lets his eyes flicker back to you. “Whatever choice you make I’ll support you.”

You sniffle and nod with a faint smile on your lips. When you look at Draco you see his own battle in his eyes, it makes him quiet for a second before his eyes focus on you to assures you too. “I’ll follow you too.”

“Okay,” you whisper before wiping away your tears and pulling your sleeve to uncover the Dark mark brand. “I’m going to summon him.” Your hand hovers over the brand, and even though the fight your heart tried to keep up, you pushed your hand closer to your forearm.

However, just as you were about to press your fingers on the brand a sudden crack went off before the three of you, and a single figure stood tall. Your eyes trail up their figure and you quickly recognize Clementine.

“Clementine.” Blaise called in bewilderment, his shoulders falling in relief. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you home?!” He walks towards her to continue demanding answers, but she ignores him.

“Y/N, Harry told me what you want to do,” she glowered. “I won’t let you do it.”

Slowly your hand falls to your side and your eyes narrow. “What do you mean?” You tilt your head slightly and retort. “Are you going to fight me? I’m…your friend.”

Clementine's tough and determined demeanor falters and her eyes avert yours for a fleeting second before she becomes more fired up. “Yes. You are. You’re like a sister to me actually. I love you y/n, but it’s wrong. Don’t you see it?” She steps towards you and uses that you’re struggling furthermore to try and manipulate you. “You’re the one always fighting to be seen differently. To be seen as who you truly are despite what they whisper about you, despite the house you were put in, despite how people saw you because of Lucius' past. You’re a good person y/n, with a good heart, you know giving that diadem to Voldemort is wrong. I mean think about Harry—”

You scoff and step away from her with your hand tightly clutching the Diadem. “Harry has nothing to do with my choice. If so I would’ve been at his side right now.”

“Fine, not for Harry. For you. Do this for yourself.” Her voice then becomes menacing so you knew she meant her words. “Don’t make me fight you.”

You sigh deeply and glance at the Diadem in your hand, you feel your grip loosen around it as you think of dropping it to the ground, but then as your eyes slide up to Draco, your hand once again grips the object and your other hand shoots out to shoot out a stunning spell that throws her back.

“I’m sorry,” you remark in a cold tone. “But I have to do it.” Once again you try to disapparate to summon Voldemort somewhere else, but before you could take your brother with you, Clementine counterattacks from the floor. You quickly block her spell and try to redirect it to her, but she swerves and jumps back to her feet.

“I really hope we can continue being friends after this,” she shouts, pushing her brother behind her even against his protests.

You smirk. “We can’t be friends if you kill me.” You wave your hand to shoot a disarming spell, but she blocks it and then thinks quickly by shooting a spell to try and paralyze you for a couple minutes. But soon your hand shoots out and blocks the flash of light, and you continue to step back with Draco.

Since neither of you wanted to hurt one another, the spells weren’t too dangerous, the next round of spells were simply just stunning spells or an attempt to deflect it. No matter what side you both stood on, neither of you could bring yourselves to injure one another. At least not too badly.

Despite that knowledge, you both were determined to win, so in a quick split second decision, you both simultaneously shot out the same blasting curse at one another, causing the bright hues of the blasts to slam into another. At first it seemed like a tied match of will, neither blast moving from the middle as they sparked and cracked, but you were unwilling to lose. So you put more effort into your fight and began to overpower her spell that clashed against yours; her feet began to slide back and her face twisted deeper as she strained herself.

Regardless of her hard efforts though, her colored hot blast was beginning to lose its power, and the powers of yours turned hotter and brighter, basking everyone’s faces in the red sparking hue. You then pulled your arm back and were going to thrust it forward to overpower Clementine, but just as your arm stretched out, your body was suddenly shot aside making the blast from Clementine and you to suddenly extinguish as your body hit the wall.

“What the hell,” you groan as you rub the back of your head and push yourself to your knees. “Ow.” You look up expecting to see Blaise defending his sister, rather you see Draco with his wand pointed in your direction. Realizing it was him leaves you completely stunned. “Draco?” Your eyebrows furrow and you can’t help but blink rapidly in disbelief.

“I’m going to do the right thing for you, for me and everyone else,” his voice trembled just as his wand did. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” He crouches down to swipe the diadem off the ground whilst his wand stays pointed at you. “And I won’t apologize for what I choose to do. After all, is it not you that tells me to do the right thing?”

Without looking away from you, Draco throws the diadem at Clementine, who catches it swiftly. Her eyes meet yours for a second and once she notices your body twitch to get ready to bolt after her, she takes out a basilisk fang from her coat pocket and impales it into the Diadem after she slams it to ground. You try to reach for it, try to prevent its destruction, but all you were left to do was scream in protest before black smoke exploded from the diadem, and a screech hurt everyone’s ears.

