#accurate brotherly love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollowdeath · 11 months ago

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Hello, I was wondering if it'd be possible for you to do an enemies to lovers with Harry Potter (with smut)? I feel like since Harry's life has been focused on Voldemort, he hasn't had a lot of time to think about things like crushes, and he's only had a couple of girlfriends here and there, but he's never felt such strong feelings for someone like y/n, so he deals with them by having a disliking towards her. (maybe he has a breeding kink? 🙏🙏) Maybe she's dracos sister? I dunno, all I know is that your fanfics are beautifully written, and you are my FAV tumblr author. Thank you ❤️

hi! thank you so much for requesting! you are so so sweet, i appreciate it so much <3 i had a lotttt of fun writing this one, i hope you like it!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!slytherin!reader (18+)

summary: harry becomes infatuated with you, draco malfoy's little sister, whom he's extremely protective over. though harry's confusion when it came to you lead him to hating you for several years, he eventually sees who you truly are, and loves what he finds.

c/w: mostly angst/fluff, slow burn, some smut at the end (oral & penetrative sex with some minor breeding kink). and, of course, briefly edited, all lowercase, not exactly book/movie/canon accurate, you know me !

word count: 14.6k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: soo i kinda ran with the draco's sister plot line lol. i actually had 2 other requests that also asked for a slytherin reader, so i tried to make it all in one! i hope everyone enjoys!

it wasn't until year 2 that harry learned draco actually had a little sister who would now be attending hogwarts with them. "how did you not know?" hermione had asked him, dumbfounded. "you've never heard someone mention [y/n] malfoy?"

harry tried to pay attention to hermione's questions, but he couldn't stop staring at you. you only vaguely looked like draco, maybe more so from certain angles, but there was something so completely different and unique about you. you carried yourself differently than draco. no constant sneer or narrowed eyes looking for trouble; instead, a soft smile, gentle touch, and nervous giggle. harry wasn't sure what to make of you. how could someone like you be related to such an evil pest like draco malfoy?

"blimey, harry, we're over here," ron whines, snapping his fingers in harry's face. harry looks back at his friends with guilt. "sorry, it's just, she doesn't seem related to draco," he says.

hermione makes a face. "i still wouldn't trust her regardless, the malfoys are nothing but evil trouble,"

harry glances back at you again, laughing with a few other first year girls waiting for the sorting hat.

it came as no surprise to anyone when you, a malfoy heir, were quickly sorted as a slytherin, their table erupting into cheers as you excitedly ran to a cheerful draco. harry remarked this as one of the first times he's seen draco actually look happy, a genuine grin plastered across his face as he gives you a big hug.

it almost feels wrong to see draco be affectionate with someone. harry's never seen someone make draco soften so much so quickly. as he's guiding you to sit next to him at the table, harry can actually hear him congratulating you. "see, i told you, nothing to worry about."

seeing him be so brotherly with you was so off putting it was almost upsetting to harry. if draco does have feelings, then why is he so awful to harry and his friends for no reason? and not just them, but to almost every student or professor? it just made no sense to him. harry hated hypocrites.

after the ceremony, harry's heading to the gryffindor common room when draco sharply cuts in front of him, standing nose to nose in the hallway.

draco looks harry up and down with a sneer. "i saw you staring at my baby sister, potter. try anything with her and you're dead."

harry's caught off guard but sneers back at draco, disgusted at his insinuation. "wasn't planning on it, draco. hermione's right, your family is nothing but trouble."

you come up behind draco, pulling on his robes softly. "draco," you say.

draco gives you one last warning look before taking you by the shoulders, guiding you away from harry. "let's go, [y/n]," he says with disgust.

as draco pulls you away, you swiftly turn over your shoulder and wave at harry with a big grin on your face. "hi, harry!" you call out excitedly before draco turns you around and walks you down the hallway quicker.

harry waves weakly. now he's really not sure what to think. draco is clearly protective of you and doesn't want you to even talk to harry. but you seem so kind and friendly, and harry can't deny how cute your smile is…

harry brushes off the situation, meeting ron and hermione at the top of the stairs where they were waiting for him. "what was that all about?" ron asked.

harry rolls his eyes. "nothing. can we just go?"

