#She tries so hard to change but something always happens to…persuade her its to hard to do….🥺

[imaybe5tupid]

P is for the painful way she makes me feel some days. U is for Utopia, the other times with her. N is for the new wave dreams she had back in her teens. K is for the kid in her, my PUNK girl.

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IX): An Episode of Mad About You

It's hard to know how soon after Three Words this episode takes place, much less speculate what happened in-between.

The X-Files' timeline has always moved at an incredibly rapid, incredibly unreasonable pace; so we can assume less than a week (if not a day or two) has transpired since Mulder and TLG's break into the DOD. He and Scully must have had a conversation of some sort sometime afterwards (though that conversation might have taken different routes depending on the viewer's discernment, discussed at length here) based purely on their body language during the opening scenes and ensuing events.

Speculation aside, Empedocles is the first time Mulder draws direct lines between himself and the baby (despite the fact he already knew Scully's baby was his, post here.)

Let's go~!

THE MULDER MATING RITUAL

Knock knock, someone’s at the door. 

Scully appears from the right side of her kitchen, walking as fast as she can to the peephole. Not fast enough, apparently, because her visitor knocks, loudly, three more times. (Impatience, thy name is Mulder. At least that hasn’t changed, in spite of your absence and personal crisis.)

 Scully peeks through-- always cautious-- and is surprised to see who's there: her skeptical face reappears quite naturally at this latest, unexpected antic (or in expectation of a new, unexpected antic.) 

She opens the door to a casually relaxed Mulder, who quickly leans against the door frame right as Scully comes into view.

Mulder is here with aplomb, with a theatrical little plan that he intends to act out: the Mulder Mating Ritual, wherein he brings a trinket to the nest then dances around both of their feelings in an attempt to communicate without communicating.

It’s a sign that nature is healing-- more accurately, that Mulder is; and that he wants to reclaim his old life with Scully.

“Mulder…” Scully whines, adorably plaintive as she winds up an excuse not to go off on his latest goose chase. She also isn’t outright saying she can’t go, a sure Scully sign that she can be persuaded. 

Mulder senses that Scully is game-- or willing to be wheedled into one-- and commits fully to the Mulder Mating Ritual (as it shall now be called.) Whipping his head from its side-pivot (where he had indirectly assessed her mood and possible rejection), his eyes snap to hers, comedically wide and oozing with faux innocence. 

“What?” he asks, reeling her in. 

The interaction shows that something has been ironed out between them, whether in full or half-detail, between the conclusion of Three Words and opening of Empedocles. While we’ll never know exactly what was said, something had to have been based on the ease with which they speak to each other (closer to their Season 7 interactions, for example, than any season before it) and their body language throughout this scene.  

Scully-- who is not a fool and knows Mulder code down to a miniscule blink-- looks at him with an equal mix of resignation (for her peaceful pizza and shower moment) and blooming hope (for his return to buoyant Mulder Play.) Still, she tries to mitigate some of the impending disruption to her anticipated ritual, hiding a full smile while tumbling out a perfectly legitimate excuse to not go wandering (read: waddling) off somewhere. 

“I was just about to jump in the shower but I was waiting for the pizza man.” 

Immediately, Mulder sees an opportunity to tease and seizes upon it. 

“You got something going on with the pizza man that I should know about?” he responds, squinting in mock jealousy: a picture of the scorned husband who returned from his travels, bearing gifts and love, only to find his female consorting (and creating babies) with another. A copy of the bantery one he gave in Three Words.

This is incredibly important: Mulder is playing the role of jealous husband because he is secure in Scully’s loyalty, but even more importantly because he is secure in the baby’s paternity. As much as his partner knows him, he knows his partner: that Scully hasn’t betrayed or replaced him (discussed at length in-depth in this, this, this, this, this, and this post.) 

Scully is highly amused-- and charmed-- at this display of put-upon machismo. 

She digests his comeback a second before asking, “The pizza man?”, dipping her head incredulously at the stretches Mulder has always been able to reach. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mulder continues, full steam ahead, “but you just said you were waiting for the pizza man to jump in the shower.”

He hides the sparkle in his eye with an slightly angry, slightly aghast expression, maintaining it while Scully jumps in with a “No--” 

“--what I mean was, the pizza man is usually late, and so…”

Scully trails off, intuiting that the angle her partner is playing is one of dense relentlessness: no matter how she tries to talk herself out of word traps, Mulder will find another angle and “aha!” his way to the top. Her intuition is confirmed as she examines his face, his second (mock-indignant) squint, and the sparkle in his eyes while he waits for her to verbally trip up. 

All excellent signs: he isn't treating her-- and their relationship-- like glass, instead reverting back to his annoying, endearing ways. 

Giving up, she cuts to the chase-- “Do you want to come in?”-- preferring that to outthinking Mulder’s next mental twister. Some games, she figures, are best fought on a full stomach.

Mulder, true to form, keeps up the mock squint and "Thank you" until he's certain he won that round. Like she suspected.  

As they both turn in, Mulder does a side-shimmy to hide his present while Scully huffs off, indulgently, to the bathroom (it looks like) to turn off the water-- a sure sign she knows her partner will stay a while. 

“I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Mad About You,” she remarks, poking at this weird style of miscommunication more in-line with an everyday couples' squabbles and misunderstandings than their own particular partnership. In essence, calling Mulder out. 

Not to be outdone-- even while juggling a present and mentally running through places to hide it--  he stalls, “Well, uh, yeah--,” closes the door “--but small technicality--” spots the couch, locks the door, and stuffs the gift behind a pillow “--Mad About You is about a married couple, and we just work together.”

In any other set of circumstances, this would have been an accusation; but here, perversely, it’s a healthy sign of their relationship: Mulder wins an argument because neither of them are married, despite her pregnancy; and Scully grumbles over her defeat instead of his remark, knowing there was no ulterior motive behind his words. A mutual back-and-forth.

“Yeah, well, you know what I’m talking about,” she brushes aside, not wanting to dwell on Mulder's victory. And also bringing up, obliquely, a more domestic-focused conversation-- one that features a certain mad-for-each-other couple now on much better terms.)   

“I do, I do. What I’m, what I’m trying to say is, that, uh,” Mulder says, shifting his weight before putting his hands in his pockets and carefully reordering his thoughts.

His actions reveal Mulder isn’t here just to play around and leave-- he’s put careful thought and planning into this visit, finding a present for the baby (his baby) at his mother's and teasing his way into Scully’s apartment to open (in some manner of form) a more serious (perhaps permanent) conversation between them. 

Mulder’s silent for a few seconds, weighing how he wants to continue their interaction; but ultimately slips back to the comfortable familiarity of banter (although he will segue into more personal gestures: pointing at Scully’s belly, directing her to the gift with his eyes, misconstruing her “package” remarks because of his internal focus, leading them both to a touching exchange over his beautifully wrapped offering, etc.)

“We have no good reliable information on this man--”

Scully re-enters, eating out of his hand until Mulder's tired old trust no one schtick kills her enthralled curiosity. She majestically raises her head in judgment, the very picture of one bored and above-it-all, then tilts it and dons her work eyebrow (the one that tells Mulder she’s trying to figure out if he’s serious or not.)   

Sensing this shift (not a dangerous one, just one further away from his intended goal), Mulder swiftly re-centers the conversation away from conspiracy and back to jealousy. 

Comically raising his eyebrows and jovially pointing at the baby, he continues “--that the pizza man--” then abruptly stops, expression turning gentle as he watches the bump approach.  

“--is not above suspicion,” Mulder softly finishes, eyes still glued to his baby. 

Scully stares down at her bump in turn, unsure what Mulder means.

It would seem by her body language this is the first direct, personal reference he has made to the baby; and she carefully puzzles over his layered meaning before taking it in the spirit he meant it: personal. 

She sighs-- a little embarrassed, a lot relieved. Shyly keeping her head down, she whispers, “I see”; and, again, in any other circumstance, that could have been a dejected or lost or nervous response to a husband’s paternity concerns. Here, however, it’s another sign of health: that she understands Mulder is no longer avoiding the baby-- including it in his Mad About You scenario-- and that she is readjusting herself in this sudden onslaught of information. 

When she’s ready-- two or three seconds later-- Scully looks up with a knowing smile: she caught his meaning, got it, and is letting Mulder know she understood.   

And Mulder, delighted, turns the conversation to her prize, motioning his eyes back and forth from Scully to the couch. (He’s always loved giving gift-loving Scully surprises, after all.) 

She doesn’t understand at first, moving her head in janky segments until she catches sight of the wrapping paper. 

“Is that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Mulder replies, nodding and smirking over her suppressed, though obvious, delight. 

“Nice package,” Scully comments; and misses her partner’s flustered but touched “Thank you” as she bends to retrieve her bounty. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh!” Mulder responds, catching the actual drift of her conversation. 

As a side note: her comment doesn’t seem to have been deliberately made to mess with Mulder: usually, Scully will fully face her partner when teasing him, wanting to see his face register and react to her comment. Here, however, she doesn’t. Further, she is so zeroed-in on the gift that she talks right over his thank you. So, the moment’s comedy seems to stem from karma getting Mulder for his morning games rather than Scully intentionally tripping him up. 

Voice quieting as he transitions to a more serious topic, Mulder explains, “I was going through some stuff, after my mother died, and, um….” 

He stops to bite his lip, and Scully looks down, respectfully giving him the space he needs; but, recovering quickly, he continues, and Scully reestablishes eye contact. 

“...it’s just an old family keepsake; and I wanted you to have it.” Mulder keeps his eyes down-- another sign that he’s serious about this-- and swallows before gazing at Scully again: nervous, obliquely giving away his own intentions. 

Scully catches, gets, and lets him know, again, that she’s caught, got, and understood his motives: “Well, I’m touched.” 

There’s a knock at the door, and Mulder lunges for a lifeline away from his vulnerability: “Little Caesar, I presume?” with another jealous deadpan, yet again. 

Her amusement is tempered: Mulder may want to escape his declaration, but it stays with her, giving her peace. He’s doing his best, given the circumstances; and, though Mulder hasn’t outright laid claims to the baby, they both know he’d considered it his. Moreover, Scully’s happy that not only does he consider it his, but he’s also taking steps to become more involved. He just needs time; and she’s had more than enough to process his abduction, his death, and his resurrection. Giving him some in exchange seems small-- and, really, when has it ever been too large a thing between them? 

Scully waits for him to turn away before smiling to herself: radiant, hopeful, content. 

Mulder, never one to to curb his actions or reactions in front of others, isn’t going to stop now, involving the pizza man in his shenanigans. 

And any sense of shame or embarrassment Scully might have felt being part of these shenanigans is long gone. However, he will not tie her to the mast of his behavior and take her down with him. “Hi. Just, uh, give it to the man with the funny look on his face,” she instructs, sitting down with her gift on her lap. 

An important side note: Scully, it seems, expects Mulder to bring the pizza to her while she opens her gift (which is proven correct by the end of Empedocles)-- a set-up-and-follow-through.  

Pizza boy is unfazed by their interactions. “Yeah, that’s $29.08.”

Cheapskate Mulder is snapped out of his playacting by the stunning reality of pizza over $10. “‘$29.08’? What’d she get on it, a tank of gas?” 

CONCLUSION

And that’s the last bit of fun they have before the next crisis. 

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[rk-ocs]

The problem with moving off a google doc, is sometimes you hit the wrong button and its gone forever. Oh well, heres the rest.

---

That's admirable

"Plus i see it too an a sensory override. It can be too much, too many feelings. It's very sad when i think about it."

I'd worry I would get too caught up in their feelings and intensify the issue, but if it could be learned to be done safely

Red can only try with words. She tries not to get caught up in others (particularly strangers) problems, so much as follow along. 

It doesn't fully work, but she is trying very hard to be selfish and not exhaust herself.

It's probably harder as the timeless. And easier in some other ways.

-"I think the words would be appropriate in a way

"To love is to suffer "

"Never believe that a few caring people can't change the world. For, indeed, that all who ever have."

But this one rings true 

"Don't burn yourself to keep others warm"

So i found the rest of "Don't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. Light the remaining match in your soul , ignite the fire on the dusty cobwebs of your heart. Give yourself time to heal. This time so something for you."

"I would thank Red for that. Maybe it doesn't work, but that's still kindness that she showed in doing so. Words of comfort are always appreciated, and even if she never meets those ppl again they would remember she took the time to speak to them."

She will. And she is trying to stop, despite trying to come off as an asshole at points, she will. Burns herself out at times.

"How would you describe when Red cares.

An example: their affection burn bright like a torch in the darkest of nights"

She can be kind. 

She can also be too sharp, and pick at emotional wounds during an argument and leave, and not be the one to build you up again, because leaving is done to cool down, and building you up after tearing you down feels manipulative in some way to her. 

She will apologize, after when the both of you have calmed, but you don't easily forget that this is someone who knows how to hit

"I get her feelings about rebuilding, but i can see the results from the tearing into that person too.

She apologizes, but the cuts still need to heal.

Emotions hurt. And are a mess."

She cares. She pays attention to you. She remembers your prefrances, and knows your mood well. Knows when to listen, and when to speak. Knows when its time to sit and be quiet, maybe with the TV on low in the background. 

She does chores in the night, for you to find in mornings, or maybe its food, or drives. She argues at people on your behalf. It can be annoying sometimes, the fights she picks, but letting someone walk over you is not something she lets happen easily. 

If you need space, she will give it to you until you tell her to come back. Its in her notes for herself she leaves in her present. 

She listens to ideas, acknowledges them, even if she doesn't want to use them. She tries to be persuaded by logic over feelings when you are planning something. You might not be able to stop her, but you can change the direction.

You care. Many friends are on this wild ride, and down to get up to crazy stuff with her. Trust is important, even if its hard. 

Lets fight monsters, lets get somewhere we shouldn't through verbal persuasion, lets solve crime, set things on fire, go to the museam

[jimblejamblewritings]

the flip side | part 1.

Summary: (Y/N) has always been one of the stronger Alphas. Which is saying something when the Avengers is a team overrun with Alphas. A mission gone wrong changes her entire world and when everyone starts treating her different, she doesn’t know if she can cope. Change hurts and (Y/N)’s not sure it’s a pain she cant bear.

Warnings: THIS IS THE DARKER VERSION! IF YOU WANT THE LESS DARK/ANGSTY VERSION CHECK OUT CHANGES HURT

Warnings for the Series: strong language, angst, fluff, assault, a/b/o dynamics, sexual content (18+ readers only)

Pairing: Stucky x black!reader

Word Count: 6.9k

(Series Masterlist) 

“Tony, stand down!”

Your voice rose past its normal speaking tone, verging on the authoritative Alpha command. The young Beta, Peter, clung to the back of your shirt after you yelled. You were trying not to be too abrasive and scare the young boy.  

“(Y/N), he—”

“No, Tony! You brought the kid in to fight on your side at the airport. You don’t get to turn your back on him now. He just wants to help.”

“Peter is in over his head.”

“You should have thought of that. The Beta is yours so step up like an Alpha.”

You and him were engaged in a stare-off, both slightly growling and neither moving. Tony relented first like you knew he would. At the end of the day, he had respect for you. One of the few female Alphas that chose to fight and work in SHIELD.

Most female Alphas took the chance to live the most lavish and relaxed lifestyles they could, their nature affording them that luxury. Especially since the patriarchy throughout history had tried to deny them their Alpha nature because the past saw more female Omegas and Betas until more modern times. You didn’t blame them. Sometimes, you thought about retiring and living the good life as well.  

It never happened though. Not for you, Nat, or Sharon. It was that respect for choosing the hard, macho life that made Tony and Steve eventually sit down and work out their differences with the Accords— everyone came back to live in the compound only a few months later. You were a team again, a family. Tony snorted but finally lowered the Iron Man suit to stand on the ground with you and Peter.

“You know having a pack isn’t my style, (Y/N).”

“That’s a lie, what do you call the Avengers?”

“A team with more Alphas than it knows what to do with. None of us are the leader of that pack.”

“Then what about Happy?”

“Happy is my bodygu—”

“A bodyguard you stopped paying three years ago yet he still manages to afford everything and lives with us? You already have one member, take another damn Beta and get it over with.”

“Why don’t you take him?”

“I didn’t recruit him to a dangerous life in the first place. Peter’s on the team, he’s an Avenger, and he’s your responsibility.”

Tony closed his mouth, knowing he would never win the argument, and nodded. Peter’s grip on your shirt relaxed and he finally moved to be beside you instead of behind you. You gave the awkward boy a smile and pat on the head. He just wanted to help and whether Tony liked it or not, Peter was a superhero not some helpless high schooler. You put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“And if he threatens to take away your suit again, Peter, just let this Alpha know. I’ll set him straight.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Now, go drop him off at home Tony so he can finish his homework.”

Diffusing any tension that might have still been there, you gave Tony and Peter hugs before jumping into your car to race back to the tower— Tony finally renamed it from Stark Tower to Avengers Tower after several months of persuading.

The team gagged when you walked in and you gave them a look of confusion. T’Challa and Okoye, both Alphas, just chuckled and patted your shoulder as they left the compound having only come to discuss a mission before heading back to Wakanda. Sam— the Beta with an Alpha mouth— decided to speak up.

“Tony? Really, you hooked up with Tony? Thought that was the only line you wouldn’t cross.”

If it was any other person, Beta or Omega dynamic, that spoke to you or other team members like that they would face death stares. But Sam was Sam. And his words were never a challenge but always jokes and quick jabs— he was never invested in challenging an Alpha to try and become a pseudo one by force.

“Take another sniff geniuses.”

You walked further into the room with your arms purposefully open wide. The team grimaced but did as you said. Everyone could smell the hint of Peter that had been hidden underneath. If Peter was there, it wasn’t possible in any way that you and Tony would be hooking up at the moment.

“You really thought I’d sleep with Tony?”

You propped your feet up on Bucky’s lap and placed your head in Bruce’s. The stoic Alpha pushed your feet off of him as Natasha snarled. Without missing a beat, you switched positions and propped your feet up on Bruce— the Omega scientist taking a lunch break before going back to the lab— earning a second snarl.

“Relax, Nat, you’re so uptight today. I don’t want your men. Would’ve taken Brucey a while ago if I did.”

You leaned back to lay your head in Bucky’s lap. “But… we can still have a go, Buck. Didn’t you and Nat end it, when, in the 80s?”

You chuckled, not getting a laugh back but instead the sound of Natasha’s fist slamming the table. It was always fun to mess with Bucky since he was another Alpha and could hold his own. His Winter Soldier days were starting to become less sensitive and he didn’t mind jokes about them. Steve walked away from where he and Sam were cooking for everyone and tapped Bruce on the shoulder. The scientist sighed in relief as he took the seat closest to Nat and Steve replaced him.

“Stop threatening her,” he said as he put your feet back to rest on his lap.

“Threatening? I’m just messing wi—”

You stopped as the smell finally hit you. You turned your head, earning a third snarl as your face was too close to Bucky’s stomach and crotch for Nat’s comfort. His scent was more musky than usual, and then Nat and Bruce’s smells hit you. They were about to be in their ruts and heat, respectively. You immediately sat up from Bucky’s lap with your hands up in surrender. They weren’t together but as long as he was unclaimed, Nat felt some way about others approaching Bucky when she was in a rut. Bruce, on the other hand, was very much Nat’s and you didn’t mean to cross that line at all.  

“I swear the only stink I could smell was Stark and Peter. I was joking, not a real threat. Bruce is all yours.”

Everyone relaxed. Nat muttered a quiet sorry for assuming you were declaring a real threat to Bruce, blaming it on the upcoming rut having her on edge. Everyone knew you would never take Bruce from her. But even rational Alphas like them found it hard to take your jokes when ruts were involved. Steve pulled you fully into his lap so Sam could have a seat at the table— some of the chairs were still missing from Tony’s last party, probably on the deck. You gave him a snarl, more playful than anything, to which he just rolled his eyes.

“Can’t just manhandle me like that. I’m not one of your little weak Omegas, Captain.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Thank God for that. You’d be the worst, you don’t know how to listen.”

“She’d be getting punished every other damn day,” Bucky finally teased and everyone laughed.

The rest of dinner was rather calm. The team actually enjoyed your jokes after it was verbally put out that everything was just a joke, you were just your usual obnoxious Alpha self. It was nice to have Clint home for the weekend, he was usually at the farm with Laura especially since their third child was born. It would have been nice to have Thor as well but Asgard requested him home for something so you only had Clint.

Wanda was enjoying messing with him. When it came to Wanda, and Pietro when he was alive, Clint was such a weak Alpha. They were his adopted kids for all intents and purposes and found themselves in his pack with no difficulty— well one. Vision struggled to accept Wanda being his Omega but also in Clint’s mini pack even if it was purely familial.

He almost commanded Wanda to leave the pack but was soon talked to and brought to an understanding. You were glad that you were able to convince him to back down. You might have been an Alpha but the entire concepts of dynamics bothered you a bit. You were lucky enough to always be in control of your own destiny but you felt bad for Betas that sometimes had to bow down. You felt even sorrier towards Omegas that had no agency at all. They never seemed bothered by it but they didn’t know better— they didn’t know what power was like to know that they should be bothered by their lack of it.  

The elevator doors dinged and instead of being greeted by Tony and potentially Peter, a smell you didn’t like rolled out. It wasn’t hard to miss the lavender, ocean breeze, and cranberry scent of Sharon Carter. Not many people that weren’t officially on the Avengers had access to the residential floors of the tower, but Sharon was one of the few since she was a high level SHIELD agent. Sharon had files in her hand, you assumed for the next mission that was due any minute now. She stopped dead in her tracks, growling viciously at the sight before her. It wasn’t hard to miss that she was in a rut like Nat and Bucky and you were currently sitting on her property.

Steve and Sharon weren’t together in the same way that Bucky and Nat weren’t together. However, you and Nat were at least friendly with each other even when she got mad about your jokes about Bucky. Sharon just hated you and the feeling was mutual. You never understood why she was so insistent on being pissed whenever you talked to Steve during a rut. It wasn’t like she had a real chance with him.

Steve didn’t feel drawn to other Alphas in a bonding way— only seeing them as there for a good time. But he— and Bucky— hadn’t found an Omega he was willing to bond to by pure choice or felt inclined to bond with on instinct alone. So they slept around to solve ruts, switching between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Steve usually went to Sharon if he was choosing an Alpha. And she did the same with him. Sharon glared and you had half a mind to wiggle around on Steve’s lap just to mess with her.

As if he could read your mind and knew what you were about to do, Steve gripped your upper arm tightly to stop you. Just like with Tony, the two of you were in a stare-off with gentle snarls at each other. If Sharon wasn’t right there, Sam would have joked that you two should get a room. But no one was joking, only watching the tense scene in front of them. Tony submitted to you, Nat tended to submit to you, Clint and Thor submitted to you. Hell, even Bucky and Vision. But not Steve. Ever the Captain, he was the most dominant Alpha on the whole team— not using Alpha command very often and rejecting becoming leader of a pack, instead choosing to just be the best captain he could be of a team. And not once did he lose a stare-off to you.

“Stand down, (Y/N).”

“Make me,” you said with a smirk.

Any other moment, Steve would have laughed or snarled more but with his eyes playful. Not now though because you weren’t toying with him. You might have been staring at him but your words were purely to set off Sharon and right at the moment, during her rut, it wasn’t funny to him. He preferred if the team was a family or at least cordial with each other. Steve’s grip on your arm loosened as he growled, no longer settling on quiet snarls.

You relented and jumped off of him with a quickness. The growl from Steve made a spike of fear run through you, causing your scent to roll off slightly, making both him and Bucky turn their heads before looking away abruptly to not get caught staring.  