Once the dark smoke was gone, and the deafening sound didn’t ring in your ears, you looked up to see the diadem destroyed. “No. No. No!” You cry and stay paralyzed on your knees. “No. Clementine.” You drop your head and begin to cry in your hands. There's a moment of silence after, it's tense at first, someone could cut it with a knife, but as Clementine walks to you and falls on her knees in front of you, the silence is comfortable.

“I promise that you won’t be alone. He won’t take anyone.” Clementine comforts you softly whilst her hand wraps around your shoulders. “I know that you know that this is the right thing to do. Y/N, I can assure you that you can breathe now. You don’t have to go back. I’ll stay with you from now every step of the way. Fight for the right side.”

Your shoulders stop shaking and you manage to stop crying, you knew she was right. Her assurance was touching and it did help, even if you wanted to fight her and search for your parents to run away, you stayed in your same position and chose to stay there so that you could try to fight against Voldemort. Because Draco stopped you to try and change things, and because you deeply wanted to too. Even if it hurt.

“You’ll be okay,” Clementine continued, her hand still soothing you. “We all are.”

Before either of you could stand up Draco hesitantly dropped on his knees in front of you to slowly press his forehead against yours. Blaise stood behind watching awkwardly before he was pulled in the embrace by his sister. He of course tried to squirm away at first, but once he felt your arm, and his sisters around his shoulder, he eased into the group hug.

For a moment all the bad things happening outside disappeared. Just for a moment there was assurance in your small group. For a moment there was peace, the taste of what it would feel like if the war was won and you no longer were tied to the darkness. For a moment all there was, was just you and them. For a moment.

——

“You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now spoke directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you…rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this…I shall kill every last man, woman and child…who tries to conceal you from me.”

“What now?” Blaise asks as the four of you walk out to a hall filling up with wounded students, and adults.

In a worried tone you answer Blaise’s concern. “We need to go to the forbidden forest. We need to pretend that we’re still with them and help him.” You want to glance at those walking at your side but when you do, you come to regret it as you see people’s stares as you walk through the crowd. “We can’t let him face Voldemort.”

You clench your fist and shift your feet to change directions, but Clementine grabs your shoulder and pulls you back.

“You do that and you’ll die. What then?” Her eyes narrow and her voice turns serious. “Harry wouldn't want that.”

“I don’t care,” you remark angrily. “I need to help him. He…” your voice cracks and you can’t let her or the boys notice your watery gaze. “I betrayed him before. I can’t let him die. He can’t. Clementine. He can’t.”

Their silence for a moment, Clementine's hand doesn’t loosen from your shoulder, even as your body moves to leave, she holds her ground before she pulls you in for another hug. “I know you love him. But you know the one thing I like about you two, is that you respect each other’s choices. No matter what, no matter how dangerous things are, you understand one another. Understand him now y/n. Trust him if he chooses to go—”

“Then he can understand my choice to go,” you argue in a quivering voice, “I can’t…I can’t lose him. Please. I just need to tell him I’m-I’m sorry.”

People around you stare at you both, all wondering why you, a Death-eater, were amongst the people fighting on the other side of the war, against your “beloved master”, you saw it in their eyes, the confusion over your crying state. You knew they asked why you weeped and argued about someone that was supposed to be an enemy. Yet they knew nothing about you, or the choice either of you risked making.

“I know,” Clementine assures you, “but you can’t continue helping him if you die. If something happens we continue to fight. I know it’ll hurt, but we have to keep fighting here.”

She was right, deep down you knew she was, but you didn’t want to admit it to your own heart. As you pulled away, your head was overwhelmed with the urge to just go, but as you faced your friend she added words that helped your stay.

“But that’s if something happens, and I know that he’ll win. He’s strong. He’ll win and you’ll see him again. You have nothing to worry about.” She smiles warmly and gives your shoulder one last comforting squeeze before completely pulling away. “Now let’s go find the rest of our friends.”

You wipe your tears and offer her a faint smile. “Right.”

“Are you done crying now?” Draco remarks, making you scoff, but nod before you continue down the hall, averting the stares to reach the doors to the main hall. Albeit as soon as you stepped inside you were met with some unwelcoming students.

“Death-Eaters, and Slytherin associated with them have no business here. Leave or we’ll show you the fate your friends met.” He spats, causing Draco to scoff loudly and get ready to shoot a nasty rebuttal that you stopped in time.