ron and hermione look at each other, a bit confused at harry's annoyance, but don't push him any further.

it's on this walk with ron and hermione that harry decides he hates you. as far as he's concerned, you're just another draco to him. he doesn't care if you seem nice, hermione's right - he can't trust you. not even for a second. not even if you look at him with those big beautiful eyes, that soft smile, your infectious giggle…no, harry hates you. and he hates draco. nothing's going to change that.

harry actually manages to not have another interaction with you until the beginning of 4th year, though that never stopped the longing stares between you two. harry often caught you attempting to talk to him, but always figured out a way around it to avoid you completely. he wasn't scared of draco's threat; harry knew he was serious but he wasn't afraid of draco. he simply had no desire to be around you, not even for a second.

mainly because he knew you could easily win him over if you wanted to.

harry had tried to deny it for over a year before he finally admitted to himself that fine, okay, maybe he does find [y/n] extremely pretty…but that doesn't have to mean anything. he still avoided you like the plague as draco continued to torment harry and his friends like normal.

at the beginning of fourth year, however, you made it a point to find harry when he was alone and practically force him into a conversation with you. he tries to get away when he sees it's you coming up next to him in the hallway, but you grab his arm. "harry. please."

harry pauses. he hasn't really heard your voice since you were in your first year, and only barely. it was so soft and kind, and just a hint sad as you asked him to speak for a moment.

he turns to you reluctantly. he knew this wasn't going to be good. he's already a little lost just looking in your eyes, but keeps himself focused as you begin talking to him.

"you've been avoiding me for almost 3 years now, and don't try to deny it because i'm not stupid…" you say, your tone of sadness only more pronounced. harry's awkwardly diverting his gaze, watching as you both slowly become some of the only students left in the hallway. he doesn't intend on replying, instead letting silence fill the air between you.

"i know you and draco don't get along but, can't we at least be civil? i'm not like him like that," you ask, your voice slightly desperate.

harry glares at you, ripping his arm away from your lingering grasp. he was never one to get angry at someone being so kind to him without reason, but he just couldn't stand you. you confused him, you made his heart race, you made him feel crazy for disliking someone so intensely when they haven't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help it.

"draco is an evil, blood purist bully. and as far as i'm concerned, you're nothing but his little shadow. so no, we cannot be civil." harry spits at you, his voice dripping in anger.

your face drops, but he's already stomping away, his blood pumping from the adrenaline rush of simply speaking to you.

"well fuck off, then. i was just being nice."

harry turns around at your loud voice, seeing you in tears just before you turn around and run out of the hallway, a few lingering students watching and looking over at harry as well.

harry just ignores them and continues walking away. he feels guilty, of course, you really were just trying to be nice despite harry's relationship with draco, but harry can't let his guard down for even a second. he's got so many other parts of his life that require his attention and time, he can't risk getting caught up in his feelings over his enemy's sister in the middle of it all.

it was easier for both of you if harry just put that wall up right away and ignored his other feelings for you. the feelings of longing, the feeling of guilt…

after that day, you and harry hadn't spoken to each other again. there was always looking, staring from across the room in both admiration and disdain. you found harry to be incredibly rude after that encounter and never saw him quite the same, but you couldn't help but watch him through the years as he grew into himself. and he had the same issue, only finding you more and more beautiful as time went on, from an adorable girl with the cutest laugh he's ever heard to a gorgeous woman in every sense of the word.

harry had a few crushes throughout this time at hogwarts and, ironically, even dated his best friend's sister at some point, but always found himself disinterested in all of them after a while for one reason or another. harry was constantly on edge these last few years and would practically lose himself in the situations he was in. his world would be turned upside down and he was expected to fix it every time. at that point, he just couldn't bring himself to care about a crush or even a relationship after experiencing what he's gone through.

what harry did always care about, though, was you.

not in a traditional sense, at least. he didn't necessarily want bad things to happen to you, not at all actually. he had always kept an eye on you during your years together. he didn't have any reason to, you guys were anything but friends, but harry felt a responsibility to keep you safe for some reason.

by harry's last year, draco had more or less left him alone completely. no more bullying or picking fights or spewing names, draco was now a sullen shell of who he used to be with no motivation to do anything but graduate and leave hogwarts behind.