“Do you want me now?” Steve asked Sharon.

The blonde nodded and he stood up to follow her. He took the files from her hand and shoved them towards you, knowing you were as thorough as he and Bucky were with reading them and informing the team. Steve’s hand found Sharon’s waist. It slowly snaked down to her butt as they walked off.

“We’ll be back later,” he said as they entered the elevator, not really caring if you guys had heard.

The tension settled as the elevator went up to his suite. You sat back down and began to flip through the files, sipping the beer Steve left. One thing you appreciated about both him and Bucky was that the two of them were warm as hell so Steve’s seat was nice and toasty.  

“You’re going to get your ass beat one day,” Clint said with a shake of his head and a smile.

“Sharon could learn to back off of (Y/N) a little,” Wanda said, feeling free to speak without the other Alpha in the room. No one ever scolded Wanda if she was defending you. Usually Omegas always got away with things if they were defending an Alpha— it was one of the few times that they had power over people higher up than them in the hierarchy.  

“I agree,” Nat sat back in her chair. “She’s had it out for you for no damn reason. Just mad you made the team and not her. She’s got to get over it, you were the better one. Not SHIELD’s fault, a better Alpha came in.”

“Probably mad about that time Steve helped you out too,” Sam chimed in and you choked on the beer.

“I’m sorry who helped me with what?”

“Steve. Was a while ago, right before Germany, remember?”

You shook your head. The only thing you remember about Germany, aside from the fight, was you, Sam, and Bucky averting your eyes when the two blond Alphas inconveniently started their ruts and felt the need to have one last go in the parking lot and had their hands down each others’ pants in front of the car. You had wanted to hit both of them with the car.  

“Well I remember damn well, she came storming in talking about how you could mess with anyone in SHIELD but picked the one teammate no one touched.”

“I’ve never asked Steve to help me with a rut.” You set the beer down and the whole team looked in surprise. “I’ve never gone to him for help or anyone for that matter.”

“You haven’t?” Sam prodded, knowing he’s heard noises from your room a few times before.

You fished the little pill bottle refill out of your pocket— the reason you had been out and able to respond to Peter’s frantic call about Tony forcing him to quit earlier that day. With a quick toss, you threw them across to Vision who caught it with no problem. He read off the little label stating the dosage and instructions of your suppressants.

“You use those?” Nat asked.

“Unclaimed Alpha, not taking a chance going into a real rut and riling up some Beta or Omega while I’m sleeping with them. Don’t need kids right now.”

“Women?”

“Sometimes just don’t work for me in a rut.”

“Just sleep with an Alpha then,” Bucky suggested. “Not like you can’t feel that one coming and stop it before it’s too late.”

“Aww, are you offering, Buck?”

He scoffed. “Fuck off.”  

Vision tossed the pill bottle back to you and you stashed it back in your pocket. Done with talking about your sex life, you picked up the files Steve had given you before he and Sharon left. The team became alert as you did a casual debriefing and began to organize the mission.

“FRIDAY!” You called out while everyone read the papers you handed out.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“When Tony gets back, tell him I need a new bo staff before the mission. The other burnt to a crisp.”

“Of course, (Y/N). Mr. Stark has been working on that problem for you.”

It was the fourth bo staff in a month that you had gone through. The collapsible staff was your main weapon because of your powers. You had heating abilities but had not learned to fully master them. The most you could do was heat up yourself, not able to shoot the laser like heat from your body. However it was enough that just like normal heat, whatever you were touching would eventually conduct that heat. To keep yourself at a safer distance rather than hand to hand combat, you used a bo staff and heated up like a makeshift lightsaber— giving enemies third degree burns.

“Thank you, FRIDAY.”

The AI said something but you missed it as the alarm on your phone rang, reminding you there was only one hour left you had to take your suppressant for the day before it was considered a missed day. The team, who had been staring at the new mission notes, looked up at the sound. They all watched you pop open the pill bottle and toss a pill in your mouth. Your face scrunched up in disgust as you bit down on the pill and chewed it until it was dust.

A second alarm rang. Your rut, much to your gratefulness, had a pretty routine schedule. Always right after your period which was also extremely routine. It rarely varied. You stood up, taking Steve’s jacket from the back of the chair. Bucky didn’t make a protest when you suddenly lifted his arm and took off the hair tie around it. You walked backwards to the elevators, facing the team as you talked and shrugged on the big leather jacket before starting to tie your hair up.

“Duty calls, rut’s about to start. If you need me. I’ll be at that one bar downtown and then some little Omega’s bed. Do me a favor… try not to need me till at least two am, mmm no scratch that, four am.”

The doors closed with various snorts and guffaws from your teammates. Your nose upturned now that you were by yourself, the scent of Sharon and Steve overwhelming. You leaned your head down and sniffed the jacket. It smelled too strongly of him— would be hard to get someone at the bar. The doors opened and you entered the lobby, taking off the jacket.

“Roseanne?” you called the Beta receptionist who was almost always working night shifts.

Her head popped up from where it was hunched over the keyboard. You tossed her the jacket. Without missing a beat, she reached down and grabbed a different jacket— black leather instead of brown but the same size and style as the one she was just given. Roseanne threw the jacket to you.

“Captain Rogers is going to wonder where these are eventually,” she said with what you couldn’t determine if it was worriedness for you or nervousness just because.

You laughed and fixed the jacket collar.

“He knows these are my favorite to steal, needs to learn to stop stinking them so much and I’ll stop hiding them from him. Catch you later. Don’t work too hard, you should have fun.”

“Is that a command?”

“Don’t test me, Beta,” you said with a growl.

Roseanne laughed, knowing your threat was of pure jest— you two were friends after all. You gave her one last smile before heading out for the night, ready to catch an Omega to make you feel better.

“That mine?”

You jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice making him smirk at the fact he actually startled you. The entrance to the duplex suite you had was on the floor with Steve, Bucky, and Sam’s rooms. Technically Steve and Bucky’s rooms was just one suite with an office and a kitchenette— the separation was needed though for nights when one of them had someone in bed and the other person was relegated to the smaller pull out couch in the office turned guest room.

It was late enough when you came back, almost all the lights in the tower were off, that you thought no one would be up. He had only been up to grab some water. A huff sounded from behind Steve and you rolled your eyes. Sharon was clearly still there and not pleased at your sudden scent that invaded past the open doorway and into his room.

She got up and stood behind him, wrapped in just a sheet. You were on suppressants and had just come from satisfying your rut with a very nice Omega but the scent of what Steve and Sharon had been doing all night was beginning to start yours up again. Some sweat beaded on your forehead.

The two other Alphas watched the sweat with intensity and two separate emotions. Sharon felt her rut start up again filled with pure spite as her eyes narrowed at you. Steve felt his come back but his eyes weren’t narrowed at all. Instead, fully dilated pupils followed the sweat down the side of your face and neck disappearing behind his leather jacket that didn’t smell right. He growled, sniffing the air again to see if he could identify the presentation of the mysterious stranger.

“You let an Omega rub his scent all over my shit?”

From behind him Sharon scoffed on his behalf. You crossed your arms, not appreciating her input.

“Needed my little problem solved, found a willing body. Didn’t mean to get it on your jacket, Stevie, my bad,” you said, nonchalantly.  

“Next time control your Omega.”

“First of all, not mine. Second, chill. I’ll just replace it with my scent. Good?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You rolled your eyes. “Have you ever considered suppressants? They make me much more pleasant on my ruts. You could use the help.”

Steve laughed. “Please, you’re still unbearable.”

“Just a thought, hothead. Goodnight, Stevie. Sharon.”

“Night, doll,” Steve said much to Sharon’s annoyance while she muttered goodnight.

You continued down your intended path to your room and up the stairs to the bed and bathroom area. Stripping off your clothes, you stepped into your shower. You didn’t shower at the Omega’s place, not wanting him to get some idea that you were considering him as a claim by sticking around past the sex. Once you smelled only like you, you slipped on underwear and headed to bed.

Late morning came and you stretched with a complaint to FRIDAY— the AI greeting you back as she turned on the lights in your room. You tugged at your suit and met everyone on the helipad where the quinjet was up and running, waiting for everyone. Tony handed you the new bo staff before walking into the jet and sitting at the driver’s seat. You threw it up in the air and caught it, the weight making your hand drop more than normal.

Your palms glowed a bright red and slowly the staff did as well. The minute you stopped, the glowing did as well and the staff stayed intact. Knocking the staff against Steve’s shield that was sitting on a seat, you smiled hearing the sharp clanking noise. The staff was vibranium, it had to be. Hopefully it would be the end of you having to get a new weapon every other mission.

The rest of the team piled in, Peter smiling at you and giving you a hug in thanks that he was on the mission. The team chuckled, he was like a little brother to you. Clint once tried to say he was your child but was swiftly met with a boot to the chest as you told him not to accidentally curse you with kids before you were ready or wanted them. The jet ride was silent. Not uncommon when a mission came after most of the team had been in some form of rut or heat. No one liked to talk because they were tired and opted to take the concentration they had to focus on the mission.

You decided on teams for once you got deep inside the base and snuck into the old castle. You grumbled that if it wasn’t the enemy that killed you it would be the falling rocks from the ceiling of the dilapidated structure— the comment making the rest of the tired team smile.

“One of you smells,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time.

The entire team stopped and did a test. You shook your head.

“This might be your supersoldier senses, no one else smells. Everyone took the shot before we left.”

The shot was a masker engineered by Bruce and used by most intelligence agencies either using his formula or a replica once they learned they could make their own. It never lasted long and was carefully tracked but it masked scents from wafting too far past a person, making spies able to do their jobs properly. Of course, the SHIELD ones were Bruce’s secret formula that lasted long enough to complete a day mission without fear.

“One more check, to be safe,” Steve said.

Everyone sniffed again. Peter stiffened beside you.

“It’s not us,” he whispered.

Bucky and Steve took over completely and worked to find how far the scent was from where you guys actually were standing. The supersoldiers returned with a new plan and new teams. Stepping up to the plate, Tony took Peter under his wing to head down the south hall. You were with Bruce, one slap to his bicep with your heated up hand and Hulk would activate no problem. Nat and Clint were paired up along with Vision and Wanda. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were the famed trio to no one’s surprise.

This mission was worth going in standard teams you guys knew worked. With a final look at everyone, Steve nodded and you all split— turning on the comms and walking with a new alertness. The fighting sounded through your ear piece. You and Bruce looked at each other, it was coming from Nat and Clint. They couldn’t get you an exact location in reference to them. You whisper-yelled for Sam in your comm.

“Can Redwing get Bruce and I to you guys?”

“On it, give me a minute… stairwell straight ahead and go to the right. We’re… three flights down.”

You and Bruce started to book it. The team needed all the help they could get. You narrowly avoided getting hit by a guard that just got knocked out from Steve’s shield. Heating up your palm, you slapped Bruce and Hulk roared to life. Your staff got hotter and hotter until it was bright red. Men screamed as the staff burned them and you spun it with expertise.

“You’ll never get it,” one man said.

He was dressed differently than the others and you knew he was in charge. A beaker was in his hand. This was a fragile situation. You knew that HYDRA had the formula. There was no way that it wasn’t written down. But you also knew that the formula was probably not in the building anymore. If you couldn’t successfully get the beaker then Bruce and Tony wouldn’t be able to analyze it.  

“You’re the only one still standing,” Nat said as she slowly inched towards him.

He held the glass with little regard and you couldn’t risk it spilling by ambushing him.

“And this is the only formula successfully completed. I can tell when I have lost a battle… but a battle isn’t war. Think quickly.”

He threw the glass. Everyone watched in horror and screamed for someone to grab it. You were the closest and without thinking dove for the glass— hands still red hot from fighting. The beaker burst in your hands, cutting the skin and causing the substance to seep into the wounds.

“Shit!” you yelled.

“Bruce, get her back to the tower and into medical now. Tell Rhodey to send us a second jet,” Steve commanded. “Everyone else clean sweep the place, we need to find files or something.”

Your hand started to burn before going numb. Bruce, no longer in Hulk form, rushed you back to the quinjet. Your whole body had started to go numb and Bruce worried it was going into shock. Dr. Cho was already waiting with a gurney to take you into the private wing reserved for the Avengers team. The last thing you remembered was Bruce saying everything was going to be okay before the anesthesia or poison, you weren’t sure which, took over and you went unconscious.

~~

Dry. Your throat felt very dry when you woke up. The coughing startled Bruce who had been sleeping in the chair next to your hospital bed. He rushed to grab you water and held the cup up to your lips as you drank. He set the cup down and moved from the chair to sitting on the edge of your bed.

“How are you?”

“I feel like I got hit but a goddamn bus, Bruce.”

He chuckled. “At least that mouth of yours hasn’t lost any bite… (Y/N), there’s a problem.”

“Yeah, I almost died.”

“No, but you might wish you did.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I want you to know, before I say anything, no one else knows but you and me. I was the only one that studied the compound of the substance. And aside from Dr. Cho, no one else worked on you. She only pulled out the glass and helped drain the wound.”

You looked down at your left hand. It wasn’t damaged but you could see where there was a cyst that must have been drained. Oh well, just another scar to add to your list of scrapes and bruises.

“And no one else has been allowed in here but me. You’ve been out for a week.”

“A week?! Bruce what the hell?”

“The substance they were working on was a changing component.”

“Change how?”

“Presentation. It’s meant to mutate presentation cells… you’re no longer an Alpha.”

You shook your head. “Brucey this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking. The cells were either destroyed or mutated into producing Omega dna to eventually replace them.”

“You’re lying! You’re fucking lying to me!” You screamed before Bruce slapped a hand over your mouth.

“If you don’t shut up, someone’s going to barge through that door and smell it on you.”

He tilted his head to the frosty glass windows. You could see outlines and shadows of the entire team on the other side. Three heads moved slightly and you stilled— obviously Peter, Steve, and Bucky could hear the movement. You looked Bruce in the eye and nodded slowly in indication that you wouldn’t shout. Bruce handed you the file and talked as you flipped through it.

“I’ve destroyed all the files but one locked in my nesting stuff, it’s illegal for Nat to touch that box. This isn’t on your medical record either. I’m going to lock this up with the file as well when you’re done reading it.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Bruce poured you another glass of water.

“That’s why I destroyed everything. I know this can’t be easy but it’s still your decision, (Y/N). We can find a way to get you out of here until I’m able to see if it can be reversed. Alpha?” Bruce asked gently when you seemed to stare into space.

You almost recoiled, the word seemed to scorn you as you looked at the file that said otherwise.

“How long can I hide it?”

“They’ll know the minute you change clothes. Roseanne gave me a jacket, said it would help… I lied, I told her. Three of us know.”

“It’s okay, I trust Rose.”

You sniffed the jacket, it smelled strongly of Steve. You looked at the clothes at the end of the bed, the undergarments were yours but the shirt and sweats belonged to Bucky. You thanked Bruce for having some sort of foresight to help cover up all the new Omega scent of you.

“The maskers,” you said with delight thinking of the pre-mission shots.

“Are highly monitored by the system to stay within the intelligence community.”

“Bruce, please. I can’t be this. My nature got changed by force. This new one is not mine.”

“I can possibly fake the numbers.”

You shot over to give him a hug. Bruce set you back.

“You’re on these for the rest of your life you know. Or at least until I can try to change you back. But if I can’t,” he faltered.

“I understand.”

“Okay, I’ll bring you the first batch of injections after dinner. Don’t shower before then.”

You nodded seriously and Bruce helped you out of the bed. You were forever grateful to the good scientist. The team rushed you when you stepped out of the room and you froze up in fear.

“Back off guys, she just woke up,” Bruce came to your rescue.

They all suddenly apologized and gave you space. You secretly sniffed the air as the team talked about the bullshit lie Bruce told them about the serum that got you. Something about it eating at part of your nerves and they’d have to be a bit gentle with you for a little bit or some shit like that. Your foot tapped nervously as the elevator slowly made its way up to the residential floors. You forced yourself to stop tapping, not willing to give in to the nervousness of the Omega cells trying to take over.

Dinner was a tense affair on your part and you only breathed when Bruce finally knocked on your door to deliver the masker injections. He patted an extra box on top of the injections informing you that he had gotten himself a prescription for Omega suppressants for you to use. You couldn’t thank him enough. He was taking a huge risk. As a claimed Omega, his Alpha normally had to sign off on things like suppressants. If Nat found out then Bruce was risking a punishment for you. You showered and sat on the edge of your tub.

Normally you were wild with the injections, everyone was. But now you wanted to make sure that it was perfect, that every drop entered your bloodstream. You pulled the band tight around your thigh, holding it taut between your teeth until the faintest semblance of a vein appeared. Carefully— and rather painfully because of the slow speed— you sunk the syringe into your thigh and pushed the top of it until all of the injection was gone.

You took a tentative sniff. Nothing. Opening the box, you ripped one of the pills from the package and chewed it harshly. You grabbed underwear, ready to slip into bed when you thought about pajamas. If you had put on more clothes that smelled like you— Alpha you— then maybe it would help. Instead of grabbing fresh clothes, you reached into your laundry basket to pull out pajamas. They absolutely reeked of your scent and you smiled. It would probably mean you could never wash your clothes again but as long as you didn’t spill something on it, you would be fine, you hoped.

It was hard to fall asleep at first. You tossed and turned in attempts to figure out why, eventually sitting up straight. The second laundry basket stared at you. It smelled like all your teammates and too many pieces were invading your personal space. It was uncomfortable. Grabbing the basket, you tossed any other stray pieces from the other team members into the basket and headed out on your mission to return their stuff.

Thor and Clint weren’t there so you left the piles at the door. Tony and Pepper didn’t even question the return. Wanda was just grateful to have her sweater back and you laughed when she got mad that it had some of your smell on it. She jokingly glared before digging out Vision’s stuff and giving you a hug goodnight. Bruce answered the door to his suite and with an understanding face took his and Nat’s stuff from you without a word.

You returned to your floor to give the last bit of clothes. Sam didn’t complain that his shirts smelled a bit like you and threw the clothes behind him without a care. He was telling you funny stories about the week you missed making you laugh. The next door swung open, both Bucky and Steve walked over.

“Heard you were giving back our stuff,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Can I get that one shirt back? You’ve had for like two weeks.”

“Your too tight shirts? I’m doing you a favor.”

Sam snorted at your retort and Steve rolled his eyes as he and Bucky reached into the basket and started grabbing their clothes. Their piles and Sam’s pile were significantly bigger than the others. You couldn’t help but growl when Bucky’s hand went to touch the large silk scarf. The growl was Alpha but the reason behind it was pure Omega which only made your growl harsher from your frustration at that.

“What? It’s mine.”

“You don’t even wear it.”

“Tony makes me wear it sometimes at those events.”

“I use it to tie my hair at night.”

You ripped the scarf back from Bucky’s hand and dropped it in the basket. He looked down in some surprise at the fury with which you grabbed it. His fingers reached for other pieces and your eyes watched his movements like a hawk. Anytime you growled, Bucky or Steve’s fingers would drop the fabric and just grab something else. Steve grabbed his leather jacket. You growled, expecting him to drop it. Steve only gripped it tighter.

“No, I’m not letting you have this one.”

The snarling started and it was another stare-off— only Steve meant it in jest and you were being serious with him for once.

“Stand down,” he said.

“No.”

“It’s my jacket.”

“I wear it better.”

“I don’t usually do this but Stand. Down.”

Steve used the Alpha command and your eyes tore from his gaze. He thought it was because he won, you knew it was because you were smothering a whimper and hoping it died before it escaped your lips. Sam cleared his throat.

“If you two are gonna bang, not outside my door please. And take metal man with you.”

That snapped you both out of it. Steve added his jacket to the pile in his arms and you bit back a whine. Steve shook his head.

“Thought the rut was over,” he said like it meant nothing.

Bucky’s nose upturned. His eyes moved slightly past Sam’s door, not able to actually see inside.

“You got an Omega in there?”

You tensed.

“Yeah,” Sam said as he pulled the door closed.

Steve shrugged after taking a sniff— Alphas didn’t know how to respect personal boundaries and they weren’t required to. “It’s normally that secretary isn’t it? Smells different.”

“Not bonded to any one, Cap. Can take a different partner if I want.”

Steve agreed and adjusted the pile in his arms. He and Bucky gave the two of you smiles and retreated back to their rooms, content that most of his clothes were returned to him. Before you could take a step, Sam grabbed the scarf from the laundry basket. You turned to him. He held it delicately in his hands.

“Tell me why the fuck I just lied for you before I mark this all over with my scent.”

You growled and made a move but the basket blocked you from reaching fully. Sam gripped it tighter and held it close to his face.

“Stop.” It came out a whine instead of a command. “You can’t tell anyone. I’m serious, Sam. Swear it to me.”

“On my life.”

The scarf dropped from his hands and back into the basket as you finished your story. He sniffed the air aggressively.

“Be careful, (Y/N). And stay in your room until morning before you start to smell up the place.”

You nodded and headed off before Same called your name.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said. “I don’t see you as any lesser. Understood, Alpha?”

You wiped at your eyes, feeling tears already start.

“Thanks, Sam. But it’s just you. We know what will happen. Let any of those Alphas get a whiff of me and we know exactly what’s going to happen.”

He swallowed with a nod and you retreated back to your room. Bucky’s scarf smelled sickly sweet as you tied up your hair with it. The room was clear of everyone else’s smells. Only yours, Steve’s, Bucky’s, and the two things from Sam that he let you keep to try and calm you down filled the room. It was better that way. You drifted off to sleep with a very tired command to FRIDAY to lock your door and bar all entry until you woke up in the morning.

(Part 2)...

[theshelbyclan]

Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe.  In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed. 

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

[variousincorrectxreader]

Hello! Could you write something about toh characters (Luz, Edric, Boscha and platonic!Eda) finding out that the reader, who always wanted to be in the Emperor’s coven, got to have sort of an apprenticeship there? The reader isn't a villain, they just grew up dreaming to be a part of a prestigious coven like that

-💎

Hello! I'm calling you Diamond Anon because yes, ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ Also, sorry if you wanted oneshots, if not specified, I’m probably just gonna do HC’s. 

          Luz ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

Okay, so before the whole “These jerks tried to kill my mother figure” situation, she would 100% support you!!

Like, you must be pretty strong to get an apprenticeship with some of the most “Prestigious” witches.

However, due to the whole petrification ceremony deal she is 100% trying to get you to not go, HOWEVER she realizes its a good way to have inside info.

You kinda get whiplash with how fast she changes her mind

it’s like:”s/o! Don’t go! It’s super crazy dangerous and what if they find out that you hang around me and Eda-” to, “S/O! I NEED YOU TO GO FIND OUT WHATS HAPPENING IN THE CASTLE-” in one second.

She understands the whole dream thing though, so she’ll (reluctantly) let the coven suck up your precious date time.  Edric 

Literally his first reaction was “ew, why.”

Lets be honest, he isn’t really into the idea of you becoming a rule enforcer

Doesn’t understand why it’s your dream, like, why become a snot nosed glorified police officer when you could be skiving off school and pranking people?

He is impressed though, don’t get me wrong. Like, you have an apprenticeship with the Emperor’s coven? Damn you must be powerful

After a while he’ll get used to it, and he’ll let you go. He isn’t always very encouraging, but he’s trying <3 Boscha

Boscha is naturally attracted to powerful people like a moth to a flame, so when she met you her first instinct is to challenge you to something.

It was a duel, you won btw.

So when she found out about your dream, and the fact that it was coming true? She fell twice as hard.

The only downside she can really see about it is that sometimes your coven duties clash with her grudgby games and she hates it when you’re not in the crowd.