“We’re not here looking for a fight. The battle was called off.” You counter, “even if it wasn’t, look around you. These people…” you swallow thickly after you catch glimpses of dozens of dead bodies fallen as a result of the people you had been a part of not so long ago. You notice the heavily wounded and the ones grieving, and chills run down your spine. “…are tired. Besides, regardless of who we are, you shouldn’t judge us, especially after my friends and brother destroyed a horcrux. We’re on your side. Now,” you push past him and his friends, “excuse us.”

As you walk past them and slowly walk through the hall, there's a heavy tension everyone could feel, silence was filled with some broken sobs and whisperings. You tried to avoid looking at the dead, but no matter how much you tried, your eyes felt magnetized to each and every one of them. And with every body you felt guilt weigh down your heart.

Darkness felt much colder now more than ever. You felt out of place and as if you were the big bad yourself. Yet at the end of the hall there was the sight of relief, George Weasley. His back was turned to you, but you could recognize the back of his head; his bright red hair, his tall and thin figure, his clothes that oftentimes coordinated with Fred’s.

“Look Clementine,” you point to the boy at the end of the hall. “There’s George. Let’s go to him and Fred.” You picked up your pace without waiting if someone would rebuttal, but before you could get much closer Hermione blocked your path, making you stop.

“Hi guys,” she offers a gentle and faint smile. “It’s nice to see you guys are okay, and that you’re here.”

You return her smile and give her shoulder a gentle and assuring squeeze. “I’m happy to see you’re okay too.” You glance at her side to steal a glimpse at Ron. “You too Ron.”

Said boy meets your gaze for a second before he frowns and rips his eyes away. Almost as if it pained him to look at you. It wasn't hard noticing the gesture, but you couldn’t question it because of someone’s call. “Hey! Voldemort and more Death-eaters are walking down the bridge this way.”

You quickly pull your hand from Hermione’s shoulder, and follow her and the others with you out of the hall and to the doors that led to the courtyard. Once you’re welcomed by the cold breeze, and the sight of a battered courtyard is when you see Voldemort, Death-eaters, and your parents behind their lord; their eyes searched for Draco and you amongst the crowd of students and adults all now gathered at the courtyard, it took them sometime but then Narcissa was the first one to lay her eyes on the both of you. She didn’t motion either of you to go to her like you thought she would. At least not yet. She stayed beside Lucius, and stayed attentive to you both.

Bellatrix was right beside her beloved lord and her eyes fell on you too. She, albeit, wasn’t expressing any sort of relief or sign of affection, her gaze was cold and deadly. Even more so as she saw you on the other side—it was easy to avoid her glare though because you didn’t care for her and her spiteful behavior towards you, it was easy to ignore all the death-eaters. Someone who wasn’t hard to avoid was the half-giant Hagrid, or really, the limp body he was carrying.

Their face was turned away from the crowd, but their—his clothes were recognizable, as was his short brown hair. Realizing that you knew who you’d seen wear that brown jacket made your heart sink, and turned the air much colder. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself that it was…him. That it could possibly be Harry, but deep in your heart, you knew the truth. You just didn’t want to face it. You didn’t want to feel the pain of your heart shattering. You couldn’t feel the pain of losing the boy you loved.

Which is why you pretended like you didn’t know. Why you asked first. “Hagrid is carrying someone,” you point out before asking, “who is it? Who is he carrying?”

Voldemort stepped further away from the Death-eaters with Nagini slithering at his side, and an evil smile crept on his pale face before he exclaimed with malicious pride. “Harry Potter…is dead!”

First every single ceased feeling to exist; you couldn’t feel the light cold morning breeze, you couldn’t feel Clementine's hand wrapping around yours when the announcement was shouted from Voldemort’s lips, You couldn’t feel ever part of the pain whilst your heart shattered within your chest, it fell completely numb. You felt completely numb as your world came crashing down. Time felt like it flowed slow until the heavy weight on your chest was unbearable. You couldn’t hold back your cry of pain anymore. You couldn’t stay numb to the heartbreak.

“No! No! No!” You cried loudly, whilst your feet tried to run forward towards Harry in Hagrid's arms. However you didn’t get past the stairs before Draco and Blaise held you back. “No, let me go to him,” you fought in broken sobs, but they kept their hold strong and ended up falling on their knees along with you.

“Silence!” Voldemort exclaimed as he shot out a spell to the sky. “Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth,” he continued whilst he walked forward and directs the crowd, “you put your faith in me.” He turns away and strides to the Death-eaters to continue to gloat with a cruel laugh. “Harry Potter is dead!” He turns again and spreads his arms out. “And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us. Or die.”

Silence falls over the crowd, not even a single step forward on the stone ground breaks it. Voices a few seconds later break it and the attention is easy to focus on those who speak; your parents. “Y/N. Draco,” your father calls.