harry couldn't blame him. he had to give it to draco, he went through a lot. though harry believed it all happened due to draco's own stupidity and selfishness that left him alone and depressed in the end, he still felt for him, if only a little bit. if not for what it did to you.

you had never given in to your family's connections to the dark lord, even when things were at their most detrimental point in the war, you stood with your fellow classmates, and, ultimately, with harry. draco couldn't say the same.

harry remembers being shocked, but not entirely sure why. he knew who you really were outside of your surname: a kind, understanding, empathetic person who brought light to people's days. but still, after all this time, there was a part of harry that still believed it might have all just been an act. he knew he was being ridiculous once he saw you turn away from your own parents and brother, not for harry, but for what was right.

since then, harry's felt different about you. rather than feeling anger or confusion whenever he saw your face or the back of your head in the hall, all he felt was happiness. he was happy to see you, happy that everything was okay now, happy that you had been genuine this whole time…though, of course, that came with the guilt of being so awful to you previously.

harry had been meaning to apologize to you and finally settle things before the end of the year. the issue was getting you away from draco.

since draco began struggling after the war, you two were practically attached at the hip. you tried everything in your power to help your brother, to be there for him, to reassure him; it killed you to see him so disappointed in everything, especially himself. harry found it sweet, of course, just how much you were willing to try for draco, but he ultimately saw it as a lost cause. if draco wanted to wallow in self-pity for knowingly being on the wrong side of the war, harry couldn't care less.

however, he cared for you, of course, so he respected your space around draco as harry knew he would only make things worse.

he was still determined to speak to you alone, so he figured out what classes you and draco had, both together and separately, and found a time where you would be alone. your last class of the day ended before draco's did, so harry waited by your classroom door until the bell rang.

once he saw you exit, talking with a friend, it took him a moment to build the courage to interrupt the conversation. but he knew he had to do this now, or else he'd never do it at all.

"[y/n]," harry said, coming up behind you and your friend. you both turned to him, your face instantly going pale. "oh," your friend had said, looking at you and harry before giving you a smirk and a simple goodbye.

you waved her off and turned back to harry, a complex look on your face. harry smiled tightly. "i was, um, wondering if we could speak, just for a moment," harry stumbles through his words, gesturing to an empty hall to your right. you take a moment to look around you, but nod at him and head around the corner to the less used hallway.

harry sighs as you turn to him, arms crossed, watching intently. "uh, look," harry says awkwardly, his hands going to his head in stress. "just, since everything that's happened, i've been thinking a lot…" harry continues, not able to look at you.

"i'm sure you have," you say softly. your voice is a mix of sincerity and sarcasm. it stings. harry can tell you're disappointed, angry, sad, and above all, completely hurt.

he chooses his next words carefully. "i'm sorry. for everything. for what happened with you and your family. for putting you through so much. for treating you how i did. i let my anger for draco and your family get in the way of my judgment." harry says softly, staring at the ground. "you didn't deserve that. none of you did. and i'll live with the guilt forever."

you're still watching harry, your weight shifting to the side, arms slowly uncrossing.

"i'm not asking you to forgive me. i just wanted to say sorry." harry sighs, sneaking a look at you before quickly looking away down the hall. your expression is unreadable. confusion, shock, sadness.

you leave a few moments of silence before replying, thinking of what you want to say to harry after all these years. you clear your throat, your hands folding together in front of you. "you should be sorry," you say simply.

harry's heart drops, but he's not surprised at your response. he knows you won't be easy to win over.