Will 100% be very forceful when it comes to you going though, cause in her mind the strong live and the weak die. (Ok Raven Branwen fangirl.)

Literal Powerhouse couple. (please stop her from bullying Willow tho-) Eda

No <3

She will do everything it takes (at the start) to stop you from going.

No kid of hers is going to end up being some uniformed loser! Join the bad girl coven instead!

She does know you have to be quite a powerful witchling to get in so early, but that still doesn’t stop her from stopping you.

She really doesn’t understand the appeal at all

You two argue about it all the time, it took her a while, but eventually she came around. (it took ages.)

Like Luz, she sees it as an oppourtunity but will respect your descion (she’ll hate it though.) if you decide not to tell her anything

(still tries to persuade you to join the bad girl coven though.)

[writings-of-bored-gal]

Protection - Part 10

Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Part 10/?

Summary: Jaime and his wife make it to Sunspear, but what will be waiting there for them when they arrive?

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! so….it’s been a while. I never wanted to leave this fanfic unfinished and I promise I will eventually get to finishing it, I just needed to know where it was I wanted to go with it and in all honesty, the way the show ended kind of put me off thinking about that. I am going to give this another go though, and Protection will be finished one way or another (else it might haunt me for the rest of my days). I have also started writing more original content which can now be found on Dreame and the link is in my Masterlist! Thank you all for the continued support and I hope you’re all staying safe. Thanks for reading- Abby x

Protection Tags: @mikariell95, @evyiione, @sleepylunarwolf, @wnygirl2012, @purpose4fan-fiction, @mmmcchan, @lxdyred, @duvetsandpillows, @d34d-0n-th3-1ns1d3, @bshelley322

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee! 

_______________

Jaime wrapped the child in a blanket, clutching it tightly to shield it from the sand that whipped around them in the wind. It had cried, it had screeched as its mother fell to the ground, her arms unable to take the weight of the tiny being. 

She was now slumped over the front of Bronn’s horse, Bronn’s arms showing veins where the strain of holding her up was getting to him. It hadn’t been pretty, but she had done all she could and she had the child before fainting in exhaustion and dehydration. Jaime tried not to let his fear show, tried not to disturb the sleeping infant in his arms, but he couldn’t help but let it eat away inside of him. They had to reach the Martells before it was too late for her. Bronn had managed to bring a maester, who lingered behind them on his own horse. He seemed hesitant to help them until Jaime had explained that she was not of Lannister blood, but the daughter of Ned Stark. The argument had persuaded the master, but Jaime was not sure if it would sway the Martells to his cause. They would be happy to let her die even if it was just to spite him. 

Whilst the journey to the Martell’s residence was a short one, it felt longer than any of their time at sea. Jaime looked down at the child in his arms, a young boy. Cersei would be disgusted. A new Lannister heir. He didn’t really care what Cersei thought. The boy looked strong and healthy, despite the heat he did not seem bothered, his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm of sleep. Jaime looked over to his wife, her eyes flitting open for a moment before closing once again. At least she was still alive. 

The edges of Sunspear became visible above the dunes. The tips of its golden spires were visible above the large walls that surrounded the building. There were guards at every entrance, all sporting the Martell crest of the spear bursting through the sun. Jaime thought back to Oberyn, the way he fought the Mountain with a spear and his courage. He had nothing but respect for the Martells, but he could not say they would feel the same way about him. 

The maester rode up to meet the level of Jaime and Bronn. He stepped down from his horse and went to check on Jaime’s dear wife, still slumped over Bronn’s horse and mumbling something Jaime could not hear. He attempted to give her some water, but she laughed, batting the vessel away in delirium. Jaime was no maester, but even he could see she was delirious. He felt panic rise inside of his, the child sensing it and fussing in his blankets. He watched as the maester stepped ahead to the two guards, murmuring something to them as they nodded, one turning and making his way into the walls of Sunspear as the maester returned to Jaime and Bronn. 

“They have asked that she enter Sunspear alone with the child,” the maester told Jaime. 

“You expect me to give my wife up to my family’s enemies so freely? No!” Jaime replied, his voice rising in anger. He would not leave her. She would not die alone. “Put me in chains for all I care, but I am following her in there-“

“Jaime,” Bronn’s voice, level and calm felt like a bucket over water, washing away his anger and bringing him back to the present, “you’re going to be no good to anyone in chains, mate. Let her go in.” 

Jaime wanted to take out his sword. He wanted to fight. That’s what he knew, what he had always known. That was where his strengths truly lay, but he also knew they would not serve him here. He was not here to fight the Martells. Whatever his intentions before, he was now there to beg for their help. 

“Take her,” he murmured, “and him…” Bronn’s eyebrows shot skyward. He had not known the child was a boy, and he understood the implications. His wife was taken on the horse whilst the maester took away his son, leaving Jaime and Bronn sitting uselessly with their arses in the sand as they leaned up agains the walls in the shade, waiting for word from the palace. 

After hours, the sun remained high in the sky, but the guards had changed. Bronn and Jaime had mainly been sitting in silence, Jaime staring into the distance, Bronn drawing crude shapes into the sand in some attempt to entertain himself until he could not hold onto his thoughts any longer. 

“So, a boy,” he said to Jaime, clicking his tongue in thought. Jaime scowled, but it did not deter him. “What’s going to happen when Cersei gets a word of this then?” 

Jaime sighed. “I’m trying not to think too hard about it. I’m more concerned whether they’re alive in there.” 

Bronn shrugged, “they’ll let you in eventually, just need to assess the threat first.” 

“There’s one of me and a thousand of them, how much of a threat can I be?” 

“Aye,” Bronn smirked, “but you’re the Kingslayer.”

___________________

She awoke as the sun was setting, her mouth dry and everything sore. A maester was stood aside from her, whispering to a tall, slender woman with a mouth that seemed it would permanently be turned downwards in a disapproving manner. Her hands fluttered to her belly, still swollen but empty now. She remembered the desert, she remembered the searing pain, but then she had no clue. Had her child survived?

She wanted to cry, but her eyes couldn’t sacrifice losing the little moisture they had. She shut her eyes. She had not seen Jaime, but she hoped his was not far from her. He had promised her protection, hadn’t he? But protection did not mean safety, not anymore. She’d seen her father protect her mother as best as he could, but neither of them had ever been safe, not when there were so many threats. 

“Lady Stark?” It was the tall woman. Her voice should have been comforting. She had always liked the lilt of the Dornish accent, but her name had come out as more of bark. All she could do in response was nod, her throat too dry to croak out some sort of response. She had not been a Stark for a long time, but the name was like a childhood blanket, and she clung to it for comfort. 

The woman came closer, holding up a flask so that she could take a drink, speaking to the girl who called herself Stark whilst she drank. 

“We did not think you would manage to wake up so quickly,” she told her, “you were on the edge of madness when my maester bought you to the doors of the palace.”

“The child?” She managed to choke.

“The child is safe and well. I’ve had someone nurse him, although I imagine he will need his mother soon.” She smiled kindly, but it did not reach her eyes. “Your husband is going to be a problem for us, though. He waits for now outside the walls but his patience will not last forever.” She examined the woman lying down, as if assessing if she was a threat despite the fact she could hardly move. “I think perhaps we could allow him inside with the necessary precautions, but you will stay here with us whilst he can take residency in a cell, I think.” 

Part of her wanted to protest, but she knew it would be useless. The best she could do for now was try and figure out what the Martells wanted from them. It was her turn to protect him. 

[theshiningg]

you don’t love me the way you love her

hogwarts au

fluffy, a pinch of angst

draco x slytherin!reader

warnings: none that i could think of

word count: 7.1k (my longest ever lol)

you stare at the obnoxious faces your best friend makes at you as you stare at him across the dance hall. mcgonagall was teaching dance lessons prior to the yule ball and he was currently laughing at ronald weasley and the professor.

it was time to get partners and practice and you stare at draco from afar as he walks toward you. “hey y/n!” he speaks as he stands right in front of you. “care to dance?” draco lifts an eyebrow and you let out a small lighthearted gasp, “draco malfoy asking me, to dance?” you joke around as he wraps his arms around your waist. slightly embarrassed about the actions of your best friend, your ears and cheeks blush a light pink. you’d hate to admit it but, you were in love with your best friend.

later in the day at dinner, your eyes unconsciously drift over to draco, who was also unconsciously staring at a girl at the slytherin table, astoria greengrass. pansy lightly taps you on the shoulder to snap you out of your trance. “hey y/n, can i borrow your notes for potions? i skipped yesterday and now i’m a day behind.” you smile and nod at your friend before taking out your parchment of notes. “just give it back to in the dorm.” glancing at draco one more time, you turn to leave, walking to the lake to finish your book.

falling snowflakes land on your hair as you weave your way through the blankets of snow and under a tree. the crunch of footsteps quietly followed you as you feel a coat on top of your shoulders and turn around to see draco. he sits next to you, not too close but not too far, “can i ask you something?” you let out a hum of acknowledgement, “what do girls like?” taken a bit back, your eyes dart to his grinning face, “well,” you slightly laugh, “we appreciate even the smallest gestures, not too many gifts. for skinship, it honestly depends on the girl.” as you continue to talk, draco stares at you intentively nodding his head every once in a while. he stands up abruptly before extending his hand out to you. grabbing his hand, you stand up and give him a small smile. the both of you walk in silence to the castle until draco stops and stares at you, “y/n,” he pauses as a tiny grin appears on his face, “i think i’m gonna do it.” you lift your eyebrow at him and smile back at him, “do what?” he smiles to himself, “i’m going to confess.” your shoulders shrug down and his coat slips off, hitting the icy floor. his expression changes to a worried expression as he walks over to you, “are you alright?” he places his hand on your shoulder after picking up his coat, “yeah.” you barely whisper as you push his hand off your shoulder, “whoever she is, she’ll be lucky to have you. sorry, i’m a little out of it but i have rounds tonight so, i’ll see you later,” you speak before walking away.

the next day, you sit at breakfast with draco. he stares over at you while you try to teach pansy the lesson she missed the other day. “pansy, you have to grind up the occupy eggshell, not just crack it.” pansy whines at you, “y/n, please, no more,” you shake your head to your best friend, “then you shouldn’t have taken advanced potions,” you taunt. she quiets down and pulls you close to her, “how are you feeling?” your eyes look around the great hall before turning back to pansy, “i’m fine. honestly, plus, last night during my rounds, i caught the weasley twins out of bed after curfew and, they gave me a coupon for anything out of their box of mischief for their freedom.” pansy’s face twists up in disgust, “you’re too easily persuaded.”

you sit in potions, reading the instructions for your next potion to be made, a drought of peace. the classroom was quiet with only you and professor slughorn. “ah miss l/n,” he speaks up enthusiastically before quieting down, “what’s wrong?” you shake your head with a smile, “nothing.” your conversation quickly gets interrupted as draco and the rest of your friends enter the classroom, loudly. draco walks up to you instead of going to seat and drags his hands throughout your hair while standing behind you, “why’re you here so early?” you continue to read your book, “i’m getting ready for class.” he walks over to the front of your desk and stares you, “you’re upset.” you finally look up at him, “i’m not, i just like to be prepared for class.” draco rolls his eyes before leaning closely to your ear, “we’re not done with this conversation,” he trudges back to his seat annoyed.

the class starts with professor slughorn introducing the potion you read about earlier and pansy groans as he releases the class to grab their materials and begin their potion making. you tell pansy to grab the materials while you go grab the cauldron and potion glass. pansy sits in her seat while you stir the potion, “pansy did you bring the porcupine quills?” she shrugs, “well continue to stir while i go get it then,” she nods her head and grabs the rod from you as you go to the ingredients cabinet. unluckily, on the way there, you were a bit distracted so you bump into another student with their unfinished potion in their grasp that spills on your hand during the collision, burning it a little bit in the process. the glass ends up the floor broken and you bend down to pick up the pieces of the glass while the girl freaks out. you get pulled away from the glass by draco, “what’re you doing, y/n?” draco says as he begins to freak out a bit as well, “picking up the glass,” you answer dumbfound at everyone’s concern before looking down at your slightly burnt and bleeding hand. professor slughorn quietly cleans up the mess, “miss l/n, i think its best if you go madam pomfrey to have your hand checked out.” the girl walks up to you, “y/n, i’m so sorry.” she apologizes scared about how you were going to react, “its alright, don’t worry about it,” before walking off to the direction of the hospital wing.

as you arrive, madam pomfrey instructs you to wait on the bed while she gets bandages and medication for your hands. while you get treated, draco walks in the wing with your books and robes which you took off when you started your potion. madam pomfrey treats your arm and you finally leave with draco to dinner. on the walk to the hall, astoria pops out from behind a pillar, surprising you and draco. “draco, i have to tell you something,” she then turns toward you, “sorry about your arm, y/n. i heard what happened.” shaking your head, you reply, “don’t worry about it, it didn’t hurt that much,” before walking a good distance and turning around to give draco a reassuring smile about his confession. you start to walk down the long, lonely hallways, you’re not gonna lie to yourself, but you saw the way they looked at each other, specifically draco. you noticed the way he would smile to himself whenever she walked by at any meal time or the way he always unconsciously mentioned her in his stories when he had parties at his manor. making it to the great hall, you sit next to pansy, quietly. “where’s draco?” you let out a soft sigh, “he’s with astoria.” pansy leans closer to you, “are you okay?” you nod and reply, “yeah, my arm doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” she glances over at you sympathetically, “i don’t mean your arm, y/n.” you turn to face her with sad eyes, “i know.”

before you could continue with your conversation with the rest of your friend’s, you notice draco and astoria entering the hall, hands intertwined. you immediately turn your head back to look down at your palms on your lap before realizing tiny droplets of water were falling. bringing your head back up to look at the ceiling, you realize that the ceiling had been bewitched and turn your head towards the two most mischievous pranksters in the school, the weasley twins. george looks at you before giving you a noticeable wink and running out of the doors to pretend that he had no part in this prank. a smile lights itself up on your face as pansy drags you out of the hall with her, completely soaked. again, after exiting the hall, you match eyes with a weasley twin, this time being fred. he gives you the signal of zipping his lips up and throwing the key, in which you respond with a small smile and the nod of your head. draco and astoria both walk up to your friend group, “what the bloody hell? who would enchant the sky?” you stare at astoria’s wet state and shrug, “what a coincidence?” draco tries hard to look you in the eye, but avoids eye contact when you stare at him.

as you walk back to your dorm with pansy, she begins to complain about astoria, “ugh, she’s so annoying? do you understand what i’m saying?” you nod in confirmation for your friend, “just because she’s dating draco now, doesn’t give her the right to act all powerful and mighty because their families are probably the most powerful and influential in the whole wizarding world!” pansy’s rant goes in through one of your ears and out the other as you just continue to nod and pretend to acknowledge her annoyance. “uh, pansy. i’m have to get something from potions, i left my,” your eyes search the hallway for an item before landing on an owl, “my quill. draco forgot to bring it for me, so i’ll meet you in the room in thirty minutes.” she gives you an okay before continuing her rant with blaise.

your breath unveils itself in the frosty breeze as you walk back to the same tree as the night before. sitting yourself down, you let out a large sigh before getting interrupted by a clearing of a throat. “fred, george. pleasant evening?” they both give you their signature smirks, “indeed.” george sits down first with fred following next, “i suppose you want the coupon back? for the prank, i mean.” they both shake their heads in sync, “of course not,” fred replies, “that one was for free,” george adds on. you slightly chuckle at their response and they stare over at you, “well, we better get going,” george speaks up after several seconds of silence, “a specific blond is looking for you,” fred speaks after his brother as the both of them stand up and walk towards the castle. as they leave, the crunching of incoming footsteps disturb the silence, “y/n, didn’t i tell you to bring a jacket whenever you leave the castle?” a small smile makes its way to your face, “of course, your majesty,” you taunt as a pout appears on his face. “what were you talking about with the weasel twins,” you roll your eyes, “weasley twins,” you enunciate, “and we were just talking about the coincidental raining sky at dinner.” draco takes off one of many layers of coats and drapes it around your shoulders, “can’t have you catching a cold, miss beater.” with the recent events occurring in your life, you totally forgot about the quidditch match you had on saturday. “oh my god, i totally forgot.” draco gives you a deep chuckle, “well don’t forget that we have practice tomorrow, or else flint is going to murder you.” you nod at his caring yet sarcastic sentence, “alright, i’ll see you tomorrow morning, astoria is waiting for me in the hall, didn’t want her getting cold,” he speaks before using his knuckle to rummage up your hair. your head turns toward his receding figure and then back at his coat. you think to yourself, “if you turn around and wave like you always do, i won’t give you up, but if you don’t, i’ll back down.” draco continues on his way until he becomes a tiny figure in the distance and you begin to give up on hope until you hear, “see you tomorrow loser!” followed by a tiny wave from the faraway boy. a tiny smile makes it to your face, “i’m sorry astoria, but i can’t give up right now.”

about two days later, you snuggle closer into your blanket, you get awoken by the abrupt flash of light in the room. your eyes barely open because of its sensitivity of the light. pansy stands by the door in her quidditch gear and stares at you, “you have ten minutes to get ready and be at the pitch, you know how flint is about being late.” after she exits the room, you sit up in bed and let out a yawn while walking over to get changed and refreshed.

by the time you reach the pitch, your teammates are already in the air taking laps while marcus flint stands at the entrance of the pitch. “why’re you late?” he asks with a stone cold expression, waiting for your answer. but before you could even open your mouth, he shouts at you, “ten laps around the pitch, running! go!” annoyed you start to jog. draco flies low to be right beside you, “how’s it going?” he teases with a grin, “buzz off malfoy.” draco brings one hand to chest, acting offended, “using last names now are we?” you give him a glare and start to jog faster, which he follows with flying a bit faster on his broom. you act annoyed but really, feel warm on the inside until a melodic voice interrupts. “draco! over here!” she shouts from a far. it was about six in the morning and all of the team quickly turns their head to the voice of astoria. you raise your eyebrow at draco, “your princess is waiting, go.” he gives you a small smirk and a nudge before flying over to her. as you finish up your final lap, you wipe the cold sweat off your forehead, mind you, its still winter and snowy. you get on your broom and fly up into the air, finally joining the practice.

you enter breakfast with the biggest yawn and frown about the excruciating practice. your thoughts get interrupted as you see your taken seat. the seat you sat in since first year, the seat you’ve eaten in for five years, the seat next to draco malfoy. pansy pats the seat next to her and as you begin to walk towards her, you get pulled towards the gryffindor table before being sat down next to hermione. your face slightly gives off panic before turning towards the people who sat you down, “morning hermione,” you say before turning to harry and ron, giving them a nod of your head, then turning back towards fred and george. “weasleys, did you need something?” you ask them, “am i even allowed to sit here? i obviously stand out.” the dark green of your uniform definitely sticking out in the sea of a vibrant red, “of course buddy-o.” most of the gryffindors at the table now staring at you before hermione rolls her eyes, “everyone mind your own business.” hermione gives you a small, polite smile to look over the fact that you were best friends with their own personal annoyance. “thank you hermione.” you whisper, giving her a small smile. harry glances down at your hand, “is it alright?” he asks as you look up from your plate of breakfast, “yeah, its been healing, minor burns,” you answer, thankful for his attempt to start up conversation.

while keeping a small conversation with the trio, your arm gets grabbed and pulled. “y/n, what are you doing associating with the enemy?” you scoff, “we’re just talking, draco,” he scoffs back at you before releasing your arm, “never thought you could betray your own house.” your eyes widen and narrow down to glare at him, “well maybe if you didn’t give my seat away, i would have room to sit at slytherin.” draco lets out huffs of annoyance, “there were plenty of seats, y/n. just look at anywhere on the table.” you also let out a sigh, “i would’ve had to sit by myself.” the whole hall stares at your confrontation with your best friend, “well y/n, here’s the truth, maybe nobody wants to sit next to you in the first place and-“ he gets cut off from the rest of the sentence by a slap to the face. his grimace softens as he realizes his words, “y/n, you know. i didn’t mean that.” your eyes fill up annoyance as you walk away. pansy stands up quickly and walks off to follow you, but before she fully leaves the hall, she turns towards draco, “you’re a love blinded idiot.”

instead of getting emotional, you just sit in silence, induced by your anger, next to the lake. pansy left you to grab your books from the hall, leaving you in the silence of nature. once again, the crunching of familiar footprints fill the air. “y/n. you know i didn’t mean any of that but i was just jealous, i guess. just seeing you with friends other than our little group made me jealous. just wanted to come and apologize. i am sorry, y/n l/n.” you stay silent for a few seconds before replying, “its fine. thank you for apologizing. i forgive you, i’m just a little embarrassed and hugely annoyed.” you let out a tiny chuckle, “you have to do something for me now, as compensation for your childish behavior,” he continues to stare at you, scared of what you could say, “you have to do my astronomy homework for a month.” you stretch your hand out, in which he responds to by shaking it. you stand up, “come on, we have history of magic to get to.” you finally look at his face, red by the slap mark you left on it, and try not to laugh, “sorry about the slap,” you say after suppressing your laughter, “its fine, i probably deserved it.” you nod your head in agreement, “i’d say so.”

during dinner, you sit next to pansy, giving draco a wink of access for astoria to sit in your seat. you listen to pansy while you platter on whatever was served at dinner on your plate and wait for dumblebore to finish speaking about the daily news. astoria gives draco a smile while using her fork to scatter around the food she didn’t want to eat. when she finishes eating, she glances over at your plate before finding a comment to say. “y/n,” you turn your attention away from pansy, along with draco and blaise, “are you really going to eat all of that?” you put a fake smile on your face and pretend to think, “hm, i think i am going to.” her smile turns into a snide look, “i just didn’t expect a girl of your stature to eat that much.” you widen your eyes at draco asking for help while laughs your encounter with the older girl, “i have a high metabolism?” she laughs softly, “i can see that judging by the fact that you’re not overweight after eating all of that food.” you give her a small smile before turning back to pansy. in all honesty, you couldn’t tell if the girl was being nice or extremely sarcastic.

the next day was saturday, meaning, game day. sitting at the slytherin table, you pick up an apple and bite into it, in replacement for the hefty meal yesterday night. the hall is mostly quiet besides the tiny murmurs of conversation amongst the few students there early, most probably sleeping in until the game. while you eat your apple, you spot the entrance of the weasley twins. george passes you a wink while fred gives you a slight smirk before they start stalking towards you, “morning,” you pass them a small smile, “morning weasleys,” the both of them give you a pat on the back, “this is for when gryffindor beats slytherin in todays match,” your eyes widen and you scoff at their bluntness, “i’ll make sure to return it when slytherin wins.” fred shakes his head while george speaks, “that won’t be necessary,” and before you could give one last remark, the both of them walk away to go eat breakfast. next, you saw astoria enter with her friends and not draco. you turn to pansy and whisper, “wheres draco?” she looks up to see astoria by herself, “maybe he’s sleeping in?” astoria sits down in her usual seat next to her friends and you walk over to her, “where’s draco?” she shrugs and continues her conversation with her friends. you walk back to pansy and grab your coat, “i’m going to go check on draco, maybe he did sleep in.” walking to the dungeons, you begin to worry about the boy.