Eyes shift over to you, you feel the stares, it was evident that they would, but you couldn’t look back, or at either parent as you numbly looked at the ground beneath your knees.

“Draco. Y/N.”

“Draco, y/n,” Narcissa’s voice travels out now. “Come.”

A shift happens beside you and suddenly you feel yourself being lifted to your feet.

“Draco,” Clementine whispers back. “Y/N. Stay. Stay.”

Your brother does glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't argue, or seek your suggestion. You were too out of it, he saw that and made a choice for you both out of fear, pressure. After Harry was gone, what else was there to fight for? So he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him back to Voldemort and your parents. Whilst Clementine stayed with Blaise by her side.

“Ah. Well done, Draco and y/n.” Voldemort praises, “well done.” You feel his hands awkwardly wrapping around the shoulders of you and your brother. You feel his head push forward, and you feel his hissed whisper in your ear. “We’ll talk later about your secret doings.” He knew.

Voldemort let’s you both walk behind him, and Narcissa quickly welcomes you warmly and happily. She pulls your hands apart to grab them herself and take you further back to the crowd, where you watch everything before you as a spectator, feeling as if you were hundreds miles away.

“Well I must say I’d hoped for better,” Voldemort teases Neville as he limps forward, causing most of his followers to laugh at his lame comment. “And who might you be, young man?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

More laughter follows and Voldemort continues in a joking tone. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks—”

“I’d like to say something,” Neville interjects.

“Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.”

“Stand down, Neville.” A friend of his warns.

“People die everyday. Friends, family. Yeah. We lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us. In here ” Neville words slowly pick up your head, and focus your full attention back on the scene. “So’s Fred...”

Your eyebrows slowly furrow at his last comment, you want to pick at his comment for a meaning, but there wasn’t time. You actually didn’t let yourself.

“…and Remus. Tonks. All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will! Because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us. For all of us.” Neville pulls Gryffindors sword out of the hat in his hand and exclaims, “This is not over!”

A thud hits the floor close by, followed by grunting breaking the silence from your side. At first you didn’t want to follow the crowd by looking, but then you heard the gasps and murmurs, you noticed the spark in everyone’s eyes from the crowd in front of you, and you turned your head. That’s when you felt the shards of your heart come together and the spark everyone shared. Light returned to the grim world and a smile tugged on your lips when you saw Harry standing on his two feet with a beating heart.

Without an ounce of hesitation you pulled away from Narcissa and pulled your wand out to throw it to Harry’s empty hands. “Harry!”

Said boy looked at you and swiftly caught your wand to turn and point it at Nagini, and shout, “Confringo!” The spell redirects to a couple Death-eaters behind the snake, and Harry quickly rushes for cover to avoid Voldemort’s explosions. While Voldemort was distracted though, you proceeded to pull away from his side, stopping only when Narcissa called after you.

“Y/N! Stop! What are you doing?!” Her hand tightens around Draco’s. “Let’s go!”

You smile and shake your head. “I’m fighting for the right side. It’s not too late to do the right thing.” Your eyes flicker to Draco, but you didn’t beg him to join you. It was his choice and you couldn’t force him. You just stood to wait for a second.

Nevertheless he didn’t move. Or at least not until after you turned your back and began to head back to Clementine. “Y/N, wait!”

“Draco! Y/N!”

Once you catch Draco fall at your side, you both share a sweet and understanding smile. Neither of you look back, you let yourselves be guided back inside by Harry and the others. “I’ll lure him into the castle. We have to kill the snake.”

“You’ll need this.”

“Neville!”

The moment you peer back to witness the scene going on behind you, all you see is a flash of bright light before catching Neville flying overhead and crashing onto the floor. Things begin to happen quickly after that; Voldemort disapparates with Nagini, Harry follows suit to search for them without saying a word since he was too caught up in his plan, and Death-eaters begin attacking every student they see, it causes you to part ways from your friends and brother.

Fighting them wasn't hard though. The two you fought were cocky, saying that you were nothing but a stupid little school girl. Yes, you did block some spells, so as to avoid being hit, but they left themselves open rather quickly. The one true struggle was when Bellatrix suddenly surprise attacked you by slamming you to the floor. “Ugh. What the—”

“Traitor dad, traitor mother, and,” she scoffs and her face appears over you, showing an evil smirk. “Traitor…” she stomps on your hands so you wouldn't cast a spell. “…you. I’ve always hated you, I told my sister it was a bad idea to take you in, but she has a heart of gold. Took pity on a poor little orphan girl.” She giggles and bends down so her face is next to yours. “But where is she now to save you, Hmm? I’ll tell her that one of your friends killed ya, they didn’t believe your betrayal, hmm.” She points her wand on your chest and tilts her head. “Now you tell my cousin Regulus I said hello, and you welcome for such a happy family reunion.”