"i grew up idolizing you, harry. do you know how heartbreaking it was for you to hate me because of something i can't control?" your voice is breaking, your eyes turning away from him as well. harry doesn't move or respond. he knows he deserves to hear this.

you sigh shakily, trying to regain control. "but," you say sharply, causing harry to look towards you. your eyes were still diverted, nervously wringing your hands together. "there's no guilt to be had. you didn't do anything. you didn't choose this life. everything that happened to all of us was happening to you too." you say flatly.

you glance at harry, who's surprised at your words. "you were just a kid, harry." you tell him softly. harry's eyes threaten to tear up as he turns his head away quickly. you look back down the hall in front of you. "but so was i, and i didn't deserve that from you. so, yes, while i don't forgive you yet, i do accept your apology." you say with a suppressed smile. harry also has a small smile on his cheeks from what you can see.

another few moments of silence pass before harry sighs, relieved. "well, thank you."

the bell rings, and harry's heart drops. draco. he's going to be looking for you. he turns to the other hallway before looking back at you. "i guess i better go," he says. you smile sadly at him. "yeah. guess so." you say quietly.

harry gives you a sad smile too before leaving you behind, looking around to make sure draco wasn't close by before leaving down the hall.

harry wasn't afraid of draco. he never had been, but he certainly didn't want to see how he'd react to harry talking to his sister, even just casually. harry understands to an extent, if he had a sister he'd never let her near draco–but that's because he's draco. harry's a good guy, and he'd treat you well.

harry shakes his head at his thoughts.

what is he doing? he just wanted to apologize to you. nothing more. just because you make his heart flutter and are probably the most beautiful girl he'll ever know doesn't mean he has to like you. even though harry can't deny just how much he admired you for what you sacrificed during the war. when you turned your back to lucius and narcissa, your face stained with tears, hands in a fist, harry remembers thinking this must be what an angel looks like in real life. all of the evil in the world at your fingertips to corrupt you and you were strong enough, smart enough, to say no to it all in the face of war.

but that didn't have to mean anything, right?

right. harry could appreciate what you've done and still keep his distance with you. he apologized for his behavior, and you might've proved his suspicions about you to be wrong, but you were still a malfoy. one good, precious apple out of the entire rotten orchard isn't going to change his mind.

the next day, harry's just splitting ways with hermione outside the library when he catches your eye from down the hall. "harry!" you call out, walking quickly in his direction.

harry turns to you, instinctively smiling before letting his face go blank. "[y/n]," he says, surprised, as you come up beside him. "what's wrong?"

you laugh a bit, giving harry a look. "what? nothing's wrong. i figured we could maybe eat lunch together."

harry's a bit stunned. he takes a look around you both. obviously you had been alone, but he was still a bit suspicious of draco's absence. you two had been practically glued together this last year or so, it was almost odd to see you without him.

"oh, sure, um…" harry says, still shocked as he continues scanning the faces around you. you laugh again, putting your hand on harry's arm as you guide him to the dining hall. "just us, don't worry. draco's sick in bed for the day."

harry's a bit relieved at your words, but gets the sense that you think harry's afraid of draco seeing you two together. he might not want it to happen for one reason or another, but he's not afraid. he just wants to be respectful. though he's not entirely sure why, as draco has never given him the same in return.

sitting down at an empty spot at the gryffindor table, you start making a plate for yourself with the plentiful food options in front of you. harry sits across from you, his heart racing thinking about everyone seeing [y/n] malfoy and harry potter spending time together. weren't they well-known enemies of the school? i thought they hated each other? what does draco think about this?

harry started eating his food along with you, a comfortable but strange silence falling over you two. he wasn't sure if he should break it by asking why you wanted to meet with him, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know why.

after a few minutes, you wipe your face with a napkin and set down your utensils. "harry, i wanted to tell you something."

really? harry's heart could only beat harder. that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you right now. he was already practically sweating from the anxiety.

harry waits patiently for you, his eyes fixed on yours. he notices just how pretty they are in comparison to your skin, hair, lips, it just all makes sense together, like someone was extensively planning a beautiful painting when it came to your features.

you seem a tad nervous before looking down at your food and continuing. "i've decided i would like to try and be friends, if you'd like that." you seem flustered, almost embarrassed to ask. "i know there's been a lot of complications since year 3 when i first asked to be civil, but…y'know, like i already let spill, i've really admired you my whole life and…"

harry has never seen you so nervous. it was totally endearing, your mannerisms, your quiet voice, like a pet wanting approval.