entering his dark room, you squint your eyes to look for him on his bed, and to your prevail, you find him. you tiptoe into his room and quietly whisper, “draco,” he continues to stir in his sleep. you then slightly open the blinds, letting in a tiny bit of daylight to illuminate the boy’s face. you sit yourself on his bed and feel the warmth from his covered up body. he opens his eyes in alarm at the intruder, but relaxes when he realizes it was just you. you stare down at your best friend, “are you gonna come to breakfast?” he immaturely shakes his head no and buries it within his blanket. draco then grabs your hand and brings it to his forehead, “don’t tell me you’re sick.” he gives you an unamused look, “its all because of you.” your eyes widen and you let a tiny laugh, “me? you’re the one that came out last night when you were wet.” draco lets out a low groan, “fine, i’ll tell flint you can’t make it today and i’ll be back to bring you some food during the meal times. just go back to sleep,” you say and close the blinds, but before you leave, you whisper, “goodnight princess,” in which draco replies to with a low and annoyed, “y/n.”

before your quidditch match starts, you stretch your body after the trouble you got into for draco’s absence. as dean thomas announces the teams, you fly into the field and take a few laps before stopping in front of the twins. “get ready to lose y/n,” fred inserts, “you wish,” cormac mclaggen comes to taunt you further, “where’s your little boyfriend, l/n?” you roll your eyes, “he’s sick, have you got a problem?” he sniggers, “nope.” he replies popping the p. george shakes his head at his teammate, “just ignore him. that’s what we do.” he gives you a wink and goes back to pretend to listen to madam hooch.

halfway through the game, you wipe the sweat off of your forehead and keep your eye on one of the bludgers. successfully knocking the bludger out of angelina johnsons’ arms, you follow closely to it, head to head with george. you block the second bludger from hitting graham montague, your chaser, as he holds one in his arms to score. unfortunately, the bludger gets caught by mclaggen as he montague a small smirk before throwing the ball towards you. not reacting fast enough, it hits you in the gut and you fall backwards off your broom. blinded by the pain in your gut, you don’t notice how far away you are from your broom. luckily, george catches you and slowly carries you to the ground. madam hooch runs up to you in the middle of field after giving cormac a time out, having a hard time breathing. taking in raspy breaths, your eyes water up. you lay on your back as a stretcher takes you to the hospital wing. to ease the pain, madam pomfrey gives you pain relief potion as she examines your abdomen, “nothing broken my dear, just severely bruised.” you nod solemnly at her, “just stay here for overnight and continue to talk this potion to heal.” pansy enters the wing and gives you a smile, “that was awesome.” the both of you break out in laughter until you groan, “the way george caught you in the air, i thought i was going to lose my best friend today.” your conversation with her goes on until you interrupt, “so, draco is sick and i promised to bring him a meal at every meal time but, i can’t now so as my best friend, will you do it for me?” her face turns stone as she stares at you before bursting out into laughter at you facial expression. “of course silly. anyways, back to my story…” she continues.

after leaving you at the hospital, pansy packs a plateful of food before unlocking the door to draco’s bedroom. “wake up dork,” he opens his eyes to see pansy instead of you, “where’s y/n?” draco asks annoyed, “she got injured at today’s quidditch game, mclaggen threw the bludger at her and she’s in the hospital wing but-“ before pansy could finish her sentence, draco runs through the hallways, clad in his pajamas. finally reaching the hospital wing, he bursts through the entrance and spots you, “y/n are you okay? i should’ve gone to the game today.” draco spews out words and you stare at him before cutting him off, “i’m alright draco,” you grab his hand, “thank you for worrying but you’re sick. you shouldn’t be out of bed,” he takes in deep breaths, wiping the sweat off his forehead, “i just needed to see if you were alright.” your thumb rubs against his palm, “i’m good, so go back to your dorm and rest. if you’re not better by tomorrow, i promise i’ll be there.” he nods and reluctantly lets go of the warmth your hand held. you let out a sigh as you watch him walk away until the curtain next to your bed rips open, unveiling two redheaded twins. you slightly jump, “well, well, well. just tell him you love him.” fred starts, “i mean, its sort of obvious.” you shake your head at the boys, “i can’t,” they both let out huffs of annoyance, “why not?” george questions, “he’s with astoria right now. and he seems happy for the first in a while. i don’t want to take that away,” you pause, “anyways, you should go to dinner. i’ll be eating whatever madam pomfrey serves me.” the twins laugh at you before fred leans in close to your ear, “we have tons of pranks up our sleeves so if you want anything to do to mclaggen, we’ll be happy to provide.” you push the boy away with a close lipped smile, “thank you for the offer, but i’m going to have to pass it up for now.” fred lets out an, “understood,” as he and his twin walk out of the wing.

the next day, madam pomfrey releases you to breakfast after giving you one last potion for your bruises. you enter the hallways and a breeze blows through your hair as you start to speed walk to the hall. entering the great hall, all of your friends stare at your incredibly quick recovery. pansy runs up to you and squeezes you tightly, “pansy, a little looser please.” you laugh along with her and greet your other friends before spotting a seated draco with astoria’s arm looped around his own. he gives you an apologetic look and you return a small smile with a shake of your head to reassure him that it was alright. pansy informs you about their incoming trip to hogsmede later and asks if you could go, “yeah, i can go, i have to buy some more ink for my essay.” blaise then turns to draco, “oi malfoy, you coming?” draco sits still before opening his mouth to complain, “its cold and i’m sick. do you really think i’m going to go?” a small smirk appears on blaise’s face, “i heard y/n agreed to come.” draco’s head turns towards you with super sonic speed, “really?” you give him a closed lipped smile and very slow head nod. “then i’ll be there,” draco says, “me too!” astoria adds on. pansy gives her a look of disgust, “uh astoria, this is just for our friend group. we made a rule that there are no plus ones.” astoria then pouts and turns to draco, “draco, i could come right?” pansy rolls her eyes and pretends to gag. draco turns towards you and looks to you for help, “astoria, if you’d like to come, you’re welcome to come,” you say, earning a whine from pansy. “great! we’ll meet you at the exit of hogwarts.” you nod and send an extremely small smile towards her.

while you get ready, pansy waits for you on your bed. “y/n, i have no idea why you invited her, she’s literally the bane of our existence.” you chuckle at your dramatic best friend, “she’s dating draco, so we have to include her or else who knows what draco would do?” browsing through your closet, you pick out a slytherin sweater and a vintage poofy jacket. “y/n, the only reason why draco decided to come was because blaise told him you were coming. doesn’t that scream something to you?” you continue to look at yourself in the mirror, “no, it doesn’t. we’re just best friends pansy, nothing more.” her face droops down and she rolls her eyes, “you, my best friend, are the smartest witch in all of hogwarts but you’re too blinded by draco’s happiness to find your own,” shaking your head, you turn away from the mirror and walk to the door but before you exit, you stop, “i’m happy for him so it’s fine,” you say, sounding more like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than pansy.

your group of friends all meet at the exit of hogwarts and while you wait for draco and astoria to show up, you see the weasley twins. you smile and wave at them until fred waves you over to their location behind the tree. you look over at your occupied friends and walk over to them, “what’s up, weasleys?” they both stand towered over you, “y/n, we might’ve done something we weren’t supposed to do and now we have to go clean it up,” george begins, “mcgonagall’s orders,” fred adds and george continues, “we’ve got the trio but it’s too big of a mess so we’re recruiting people to help us clean.” you let out a sigh but nod your head, “okay, give me a second to tell my friends. wait for me at the entrance of the castle.” they both give you a salute and march over to the entrance as you walk towards your group of friends, now including draco and astoria. “hey,” you say as you see draco, now turning towards all your friends, “i have to go help the weasley twins today so, no hogsmede for me today,” you slightly pout, “y/n, why do you have to help the weasel twins?” you lightly punch him on the arm, “i’ll be going now,” your friends wave to you as you walk away until you hear, “wait y/n!” and you turn around to see draco jogging towards you, “i’m not going to go either,” your eyes widen at the boy while he gives you a smirk, “what about astoria?” his smirk falters as he gives you a genuine smile, “always thinking about others before yourself, i really don’t think slytherin was the right house for you. maybe hufflepuff?” you roll your eyes as you start to walk and his arm lays on your shoulders. “if i was in any other house, i would’ve avoided you at first sight,” he chuckles, “ow, that hurt,” he replies sarcastically.

as you enter the entrance of the castle, you see fred waiting for you and his eyes shift to draco, “you here to help, malfoy?” draco rolls his eyes, “yes weasley.” you pat draco on the back, “good boy,” his ear slightly turn red but the action goes unnoticed as you start a conversation with fred, “what did you even do in the first place?” a mischievous glint grows on fred’s face as he opens the door to an explosion of soap bubbles in mcgonagall’s classroom, leaving your eyes wide along with draco’s. “freddie!” george yells from across the room which attracts the attention of the students helping clean. you turn to draco, looking up at him in equal surprise as him. george comes and hands you a wet rag along with a bucket to help dissolve the bubbles surrounding the room. for the whole time, draco stood next to you and cleaned about two percent of the hundred percent you cleaned. on your way to dump out the bucket in the lavatory, you bump into graham montague. “hey y/n. sorry about the bludger the other day. if i blocked it for you, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” you shake your head, setting down the bucket full of bubbles, “no, it wasn’t your fault. if i had paid attention i wouldn’t have gotten hurt. don’t blame yourself.” he tilts his head to look down at you, “what’s the bucket for?” your head then tilts down to look at the bucket, “helping fred and george clean up their most recent prank,” graham nods his head in understanding, “do you need help?’ a tiny chuckle leaves your lips, “if you could help, it would be much appreciated,” he nods and takes the bucket from your grasp as the both of you continue to walk to the lavatory.

upon your return to the classroom with graham, draco looks at you before turning towards graham. he struts up to you and stretches his arm over your shoulder, getting face to face with graham. you sigh at his childish behavior, “thank you for helping graham, we’ll see you at quidditch practice tomorrow.” draco continues to stare graham down, “yeah, see you tomorrow y/n.” you push away from draco’s grasp and go to continue cleaning.

at the end of the weasley’s cleaning fiasco, you walk to dinner with draco in silence. not an awkward silence but a comfortable silence, “so how’s it going with astoria?” you ask out of the blue, “it’s alright but it’s a good thing she’s not as annoying as her younger version, daphne.” he retorts “daphne’s kind.” you retort back, “oh y/n. only seeing the positives in people.” draco stops to fix his dress robe while you continue to walk without him until stopping to turn around and check on him only to notice astoria clinging onto to his arm. draco tries to find you over astoria’s shoulder only to find that you had disappeared. you walk out to the same spot next to the lake. the wind blew through your hair as you stood by the edge of the lake, glancing at the icy water. you hear the noise of rowdy boys behind you before feeling a push in the back, towards the lake. landing with a splash, you hold your breath and try to swim back up to the surface but the weight of your wet clothing dragged you back down, along with the unhealed bruises around your abdomen. floating down peacefully, the cold water engulfs you whole and you let out a final breath of air.

in the meantime, draco stands next to astoria as she smothers him. he firms himself up as he prepares himself to break up with her. “astoria, i think we need to take a-“ but he soon gets cut off as he sees you in the arms of cedric diggory, unconscious. “what the hell did you do to her, diggory?!” he shouts, worried about his best friend. “i saved her from the lake when mclaggen pushed her in, now move out of the way so i can take her to the hospital wing.” in that instant moment, draco realizes that it wasn’t the thought of being with astoria that mad him happy, but the fact that you would be there for him no matter what decision he makes. rage fills draco’s whole body as he moves out of cedric’s way and to find cormac.

when you wake up, you find yourself surrounded by your friends and a bloodied up cormac mclaggen. pansy notices you and mouths a quiet, “are you okay?” to not wake the other boys up and you reply with a nod, unfortunately, actually waking the boys up. draco releases his hold on your hand and goes to hug you. he chuckles in your ear, “you have no idea how relieved i am that you are okay.” you chuckle back at his words, “what, you didn’t think i could swim?” he releases from his hug and then looks at you with a serious face, “i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you. i just got caught up with astoria, but i have something to say,” he pauses as he looks at your reaction, “guys, i hope you still know that we’re all here.” pansy interrupts.

draco turns around to mouth a get out before turning back to you, “y/n, over the past weeks, i realize that i spent less time around and to be honest, it was killing me. it killed me to see you around the weasel twins more,” you interrupt him, “weasley twins, can’t you get it right once-“ he cuts you off by putting his hand over your mouth to silence you, “y/n, i’m trying to be serious. i want to spend more time with you, my best friend. i hope you know that i love you even though i don’t express it everyday.” he jokes while your expression changes from joking to a straight face. “draco, i know you love me because we’re best friends and we have been since we were little but,” you give him a sad smile, “you don’t love me the way you love her. because all i’ll ever be is your best friend but she could be your wife. so maybe save the i love you’s for her.” draco’s face falls at your words, “yeah you’re right, i don’t love you the way i love her because i love you more. hell, i get nervous every time i’m around you alone or when you let me play with your hair when you study or when you come to take care of me when i’m sick. y/n, i love you so much and i want to be more than just best friends.” your eyes widen and tear up slightly, “but we can’t if you think that way.” you let out a big sigh but a large smile erupts on your face. “draco, i’ve loved you since our first year when hermione told me the story of you in the dark forest. but you can’t do to this to astoria,” his face turns a bit guilty, “i forgot to mention that i broke up with her while you were being treated. supposedly she asked mclaggen to push you in. she didn’t take it very well so i would sleep in my room for the time being,” you chuckle at his confession, “will do,” draco quickly shuts you up by pressing his lips against yours. the both of you hear a “finally!” from outside and you feel a smile form on draco’s face. he pulls away and smiles at you, “come on y/n, lets go.” draco says as he grabs your hand but you make no attempt to leave your bed, “oh i actually have to stay here for one more night because i need to more potions, but i’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.” he lets out a noise of disappointment and kisses you on the forehead before leaving the room.

the next morning, you wake up from your bed in the hospital wing and walk to breakfast by yourself until you meet cedric. “oh cedric, thank you for saving me.” he gives you a relieving smile, “it’s no problem but i almost got killed by malfoy for carrying you while you were unconscious,” he chuckles at you surprised reaction, “i am so sorry about that,” cedric shakes his head, “it’s alright, it’s good to see he cares.”

after waving goodbye to cedric, you walk out to the snowy lake once again, only to see draco already there waiting for you. “draco? why are you here?” his face lights up as he spots you, “i was tired of waiting for you at breakfast and i knew you normally come here so i just decided to wait for you here.” draco opens up his coat as you walk towards him and he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in his coat’s wings. he leans in closely to whisper in your ear, “i can’t wait till i marry you and we start our own family,” you give him a small laugh at his cheesy words, “calm down mr. malfoy, we only started dating yesterday.” he pulls away from you and stares at your face, “but i feel like we’ve been dating for seven years,” draco leans closely to you and kisses you gently as both of your rosy cheeks illuminate off of each other.

pansy and blaise watch the both of their best friends from a far. “could they be any grosser? like calm down, it’s only eight am on a monday morning.” pansy rolls her eyes, “let them have this moment, i honestly was getting tired of listening to both of them complain about their ‘unrequited’ love for each other.” blaise nods his head in acknowledgment.

draco and you watch as pansy and blaise stuff each other’s face into the fluffy snow, “i love you draco,“ you say as he has your face cupped in his hands, “i love you more y/n. now lets go to breakfast, can’t have you hungry today.” you give a large close lipped smile as draco grabs your hand and stuffs into his pocket while the both of you walk into the castle. as the both of you near the castle, you ask, “did you beat up cormac?” draco continues on his path in silence before answering, “of course. he hurt my girl, and we can’t let him get away with it.” you roll your eyes, “thank you, i guess?” he laughs at you and kisses you on the forehead as the both of you continue your walk to the breakfast hall.

a/n: hi! this is probably one of my longest fics and it took legit 4 business days to write this lol. also, this may be the last fic i post in oct, but please enjoy it along with my other stories!

masterlist

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 2: Our House (The Mess We’ve Made)

Mobster! Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t like to be questioned, and you learn that the hard way. When he wants something, he gets it, and now he wants to have everything over with as quickly as possible. But there are a few bumps on the road. 

Warnings: mafia au, swearing, violence, blood, threats, violence on women, slight mention of a rape, fluff, I mean, Steve is very demanding here, but it’s a theme so… 

Word Count: 6087

A/N: I’m beyond excited that you guys liked the first chapter so much and are giddy for the next one. So, here we have it. More of our arranged couple and more mafia stuff. Let me know what you thought, and again, thank you for reading! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

< Previous Chapter 

“You did what? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Y/N, I love you, but you must have hit your head real hard because this is not like you, at all,” Caroline reasoned, but you could see she was close to losing it completely. 

They were both waiting for you to come home that night, and you first had to make sure neither of them would talk about anything you were about to reveal. You trusted both of them with your life, that wasn’t the issue, but you were afraid that if they talked outside of your apartment, Steve might know and the things he could do to them would be the core of your future nightmares, you were sure of it. When they finally agreed, you got to explaining. But you didn’t even get a full sentence out before they started jumping in it, asking questions and wildly swatting their hands, trying to make you see just how stupid of an idea it actually was. 

“Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane? I do, but also like, it’s gonna take care of so many issues, and, I mean, all he needs from me, as far as I understood it, is to go to a few events with him, go to some vacations with him and that would be all. I mean, I can still have the job I actually enjoy and don’t have to slave in that fucking pub with all those weirdos, and I won’t have to worry about money,” you tried to sound reasonable and sensible, but from the looks on your best friends’ faces, you weren’t doing too good of a job. 

“Right, right, cool. So, you wanna tell me that the most notorious fucking mobster in America will let you live here, with us, while he parades you around the city at night? Or that he doesn’t have enemies you should worry about? Or what about the fucking police, Y/N, huh? Have you thought of that? You will be affiliated with a known criminal, and they will start to notice you and your life won’t be as easy as you picture it,” Aidan sighed and massaged his temples, the stress of it all getting the best of him. 

You sat down next to them and smiled at them fondly. It was sweet that they worried so much about you, and just the mere thought that there were people on this planet who gave a shit about you, even to the point of yelling at you at 11 PM on Wednesday night was heartwarming. You understood their reservations, you really did, but you also knew this all before you said yes to Steve. You knew it wouldn’t be as easy, and while you weren’t sure whether you would have to live with Steve in Manhattan or somewhere else, or if he let you just be on your own, you knew you could take it. The police didn’t scare you, you’ve had enough training in diverting the police from yourself, so the police was the last thing on your mind. Besides, you were signing petitions left and right to defund them, so… You were pretty sure they already knew your name from the demonstrations in front of their precincts. 

Enemies were a bit more challenging to handle, but you were sure Steve wouldn’t want his new wife to die on his watch. How would that look for him? So really, all that was at stake was your sanity and your integrity, and thinking about it, Steve didn’t ask you to do something illegal. The only thing he wanted from you was to be a good girl, marry him and be by his side. And you could do that. And you were only human, Steve was a sight to behold, so you didn’t mind being connected to him, even though he specifically told you he wasn’t attracted to you. 

That one still stung, but maybe it was for the better. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid when the other party was completely uninterested, and knowing it, you could just never let your body have even a minor crush on him, so the situation really resolved itself even before anything could have happened. 

“I really think I can gain more than I can lose, you guys. I didn’t imagine my life being like this, far from it, and maybe Steve and his money can help me get where I want. And I won’t even have to sleep with him or anybody else. He even talked about putting a no-sex clause in our contract so that I would be safe even on paper. You always tell me that I’m not taking enough risks and that I stay rooted in my comfort zone. Well, this is quite the improvement, isn’t it?” You laughed, and they both just shook their heads but chuckled nevertheless. 

“You are a psychopath, babe,” Aidan muttered but gave you a side hug, and Caroline soon joined. 

“We love you and worry about you, that’s all. But if you feel good about this, then so do we. I just hope he’s ready for our wrath if anything even remotely bad happens to you,” Caroline said, and the three of you started to laugh. You would bet somebody like Steve would be scared shitless from two 20-something-year-olds who, one who was scared of wasps so much she almost fainted every time she saw one, and the other having a hard time peeling a grapefruit. Yup, they were the combat duo you would bet your money on in a fight, for sure. 

Waking up, you had a good feeling about the decision, even more so than the night before. You had mulled it over and over in your head, seeing that this was the way out of everything and also your way to a lot of those things you wanted to have by now. You even thought of the saying, sometimes, the only way out is through, and this was your through. There was no foreseeable way of getting out of debt, of getting out of the depression caused by your hectic and unsatisfying life. Your way through it was accepting Steve’s money and his help for a year, freeing you from the shackles of your current life, in a sense. 

That it would come with a different kind of shackled you were sure of, but everything was better than your life now because you really couldn’t even call it a life. You wanted so many things, see so many places, but the world wasn’t made for the people playing by the rules, slaving in their ordinary jobs. No, this capitalist world was made for sharks, and you had been disguised as a sheep for too long. 

When you got to the gallery, you were welcomed by a sight that surprised you, and not in a good way. Where you were used to sitting every day for the past two years was another girl. She was pretty, and you bet she was wonderful, but at that very moment, all you saw was that somebody replaced you. 

You swiftly unlocked the door and walked in, the girl standing up immediately to greet you with a shy smile and a wave. You couldn’t be a complete bitch to her, after all, this was way above her pay grade. So, you just nodded and strode towards the offices where the director sat. 

“Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. I see you have met Laura, our new receptionist. And before you say anything, I just wanted to tell you that we appreciate everything you had done for this gallery for so long and that we thought it was time for you to learn some other skills, as you are more than capable of that,” he smiled warmly, and you weren’t sure if it was a nice way of saying you were let go of, or if you were promoted. 

“What does that mean, Mr Jones?” You asked incredulously, not really in the mood to search in between the lines. 

“You have become my personal secretary, Ms Y/L/N. Congratulations! I know you have the aspiration of becoming a curator, so, this way, you could get a little closer to art even though there is still some way to go, naturally,” he winked and chuckled, and you let yourself relax with the news. 

Wow! Your life was already taking a turn for the better, and all you had to was to go with your gut and risk a little. You wanted to laugh out loud at the universe and its mysterious ways of working. But, thinking of mysterious, your mind suddenly pictured Steve and his devilish smirk, and your smile faltered. 

“And may I ask, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the chance, and I will do my best to succeed in expectations. I just wonder what happened that the chance has come now?” 

Mr Jones scratched the back of his neck, and you gritted your teeth. You already knew that it wasn’t the universe praising you for your bravery. No, this had nothing to do with the universe. 

“More things have come together, to be quite honest, Ms Y/L/N. First, my long-time secretary left for her maternity leave a few weeks ago, as you might remember, and I have been looking for her replacement ever since. And I forgot what an amazing student we had here, who is already established with the clients and with our partners, and that this will be a win-win situation for everybody. And your fiancée was quite adamant that your resumé is remarkable and that I should give you a chance,” he smiled and piled gathered in your throat. 

How Steve managed to persuade Jones to do this was beyond you when you left him only a few hours ago, most of which were during the night, so there wasn’t much room for negotiation between the parties. You just hoped people wouldn’t start treating you differently when they realised your affiliation. That was the only thing you obviously didn’t think through: the opinion of the society. And since the New York society had been one of the most judging and selective ones even back in the 19th and 20th century, you knew not that much has changed since. People were afraid of Steve, with a good reason too, and now they might become frightened of you too. Fucking awesome. 

“I want to assure you that my fiancée won’t be present in my work life, however notorious he is,” you tried to sound as confident in what you were saying as you could, but you weren’t sure if you were doing a good job. But Mr Jones just smiled and sat down, signalling for you to sit down opposite of him, and he started talking about business and about what the job actually was. And while you tried to give him your full attention, there was this angry voice in your head, ready to bite Rogers’ head off. He would meet your famous wrath sooner than you thought, but it was all his fault anyway. 