Bellatrix grins and is about to part her lips to execute a spell, but as your eyes close to expect a sudden pain that would lead to a quick death, suddenly a bolt of white light hits her back and her body is flung away off you. When you push yourself to your feet, you expect to see Clementine, the twins or Draco, but you're surprised to see your father, Lucius. “What the—”

“Do get up before you get trampled, we have a fight to win.” He offers you his hand, and you hesitantly take it to stand on your feet. “Perhaps you kids are right. Besides, I never did like her.”

A grin slowly spreads on your lips and you give your father a quick tight hug as you share some quiet words only he could hear. “Thank you.”

Lucius stiffens, but slowly he pats your back and presses a kiss on the top of your head. He doesn’t say anything back, he just wasn't one to show affection with either Draco or you. You understood that, and then went on to fight, catching Narcissa with Draco.

The fight after that wasn’t long, Neville ended up killing the snake from what you heard. That action led to Harry ending Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all.

All that was left of Voldemort after was bad memories, and ashes.

“Clementine! Blaise! Are you two okay?” You queried in a panicked voice as you rushed to them sitting on some bleachers.

“Yeah,” Clementine groans, “nothing that can’t be healed. You?” She smiles, her eyes stealing a glance at your family close by, ignoring the curious stares from those around the hall.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “happy.”

“I’m glad,” Clementine coos. “I’m happy for you.” Her eyes then flicker over to a figure slowly making its way to you and her grin turns mischievous. “Let’s meet up tomorrow? After we assure our mother we’re fine.”

“Of course, I’ll be waiting.” You offer her one last smile before turning and spotting Harry at the other end of the hall, his eyes solely focused on you. Instead of letting him make his way to you, you beam at him and let your legs run towards him to meet him halfway. Harry welcomes you with open arms and secures his hold around you, as you do the same with him.

For a moment as you held each other and basked in each other’s comfort, all that existed was just the two of you; the room was nothing but the morning light that shone through the windows, the relief of all of it being over and seeing one another, feeling each other’s warmth. It felt great drowning out the noise without having to worry over a threat. It felt comforting having one another after all that happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter in his ear, “I’m sorry I betray you at the end. I’m sorry Harry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures you sweetly, whilst he begins to caress the back of your neck. “You helped me at the end, that’s all that counts. You were with me. You know I understand your actions before that. I do. There's nothing to forgive.”

“I love you,” you whisper with your voice breaking. “I love you.”

Harry pulls away to be able to face you. “I love you,” smiles, “so much.” He cups your cheeks and pulls you in for a gentle and longing kiss. He’s careful with it, he savors the feeling of your lips against his, he takes his time to make sure that you knew that he missed you, that he did share those feelings he just uttered to you. He made sure you knew that he was happy that you were alive. He didn’t care who watched. He was happy. You were happy.

Pulling away was harder than other times, but now you had time to spare. You could be with another without worrying. You would be together now and nobody would have a say.

“I’m going to find George and Fred, okay?” You whisper against his lips, missing the frown that twitched on his lips. “I’ll try and find you later.”

Harry parts his lips to reveal the truth about Fred, but he stays quiet and lets you find out by George. All he does is let you give him a last peck on the lips before you leave his side in search of George, which wasn’t hard finding him.

Once he saw you, the corner of his lips twitched, and he was quick to return the hug when you got close to embrace him. Unlike Harry though, you felt George’s shoulders shake, he was quick to break down when he was in the comforts of your embrace, he couldn’t hold his grief. But you didn’t captivate why he had gotten so emotional, so fast. You had heard Neville’s comment on the courtyard, but your mind chose to ignore it’s meaning, leaving you clueless to George’s tears.

“George, what's wrong?” You ask as you pull away to meet his eyes.

“Y/N,” he cries, “it’s Fred….he’s—fred. He’s dead.”

Your smile slowly falls, and your happiness begins to dwindle away as does the spark of light in your eyes. You don’t want to believe him, you wanted it to be a joke, a prank, but you knew he wouldn’t joke about that. Which is why you were quickly struck with disbelief, guilt and that heart shattering grief you thought you had been free of feeling. It was such a strong feeling that you couldn’t bear.

Even if it wasn’t your fault, you felt guilty over his death because it had been Death-eaters, the people you had once fought alongside with who killed him. It felt as if it might as well have been you who ended the life of such a good friend, the first friend you made in Hogwarts, your first kiss. Even after you broke up with him, after you became a Death-eater, he remained close to you, he never changed how treated you, or how he saw you. He was your best friend and now he’s gone. You couldn’t handle it.

Thus you began to slowly back pedal towards your family, as you looked at George with sadness and horror.