"and, i think i would just really love to spend some time with you. and learn how to forgive you, of course." you add on the last part with a bit of coldness. it subtly reminds harry of draco. but you flash him a smirk before taking another bite of food, and it's like draco never existed.

harry smiles warmly. just a year ago if you had asked him this he would've laughed in your face and ignored you because it angered him that you think you two could ever be friends. but harry's changed a lot since then, he sees the human in you, and he's no longer suspicious of your intentions. though his guard is still up, he's not sure it'll ever really come down, he wants to reach out to you now.

with another bite of his food as well, harry casually nods his head. "yeah, i think we could be friends."

more silence passes before you finish your plate. "well, to commemorate our newfound friendship," you say as you raise your glass to him. harry chuckles. "a toast after we've already eaten?" he asks incredulously. you roll your eyes slightly, a smile still poking at your lips. "just do it, potter."

potter. the nickname can only remind him of draco. but somehow, it feels different coming from your mouth, in your voice. it's not harsh, it's not condescending, if anything it's full of love and care. it's admirable.

harry picks up his own glass and clinks it against yours, still chuckling to himself. "to newfound friendship."

it had been a few weeks of you and harry hanging out, and he was over the moon about it. you two had wonderful chemistry together, he'd come to learn, and your sense of humor was enthralling to him. you were always able to get a smile out of him, even sometimes just from a single look. you both enjoyed reading and would spend hours at the library together, you enjoyed going to harry's last few quidditch matches of the year to cheer him on, and harry loved helping you study for your exams. the more time you spent together, the more harry had let his guard down around you. you were really starting to grow on him. he found himself thinking about you all the time, and not in a negative way like he used to for so many years.

now, when he thought of or saw you, his heart ached with how much he truly cared about you. he thought about the night you two ended up sneaking out together simply just to talk under the moonlight, where you told him everything about your complicated relationship with your family. he told you all about his fight against voldemort, the months he spent looking for horcruxes, and what it was like being the chosen one at such a young age. he remembers how intently you watched and listened to him. he had never met someone so intrigued by his life and feelings. you were extremely empathetic to what he had gone through, and it was refreshing to harry. he remembers looking at you under the moon, and thinking you were truly the most beautiful thing in the world, inside and out.

when he thought of or saw you, he remembered the time you spent together just before christmas, exchanging presents in the solitary of his bedroom. simple, small gifts wrapped perfectly and neatly with sentimental value for both of you. he thought about the hug you gave him as you left his room, his gift still in hand, holding him for a few moments longer than you normally did. the way you'd said, "happy christmas, harry," with the softest, sweetest voice in the world.

when harry thought of or saw you, all he could think about was the care and admiration he had for you that only grew with time. at first.

then, he thought about draco.

harry always thought about draco when he was with you. not that he wanted to, he wished he could focus all his attention on you in the moment, but you were still his sister. harry was reminded each time you gave him a bit of attitude or curled your lips away from him that you were, in fact, still a malfoy, and your time spent with him wouldn't be looked at favorably by anyone in your family. most especially draco.

harry never brought up the prospect of your family unprompted. he knew it was a sensitive subject, but he also knew it would never end well with you. one way or another, by the end of the school year, harry was leaving and you couldn't follow. as much as he loved being around you and valued your budding friendship, he knew it was destined to fail from the beginning. he was everything your family hated and spent their lives working against. he was the chosen one. though he's sacrificed many aspects of his life because of this title, you will undoubtedly be his most painful.

and he certainly never brought up draco, as the idea itself made him sick to his stomach. it was bad enough you were related to him, but the fact that you spent pretty much every moment with draco when you weren't with harry made his skin crawl. he knew your relationship with him was not negotiable. you loved draco so deeply it was almost foreign to harry. the way you talked about him that night under the moon and the experiences he's had to go through did make harry empathize with him more than he had previously, but he was still full of anger and hatred for the little blonde boy who tried to make harry's school years a living hell.

he was thinking this over as he examined a framed picture of your family sitting on your nightstand. harry had been to your room quite a few times this year to hang out, and he was always intrigued by this specific picture. your parents, sitting in elegant thrones with you and draco on either side. you looked so out of place. not because of your stance or expression, but you just simply looked different. if harry had never known, he would've never guessed you were born into the malfoy family.

"that's a terrible photo," you laugh at harry as you continue working on an assignment. you had asked him to come help you, but really you just wanted his presence near you. harry knew this. once he figured out that most of your invitations to "study together" just meant you wanted to be near him for an hour or so every day, he was extremely grateful to provide his help. he didn't mind being around you at all, actually.