The job was, actually, quite impressive. As your boss told you, you got to meet several artists already, you could sit in the meeting where they decided what kind of art the gallery was interested in, and you soaked all that in like a sponge. You were radiating by the end of the day, and the wrath subsided a little, but only till the moment, you saw a black SUV parked in front of the gallery and one of the turtlenecks standing beside it. 

You decided that if Steve could do what he wanted, so could you and so you walked in the opposite direction than was the car, leaving the turtleneck yelling your name and running after you. But you ignored him completely, even when he reached you and patted your shoulder, slightly bewildered that you recognised him and still decided not to do as he said. Oh, these obnoxious mobsters needed to learn that they couldn’t get everything they wanted. 

“Miss Y/L/N, please, you need to come with me. Mr Rogers is waiting for you in the car,” he said, and you finally stopped and looked him deep in the eyes while you folded your arms across your chest. You hoped you looked intimidating, but since the guy was wearing a pair of sunglasses you couldn’t be entirely sure whether it worked. But you didn’t relent and just stared him down, and when he shifted uncomfortably, you knew you were winning this contest. 

“Would you please come with me? Mr Rogers hates to wait,” he mumbled the last thing, and you would have snickered if you weren’t so determined to be the tough guy there. It was only when you heard other footsteps somewhere behind you, and the guy in front of you actually flinched that you realised the big boss himself was there to get you. 

“No, Mr Rogers really doesn’t like to wait, Y/N. Is this the way to treat your fiancée?” Steve asked when he reached you, and you shuddered from the poisonous undertone in his voice. Safe to say, it might not have been the best strategy to try and walk away from him, but you had decided for it once, and now you were gonna stand by your decision. 

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” you hissed but continued before he could comment on your behaviour, “is intimidating my boss to give me a promotion a way to treat me? You really think you have control over everything and everyone, Steve, but let me tell you something. This is my fucking life, and you have no fucking right to march in and do as you please!”

He just raised a brow, and his nostrils flared before you felt his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it so tightly you were sure your arm wasn’t getting any blood. But you didn’t want him to win, which would definitely happen if you pleaded with him, so you just gritted your teeth and stared him down. Steve nodded at the guys around him to leave you two, and they took a few steps back, sure enough to protect their boss but to give him at least some privacy with you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, huh? I think you’ll understand soon enough that disobedience is punished greatly here, honey! So, stop acting like a brat who gets off from causing scenes in public and come with me. And, for your information, this is a fucking order, and I dare you to move from me again,” Steve spat in your ear, and you trained your eyes on the ground. 

Well, not your best idea, you had to admit that, and you valued your own head enough to just shut up and follow him. And by following him, you meant walking beside him because Steve obviously didn’t trust you enough to let go of your arm, even if his grip loosened slightly. 

He thrust you in the car with a force that could scare many, but it only just slightly surprised you. When he finally sat down next to you, he bid the driver to just go and stared out of the window, not addressing you in any shape or form, and you huffed in annoyance. 

“Look, Steve, you brought me here for a reason, so what do you want? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow and not today, in broad daylight in front of my job.”

“Show some respect!” He roared, and you saw the eyes of the bodyguards, or whatever they were, flick towards you in fear. It was funny how such huge men were clearly so afraid of one of them. You remained calm, however, and just remained looking at him. Then you realised something. He didn’t mind your mouth the night before that much when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t stand it when people were around. He needed to be the man, his people needed to know that nobody treated him differently and that not even his future wife could disobey him, let alone publicly. You swallowed your pride and shifted your gaze elsewhere. 

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve had a long day, and I’m taking it on you now. I just wished you spoke to me before you called my boss, but still, thank you for the opportunity,” you muttered meekly, and the triumphant look on Steve’s face spoke volumes. He just hummed and patted your shoulder, his own shoulders slacking and relaxing. These people were so easy to read, you were actually quite astounded that they weren’t played like violins by some secret agents or something like that. Well, you thought, at least you could play them, and it would make your life a little easier if you did it well enough. 

“I came because we needed to discuss more things, honey. I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday so I couldn’t stay longer, but I have the whole afternoon reserved just for you today, so we can go over all the parts of our agreement in great detail and that we can start planning our wedding,” he flashed you a smile, and it was your time to tense up because if you were to have a wedding soon, which was clearly something Steve wanted, you needed to get a move on and that stressed you out. The arrangement might have been just for a year, but you knew that Steve’s wedding was supposed to be magnificent, showing all that he obtained and all that the mere mortals couldn’t have. You included. 

But then you realised something. 

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first if you don’t mind,” you added quickly seeing the mobster next to you tensing up again. “As I no longer work at Joey’s pub, I need to get my things from there. My boss called me this morning telling me that I still had my work shoes and other stuff there and that I should pick it up or they’ll throw it away.” 

“Just give the address to the driver, we’ll get it, and then we’ll go to my place- oh, excuse me- our place and discuss what we need,” he said simply, and you followed his orders. 

The rest of the drive was silent, and you could unwind a little, reminisce about the 24 hours you have had. From taking the subway anywhere you needed to, to driving in an armoured SUV with the most prolific mafia boss of the USA, your life took quite the turn. You needed to set some boundaries with Steve, but you needed to do it tactfully and, most importantly, alone. You hadn’t known him at all, but you knew the type. There would be reasoning with him as long as he thought he had a free choice and knew that his position wasn’t neither threatened nor questioned.  

This was a part of your agreement that you actually didn’t mind. Joey’s pub was not the fanciest of places in New York and while some of the customers were lovely and tipped well, the weekend sort was made of sleazy assholes who would touch you without your permission and not having to be around them would definitely be something you could get used to. 

The boss who’s name wasn’t Joey, surprise, surprise, but Thomas, nodded your way when you came in. The pub was only half full, but the odour of mixed sweat, beer and vomit was ever the same. Gosh, how you couldn’t wait to be out of there. 

Taking the places of the little box by the box with beer cans, you scanned the supply closet one last time and nodded as a goodbye. However, when you turned around, you bumped into somebody, and it sent you flying back a bit as you didn’t expect anybody to be there with you. You looked up to see Thomas standing there, looking pissed. 

“Funny! I never knew you were on the market, pussycat. And now I find out you are newly engaged and to Mr Rogers no less? I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship,” he sneered as he neared you and you instinctively took a step back. That he had a crush on you, you knew, and you told him multiple times that you weren’t interested, that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend and that you just wanted to be left alone. You scoffed at his immature behaviour now and tried to push around him without saying a word because you knew there was no talking to people like him. But he wouldn’t let you go, of course. 

“Maybe if I fucked you, you would see that I deserve you just as much, huh?” He hissed and took your already sore arm, yanking you towards him till you were pressed tight against his chance. You still remained calm, knowing that trashing and screaming would get you nowhere. 

“Let me go, Thomas. Steve is outside, and he is waiting for me, so I suggest you take your disgusting hands off of me and just let me go,” you tried to reason, but, again, there was no such thing with dumbasses like him. What was more, he probably didn’t like your remark about his disgusting hands, and so, without warning, he slapped you right across your left cheek. 

That made you gasp for the first time because till then, you really thought he was just playing and that he would let you go, but now seeing the bewildered look on his face, you suddenly realised that maybe you didn’t have the upper hand in the argument. 

“Like fuck he is, what would Rogers do in these parts, huh? I bet it wasn’t even him who called me last night and that you were just trying to get the upper hand. But guess what, you fucking whore, you are not getting out of here until I fuck you unconscious,” he roared and you gulped, trying to think of possible escape routes. But you were in a fucking supply closet, so there was literally just the one door, and Thomas was occupying the whole space in front of it. So, you’d just have to fight your way through. You were a little rusty, but this big-bellied idiot would stand no chance. 

But before you had the opportunity to execute your plan, the door behind him flew open and revealed one fo the turtlenecks (you made a mental note to actually learn their names because this was just awkward) and a very angry-looking Steve. 

Thomas faltered in his movement towards you and checked who had the audacity to interrupt him. The shock and fear on his face were priceless. 

Steve didn’t waste any more time as he lunged himself at the man and punched him straight in the nose, and the sickening crack you heard must have meant Steve broke it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to pity Thomas. You warned him, even though you didn’t expect Steve actually coming to your rescue. There were some advantages to being tied to him, it seemed. 

The turtleneck then took Steve’s place by Thomas, probably so that he wouldn’t escape and Steve marched towards you, still looking too pissed for you to stand calmly under his searching gaze. 

“Did he hurt you?” He sneered but didn’t wait for your reply as he checked your face, seeing your puffed left cheek which told him all he needed to know. The bruise already forming on your arm was both from him and from Thomas, so he didn’t comment on that, but Steve wiped the trickle of blood in the corner of your mouth before he turned around and now calmly walked towards Thomas. 

“Next time that degenerated brain of yours even thinks of her, I will come and slice your throat. Am I clear?” Steve spat into Thomas’s face who just nodded, probably glad that he got out of it so easily. What he didn’t see coming (and to be honest, neither did you) was the turtleneck suddenly pulled out a big-ass knife out of somewhere and the air filled with the bone-chilling cries as he cut Thomas’ finger off as if it was the most normal thing to do before he wiped the knife on Thomas’s shirt and tucked it back in his pocket. The blood flowing from the wound was thick and almost purple, and you had to shut your eyes at the scene. But the image was already seared into your brain forever. 

“Fucking rapist,” Steve said and kicked the already laying man, motioning to the turtleneck and you that you were to follow him. But your legs weren’t listening to your brain, as you were just watching Thomas writhing in pain, wailing and sobbing, and all that because he dared to touch you. An involuntary shudder shook your body, and it as only when you felt an arm around your torso, pulling you to the person’s side that you woke up. Steve didn’t say anything as he came back and wrapped his arm around you, walking you out of there, probably used to that people were dazed when they saw that much blood. And that was just a cut-off finger, how would it look if a person actually bled out there?

“Here, have a piece of chocolate, it should help you,” Steve whispered into your ear as he handed you a little piece when you finally made it to his car, and you took it without question, savouring the sweet taste on your tongue as it streamed into your system like the most delicious medicine. You took a deep breath, your brain recognising that it was a different environment and that the stench of the pub was long gone as was the blood. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you heard yourself saying meekly, but there was no reprimanding him, there was no anger in your voice and Steve heard that. He knew it was the shock of the scene talking because you weren’t one of them. You didn’t see blood on an almost daily basis as he did and you had the right to be surprised. 

“I actually had to, Y/N. He touched you, he hurt you and nobody hurts what’s mine. And you are mine now or will be very soon, and I can’t have dickheads like him running around the city thinking they are invincible. You are under my protection, and the whole world has to realise that,” he tried to make you see his point, and when you nodded solemnly, he saw you understood it. You might not have been ok with it, but that was another thing, and that would take time. Steve hoped people wouldn’t be so dumb and try anything on you, but, the truth be told, inwardly he knew he would have to protect you more often than not because some people had a death wish. 

“Are you up to discussing our marriage, or do you want me to drive you home?” He asked, and you looked at him for the first time since the pub scene. You shook your head and chuckled a little, not understanding where was this coming from. It was apparent that there were many layers to Steve Rogers, but his mood swings were giving you a headache already. One second he was the infamous mobster and the other he impersonated a caring boyfriend? 

“I’m fine, Steve, thank you. I was just taken by surprise because I thought I would have to take him down myself, and I probably wouldn’t cut off his finger in the process, but we all do our things. I’m good for a discussion, if you are,” you gave him your best encouraging smile and Steve stared at you in disbelief for a moment before he averted his eyes towards the driver and gave him a signal that he was to take you two to Steve’s mansion. 

Three hours later, you regretted your decision greatly. Steve and you had been talking the whole time, trying to reach a compromise that would be suitable for both of you considering your marriage and your wedding. You were quite surprised when Steve came up with things that were up for discussion because you really thought he would just come with a set of rules for you to follow, and that would be it. Well, the set of rules was there, but so were other things, like where you’d like to live (it was either the New York mansion which he called the apartment or some villa he had in Hamptons, apparently), what were the countries he could take you (which was actually a nice touch) and others. You didn’t give a damn about a lot of the stuff, but the countries were something that caught your attention. 

“I would love to visit different places, that’s beyond doubt, but I do not wish to be taken to California, ever,” you insisted, and while Steve tried to inquire why it was that California was on your hard-no list, you wouldn’t budge. You just told him that you weren’t a fan of the hot weather and the swarm of people you heard was in LA and that it was the only place where you wouldn’t go with him, under no circumstances. After a while, he gave up and just jotted it down with a nod. 

“Now, to the sex thing, do you want it on paper that I don’t want you in this way or are you good with my word?” 

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you tossed your pride away again. This was a business meeting, and Steve was actually extremely honest with you, so the best you could do was to be frank with him as well. 

“I’m good with your word, thank you for asking. What I’d like on paper is that you won’t trade me with information. I don’t wanna wake up one morning to be chained by some of your pistol-buddies who wanted to fuck Steve’s wife,” you raised a brow, and Steve chuckled and licked his lips, which was something that got your attention. You snapped at your brain to stop the thought flooding your brain, and a part of you considered putting licking his own lips around you on the hard-no’s list for a second. 

“Alright, I will never do that, and I will put that in our contract. Now, have you decided where you want to live? And no, your own apartment isn’t an answer. I’m willing to pay the expenses so that your friends can stay there, but you are coming to live with me, either here or in Hamptons. So, which one is it?” 

“Here,” you answered after a while, “I have my job here so I can’t be going back forth to Hamptons every day. Speaking of my job, will you require my presence at every meeting? I’m just asking if I even have a chance attaining my job as is, or if I should quit now because you will never let me go there again.” 

“I would have let them fire you if I thought about not letting you work there anymore, now, wouldn’t I? Most of the meetings that I will need you are at night, so your work is fine. I hope your boss will give you enough vacation days because we will need those, but other than that, I think you will be fine at the gallery. Besides, I’ve assigned a personal bodyguard for you who will go everywhere with you, so you won’t have to worry about anybody attacking you,” he concluded, looking proud of himself. You, on the other hand, were bewildered. 

“A personal what now? Steve, I can’t just show up at work with some huge guy in all black following me everywhere I move. I saw the looks from some of my coworkers, and they would never accept me if I had a bodyguard, c’mon,” you were desperate now because just the thought made you shudder. 

“This is not negotiable, so just learn to live with it. Alright, I think that’s all from that, and we will both sign it before the wedding. Now, the wedding will be next week. I already hired planners, so that the only thing you need to care about is the wedding dress. It’s just for a show, and if it were up to me, we would just go to the city hall, but the world needs to see this wedding, so we’re doing it in the Weylin. Write down your favourite colours and flowers, the cake will be red velvet, and that’s not negotiable, but everything else you want, you write down, and the planners will do it. Also, write down all the guests you’d like to invite, family and all that, so we know how many guests we’re having,” Steve rambled on, but your mind wandered towards your family. 

None of them would be attending the wedding, and your heart gave a painful tug at the thought. You had always wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle, and he was so excited to do so, but now that wasn’t possible. And your beautiful mother… The memories made your eyes water, but you blinked the tears away quickly enough so that Steve wouldn’t see them. But he was used to reading people, so he saw your reaction to him mentioning a family very clearly, he just decided against commenting on it. Yet. 

“Alright, I’ll send you all the lists by Saturday, if that’s good enough, and I’m actually good with red velvet. It would be a problem if you said some cakes with loads of nuts because I’m extremely allergic to a majority of those, you should know about that, but red velvet is fine enough,” you nodded, and Steve did as well, glad he didn’t have to fight you on that one. Not that it would be a fruitful fight since the red velvet was his favourite type of cake on Earth. 

“I want you to move in before the wedding, I’ll have a room set up for you tomorrow, and you can bring whatever you want from your home. You will have access to my credit card, but I’m warning you, excessive spending will not be tolerated, alright?” 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but bowed your head in mocked understanding. Steve had obviously spent his life with women only caring about the sum on his credit card, while you couldn’t care less. The card would be good for the wedding dress, but that was about it. You realised a long time ago that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerous ones for the environment, and while you still shopped from time to time, you tried to reduce it to a minimum. And if you did shop, you loved local stores and fair-trade manufacturers, who vowed to keep the well-being of the planet their number one priority. 

“I’ll take it that you understood it. Fine, so, you’ll move in tomorrow, I think my people can manage it till that. So, they’ll pick you up, let’s say, around 8 PM? That enough time?” 

You blinked and took the information in. He wanted you to move in tomorrow. Not in a week so you’d have time to actually pack and say goodbye to your friends, even if you still planned on meeting them every other day or so. You wanted a goodbye sleepover where you’d just laugh and drink and hope that the year would be a good one. Or, at least, not a disastrous one. 

“That’s definitely not enough time, Steve. Can’t it wait till next week? I need to say goodbye to my friends, and it’s already late, so we can’t do it tonight and just… Give me at least till Saturday evening, Steve, please,” you tried to bargain, and while you saw he wasn’t the greatest of fans, he agreed eventually. That ended your discussion, and you were soon driven away from the house you would soon call yours.

/ Next Chapter >

Taglists in reblogs :) xx

[corpsedaydream]

paint wars

aaaaaaaand here it is! my first corpse!angst fic!

this was a lot of fun to write, i’ve been posting so much fluff, and as much fun as i’ve had fluffing it up, it felt good to get back to what i love. i normally only do angst!

a little disclaimer: i do not know corpse, this writing is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only!

happy reading!

word cout: 2080

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paint wars

Third wheeling had never really bothered you before. Partly because you were the type of person who could make your own fun. But also because you were so close with your friends that you normally did become friends with the people they were dating, too. So hanging out with a couple never really felt like third feeling for you.

Except today, you were feeling a little ruffled about it.

It was meant to be such a good day. Currently, you were out with your best friend and the person she was seeing - someone in which you’d started to become friends with - and the three of you were painting at the park. An afternoon of painting and sharing a bottle of wine was an activity in which you did with your friends every now and again and if someone happened to be seeing someone, they were welcome to bring them along. You’d always thought that the person you were dating would experience it too, except he wasn’t.

Corpse was at his place.

You’d attempted to involve him earlier.

-

“Please come, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Your voice was still upbeat then as you spoke to Corpse on the phone, trying to persuade him into joining you.

“I won’t have fun.” He was holding his ground firmly.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” Yet again, you were still trying to joke around, hoping it would make him feel better. It didn’t. 

“It’s more than just an attitude, (Y/N).” He responded so glumly.

You sighed in response and looked at your phone screen, it showed you’d been on the phone for 23 minutes, pretty much all of which was you trying to get your boyfriend to come have some fun with you. You knew it was hard for him, you’d been so understanding, but you couldn’t deny you’d gotten your hopes up that today would have been an easy enough outing for him to participate. You were tempted to press the red hang up button because he was bringing your mood down and today was meant to be a good day. But his voice came through the speaker on the phone call again before you could.

“How about, you go have fun and you can come round here after and show me your painting.”

“No.” You knew he was trying to make you feel better this time, but that wasn’t a compromise you wanted to take part in.

“Why not?”

“What if I want to keep hanging out with my friends after we’re done?”

“Then hang out, I don’t mind.”

“That’s the issue, you should mind, you should want to spend time with me.”

“I do want to spend time with you.”

“Then do it!” You got a little louder that time, frustration filling you.

He sighed that time. No one was winning this conversation that was quickly turning into an argument. So you decided to try again.

“My friends are good people, Corpse, I’ve known them forever, you’d really like them and they’d liked you. They wouldn’t say or do anything that-”

“I fucking know, okay?!” He cut you off, and it seemed it was his turn to raise his voice. “Fuck, (Y/N), I know. You talk about them all the fucking time. I get it, you’ve got these fucking amazing people in your life and I just can’t fucking compete.”

“What the fuck?” You couldn’t help but to respond, you knew his anxiety was getting the better of him but he snapped at you and now you were snapping back. “You’re seriously angry at me for having good friends?”

“No!” He yelled then and even through a phone call it caught you by surprise.

“Then why are you yelling at me right now?!” You questioned him, ironically also beginning to yell.

“Because- fuck. I don’t fucking know,” He sounded a lot closer to his phone then, as if he’d picked it up and had it closer to his face. “I’m going, I’ll see you later, or not, do whatever you want.”

And before you could say anything, he hung up.

You sat there looking at your lock screen, a photo of you and Corpse. The first photo you’d ever taken together, you were both so happy that day. You were all glammed up in the photo, you were going out and Corpse couldn’t stop telling you how pretty you looked.

-

“Baby, stop,” But you were giggling, so Corpse continued dotting rapid fire kisses all over your face. “you’re gonna mess up my make up.” You told him, but you were smiling so wide as your hands were pressed against his chest, pushing him up, but you were also having too much fun with him so you didn’t really try so hard.

“I can’t,” Corpse replied, his arms were locked around your waist, and the kisses stopped for a moment so he could bring his face in front of yours to look at you once more. “Oh, my baby, you do look so beautiful.”

He took your breath away with his words, your heart felt like it was doubling in size with how much he had made its way into it. And this time, you kissed him, but on his mouth and he kissed you back, hard. Your hands slid up from his chest and to either side of his neck and his gripped your sides. How you loved to feel so wrapped up in him.

“I don’t want to leave.” You whispered when you broke apart, your faces still close enough that your nose brushed against his.

“Then stay.” His deep voice could almost convince you, but you hadn’t seen your friends in a little while, you’d been inside the loved up bubble with your boyfriend. Your friends knew that, so they let you be, at least for a while and when they missed you too much, they demanded that this time you had to come out. You’d made a commitment to go out with them, and you wanted to see them. Corpse was invited, too. After all, your friends wanted to meet the man who had been taking up so much of your time, but he wasn’t up for it yet.

“I can’t.” You’d sigh.

“I know.”

“You could come...” You tried to invite him one last time.

“Baby.” Was all he said, dropping his head to rest it on your shoulder. He knew he had disappointed you when he turned down the offer the first time and he didn’t want to disappoint you, ever.

“I know, but, my friends really want to meet you.”

“And they will,” He looked back at you then, “just not yet.”

“Another time, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

-

But he still hadn’t followed through on that promise. You didn’t mind then, things were still kind of new between the two of you and you remember thinking that he’d keep his word. Your friends were so important to you, and he knew that, so you’d really thought that if you waited it out it would happen. 

But it hadn’t, and you were running out of patience.

Looking around the park, it really felt like the universe was just wanting to hit you down more, because it seemed that every person you looked at, really seemed to be in a couple. 

At one point, you were watching a dog who just fetched a ball. Thinking you’d found the only other soul here who wasn’t rubbing a relationship in your face. But then from behind a tree, another dog appeared and they started licking each others faces.

“Oh my fucking god.” You exclaimed and swapped your vision back to the painting you had completed. You were done with today. And you let your thoughts be heard then.

“You alright?” Your friend had heard you.

“Uh, I guess. I don’t know.” You answered honestly. And you didn’t know. Could you keep being in a relationship with someone when your differences were causing this divide?

“What if I just come over to his place with you?” Your best friend suggested. She knew exactly what was stirring at you, she’d listened to you vent about it many of times.

“Like, without him knowing?”

“Yeah.” It was a very her thing to suggest. You’d grown up with her and she always was a person who turned up unannounced, it was a rarity to find someone like that but she was that person. But she was also such a calming presence that no one ever minded and instead, welcomed it. You contemplated her idea, it was just the two of you now, the person she was dating had left a little earlier.

“It could go very bad.”

“It could go very good.”

-

And so there you were, walking up to Corpses front door. With your best friend waiting in the car. You were at least going to give him even a tiny bit of warning of what was going to happen.

The front door swung open, “Hey,” he greeted you, he was expecting you after you texted him to see if it was okay if you’d still come over.

“Hi.” You were nervous.