“I’m so sorry George.” You whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Harry was nearby and he saw how you were. He called to you, but all you did was share a last lingering look before you disapparated from the school with your family, without saying any last words.

.

.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson @swiftlymoniquesblog @spideyyypeter @gsvshsjsbs @accio-prozac @cherriesanwine @kokomaesadie @april-14-blog @prettypinkpeachh @pest-ill-ence @ilovespideyyy @m3ssytrash @hogwarts-babe @yodaboo @rafeyybabyy @itsoakaa @nonamesgame @weird-pale-blonde-person @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lunanargles17 @narcissim-isky @petrelsrose @haroldpotterson @winter-soldier-101

[vannyvancan]

Fluff Naga!Shinsou Oneshot

For the last few days, I've been thinking about how I have a thing for tropes that are very dangerous in concept, but I like to imagine some fluffy/domestic scenario with them.

As if my fanfiction about having an assassin roommate Shinsou wasn't plaguing my mind enough, the naga monster Shinsou somehow warming up to you and treating you more than just a breeding machine just works. There's some angsty potential for sure.

tw for: mentions of dark thoughts

Naga Shinsou comes back to his cavern with you in it one day, only to hear your muffled sobs quiet down as you hear him approach. He doesn't think much of it of course. You are his breedable, but he see's your health declining daily for how you've been.

Even though he brought you meals, and brought you out for several minutes just to drink in the sun. He treated you nothing more than that,

So how do you manage to look worse than yesterday and day before?

After all, even if you do die, he'd just go out his way and find himself another human female. But for now the mating season had passed, and all of your children had scattered and learned to protect the Naga territory Shinsou had owned.

He returns to sleep in his waters, greeting you briefly and leave your form to sleep on surface near the cold water. You'd shiver and try your best to warm up with the soaked nest. Your clothes was safe to say tattered and beyond being called clothes at this point. Curling up, you look at moonlight peeking in the caverns you can't escape from, it's not like you had any choice honestly. You look at the water reflecting it. The deep dark water your monster would dive in to slumber in for the night.

You thought about taking a dive, to end this miserable existence, You figured he'd be there to save you though. When you threw a pebble in one time out of boredom, he'd immediately jump out because of the water surface disturbing him, you received harsh scolding and he grew spiteful for weeks after that.

With not much on your hands, you ended up singing to yourself to sleep, with your tears still drying on your face. It was a habit now that you'd sing, it was a lullaby you've learned when you were still living your life as an ordinary human before he'd capture you. Of course, when you had his kids the time with them was brief before he captured you...

The night passes in hazy, restless sleep like any other. It was the sort of sleep where you liked to think you'd gotten a rest, but deep down you knew it wasn't. It was pointless to sleep, to be honest.

You didn't sing that night.

Nevertheless, you managed to close your eyes and try to think back, back to your happy circle that was slowly fading like a picture book soaked in the merciless cold water. The fading memories now serving you nothing more than a torturing mechanism you couldn't let go off. Nostalgia did an opposite effect on you right now, but at this point you just wanted to feel something, even if you were dying. Trying to remember the warmth on your skin, your semi-sleeping form was interrupted by the droplets of water above you.

Your naga monster Shinsou glared deeply above you.

Your breath hitched at sight, his snake like tail was holding up his human part, arms tenderly hanging on his side. The water dangling on his indigo hair onto your form as the intense yet curious stare stayed, Shinsou was quiet, that was something you knew, but why did he come and see you?

If he wanted to breed you like how he did the first, second and third time, he would of not hesitated to grip you and force your hand.

But he just watched.

"H-hey." You mutter out, gripping the wet straw of the nest to try some weak defense.

"You're not singing." He mumbles.

"S-so what, am I your music box now?" You sighed, curling into yourself.

"Your body temperature dropped frantically in last several days."

"Obviously..." You looked around yourself, wondering how oblivious he must've been. "Besides, don't snakes like warmth too?"

"We can't regulate our temperature. Since its summertime, shade and a lot of water is best option." He slithered around you to find a comfortable position to lay beside you, his tail curled the whole nest and he manages to find a position.

"Right."

"But, that's not why I woke up for."

"Then what is?" You asked meekly, you doubted he wanted to spend a 'quality' time with you. The damage was already done the moment he forced this life on you, wasn't he aware of it? It wasn't like you'd expect from a monster to know though.

But...

"I ask of your permission to sleep beside you."

At the words your head perked up. He asked of your permission? Weren't you his captive, he could do whatever he wanted with you, its not like you had any choice to obey him. Now of all things seemed absurd after all the times he'd used you up. Looking at his tail shifting to other side, he seemed visibly distressed by something, it was as if he tried to find words for what humans liked or not.