"it's…definitely something," harry laughs off, taking his attention away from the photo and topic in general.

harry sits beside you on the bed, your back on your pillows as he sits with his feet on the ground. harry's just about to bring up something when you lean towards him, holding your book in your lap. "hey, can you explain this to me?" you ask, still looking down at your assignment on the other page. "i've read this like 10 times and i still don't get it," you point out a paragraph for harry as you scoot closer to him.

harry leans in, closer than he's ever been with you, and reads the passage to himself quietly. as he's reading, he can see you shifting nervously beside him. your hands were delicately holding the book open for him, still resting on your legs, his head just below yours.

"oh, uh, i think it's talking about…" harry starts off, trying to reread the difficult wording of the section. "bloody hell," he mumbles, frustrated, reaching for the book himself to get a better look at the paragraph. you chuckle breathily, and it hits the back of harry's neck. he immediately gets chills.

he looks up towards you, and your face is nearly touching his. he would've moved away sooner but he'd be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to truly appreciate just how deeply beautiful your eyes were right now.

not a moment later, your door opens from behind harry, and he doesn't even have to look to know who it is.

you both turn slowly to see draco standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing between you and harry sitting so closely on your bed. "dray," you gasp, standing up from beside harry.

harry's frozen. the look on draco's face is one of shock and disappointment. his lips curled down tightly, a familiar darkness growing in his eyes as he focuses on harry sitting on his sister's bed.

"so. i was right. you have been avoiding me." draco says towards you as he continues to glare at harry. harry stands with you, anger slowly growing inside of him for the situation at hand. this is the last way he wanted draco to find out you two were friends.

"dray, he was just helping–""i don't wanna hear it, [y/n]." draco interrupts you. this only pisses harry off more as his jaw clenches tightly.

a moment of silence passes briefly before draco speaks again. "i told you to stay away from him, did i somehow not make that clear?" draco's eyes divert to you, his stare even colder looking at you. you're stumbling looking for your words, but harry's anger gets the best of him in the moment.

"she can make her own decisions, malfoy."

draco's eyes snap back to harry, his fists balling up at his sides. your hand instinctively goes in front of harry as you step towards draco. "it would be wise of you to shut your bloody mouth now, potter. you were the one all over my baby sister in her bed just a moment ago." draco's words are leaking with rage, taking steps closer towards harry.

"dray, stop it," you warn him, now standing between him and harry.

"[y/n], you can't be fucking serious right now. you've loathed him for years. we both have. what are you doing? have you lost your mind? i'm genuinely asking," draco is dumbfounded at his sister's actions, scanning you up and down.

"that's not even true, draco, and you know that." you tell him in a cracking voice, tears stinging your eyes. harry wants nothing more than to save you from the heartache you're experiencing in this moment. part of him wants to hurt draco for making you cry. but, inside, harry knows you would want to handle this by yourself. anything he did to hurt draco was inadvertently hurting you as well.

"harry has been nothing but a good friend to me this semester. he's even helped me pass my exams. don't do this to me right now," you tell draco slowly, tears still threatening to fall.

draco rolls his eyes at your last statement. "oh, do what? try and keep you safe? you're being utterly ridiculous right now, [y/n], and you and i both know it."

harry can sense there's something he's missing here. you and draco keep referencing something you both understand that harry doesn't seem to.

you're clearly frustrated as the first few tears start to fall down your cheeks. "i know what i'm doing, dray. please, don't you trust me?" you ask desperately, your voice shaking.

draco softens watching you fall apart in front of him. his eyes aren't as dark, his fists come undone, and he sighs as he breaks his stare at you.

"of course i do." he states simply, his voice now more solemn than angry.