“Get in here.” He waved you in and so you stepped inside and he met you in a hug. “You okay?” He questioned you, he noted something about you seeming a little off.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” It was the oldest lie in the book, and you and Corpse both knew that but he was going to let it go.

“Where’s the painting?” A change of subject now that you’d both taken a few steps inside his place.

“Oh, I left it in the car,” You started, turning to face him.

“Okay.... did you want to get it, or?” He wondered why things felt so off balance. Yes, your last phone call didn’t end very pleasantly but he knew you, if you wanted to talk to him about that, you would.

“Well, I could get (Y/F/N) to bring it in.”

“What?” Instantly his mood changed. His face hardened, his posture stiffened.

“She’s in the car, she-”

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Already his voice was raising.

“She just wants to meet you!”

“You didn’t think to ask me about this?”

“She’s my best friend, Corpse, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He turned away from you and picked up a glass from his bench top, smashing it into the floor. You jumped and took a step back. For a moment, everything was so silent but the tension couldn’t have been louder.

With tears bubbling in your eyes, you decided on trying to cut through the thick silence. “Corpse-”

“No.” He instantly cut you off, turning to face you. Both of you had shaky hands. You should have been comforting each other, making an effort to calm one another, but instead, you took it out on one another, peaking each others anxiety and frustrations level even more. “You really fucked-

“No!” You cut him off this time, blinking back your tears and stepping towards him. “You don’t get to treat me like this right now, you’re overreact-”

“Don’t fucking finish that word. You’re the one who brought someone here without me knowing!”

“She’s not just someone, she’s my best friend!”

“Your best friend. Not mine, (Y/N).” He stepped towards you then. “Did you really not think about how fucking stupid this was?” His words stung like venom. “I don’t even want her knowing what I look like, let alone where I fucking live!”

“She- she wouldn’t...” Your voice trailed off. He was right in your face, he was yelling. But could you blame him right now? You were feeling guilty for causing this, you were feeling so distraught that things had gone this badly. 

“Just get out.” He told you plainly, moving back away from you and turning so his back was towards you.

“What?” You stared hopelessly at the back of his head of curls.

“Fuck off.”

“We can talk about this.”

“No. I don’t want you here.” His words were crushing your heart, you could barely take a full breath in. You had anticipated a bad reaction, but you hadn’t hoped it would go this bad.

“If you kick me out like this, I’m never coming back.” You threatened, despite how much it pained you to say those words.

Corpse looked back at you then over his shoulder, you both had challenging expressions on your face. You were fighting fire with fire, things were burning down, fast.

“Good.”

[bakubub]

Best friend rigs the Secret Santa for Bakugo and yourself to get one another...

A/N: Hullo everybody!! This is part 2 (find part one HERE) of this Pinterest Prompt and part 3 will (hopefully) be the final part. I honestly thought this would be a 800 word fic but now we're barreling towards almost 5k all together whoops lol-

Warnings: Just a few swears here and there, SFW, its literally all Bakusquad shenanigans.

Word count: abt 1.5k, ENJOY <3

"Soooooo~ Who d'ya get for the cringle?" Kaminari asks, leaning back on his chair dangerously to look back at me, sitting on the desk behind him. I raise my eyebrows, since I can't just raise the one, and flick my pen expertly in my hand.

"Mr. Aizawa," I answered seriously. "I'm thinking of getting him another sleeping bag. The musty yellow one isn't really his colour."

Looking genuinely confused, Kaminari looks around to see if anyone else overheard our conversation.

I laugh at him, and kick his chair forward, causing him to shriek as he sits squarely on his butt. I look down to see a folded note on my desk, opening to read it as Mr Aizawa tells us to settle down;

Lover boy was TOTALLY just greasing off Kaminari for making you laugh. I think someone's still jealous from the whole sleeping incident...

Catching Mina's eye, I give her an I don't think so look, which she promptly rolls her eyes at. Its been a whole weekend since the 'sleeping incident', where I had woken up with Kaminari's arms wrapped around my waist and his head nestled on my stomach. Accidentally of course. We, along with Bakugo and Kirishima, had fallen asleep on the couch in the common room, talking late last Friday night.

It really wasn't a big deal... Kaminari apologised several times. I got over it, he got over it, and I don't see why Bakugo, whom Mina just loves to call 'lover boy', would even care.

Plus, I have bigger problems. Like what to get said lover boy for the Christmas Cringle we were supposed to be exchanging this Saturday. He's literally impossible to buy for. Well, I could always just buy him a new pair of shorts or something, but since I've had a crush on him since literally the first day of school, it needs to be perfect.

So far I've thought of a cookbook, an apron, a scarf since he's always wearing the brown one, or maybe even a matching beanie; then again his hair has such personality I don't even know if he CAN put a beanie over those suspiciously natural spikes...

"Hellooooo, come on, Aizawa dismissed us," Mina says, nudging my shoulder.

I snap out of my daze and gather my things, following out of the nearly empty classroom.

"Decided on what to get monsieur Hothead yet?" I sigh, already having predicted this question.

"Nope," I say, popping the p as we walk to the dorm rooms. "I'm thinking of maybe getting-"

"Hey girls, wanna meet at the common room at 6 for a rematch of UNO?" Kaminari asks, coming up from behind us and slinging an arm over my and Mina's shoulders like he always does.

"Yeah sure, we're down." Mina answers, pinching him in the side so he lets us out of his grasp. We duck away, laughing and continuing our banter, before I catch Bakugo's gaze.

"You coming too, Bakugo?" I ask, walking up next to him, ignoring my heart trying to escape its cage.

"Coming where?" He grumbles, still looking disgruntled and angry.

"We're playing UNO around 6 today in the common room. Come on, it'll be fun," I say, trying to persuade him into coming, since he never usually participates.

"HELL NO! I don't have time to waste, especially with you extras," He yells at me. I huff, rolling my eyes and continuing to ignore the feeling of my heart beating in my eyeballs, as I grumble, "you never do," and walk back next to Mina, who was now somehow in a water fight with Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero.

Overall certain that I didn't let my nerves peek through while talking to him, I don't register what's happening as Sero grabs Oijiro's water bottle out of his bag, unscrews the lid, then promptly dumps it over my head.

With Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari and even Bakugo gasping in the background, I wiped the water off my face, before realising my mascara had probably smudged all over my cheeks and glared at Sero, who was slowly backing away.

I practically growl before chasing him, blindly grabbing my own water bottle out of my bag and drenching him, messing up his styled hair which has him shrieking "sorry, I'm so sorry!" and has me cackling in sweet, sweet revenge.

---

"PLUS FOUR?! AGAIN KIRISHIMA! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Mina screeches as she pounds Kirishima's arm from next to him, who is laughing and judging from his reaction, barely feeling her punches. I know from experience, that Mina punches hard. He has to be really tough not to show an inkling of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just really have to win this one!" He says, shooting a guilty smile Mina's way. Maybe he just doesn't feel pain in general...? I stare at him with suspicion as Mina huffs and she rolls her eyes at him, promptly dropping a four plus for the next person in our circle, who just happened to be me.

"Hey! Not cool, hypocrite." I mutter.

"I had to get my anger out somehow. I'm pretending you're Kirishima. Go on, pick up those cards, you slimy rat," Mina says smugly.

Giving her a confused look at her weird logic, I continued the game, Shoji and Hagakure also having joined in half way.

Just as I'm about to announce UNO, Bakugo stomps through the common room and sits right in between myself and Mina, crossing his legs on the floor and leaning back on his two hands.

"BAKUBRO! YOU CAME!" Kirishima yells excitedly, Kaminari and Sero also whooping and cheering.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. I finished my work and came to see what you idiots were doing." He says, voice gruff but not screaming for once.

I raise my brows at him, and he scowls and looks the other way, not being able to face me after he so rudely rejected my invitation a few hours ago.

"Oh please, you just couldn't handle the FOMO." I say teasingly, smirking at him without fully turning my face so the others can hear.

Sero stifles a laugh and Kaminari looks confused before the dots connect and he also has his hand clamped around his mouth.

"She has a green 7," is all he says, a sadistic look of satisfaction overtaking his features. It takes a moment for all of us to realise what he just said.

Mina cackles as she changes the colour to red, effectively stopping me from winning the game.

Shooting him a dirty look, I lean over to grab another card, simultaneously elbowing him hard in the shin, which he doesn't even react to.

What is it with these guys and their weirdly high pain tolerance?

Ignoring him now, we continue the game, Kirishima practically slamming his last card on top of the deck. "I WON, I WON, man that was so MANLY," He celebrates as I see Mina rolling her eyes and silently fuming. I begin to shuffle and hand out the cards deliberately skipping Bakugo, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Oi, where are my cards?" He asks, annoyance evident in his tone as Kirishima continues to gloat in the background about how manly his win was and Kaminari complaining about how he never "gets the good cards." When I don't respond, Bakugo steals my cards from in front of me, leaning forward to play with the others.

Snarling, I grab my cards out of his hand, causing him to snarl back, until we're fighting for the 7 cards.

"What are you guys doing, there's a whole ass deck here, you know," Sero says, eyebrows raised and nudging Kirishima.

"These. Ones. Are. MINE." I gasp out, my knee coming around to jab him in his side as his hand pushes me down from my sternum. Oxygen knocked out of my lungs, I gasped for air as I tried to hold the cards out of his reach, my hero training kicking in as I snake my other arm around the back of his neck to hold him in an upside down headlock. Trying to push his forehead onto the ground, I give the cards to Mina, who laughs and takes them, after taking a photo of us.

Having apparently heard the camera click, Bakugo (after struggling a great deal might I smugly add) gets out of my head lock and zones in on Mina. "Delete that photo, Racoon Eyes," He snarls.

"Not in a million years. Awww, look Bakugo are you blushing?" She says, pointing at her phone.

Eyes widening and red creeping up his neck, Bakugo snatches the phone out of her hand and deletes the photo, before getting up and leaving.

"C'mon Bakubro, she's just joking," Kirishima says, following him out.

"Yeah man, you didn't even play a game yet," Sero adds.

"I HAVE STUFF TO DO!" He screams, seemingly going back to his old self.

"Didn't you just say that you finished your homework?" Kaminari asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"SHUT IT, CHARGEBOLT! I DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU," he says a tad too harshly, turning slightly to glare at him with bulging eyeballs. Kaminari closes his mouth and shuffles his cards, trying not to set him off again.

"Bakugo-" I start, but when he doesn't turn, I find myself letting him leave.

Staring dejectedly at Mina, she gives me a giddy smile and grabs my phone, going onto her messages and smirking as she shows me the photo he just deleted.

"I sent it to you as soon as I took it. Thank me later," she says, winking, as she gets up to leave, dragging Sero and Kaminari with her.

I look down at the slightly blurry photo, seeing me handing Mina the UNO cards under Bakugo with a desperate expression. He has his hand pressed down on my sternum, straddling my waist and looking down at me, with an unmistakable smile gracing his features. Unless that's just a new way of scowling.

The phone dims and all of a sudden I'm confronted with my own expression on the darkened screen.

A lovesick fool.

That's all I can see.

A/N: Ngl pretty proud of that ending. JUst in case I'm not as slick as I think I am, she meant herself and Bakugo, hehe <3

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Find part 3 HERE

[bubblegumbeech]

Haunted Towers and Hidden Truths

Phic Phight prompt by @lexiepiper

Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

“We shouldn’t do this Danny,” Sam said, ever the voice of reason. “This place isn’t like our usual haunts.“

But Danny shook his head, “No Sam, I have to do this. I have to know what that dream meant, if it was really a dream or something else.”

He moved to take a step forward when his other friend, Tucker, grabbed his arm, “I don’t know man, I think she’s right. There isn’t a possessed item to destroy, or an overactive ghost to try and calm down, heck even Vlad has a weakness we can exploit, we don’t know anything about this place. What if we don’t make it out of this one?”

“Come on Tucker,” Danny argued, his own confidence nothing but a mask, “It can’t be as bad as the haunted video game right? You die in the game you die in real life!”

Tucker didn’t laugh, “this is serious Danny, I know that dream had you messed up, but what if it was just that? A dream?”

“Or,” Sam cut in, “What if it’s a trap? Remember how Desiree tried to get us with that monkey’s paw when she realized we were getting involved with every scary story and urban legend in town and she didn’t want us to find out about her?”

There was also the time a ghost discovered Danny’s secret and decided to haunt him personally and make his life a living hell until he and Tucker were able to exorcise it. It had involved a gorilla, a lot of research into dead safari hunters, and one of his parent’s inventions that they rigged to do what they needed before destroying it so it couldn’t be used against Danny himself. 

“We made it through all of those things together, remember when we first saw Cujo? And we thought he was to blame for Valerie’s mother?” Danny said.

Sam deflated, “and then we did research and discovered that Cu Sith only foretell death, not cause it… But Danny, we tried to research this place, remember? We found nothing. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah man,” Tucker scratched the back of his neck uncertain, “I couldn’t find so much as a blueprint. No building plans, nothing. The only thing we have to go on are stories from reckless kids trying and failing to spend the night.”

“You don’t have to follow me, the last thing I want is to put you both at risk. Especially after last time.” 

Tucker groaned, “Danny you know we aren’t going to let you do this alone right? Especially not after Walker’s prison. Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t come in and save you?”

Danny smiled, “I probably would have starved to death to be fair, but yeah, I’ll try to avoid getting locked in any metal cages, deal?”

“To be fair,” Sam said, returning his smile with one of her own, strained though it was, “you probably would have died of thirst first.”

Chuckling at his friends' attempts to lighten the mood once they realized his mind wouldn’t be changed, Danny finally let himself look up at the place in question. It was a tall, crooked looking clocktower with old, brittle wood and peeling paint. In the low light of the evening it looked almost purple and with the dust and cobwebs covering it, it was clear no one had been inside for quite some time. 

The Clocktower was a recurrent presence in his dreams, the ones he’d started having since the accident that made him the way he was: different from any person, but not quite anything else. It was always there in the background, but he’d never gone inside. 

Once, during a particularly dull recurring dream where he relived the life and consequent death of a warehouse worker, he’d walked away from the endless piles of boxes and tried to go inside the clocktower instead. But no matter how far he traveled, it was always the same distance away. He just couldn’t get to it. 

Danny couldn’t shake the feeling though, that something inside might have the answers he’s been searching for. So he stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, of course, and  Danny almost felt foolish doing it, but also, ghosts and spiritual beings all had their own rules and perceptions of what is or isn’t polite, most of which Danny had stumbled into learning the hard way, and it really didn’t hurt to check.

“No answer,” Sam said and Danny nodded, turning the handle. It was old and brass and when it turned it made a loud grinding noise that vibrated along his arm. But it did open, and without Danny needing to persuade it, so that had to be a good sign right?

Unless it really was a trap. 

“Maybe we should leave someone outside, in case it really is like Walker’s prison.” He offered, but both of his friends shook their heads and stepped past him. It was dark, musty and smelled in a weird way, like a library. If a library had locked its doors and not let anyone enter for a good century or so. 

Sam took the lead, her flashlight catching on unfamiliar shapes and shadows. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” she asked, her voice uncertain. 

Danny shook his head, “Not really, just… answers.”

They looked around the ground floor at first, but if it held anything particularly supernatural or important, it wasn’t going to be found. “This just looks like my grandma's living room.” Tucker complained, taking the sheet off of one of the couches, “we need to go further in if we want to actually find something.”

He wasn’t wrong, Danny looked over to the spiralling staircase in the back of the room, and then to the other doors that surrounded it on the first floor. “It’s probably better to do this systemically right? Go through every room on each floor and move our way up?”

“You mean like in a video game?” Sam asked, “sure, we can do that.”

They started on the left, but that room wasn’t much better when it came to finding any kind of clues. It held a kitchen, a very old kitchen, with a stove and oven that Danny had only ever seen in period movies. But…

“Why does it smell like cookies?” Danny asked, turning to his friends who both looked at him like he was crazy.

“Cookies? Yo, Danny this place smells like straight up death. Not cookies.” Tucker said, backing away from the oven and starting to open up cabinets. 

Sam rolled her eyes and did the same on the other side of the kitchen, “it doesn’t smell like death you dolt, it smells… like a graveyard.”

Danny walked to the middle of the room, towards the oven- he always made sure to be the one seeking out the more dangerous or suspicious things in the haunts they went to- while the two of them bickered. They tended to start these smaller, petty arguments when they were scared, it took the edge off. 

“Duh?” Tucker said, and Danny heard him slam one of the cabinets shut, “graveyards are death? What does it smell like to you? Your Mom’s perfume?”

“No, it smells like someone dying, you know all hospital chemicals and gross stuff.”

There wasn’t anything in the oven, but oddly, Danny had felt a wave of warmth when he opened it. Almost like it had just been used. But, ghosts didn’t need to eat, right? And there couldn’t have been a person living here, they’d notice that. At least, Danny hopes they would notice that. After being in dozens of life or death scenarios hinging on whether they noticed important but minute details, they’d become pretty good at that kind of thing.

“Ugh! Don’t talk about hospitals, I’m still not over North Mercy, that was horrible,” Tucker turned to Danny, leaning on one of the counters and ignoring the cabinet he opened right behind his head. “What do you think death smells like Danny?”

Danny walked over and closed the cabinet, he didn’t want something to suddenly appear inside of it all twisted limbs and empty eyes or for something to crawl out and scare them, or even have it slam shut on Tuckers head, like some ghosts were known to do. He didn’t have to put much thought into his answer, “It smells like burnt flesh, electricity, and polished wood.”

Tucker paled, “oh… right. Sorry.” 

He shrugged, “anything yet?”

“Not unless you count cobwebs, dust, and deteriorating cooking books,” Sam answered, walking over to both him and Tucker. 

Danny looked around at the kitchen, it looked normal, even some dying light shone in from the one window along the outer wall. The only thing weird was the shape and that was because it was at the bottom of a spiralling clocktower. There was nothing particularly scary about the place, and frankly Danny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Let’s move on, this place is giving me the creeps,” Sam said, crossing the room and going to the next door. 

Danny and Tucker followed, unwilling to be left behind, or to let her go on her own. The next room was the same size as the other two, but it had an extra window and was crammed absolutely full of books. Just books. Stacks and stacks of them where they didn’t fit on the shelves, which were completely packed themselves, and Danny had the thought that this was probably what he was smelling when they first walked in. 

It was a library. A personal one, but without any room to sit or anything to sit on despite the genuinely impressive display of books and Danny found himself gently stroking his hand against the cover of a book on the top of the nearest stack, When Ghosts Speak: Understanding Earthbound Spirits.

“Please tell me we aren’t reading all of this,” Tucker whined. Danny frowned, why wouldn’t he want to read these? It was a treasure trove of information, these books could have countless, researched, answers to questions they’ve been asking since the start of everything! 

What if one of these books could tell them why Amity Park seemed to attract the supernatural, why they seemed to gain power within the city’s boundaries, why Danny wasn’t dead. He wanted nothing more than to grab any one of these books, walk into the next room, with the couches and comfortable chairs, sit down and read and read until he found something, anything he could use. 

These books might even be able to help him deal with the supernatural threats that plagued their town. Mostly they’ve been surviving through luck and half baked internet searches with the occasional trip to the town library. And while it had been enough so far, Danny was practically salivating at the thought of being properly, genuinely prepared for something for once. 

“Of course we aren’t,” Sam said, dragging Danny out of his fantasies of maybe knowing what he was doing, “they’re completely deteriorated. If we even tried to open one it would probably fall apart.”

Danny frowned, and then looked down at the book he’d subconsciously grabbed. It didn’t seem as bad as Sam was describing, but he also didn’t want to risk it either. He’d realized early on there was a difference between what he was seeing and what was actually real. He set it down gently and looked around the rest of the room with his friends. 

“Are we so sure this place is haunted?” Danny asked. By then, the sun had set entirely and the only light left was their flashlights. High powered and with fresh batteries they were still little use against the encroaching dark and Danny wanted to move on to the next floor already if he wasn’t going to be able to open a book. 

Tucker stood up from behind a precariously leaning shelf and dusted himself off, “Dude you’re the one that said there was something here and we needed to investigate. Remember, like an hour ago when the two of us were trying to stop you from going inside?”

Danny scoffed, “that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” Sam asked, stepping closer so she could meet his eyes. There was something in her expression, curiosity or suspicion, Danny couldn’t quite parse. 

“I…” Danny stopped to think, what did he mean? Was it just that the place didn’t feel haunted? There wasn’t anything here trying to scare him away, no ominous winds or loud knocking, but they’ve gone into haunts before that took a long time to start actually reacting to them. “There’s no, I don’t know how to explain it. Usually when we go somewhere haunted, that a ghost has a claim to or whatever… there’s this feeling that I’m trespassing? I don’t feel like I’m trespassing here.”

That probably didn’t make any sense, and despite everything they didn’t usually act on Danny’s gut instincts as a group without evidence. The issue with the circus and it’s terrifying owner was a lesson too well learned after all. 

True to expectations neither Sam nor Tucker looked convinced. They shared a quick ‘what now’ look between each other and Danny resisted taking a step back and sinking into the wall. Not that he could do that, as far as he knew he couldn’t do that. Only actual ghosts could do something like that and despite everything Danny was still human- well, still had a physical form. 

Permanently. 

“Let’s move on upstairs,” Sam reasoned, “if Danny’s right there won’t be any harm in it, and if he’s not we’ll find out once whatever’s here starts actually reacting to us, right?”

Perfectly reasonable and logicked as always. Danny nodded and walked to the next door, if he was right it would lead into the room they had first entered with the staircase that twisted and climbed higher and higher into the heart of the tower. That was the next place to go. He knew that.

Tucker gently patted his shoulder as they walked towards the base of the stairs, “yeah, maybe the ghost doesn’t consider this bottom part his haunt? Maybe he just likes the clock on top?”

Danny smiled, “like the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

Smiling back, Tucker nodded, “exactly! Oh man, we gotta find out if that guy is real one of these days.”

“We have our hands a bit tied with Amity Park without going after disney characters,” Sam said, pushing the two of them from behind so they’d actually go up the stairs. “Now let's get a move on, I want to be back home before breakfast so my parents don’t realize I snuck out again.”

There was something Danny could say but he bit back the comment about how at least her parents would notice and quickly walked up the stairs instead. As soon as his feet touched the first step a bubbly feeling lifted in his chest, and it made him want to go higher as fast as he could there was someone up there waiting for him-

“Danny!” Sam called out, grabbing him by the arm, “calm down!”

Her grip on his arm was tight and Danny looked down to see what had her panicked only to find his feet had left the stairs entirely and he’d started floating upwards instead of walking. Like a human. Like his friends. Like what he was supposed to be. 

He swallowed and let himself sink back down, forcing the feeling in his chest back as much as he could. It was like trying to kill the fizz in a shaken soda by screwing a cap back on it and he struggled with it for a moment. He’d never felt like this before- sure, most ghosts and other supernatural entities tended to broadcast emotions to a higher degree than humans, and with them also being natural empaths and Danny’s unfortunate situation it often led to him being overtaken by emotions that weren’t necessarily his own. 

It’s just, they’ve never been this overwhelmingly positive before.

Even with Vlad, as human as he was, his emotions were always tinted with obsession and desperation. His need to have Danny and his mother for his own colored every interaction he’d had with the man and it often left a bitter, strained feeling in his chest. Right now, Danny felt almost giddy. And he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just his own emotions, reacting to the environment around him. It was a nice environment after all. 

But Danny was good at ignoring things like that. 

“My bad. I’ll try and keep my feet on the ground from now on.”

Sam looked conflicted, “Danny you know we don’t mind you using your powers,” Danny nodded, they’d told him so many times over and over again, “But we don’t want to lose you to them. You promised to stay with us, remember?”