"And I'll treat you something good tomorrow, something warm... right?"

"W-why the sudden-"

"I'll let you approach me... for once. Y-you don't have to if you don't want to, I just want to stay here with you."

He lays on his stomach with his tired eyes barely open, his head resting on his hands. You could of guessed he was daydreaming with the way he was gazing at you, it was like he used his own hypnosis skill on himself rather than on you. The thought made you flutter with something unknown.

Then again you were on your guard.

Time passed in silence. he'd mutter occasional reassurance "It's alright, skittish kitten, I don't wish you any harm." It's almost as if he was trying to convince himself he doesn't need your touch, the feeling of your skin where he had so greedily claimed was fading "I'll let you come to me first..."

There was definitely something more he wished to say, but it seems he too felt some feeling growing inside of him.

Seconds turned in minutes, and minutes turned in hours. His eyes fell shut and you were now in presence of a purple naga monster, exposed in his sleepy habitat. Chest raising and falling from his breathing and soft mutter from his dream that slowly crept in his mind. The fluffy tuffs of lavender hair hiding his expression, but you could only guess he kept going on about recent events even in his dream.

Your shivering form shook once more, trying to rub your hands once again you winced for how you don't have many options. You looked at the smooth scales, and shakily stood up on your two feet, tipping toeing your way without making any sound. If he decides to make this into a trap to eat you up... it was a really good one.

But its not as if you, in your depressed state of mind cared if you were alive or not. Anything would be good a this point, any feeling, any touch and warmth was welcoming. Even if it was from a cold blooded beast.

You sat on your knees right beside him. Trying to find a fitting position where you'd be able to cuddle him, ending up figuring you were going to hug his humanoid part you laid down and snuggled at his side, your front turned to him and listening to his soft breathing. Being this close to him you realized how scarred his humanoid skin part was, Shinsou does guard his territory daily, and only to come back to you in his caverns meant how much he trusted you exposing his vulnerable body.

He twitches, and that made you startled for a second, only to realize his smooth tail now touched your back and cuddled you closer to him. "Hmm..." He purrs in his sleep, now turning his sleepy head toward you he tenderly nuzzled into your form. Was he a snake or a cat monster?

The motion stops, and you are now in the circle of his thick figure, sleeping with a giant monster who now, surprisingly- warmed you up.

You felt like singing again.

[aine-ayase]

You were nervous. Your hands clamped up while you stare at your reflection.

At the corner of your eyes, you see your best friend xingqiu quietly reading a book as usual.

"Xingqiu?" he hummed in response, eyes still staying on the book.

"Do i look okay?" You bit your lip as he glances up and scan you from head to toe.

"You look fine, I'm sure you'll do great." "You sound too disinterested. I could punch you right now but I don't want to stain my hands for my date." Xingqiu rolled his eyes and continue reading.

"I don't get why your so nervous. Just go, I'm sure he wouldn't care whatever you wear." You huffed, trying to fix the strand of hair on your face.

"Easy for you to say, Chongyun could care less about anything as long as it's you and martial arts." He laughed and pushed me out the door of my apartment.

"Well, have fun. Make sure to get your mans" He blew a raspberry and shut the foor to my face. I glance at time from my phone before moving my legs to my destination.

As people pass by, you try to calm your heartbeat but when your eyes met teal ones your senses cut off.

His beautiful eyes that never fail to captivate you. His lips twitched upwards as he noticed you were in a daze.

It took you five minutes to snap out of trance, and it might be short but if you were someone just staring at your date by the window for five minutes straight, I'm sure some people would think you were a creep.

"Have you had a pleasant day so far?" He asked as soon as you took your seat.

"Yes, Sorry.." You grimace from embarrassment "For staring at you for five minutes."

He chuckled and you could feel your face burning up "It's alright. I'm happy to know that my looks have captivated you."

You looked at the menu instead to hide your burning face. You wanted to tell him that he already captivated your heart as well but we don't want to die on our first date now would we?

You chewed on your lip and sneakily admire his face, he wore glasses. He never wore glasses at school before, it suits him. It suits him too well.

The date goes smoothly yet the butterflies in your stomach continue to dance around.

Albedo was walking you back to your apartment. You didn't notice your study date took so long, the moon had already rise.

You felt something over your shoulders. Albedo's coat covered your form and he send you a small smile as he interwined your hands.

His hands were colder than yours, but still it fitted perfectly.

You stopped by your apartment building, taking off the coat and giving it back to him.

"Keep it." "But-" He smiled and held a finger to your mouth "Please, keep it. Give it back to me on our next date." He kissed your knuckles like the gentlemen in the movies.