"then trust me when i say i trust harry," you say. draco winces at your statement. "i know there's complicated feelings there but i love you, dray, and i want to be honest about who i'm spending my time with," you level with draco, taking a step towards him.

he glances towards harry, a look of disdain still lingering in his eyes, but looks at you with an apologetic look. "you should've been honest from the beginning," he insists.

you sigh. "i know. i'm sorry. i felt terrible lying to you. you have to understand it was killing me, dray…" your voice breaks again as you try to compose yourself. "but you know how i've felt for a long time."

harry can't decipher the tone in your last statement, but you say it so convincingly he breaks his stare from draco to look down at you, tear-stained cheeks and, still, your eyes are so beautiful to harry. he looks back at draco, who's watching him in disgust before looking back at you lovingly.

draco's analyzing your expression as his body relaxes. he sighs again, bringing you in for a hug.

harry steps to the side awkwardly as you and draco hug for a moment. you're still sniffling by the time he pulls away, wiping your cheeks with a gentle thumb. harry watches closely. it's so strange to see draco this soft in his presence. not even harry could get in the way of draco's clear dedication to you as more than a brother, but as a protector.

for a moment, harry saw a side of draco he knew existed but never fully realized was so strong.

"i know, [y/n/n]. it's okay. i'm sorry." draco tells you softly, his hands still holding your cheeks. you smile, tearfully, putting your hands on his before holding them in front of you. draco takes them back, fixing his shirt before looking at harry with a blank expression.

harry stays quiet. there's a lot he wants to say, but he waits for draco to break the silence.

"as for you, potter…" draco says, his voice less angry than before but still contained. harry looks at him expectedly. he's easily taller than draco now, and practices for quidditch way more than draco does anymore, so harry definitely has some muscle on him. if he were to ever try anything, harry wasn't afraid.

draco takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "while my beautiful sister is putting it lightly, my feelings towards you are more than complicated," he spits out, the anger seeping through before he breaks his stare and controls himself. "but," he says, a softness in his voice.

"she's a smart girl, and i trust that she's not making a mistake spending her time with you." draco looks at you with a hint of a smile before looking back at harry with a stoic expression. "and while i may not like it, we're adults now, and i'm no longer a threat to you," draco says simply before his face sours. "unless you so much as upset her just once, i swear to merlin potter–""draco." you interrupt his rage harshly, your eyes cold as ice as you caught his gaze.

harry smirks, but wipes it away so as to not make the situation worse. draco lets out an annoyed huff before apologizing to you curtly.

"well, best be on my way then, don't want to interrupt you two," draco says with a sneer, turning to the door. "i'll still see you for dinner tonight, right?" you ask eagerly, following and opening the door for draco. he nods. "of course," he says simply, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on top of your head. with another dirty look at harry, draco turns and leaves silently.

you close the door with a shaky sigh, and harry's immediately coming to your side to comfort you. "[y/n], i'm so sorry that happened how it did. i never wanted to cause issues with you and draco," he explains, his hand instinctively reaching for your back to rub it comfortingly.

you're still collecting yourself, facing the door, turned away from harry as you sniffle and wipe your eyes. "it's okay," you say in a broken voice.

harry's heart aches at the sound. all he wants is to comfort you, hold you close, tell you it's okay to cry with him…

but he doesn't, because he knows he shouldn't.

"it's not okay, look how upset you are," harry says, bending down slightly to your height. "look, i wouldn't be upset if you told me you didn't want to see me anymore. your relationship with draco is important to you, and the last thing i want to do is complicate it," harry tells you softly.

you snap your head at him with a concerned look, eyes red from crying. "wh-what? no, i…don't say that," you stutter over yourself. you take a step towards harry, only a few inches apart at this point.

"harry, i want you in my life. even if draco didn't understand i would still…" you trail off, your eyes starting to water again as you blink the tears away. "i want you, harry," you say, your voice trembling with fear.

harry's mind is spinning hearing you say this. he's looking down at you, so close to him, so vulnerable, willing to lose what's closest to you just for him. you're so beautiful, so full of light, and so much more complex than he ever imagined. he's never felt so many feelings about one person so intensely all at once.

the only thing he knows, the only thing he can rely on, is that he wants you too.

harry's lost in your eyes for several seconds before he can respond. "i want you in my life, too," he says just above a whisper.

you smile, still a bit sad, but you seem fulfilled with his answer. stepping back and towards your bed, still wiping your eyes, you chuckle half-heartedly to yourself. "didn't think you'd see me cry so easily," you say, a little embarrassed as you shake your head. "i tried to fight it, but…" you continued laughing to yourself.