Danny smiled, “I remember. I won’t end up like that, I promised. That’s why we’re here right? To stop it?”

Sam nodded and let him go. 

The second floor was similar to the first, in that it had three rooms leading into each other with the spiral staircase in the center. Danny started with the door on the right. It was a study. There was a desk, paperwork, and a bottle of ink with a quill and Danny found himself wondering just how old this clocktower really was. And how long it had been since its occupant was truly here, alive, if ever. 

They split up and started looking around, eagerness exposed in their movements. This was the most likely place to have something useful, especially if whoever spent their time here was as studious as the lower floor suggested.  Danny went for the desk. 

There was a note on it, in perfect, looped handwriting and the ink was still glistening, fresh from the bottle if the smell had anything to say about it. Danny ran his hand across the words hoping to smudge it, but it had dried already, if barely. 

It’s nice to meet you, little anomaly.

Danny grit his teeth. 

“Guys,” he called out, holding the paper, “It knows we’re here.”

Sam and Tucker rushed over, and Sam grabbed the paper from his hand to read for herself. “Little anomaly? Isn't that kind of insensitive?”

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed, “you just have weird ghost powers right? Vlad’s the same way it’s not like you’re the only person on the planet like you.”

Hesitant to correct him, Danny bit his tongue. It was true that Vlad was a person who had unfortunately gained the abilities of a ghost, things like floating, making objects move with his mind or using his spirit to control people while he slept safe and sound at home. And he’d gained them in a similar way to Danny as well, trusting the wrong people and delving into things he never fully understood and still didn’t. 

It was just … less true for Danny was all. 

But he wasn’t going to tell them that, he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. So how did whoever, or whatever this was, know? Or was it just saying things to get under his skin, that was pretty par for the course when it came to ghosts. So why wasn’t it doing anything else? Trying to get them to leave? Was Sam right? Was it really a trap this entire time? What would happen if they went back downstairs and tried the door, would it open?

He grabbed the paper and shoved it into one of his jackets pockets, there was plenty of time to freak out over it later after all. “Let’s keep looking around, there has to be something here that it’s trying to distract us from.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more useful than there had been downstairs. Just what one would expect from a normal office. What papers he did find had detailed extensive notes, yes. But they were in a language Danny couldn’t read and neither Sam nor Tucker even recognized. It was infuriating!

Almost like whoever was haunting this place, was telling them it had all the answers they wanted but wouldn’t give them any. He just wanted to know how - Danny shook his head. There had to be something. He wouldn’t have been led all the way here, had all those dreams, if there was nothing he could do at all. 

He threw one more frustrated look around the office before he threw the stack of papers he’d been digging through on the floor and marched over to the next door. It was unlocked, again, just like all of the others and it only served to increase Danny’s frustration. 

“Wait, Danny,” Sam noticed him leaving and quickly followed, the door slammed shut behind them, locking Tucker inside the office.

“No,” he whispered, this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have let this ghost get in his head like this! He never should have let his emotions take him over, he knew better. It led to bad things. Horrible, terrible, things. 

There was a loud bang on the door, someone was pounding against it and Danny flinched. Was the actual haunting finally starting? Was everything really just a way to lure them deeper into the tower and away from each other? 

“Guys?” he heard Tucker call out from the other side of the door, “did you seriously just leave me behind? Don’t we have like, a rule against that?!” 

Danny sighed in relief, it was just Tucker. “Are you okay Tuck? Did anything happen over there when the door shut? Any oozing walls or flying papers-”

There was another thump, probably Tucker banging his head against the door, “I know what to look for Danny I’ve been doing this the exact same amount of time as you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny acquessed. “Just get to the stairs and we’ll meet you there.”

He exchanged a glance with Sam, she was glaring a hole into the side of his head and he felt guilty for being the cause of everything going wrong, again. So he apologized and ignored her exaggerated eye roll when she said he should have known better, because well, he did. But what was he going to do, apologize twice?

The room they were in was a simple one, likely some kind of storage space that he and Sam could dig through for hours on end, but it was more important to get to Tucker than to try and make sure they didn’t miss anything. 

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why they’d been separated. 

A cold breeze tickled at Danny’s hair and he felt himself relax despite it all. It felt nice, the cold, and Danny liked when the haunts they went to leaned towards the chillier side like this. Sometimes, especially if Vlad was involved, it felt like he was walking into an overwarm swamp when he entered a haunt and it made him itchy and uncomfortable the entire time. Vlad never seemed to notice, and his friends complain equally about both, so Danny had mostly kept it to himself. 

The entire tower felt nice, cold dry air, the smell of books, ink, and cookies, even the playful, excited feeling that seemed to permeate throughout the tower. Like someone had designed it to appeal in every way to both sides of Danny’s instincts. 

It was unnerving. 

He followed Sam out of the room and back into the middle where the stairs were, but Tucker wasn’t there. 

Sam pulled out her phone, and Danny held his breath as it rang, once, twice, and then a click and Tucker’s familiar, annoyed voice came through the speaker and Danny sighed in relief. “Uh guys? I couldn’t get out the door so I tried to climb out a window, and there was uh, a ladder. So I’m outside right now. Come get me?”

Danny met eyes with Sam and nodded, they headed back down, “we’re coming Tuck,” he said.

“Cool, cool, actually rather than coming to get me, can we just go home? Come back later, like in the day time? How come we never do these things in the daytime?”

“You know that’s not how ghosts work Tucker.” Sam said, bored, as they walked to the front door. Danny felt a tug, something like a hand on his shoulder and turned to see what was behind him. There wasn’t anything there. 

He turned back around to see that Sam had already walked outside, and was holding the door open for him, one of her eyebrows raised. Awkwardly, Danny jogged a little, so as to not hold them up too long. But before he could actually walk outside the door slammed shut.

Sam screamed.

“Danny! Are you okay!” Tucker asked, his voice panicked and muffled from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, gritting his teeth and turning around. The room didn’t look or feel any different. There was nothing screaming at him to get out or anything else malicious. If anything it seemed even cosier than before, and Danny didn’t really know how to react to that. 

He looked back at the door. There was a way, no. He couldn’t do that. Danny pinched at the bridge of his nose, the only thing to do, really, was to see who had invited him in. That’s what it was right? Some kind of weird ghostly invite?

“I’m going to go check upstairs,” he called out to his friends before walking back towards the staircase. 

They pounded on the door, “Danny don’t you dare go up there without us! Just wait, we’ll find a way in! It’s dangerous alone!” 

Ignoring their protests Danny took the stairs two steps at a time, fighting the rising excitement in his chest and firmly planting his feet against the polished wood. There were answers waiting for him, he knew there were. He just had to find them. 

The third floor had a bedroom, it was nice, cozy and the bed even looked inviting. Danny didn’t bother to stay long. Whoever it was that called him here wasn’t in this room, nor were they in the next or the one after that. Just two bedrooms and a bathroom on that floor and Danny quickly made his way to the next. 

This room was different from the rest. For one there were windows, everywhere, that seemed to play different scenes of different people from all over the world. If Danny strained his ears, he could even hear them speaking different languages. On the other side from the windows was an entire wall of clockwork that chimed and churned as the gears moved, keeping the face of the clock on the outside ticking along in sync with the rest of the world. 

When Danny stepped into the room properly the carpet sunk easily underneath his feet and he felt a nice, cold breeze that came from a purple flamed fire housed properly in a fireplace in the middle of the room. He hadn’t even noticed a chimney from outside. 

There was a man in front of the fire. He was tall and hooded and he carried an equally tall and gnarled staff in one of his gloved hands. Danny felt himself freeze, he had never seen a ghost this solid before. There was always a little bit of transparency, no matter how powerful, they didn’t have physical forms afterall. Not like Danny.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was dry and soft and Danny was thankful when it didn’t crack on his question. How embarrassing would that have been? 

The man turned around, his face changing as he did from old and aged to a younger one, closer to his parent’s age, a large jagged scar marking it’s way through one of his eyes and down his cheek. He smiled, “I am Clockwork, Master of time. All that was, All that is, and All that will be. I understand you have many questions for me. I hope to answer them.” 

A thousand questions ran rapidly through his mind, why did you call me here? Did you call me here? Why get rid of my friends? What are you and why haven’t I seen anything like you before?

“How do I prevent myself from becoming that.” Danny asked the most pressing question first, desperate. The man-ghost-Clockwork, sighed and gestured for him to sit. There was a comfortable looking couch with an equally comfortable chair across from it and a plate of cookies set on an elegantly carved coffee table between the two.

“That’s easily answered, sit, have a cookie.” Clockwork floated over, crossing his legs and settling into the chair before grabbing a cookie for himself. 

Danny glanced at them, uncertain, before taking a seat. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked and he found himself sinking back into it, confused. The room was a nice, cold, temperature as well, despite the fire clearly burning in the fireplace. 

He grabbed one of the cookies, “can I eat these?” he asked, looking over at his host.

“Of course,” Clockwork smiled, taking a bite of his own before leaning back, “I made them for you. Though your friends would have to be more careful, I’m not sure what food like this would do to a human.”

“I am human,” Danny argued, placing the cookie back on its plate. He had to, denial was all he had left at this point. 

Clockwork frowned, “yes, well, I suppose we’ll get there next. You wanted to know about your dreams.”

Finally, Danny nodded, “they’re different ever since- uh well… ever since the incident.”

“It’s natural to not want to talk about one’s death,” Clockwork said, he leaned forward and tilted his head, “or one’s birth.”

“My dreams,” Danny asked, avoiding that conversation with all the grace of a blind hippo, “why are they different. You know right?”

Sighing, Clockwork nodded and leaned back, “yes, I know everything. They’re different, frankly, because they’re dreams. It’s unsettling to you because it’s new, you’ve never dreamed before.”

Danny scowled, “that doesn’t make any sense, I had plenty of dreams when-”

Clockwork interrupted him, disappointment plain under his hood, “You can lie to your friends Daniel, but I already know the truth. Just as you do.”

“I was astral projecting. Like what Vlad does… but then why-?” Danny bit his tongue. He couldn’t say it, not outloud. It was too difficult, he’d spent too long hiding it, pushing it away and doing everything he could to keep anyone from noticing. 

“Why can’t you do it anymore?” Clockwork answered for him, Danny nodded. “The simple answer is that you aren’t like Vladimir, despite what he believes and would like you to believe as well. But that’s something else you already know. Ask me a question you don’t have the answers for.”

Danny grabbed another cookie, biting into it fiercely just to have an excuse not to speak. It tasted really good, better than anything he’d had in a while and Danny wondered if maybe there was something in it meant to sate his less human cravings. The thought didn’t help his inner turmoil. 

Clockwork smiled softly at him though and sighed, “Fine, in order to answer your question, first I have one of my own.”

“Didn’t you just say you know everything?” Danny mumbled before shoving more cookie in his mouth. 

“What good is a teacher that only lectures?” Clockwork said in retort, “do you remember how you died?”

He did, of course he did. “Kinda hard to forget that. Lab accident, electrocution, nothing fancy.” he said, curling in on himself. Clockwork had been right before, it was painful to talk about. But he wanted, no, needed the answers to his questions. He’d survive this. 

“Well, that’s where your first mistake lies. Yes, that is what stopped your heart, and likely the most memorable part, but you didn’t die from that Daniel. What killed you came after.”

Danny frowned, “that doesn’t make any sense? What happened after?”

“Your spirit was never particularly bound to your body in the first place, likely due to your parents dabbling where they shouldn’t for as long as they did before you were ever born. There was a summoning, I think you remember, that your parents were holding when your accident happened on the floor below them.”

It was frustrating, that he was right. That he knew it. “I remember them recognizing me, my spirit. I remember them finding my body and shoving me back in. I remember the pain, and waking up and seeing-” Danny choked on the realization. It couldn’t be...

“Seeing the world in your dreams?” Clockwork asked, “the way you saw it when you were a spirit, free from the confines of your body, correct?” He floated over the table, sat next to Danny, and placed a hand on his back. Danny realized he had been shaking. 

He grabbed the fabric of his jeans in a tight grip and tried to stop, “It’s all real, right? It isn’t… I’m not still dreaming? Please, I need to know.”

The hand on his back pulled him close, tucked into Clockwork’s side and Danny felt comforted despite himself, he fought to blink away tears that had been building behind his eyes as he tucked himself into Clockwork’s side. He was so solid, unlike any other ghost Danny had ever met and he seemed to radiate comfort where most just gave off fear and hurt. 

“You’re not dreaming Daniel, you never were. The world is different when you see it  through our eyes, that is all. When you woke up, you weren’t human anymore. Of course you wouldn’t be limited by a human’s sight.”

Danny curled into himself tighter, despair clouding around him and likely leeching unpleasantly into the air. It would be a wonder if Clockwork didn’t feel it. “So I’m a ghost.”

“Hardly,” Clockwork said and Danny stopped breathing, “Do you think the world is so simple it is split between what is ghostly and what is not?”

“I…” Danny had actually assumed that. So far everything they’d dealt with so far, short of Vlad, had either been a ghost or spirit of some kind, or a human that used magic or ghostly artifacts. Even Vlad had simply been a person who had learned how to control his own spirit the way a ghost would. If Danny wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?

Clockwork ruffled his hair, “I suppose you’re young. It is easier, afterall, to think of it that way. But Daniel, ghosts don’t have physical forms. They can possess one, or control one, and sometimes even mimic one, but they are spirits.”

He sighed, “you are something entirely different. You’re something remarkable.”

Danny leaned back, using the sleeves of his hoodie to quickly dry his tears so he could look Clockwork in the eye, “What am I?”

“You’re new.”

Danny shoved him, “Agghh, I knew that you jerk!” It was probably a bad idea to attack or antagonize someone as clearly powerful and knowledgeable as Clockwork, but really he’d been asking for it. And Danny’s patience was only so strong. 

Clockwork didn’t fight him back though, nor did he get offended. Instead he just smiled that soft smile that Danny was starting to realize was affection, and said, “did you? Weren’t you trying to read my books to find out if there was anyone else like you?”

“Well yeah-” Danny stopped, “Oh. There wouldn’t be anything would there? If I’m the first?”

He groaned, that really was just his luck. He’d never figure out anything at this rate. Clockwork, the bastard, just hummed and grabbed another cookie, offering it to him. “No there wouldn’t. But you’re not the only one who was the first or only of their kind. Who had to figure out on their own, who and what they are.”

“You mean Vlad?” Danny asked, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, wow he really hoped he didn’t mean Vlad.

Clockwork’s smile turned brittle, “I don’t mean Vlad.”

Danny chuckled, his thoughts turning mischievous, “I don’t know, he seems pretty unique, what with all those different abilities he has and the way he can choose to be human or ghost-”

“Oh please,” Clockwork interrupted, “there’s plenty of humans like Vladimir Masters, you were fully capable of astral projecting like that from birth, no black magic necessary. Just because he found a way to twist-”

He stopped, then looked down at Danny who was trying and failing to hold back a shit eating grin. All at once the air seemed to leave him and he deflated, the irritated look on his face replaced with open and honest affection and Danny felt it sing in the air around them.

“You were messing with me.”

“To be fair I didn’t think it would work, all knowing and everything.” Danny said, unable to fight the bubbling feeling in his chest as it rose to meet the affection around them. Usually it sucked having the empathy of a ghost and being near one or at least, something with the same traits. The negative emotions tended to bounce between him and them and amplify and it always made Danny struggle to parse his own emotions from theirs. But right now, in the top of a clock tower with the most powerful entity Danny had ever met, he felt happiness and joy to a degree he’d long forgotten. It was dizzying. He was almost giddy with it.

Clockwork patted him on the head, purposefully messing his hair, “yes well. I think in time, it will be more obvious just how different you truly are, how crucial every small coincidence was that came together that night to create you. But until then, you had another question? I can answer it now.”

Danny frowned as he realized what Clockwork meant, “You! I asked that question first! How did you only answer the one you wanted to!!”

“It was important,” Clockwork said, relaxing into the couch next to Danny, “to answer that question I had to be sure you knew what you were.”

He sputtered, “But I don’t?! I’m just something new! Something different!”

“Something physical that exists with the laws of the spiritual.”

“Yeah!” Danny said, “Wait, what?”

Clockwork nodded his head, “a physical entity that exists within the realms of spiritual possibility. It must be such a struggle, to deal with both sets of instincts like that.”

Danny’s head hurt, it was too much to try and understand the details of all of this. Maybe Tucker was right and he should just have let it be, learn to live with the new normal his life was now. Wasn’t that kind of what Clockwork was suggesting anyways? Then again, unlike Tucker, he did seem to thrive off of all of Danny’s questions, whether he actually answered them or not. 

“Yeah, I have to fight my more ghostly instincts all the time. It’s exhausting.” he said, leaning into Clockwork. It should have been embarrassing, seeking comfort like that, but he’d already cried into his shoulder and there wasn’t really any way to come back from that so Danny did as he pleased. 

He felt Clockwork’s hand return to his back, a solid comforting presence, “Now why would you do that?”

Danny tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Why would you fight against one half of yourself so thoroughly? But embrace the other side entirely?” Clockwork elaborated. “Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences in fighting against your nature?”

“But,” Danny struggled to speak, pieces of the puzzle he’d thought hopeless putting themselves together in ways he had never expected and didn’t quite understand, “my nature is bad.”

Clockwork frowned and turned to look at Danny properly, “Daniel, it’s your nature. There is nothing good or bad about it. It is only as it is. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

This was too much, Danny sat up fully and turned entirely towards Clockwork, “are you saying, the way I become that thing from my nightmare, is by… doing what I’ve been doing to avoid becoming that thing?!”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He blinked, the answer really couldn’t be that easy. “But in my dream, I, my instincts-”

Clockwork grabbed a cookie and placed it in his hands, “even humans react poorly, when they starve themselves. As you exist now, you simply need a different kind of sustenance. One you’ve been denying.”

Danny felt dread crawl down the length of his spine, “what kind of sustenance?”

“Spirits exist for reasons, and they exist differently from humans. In order to keep existing they need emotions, experiences, something to keep them held together. A spirit that has no reason to exist will simply disappear, you’ve seen such before it is relatively common after all. But you can’t do that, since you are physical in a way that they are not. You can starve yourself endlessly, into madness even if you’re desperate enough.”

“I do it to myself?” Danny asked, flustered and frustrated. It was true then? He really was his own worst enemy? 

Clockwork shook his head, “it is not inevitable Daniel. As you were, it was the most likely path forward. Yes. You would have noticed the symptoms, seen yourself losing control and then, in reaction, suppressed yourself further. Starved yourself further.”

Danny cringed, yeah, that sounded like him. “How do I stop it then? I just embrace what makes me ghostly? What about my parents? If they think they failed the resurrection, that I’m not human anymore, they’ll kill me for real! Or worse!”

“That is indeed troublesome, and the paths of the future where they know your truth are twisted and sharp, every small decision every tiny change causing a greater effect on their reactions as a whole. But you do not need to reveal yourself to your parents to live your truth.”

Relieved, Danny fell back into the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he’d floated off of it, was that good? Bad? He shook his head, this was all too confusing. “How then?” He asked, maybe this time he’d actually get a straight answer. 

Clockwork ruffled his hair and stood up, er, well, floated up and over towards the fire. “You continue doing what you’re doing with your friends, protecting your town and interacting with the truth of the world around you. And…” He turned around, “you can come visit me. It’s quite lonely in the clock tower they trapped me in, and there is much I can teach you about becoming. I had to learn such things about myself once after all.”

“You’ll let me come back? To visit you?” Danny didn’t know what to say. He could come visit, ask more questions, get more answers. It seemed too good to be true, and Danny found himself eager and excited at the prospect. 

For some reason, the entire conversation, he’d thought this would be a one time thing. That the clocktower would disappear behind him and leave any question he didn’t ask unanswered. To find out that wasn’t the case, that he had somehow, against all odds, made some kind of ghostly ally, was beyond expectations. “You’ll help me?”

The answering smile had Danny floating out of his seat, “Of course Daniel. I’ll even bake cookies.” 

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Baby, Please Come Home // A Very Harry Potter Christmas (D.M.)

Summary: For as long as you have loved Draco Malfoy, you had celebrated Christmas with him. This year, however, things could be different.

A/N: Here is my fic for A Very Harry Potter Christmas orchestrated by @whack-ed and @jamilelucato! My prompt is day five: digging out christmas ornaments. I hope you all like!

Warnings: fluff, christmas decorations, missing someone, lots of feelings

Word count: 2k (I’m sorry it isn't longer!)

There was one time of year that you simply adored. From the moment the hands of the clock ticked over to the first of December, childish excitement and glee filled you.

It was the build-up combined with the shopping and innocent secrets to do with gifts that had your stomach in a whirl and your heart pounding. Each year you tried to outdo yourself; searching for the one gift that would bring out the shine in Draco’s smile, though he liked to remind you that you were indeed the cause of such a shine.

This year felt different, however. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited, and it wasn’t that you weren’t prepared. It was the fact that there was worry brewing deep within you that Draco would not be able to make it home in time for Christmas.

Sending him away had been hard on you both, but it had to be done. An opportunity such as the one he had been offered was not something to be missed. Invited back to the school of witchcraft and wizardry that had educated him so thoroughly, Draco had been offered the chance to lecture some of the advance students in the art of healing.

The letter offering him the job arrived on the doorstep in the last week of August. Thinking back to it, you remember the trembling of his hands as he read over McGonagall’s words and what she was proposing. There hadn’t been any other answer than yes. You had seen it in his eyes when he handed you the letter; promising not to go, but to stay with you.

A shake of your head stopped his rambling; kept him frozen to the spot as you called him a fool for thinking he would turn this opportunity down. Draco had argued; he didn’t want to leave you for so long, knowing he would miss you too much. Whilst it flattered and sent your heart racing in your chest, you urged him to accept, telling him how good this would be for him.

Eventually, he relented. Draco wrote back to McGonagall, accepting the job offer and tell her he would see her on the first day of term.

Three months on and it was hard. It had been hard to wave him away; bag in hand, filled with his belongings. Draco had left you with a long, hard kiss, promising to be back in time for Christmas.

December brought with it colder days and longer nights. It brought with it frozen breath and warm scarves. To you, December was the month of traditions.

The first weekend in December was time dedicated to decorating the house you have shared with Draco for the last two years. Moving in together once spotting the perfect cottage for you to make your first home.

The attic is warm and musty when you open the door, switching on the small light. Wiping a hand across your forehead, it takes no time at all to spy the boxes. They’re piled up to the left of the door, strings of red and gold tinsel peeking out of the top as if they were too excited for the holiday season to descend and chose to start the decorating without you.

As you place the final box in the living room, your phone rings. The smile that crosses your face when you see Draco’s name flash on the screen is large and filled with love.

“Love,” You greet.

“Darling,” He replies, “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” You comment, opening the closest box to you. “How are you? How is Hogwarts?”

“Hogwarts is fine. It’s just not the same without you.”

You smile though he cannot see you. It had been at Hogwarts that your friendship first developed which then grew into a relationship in your Fifth Year when Draco quietly confessed his feelings for you. He had wanted you to know the truth, he said, in case things start to take a turn for the worse.

Things did take a turn for the worst; a war broke out, but you persisted. You kept your hold of Draco, standing by his side through it all. Even now, years later, Draco reminded you that he would never be able to pay you back for the kindness you showed him through those years.

You laugh, memories of the enchanting castle and searing kisses behind tapestries taking over your mind, “Do you remember-”

“That night in the Room of Requirement?” Draco finishes: laughter lightening his voice as he remembers the very same night.

You snort, “I think we missed all our morning classes the day after.”