"Alright then. Have a good night Albedo, be sure to sleep and please no studying late at night." He smiled once again, he's been doing that more often.

"No promises, but I'll be sure to message you when I get home." You two stare at each other, not wanting to say goodbye yet.

It feels like a cheesy teenage romance. You have an inkling feeling you'll get embarrassed of your actions in the future. But you will never regret your decisions.

"I should hed off now." You nod as you two stare once again.

"Make sure to get your mans" You remember Xingqiu saying to you earlier.

With your new found courage, you kissed Albedo's cheek before turning around and speed walking to go to your room.

"Get back home safely!" Albedo could only stare at your running figure with wide eyes and a noticable red hue on his cheeks.

His hand traced the spot where you kissed earlier, still feeling the lingering warmth that's left on the cold night.

Yeah..he can't wait for your next date.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Homelander admired the two of them in the mirror. Both looking sharp in their uniforms. He couldn’t help but notice that James was in his element, no doubt enjoying the nostalgia of wearing those clothes again after so long. He was glad the man still had them and kept them pristine. It was clearly an important time in Norrington’s life, and so it was important to the Supe that James got to embrace it. Even for a night.

“I might actually have some competition this year, yeah.” Homelander admitted. “You and I will probably be the smartest dressed pair. People tend to dress down at the gala rather than up.” He explained with a smirk. “Plenty of naughty nurses and even some half naked men as well. Try and not get…distracted.” He couldn’t help but tease as his gaze shifted from the mirror to look at Norrington directly.

The Supe raised a brow at James’ words, rather taken aback by how the man thought of his costume. He couldn’t help but stand straighter, taller, a smug smirk on his face at the compliments as his gaze shifted back to the mirror. “Mm. It does fit me rather perfectly, doesn’t it?” He mused before being pulled into that kiss. Another surprise that took the Supe away for a moment, before he kissed back, admiring James’ boldness.

Homelander couldn’t help but blush at those words from Norrington as he bit his lip as glanced away for a moment. “I think this uniform makes you all the bolder, babe.” He replied, before meeting those green eyes. “Love you too. So damn much. I’ll…try and behave tonight, but no promises.” He confessed as he captured Norrington in another kiss, more lingering as the blonde savoured it, feeling it would be the last they shared for at least a little while.

Easing back, Homelander grinned. “Suppose we better show face, hm? Get this show on the road. I’m glad to have you by my side, James. Not just tonight, but always. You’ve made me realise how…lonely I was. How boring life was when I didn’t have anyone to share it with.” The Supe admitted before clearing his throat and shaking off those sad feelings. After all, he didn’t want to dampen the mood. “They’ll no doubt make me want to say something. But besides that, I should be free to mingle and whatever else.” He explained, seeing no reason why the pair would be separated tonight. “Ready?” He asked as he headed for the doorway of the apartment.

In the mirror's reflection, James noticed the pride in Homelander's eyes as he admired the two of them in their smart uniforms. His heart swelled with affection for the Supe who had allowed him to embrace this nostalgic side of himself, even if only for a single evening. It was a gesture of love and understanding that James cherished deeply.

Homelander's admission that they might be the best-dressed pair at the gala brought a playful smile to James' lips. "Well, we DO make quite the striking duo," he responded, savoring the idea of attending the event with Homelander by his side. He was accustomed to elegant events during his mortal life, but this would be a wholly unique experience.

The teasing words from Homelander about the gala's typical attire made James chuckle. "I'll do my best not to get distracted, but when I have the most handsome man at the ball at my side that certainly wont be easy," he replied, the twinkle in his eye, hinting that even among a sea of scantily clad bodies he only had eyes for Homelander.

The way Homelander reacted to the compliments about his uniform thrilled James, who couldn't help but admire his lover's smug demeanor. Their ensuing kiss was passionate and fiery, leaving James giddy and craving more.

Homelander's blush and the words that followed tugged at James' heartstrings. The affection and love that emanated from his partner's confession were enough to inspire a speech of his own. "You, my dearest Homelander, have a way with words that captivates all who hear you. I have no doubt that whatever you choose to say tonight will be nothing short of marvelous," he reassured, his voice warm and encouraging.

"You've brought immense joy and purpose into my life as well, my darling," he confessed. "And I promise you, from the moment we step into that gala to the moment we leave, you won't be alone. I'll be right by your side."

With a giddy excitement that reminded him of attending one of His Majesty's balls, James followed Homelander toward the apartment's doorway. He was ready for this unforgettable night, prepared to face the world with the man he loved. "By your leave, sir." he declared with a playful grin. Following him out the door. Hands clasped behind his back, military ways shining through. You can take the boy out of the military but you'll never take that military out of the boy.

Halloween Gala