“We did,” Draco confirms; his voice warm, “But I would do it all again.”

Heat fills your face and you’re suddenly hit with how much you miss him. It came and went in waves; each one stronger than the last but as you look at the numerous boxes labelled ‘Christmas decorations’ in Draco’s elegant scrawl, you cannot help but miss him fiercely.

If he were here right now, music would be playing, and smiles would be bright. Draco’s area of expertise was always the tree; it was his job to place the tree topper on at the end. The tree would be glowing with its lights, the tinsel would be shimmering away, but the tree was not complete until Draco had placed the golden tree topper on.

A deep ache fills you at the awful realisation that it may have to be you to finish the tree this year.

Quietly, you mumble into the phone, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. So much. I’ll try to be home as fast as I can,” Draco whispers; his voice filled with promise.

“I know you will,” You murmur, willing yourself not to cry on the phone to him.

“How is the decorating going?” Draco asks, desperate to change the subject and not linger on uncertainties.

You laugh mirthlessly, glancing around the bare living room filled with boxes, “I haven’t started.”

“What?” Draco exclaims, shock resounding through his tone, “You’re usually done by now and I’m trying to persuade you otherwise.”

You shrug your shoulders even though Draco can’t see you. “I don’t know,” You state, trailing off before picking your train of thought back up, “It just didn’t feel the same without you.”

Draco is silent for a minute. No sound comes from his end of the phone until you hear him whisper, “Darling…”

“I know, I know,” You repeat, “You’ll try to be home as fast as you can but love, please come home.”

Draco hangs up, whispering an ‘I love you’ before coming off the phone. Pulling the device away from your ear, you stare down at your wallpaper. An image of you and Draco from last Christmas – his arm hooked around your waist with his body angled towards you. Hermione had snapped the photo without either of your noticing. The smile on your face the result of whatever draco happened to be whispering in your ear.

Looking around the too-large living room, you found it hard to remember a single Christmas without Draco. The boxes of Christmas decorations all called to you; all wanting to be put up and shown to the world.

Digging through the first box, you feel tears spring to your eyes as you hold the first ornament daintily in both hands. A grand glass bauble given to you by Draco; inside holds a small winter scene that never fails to remind you of a winter holiday shared some years ago. Draco bought it on a whim; being reminded of the very same holiday. He had presented it to you, smiling through the kiss you had given him before placing the bauble on the forever green tree.

Sighing, you fold your arms, protecting yourself from the dread wanting to crush you. He had to come home for Christmas; he simply had to.

-----------

The day continues to be slow; small decorations placed on the mantle piece and bookshelves. It is just about as much as you can handle without Draco by your side.

As night descends, you climb the stairs, filled with the increasing hope that Draco would be home soon to finish adorning your home with Christmas cheer.

Settling your head on your pillow, you automatically reach out to the other side of the bed, already beginning to dream of a morning when you wake to find him lying beside you.

A crash and a bang from down below has you leaping out of bed and reaching for your wand. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold your wand to your chest, ready to hex whoever it may be in your home. In your head, you go through possible reasons for anyone to enter your home. The war had been over for years; Draco had repented – there had been no sense of danger for a long time.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you tiptoe downstairs. Pausing at the door to the living room, you spy a figure rifling through the boxes of decorations still left to put up. The figure is tall and lithe, yet it is too dark to see any defining features.

You let out a screech as you force your way into the room, wand at the ready.

“Darling! It’s me!” The voice shouts, hands coming up to rest above their head.

“Draco!” You shout, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the sadness in your voice, and I knew I had to come home to you.”

“And give me a heart attack?”

Draco smiles bashfully, “That part was accident, I promise.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Darling?” Draco calls.

“Yes?”

“Will you put your wand down now? There’s no threat.”

“Oh,” you gasp, realising you still had the wand pointed at the love of your life. You drop your wand, placing it gently on the chest of drawers before turning back to face the man who had stolen your heart and had yet to give to back.

It is then that you realise who exactly stands before you with a boyish grin and mischief bright in his grey eyes. You launch yourself into his arms; Draco catching you in his own. He laughs, the sound loud in your ear. His strong arms are tight around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, feeling evermore at home in your arms.

“You’re home,” You whisper, voice full of awe.

“I’m home,” He confirms, lips brushing over the soft skin of your neck making you shiver.

Stepping away from him, you take your first look at the newly decorated living room. A dark green wreath sits on the living room door, centred perfectly. Next, your eyes spy the garland wrapping around the mantle piece, warm lights shining from it as they reflect from the metallic snowmen standing behind it.

It’s like a winter wonderland.

Draco keeps a tight hold on you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You spin his arms, your face a picture of wonderment, “Draco, did you do all this?”

Draco leans down, pressing a long awaited kiss to your cheek before replying. “I started it without you, but I think I need your help for the rest.”

“Why?”

“You sounded so sad on the phone. I know how much you love traditions and decorating the house is one of ours. I asked McGonagall to leave early, and she said yes.”

“She said yes?”

Draco nods, smiling, “She said yes, so I walked to Hogsmeade and apparated home… to you.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” You whisper, voice truthful.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

You smile, leaning into his warm body. Turning your face to him, you smile widely before pulling him in for a long kiss. Breaking away, you ask, “What else is there left to do?”

He laughs, ducking down for one more kiss before answering, “Just the tree. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Leaving the warmth of his arms, you wander over to the box of decorations you had brought downstairs only yesterday. Reaching for a golden bauble, you hold it out to Draco, “More than up for it.”

*****

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @liilyevanss @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kylosleftbuttcheek @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sycathorn-slush @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

[shouldntcryoverit]

a clone fit for a ball.

Commander Fox x Reader

I think initially I wanted to write this as a whole story, but it’s quite a lot and (because i haven’t been too active) I just sorted wanted to post something yk :) hope you enjoy! <33

———————————————————————

It’s a dramatised reality if you think about it. The idea of a gathering with the only intention being to appease the aching sore that is political pillow talk, is one that is so pompous it seems that those who benefit from the scheme are the ones who design it. It’s a drawn out, legislative, painfully particular game of charades disguised in lavish clothes and large hats. In almost every way, those garments are often large enough and sparkly enough to hide the deceit they cover, and persuade each mindless baboon that is gormless to fall victim to it to enter into the game themselves. It’s a repetitive cycle, and stupid though it may be; it does work.

Though there was beauty in it that you just couldn’t deny. The decorations were enough to mesmerise you entirely; lavishly hung around each bannister and archway of the senate hall. Bright colours of orange and pink were scattered across the flower arrangements that littered the walls and their accents. Whatever had been done to spritz life into the chandeliers and lighting had worked its magic, for the perfectly lit definitions gave luminosity and warmth all in one squeezing breath. It was inviting and spectacular; a collaboration of everything the senate appeared to be. Even as the floor beneath your heeled feet glistened with rich delight, the pit in your stomach still swallowed your joy.

Your hatred for all things political had always been your strength and your weakness, especially as a senator. You represented your home planet well enough to protect it’s people, but you would not stand for the same deceitful bulldozing that reduced planets and people to nothing more than pawns or money makers. It meant that you stood for nothing you disbelieved in, including ridiculously regimented senate balls.

Nevertheless, you needed a way in. Your planet had been overlooked for far too long; the cries of your people ignored. You needed a trade deal and you needed one that wouldn’t result in republic outposts and war dependancy littering your already fighting home world. A ball was a good opportunity for political match making, and it was one you couldn’t give up.

It was that reasoning that had led you as far as a blue, bejewelled dress that suffocated what waist you apparently had, and hugged each curve with malice. Even with the anger dripping from your rouged lips, you couldn’t deny it. You did look rather pretty. It was a small triumph, but one that gave you confidence enough to manage the heels that’d been handed to you. As you caught a reflection of yourself leaning heavily against the arm of a guard in a particularly shiny section of the wall, you realised just how pretty you did look. Perhaps there was something addicting in the madness of it all: perhaps there was something powerful about a low cut dress and tousled hair.

Your entrance was timely, a rushed manner donned after slightly too much time taken trying to find the dammed place. Typical of Coruscant, you muttered. Two guards in white and red nodded at your arrival, both seemingly emotionless under their plastoid helmets. It was something that’d always confused you about the clone army; all painfully identical, yet lightyears apart from each other. A brotherhood was one thing, yet could you even call it that?

The thought itself was fleeting, though one you were sure to ponder later. You passed those statues of guards within seconds and continued on your warpath to the ‘reception’. It didn’t take much for you to be recognised; the perks of being one of the only senators with detailed and beautiful facial markings. It was something you prided most. The rest was a blur, but you made it into the hall and straight into a chair that’d apparently been pulled out for you. The man to your left was a kindly looking togruta, the woman to your right your stern faced guard, who looked murderous in comparison.

“My dear, aren’t you cold?” The togruta asked with a genuine smile. The question made a small laugh sprout up your throat.

“Perhaps, though my heart is beating far too fast for it to be uncomfortable.” You replied with that charming tone in your voice you’d perfected.

Everything was an act; your shoulders perked up and back to lift your chin in power and confidence, the planned placement of your hands across the table, your silken voice as it left your silken mouth. Even the unplanned conversation would seem regimented, though the Togruta’s nature settled your mind with authentic care.

“Ah, now that I can understand.” He shuffled, uncomfortable or unsure you couldn’t tell. “I do apologise, but I cant seem to place you.”

You paused again with an unfaltering expression of tenderness.

“Oh well I know you, Governor Roshti. But I don’t blame you, I took over from Madame Liobrev shortly after she resigned from senatorial status. This is my first ball to say the least.” There was a hint of an exhale by the end of your scentence, it felt good to admit even subtly that you were out of your depth.

“Well it doesn’t show, I only hope my name hasn’t ingrained in your mind the way it has in so many’s.” The sadness that fell across his face was just as genuine as the smile that it had replaced. It made the compassionate side of you ache.

“You did what this god forsaken war made you do, I see no reason for shame to fall upon you or your people. Battle leaves us all defenceless.” The spite of your tongue was heavy; anger for the war too many fell victim to.

“Thank you, my dear.”

You smiled once again, before turning back to your guard. She was perched haughtily on her seat, weapon securely hidden but it’s presence obvious. Her attire was in contrast to yours; armour and garments all of dark colours and metal accents. She looked like a warrior, and you were momentarily envious.

“Taurin you really ought to relax. Senators aren’t that vicious. Or at least not when they’re sedated with flattery and shiny things.” You joked, desperate to take the edge of both her and yourself.

Taurin, the guard, bowed her head in humor, a distant smile forming over her pursed lips. It was one you were incredibly fond of, and one you had grown to recognise as endearment.

“M’lady, it’s not the senators I’m worried about.”

You laughed; a breathy laugh that corrupted your lungs and throat.

“What more could you possibly find challenging about a ball this compensated for. Perhaps it’s that my shoes will grow painful on my feet? Enjoy yourself!” You pressured with sweet intentions.

She turned to face you with a vindictive smile laced with sour belief. Her eyes trailed over your reeling eyes in silent conversation, seconds before they jolted off their steady trajectory just past your head. What had been childish remark soon freezed over to slight panic and question. You noticed the change almost instantly and frowned with creased eyebrows. As your head began to swivel to turn to her opponent, she screeched and forced you down.

The fall from your chair wasn’t high, but the adrenaline and shock of the direct hit made it seem endless. You hit the hard floor with a mind numbing crack, one that caused your eyes to widen before you realised it was only one of the many jewels that laced your back splintering; rather than something a critical. Nonetheless, the shot that flew past certainly was real.

The bullet soared over your head, frowning that it had missed it’s target. You couldn’t even process what had happened before Taurin fell to your level, teeth clenched in agony. You reacted as best you could with hands fumbling around her leaking wound; but she swatted you away and thrusted your head down once more. That one bullet, the one that had cursed your luck and gone for your guard in spite of it, had previously had a purpose. Your mind lingered on that fact for a second before you pushed past it. Searching eyes found Governor Roshti’s, who had copied your move and positioned himself just under the table.

You couldn’t hear much over your panting breath; nothing except the shouts and screams of senators whose useless lives felt threatened, so naturally, just like their entire life’s work, they do nothing except complain and wail. It was dark under the thick tablecloth, too dark for anything to be made clear to you. Taurin had wriggled further away and was holding her position behind your table, a gun most definitely in her hand.

Three shots. Four shots. Two. One. Silence.

Now really all you could hear was your panting breath. The blood rushing through your ears made a ringing sound, and the tingling in your veins made the fastness of your heart seem ordinary. Governor Roshti made no adjustments to his stance at the silence, but you were itching to unfold your coiled legs and poke you head up and out of the cover. Like most things you did, you did it without asking. The carnage wasn’t as bad as the screams foretold it to be, but as soon as your vision shifted you saw the agony splayed over Taurin’s face.

“Help! Medic!” Was the instantaneous shout from your lips.

One of the clone guards from earlier shot up. He wore a kama around his waist and his armour was weathered; something that told you he was rough without him having to speak a word.

“Ma’am sit back down, we don’t know where the attackers went.” He commanded.

“I can manage.”

His helmet tilted slightly in what you assumed to be annoyance. With two fingers pointing he signalled for a medic to step forward. The new clone looked significantly younger through the way he held himself and the shining of his uniform. With Taurin being led away, you finally let go of the breath you’d been holding.

“Ma’am-“

“I’d like to know who just tried to kill me.” The clone looked slightly surprised at the deadpan tone of your voice. “And who shot my closest guard.”

He grimaced from under his helmet and lifted his hand up to his visor to tap into his comm channel.

“This is Commander Fox, what’s our status?” He spoke; a velvety tone lacing the authority in his voice.

Fox. It wasn’t bad. Your mind shifted once again as his comm crackled back at him.

“Suspect... run... in pursuit... ty hunter.” Was all you could make out, but it didn’t take a genius to fill in the gaps.

“They won’t find the assailant while pampering senators.” You spoke, cringing slightly at the privilege you held yourself; here you were demanding Commander of his time, all because you have some morsel of perhaps undeserved power.

“I’m sorry” Perhaps an attempt to reconcile your blundering thoughtlessness would change the trooper’s aggravated stance. “I only meant that it would help if the senators uninvolved were to be sent home and out of your hair, it can’t be fun listening to them whine.”

His head tilted slightly in what you hoped to be a grin. “You’re not wrong, but I’m afraid I can’t keep you alone in protection. Not when we don’t actually know who was the intended target.”

“Commander, let me help. Before I was a senator I was a member of the guard. I’m afraid I can just about handle myself.” There was more than a hint of pride in your voice as you spoke.

Fox shook his head and lifted off his helmet. It would be far to say you lost your breath at the sight of his actual face. In the few seconds you spent mentally sketching his face into your brain, your mind fastened at his slightly too-long-to-be-neat mop of curly hair, and how it fell playfully over his deeply tanned forehead. His cheekbones were sharp enough to shut you up (which was, as he’d come to discover, wasn’t actually that easy) let alone the bite of his jaw.

But it was his eyes that made you most intriguing; deep and wise auburn eyes set perfectly amongst weathered skin. They watched you for a moment before the eyebrows above them lifted slightly in confusion.

You hadn’t meant to stare. Or maybe you had, it was unimportant.

“Fine, I’ll take you back to the office while the boys take the others to a safe space.” He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem as begrudging anymore; a small victory.

“Thank you, although I may need a change in shoes.”

At this he did grin; and it was marvellous.

[nonbinaryeye]

Mutual Curiosity is Foundation of Every Lasting Partnership

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 5 - Gertrude Era

Peter Lukas is a really interesting person for a servant of the Lonely and James Wright would love to get to know him a bit better. Unfortunately his Archivist is there to interrupt their meeting a bit with very unreasonable complaints...

Read on AO3

…

“Mr Lukas, you are late.”

“I told you last time to feel free to start without me, Mr Wright.”

“I have. And I am done. All it needs is your signature. Unless you want to read through it of course…”

“Wonderful. At least I can be done here quickly.”

Even though at this point Peter Lukas could just scribble his signature and turn around he decides to sit on the chair opposite the current Head of the Magnus Institute: James Wright.

It is far from the first time James met Peter. They have been dealing together quite a lot. Rest of the Lukas family has probably realized Peter can tolerate James’ presence and so they have decided to use that fully. Surprisingly Peter does not seem to mind too much. Sure he complains about having to stop in London so often and about how uncomfortable he feels in the Institute or how hard it is to find office of the Head of the Institute but rarely about James himself which is… interesting.

James has dealt with lots of different Lukases during his lives and would dare to say he has always been able to pinpoint what they think about his current incarnation quite easily. Albeit it usually was ‘get rid of him as quickly as possible’ but that is not the point.

With Peter though, he has no idea what goes in his head during their interaction. He would love to just look and see for himself but with servant of the Lonely it is hard sometimes to see in their minds. And unfortunately for James even though Peter is still relatively young, he already has quite a strong bond with the Forsaken. Overall on a first look he speaks and appears as every other Lukas, doing his best to appear as distant as possible but his actions do not always match as sometimes it is Peter initiating further conversation instead of doing his best to avoid it.

“I am surprised you have a normal pen. From the look of this place I would expect I will have to sign it with a quill.”

“I am glad you appreciate the well preserved historical artefacts around the Institute. Do you know there really were only minor changes made in the office since the first founder Jonah Magnus?  It really is as if his presence was still there…”

“Are you just trying to suggest you need more money for the renovations, James?” As always, a subtle hint seems to go right over Peter’s head.

“I was not but when you are mentioning it… there are a few changes I would love to make given I would have enough finances for that.”

“Did we not agree on raising the budget on our last meeting?”

“We did? I cannot really recall…” Caught up in their conversation, James would almost not notice he is about to have another visitor quite soon. And she looks quite angry. “Hold that thought. As much as I would love to continue in our discussion I think you would probably prefer to disappear right now,” James, feeling merciful today, decides to warn his guest who looks at him confused.

“Why-…” Peter starts but then he hears clapping of heels quickly approaching the office and freezes in terror. He regains his senses and disappears to the Lonely just in time, right before Gertrude Robinson barges in.

“James,” Gertrude greets him coldly.

“Gertrude, pleasure to see you. What brings you to my office?” Head of the institute smiles at his Archivist.

 “Elias Bouchard.”

Of course. Of course it is him again… James tries not to sigh and keep his best helpful smile intact.

“What about him?”

“He was distracting one of my assistants again-…”

“Maybe he was just trying to help him?”

“And because he thought I was not there he decided it is alright to smoke there. Now the whole Archives smell like weed.”

“Well… at least he was mindful towards you? As you said – he would not do it in your presence...”

“And documentation on Michael Shelley’s desk caught on fire from his joint. I don’t think files for case 9790916 are salvageable” Gertrude’s voice remains cold but there is a sign of malice. Of course there is. She knows how important case files – the real ones – are for him. She raises her eyebrows waiting to see if James will come up with an excuse for this one too but honestly he is at a loss here.

“How… unfortunate.” The smile remains on the face of the Head of the Institute but he is clenching his fists under the table. He would start planning Elias’ murder by now if it was not planned already.

“I want to see some real consequences for him, James.” The fate of Elias Bouchard will be cruel enough but it all needs its time and James still needs at least a year to prepare everything.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I want him fired.”

“Ah, isn’t it a bit rushed? Everyone can make a mistake sometimes…”

“Do I need to remind you of all the ‘mistakes’ he has done till now? I’ve actually made a list if you want to look over them,” Archivist offers because of course she has.

“No need to. I will make sure further incidents will not happen,” Head of the Institute says. Tone of his voice implies he is done with this discussion. Gertrude probably does not notice.

“I have my doubts.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

Gertrude glances at him coldly. James reciprocates the stare. They stay like that for a couple of seconds, both of them refusing to be the first one to cut off the eye contact. This silly match could easily last minutes as it has happened in the past but this time they are all interrupted rather early into their unspoken fight by a couple of books falling on their side. As if something – or someone – bumped into the shelf the books are on…

They both turn towards the noise at the same time. James, knowing what exactly caused the mysterious event, focuses his attention back on Gertrude. She is staring right in the Peter’s direction, frowning. She doesn’t say anything but this is still quite interesting… as it is not exactly easy even for him to see through the thick fog of the Lonely.

“Anyhow do you need anything else?” As interesting it would be to test his Archivist’s abilities, he already has different plans with Peter today.

“Yes actually,” Gertrude turns back to him and hands him a file James has not even noticed till now, preoccupied worrying about the Archives. “When I had to climb all the way up here I also brought you a suggested budget for my research trip to India.”

“I will look over it and we can further discuss it tomorrow?”

“I have quite a mess in the Archives because of your assistant. I don’t think I will have time. Maybe you should just approve it as it is,” for the first time since she has entered the room Gertrude smiles at him. James is already worried about what all she wants.

“I will see. Now is that all?”

“Yes that is all.”

“Have a good day then,” James waves his hand towards the door hoping this really is the end of their discussion and the Archivist seems to finally be satisfied as well. She gives him a nod instead of words of goodbye and finally decides to leave him alone. Well, alone till Peter re-emerges from the Lonely. It takes him a few minutes as he probably wants to be really sure Gertrude is nowhere near.

“I don’t like your Archivist.”

“Why I wonder…” James opens the file with Gertrude’s requests. No TNT, no gun powder, no heavy weaponry. That is almost suspicious. Though it still looks like quite an expensive business trip due to travel and accommodation expenses… There surely must be some other hotels than four star ones.

“Though at least you seem to have troubles with her as well…” Peter lurks over his shoulder on the very list of her requests regarding her next work trip. James quickly closes it as he does not want Peter to think he just lets his Archivist just demand and do whatever she wants.

“That is none of your business, Peter.”

“I think it is since it will be money from my family covering her vacation.”

“We will negotiate about it further.” He is sure he can persuade her to degrade her first class seat to a business class seat at least… Yes, Gertrude is hard to deal with sometimes but so far his longest surviving Archivist. She is very effective in what she does and unfortunately she knows it.

James wonders whether Peter will become just another one victim on Gertrude's rampage to stop every ritual. He told him nothing concrete of course but it seems like it will take at least a few more years before he attempts to do something to bring The One Alone here. Maybe he will be smart enough to disappear in time, he hates any kind of social interactions after all… On the other hand Gertrude is Gertrude…

“What was actually your assistant even doing in the Archives?” his Lonely guest interrupts his chain of thoughts with a question.

“I was afraid he would mess up my system here… so I sent him to help there. Apparently I will really have to find him some work he cannot mess up too badly…”

Peter raises an eyebrow but stops himself from inquiring further.

“I have my reasons why I keep him employed. Do you want to hear them?”

“No. Not really,” Peter shrugs as he probably already used up the entire curiosity limit Lonely allows. Which works just fine for James. He plans to switch bodies in only a year or two and he would hate to spoil the surprise for Peter. It will be much more fun if Peter does not know anything.�� James is quite fond of the man. And how else can he find out for sure that the servant of the Lonely cares for him at least than to see how he will react to his death.

Ah well no matter what the future will bring why not rather enjoy the present for a bit. And talking about enjoying the present…

 “Now weren’t you mentioning something about lunch before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“No I don’t actually think so.”

“Maybe you were about to invite me to go have one with you?”

“Still doesn’t ring a bell.” Peter might try to look clueless but twitching of the corners of his mouth gives him away.

“Peter!”

“Alright, alright, you are always so demanding... Do you know some place which is not very crowded?”

“Of course I do. If the price is not an issue…”

Peter only sighs and hands James his coat. He has been so far really quite entertaining company for someone dedicated to Forsaken. Also he is handsome and that is something James can appreciate in a man. He can really see some long term partnership between them. He really hopes Gertrude spares him when the time comes.