harry followed you, still giving you your space. he watched as you sat down on your bed with a sigh, your body still shaking from the rush. "it's okay to cry," he says, holding himself back from what he really wants to say. "i'm just sorry it happened this way,"

you give harry a half smile before looking away nervously. "he was going to figure it out soon, anyways. i've been spending more and more time 'studying with the girls' than i ever have, and he was getting suspicious," you tell him, shaking your head again.

harry chuckles to himself. he found it sweet that you made excuses to spend time with him, even if it meant sacrificing time with draco. he felt special, he couldn't lie. "so, i'm one of the girls now?" harry teases, crossing his arms with a smirk. you roll your eyes, holding in a giggle. "shut up," you whine, your cheeks going red. "it was the only thing i could come up with, okay?"

"no, no, it's funny," harry says with a shrug. you still give him a look, but reach for your textbook you left at the end of the bed. "whatever. can you just help me now?" you ask, still holding back a laugh with a suppressed smile.

harry just laughs and agrees, joining the bed next to you as he attempts to help you with the assignment. soon it was like draco was never there, and you were back to laughing, joking, sitting in comfortable silence together until you had to leave for dinner.

with a quick hug and a lingering goodbye, you separated down the hall from each other. harry thought about you the entire way to his room, and for the rest of the night by himself. it's not like harry never thought about you, of course, he certainly did more than he thought he should, but tonight was just different. he thought about what you said to draco, how you defended him so quickly, how you put yourself on the line to ask for draco's trust in that moment. it was like watching you turn your back on your family all over again.

harry had to admit he felt guilty. he's really grown to care about you since getting closer with you, and he hates to think he's constantly going to get in the way of your relationship with your family like he has already. just by being his friend you're already putting so much at risk, he'd hate to think about what would happen if things ever went further…

harry really has stop having these thoughts about you. he's just your friend, and he doesn't even know how he feels about you. sure, his feelings aren't complicated with anger or hatred anymore, but if anything they're even more confusing now. harry knew this would happen, that's why he built that wall between you and him in the first place. some part of him just knew one day you would be trouble.

but now, on the other side of that wall, harry was ready for the trouble. he was going to take it head on.

he didn't care what draco thought, or your parents, or anyone else, not even himself. all he cared about was that you made him happy, and he seemed to have the same affect on you. as long as harry focused on that, the rest was just noise.

a few months later the snow was melting, the school year was wrapping up, and you and harry were still going strong. as friends, anyway.

things became a lot more natural between you and harry after draco walked in on you two that day. you no longer felt the need to hide your time spent with harry. you were bringing him everywhere and he was doing the same with you. you got along perfectly with ron and hermione despite their hesitations at first, even becoming especially close to hermione with all of your similar interests and beliefs.

harry eventually met your friends too and got along with them just as well. soon you were together pretty much every day studying with friends, playing quidditch for fun, or going to diagon alley to window shop. harry more than enjoyed his time spent with you, and felt empty on the days he couldn't manage to see you for even a moment. you were so full of light you just made everything better, and harry couldn't get enough of it.

in fact, it was over this time that harry started to figure out that maybe what he was feeling towards you was more than just complicated guilt. maybe he didn't just really care about you, or find you really pretty, or really wanted to hold you when you were sad or scared; maybe, just maybe, he was starting to really like the malfoy sister.

this came as no surprise to him once he figured it out, really. since the literal first minute he saw you at just 12 years old he knew you were special. he was mesmerized from the moment you entered his life. even through every crush and short-lived girlfriend he's had these past few years, you were always more interesting to him.

it took a long time for harry to come around to his own feelings and emotions. he's simply never had the time to truly work out why he feels what he feels, or what causes certain sensations in his body. all he knew was that your eyes made his heart ache in a way that nobody else's did. not because he hates you, but, really, quite the opposite, actually.

even if he came to terms with his growing feelings for you, he tried to not let them get in the way of your friendship together. you were constantly thanking harry for dedicating his time to you, for spending long nights just talking with you, for helping you in every way he possibly could. he knew how much you valued your friendship with him, and so did he, so he pushed those other feelings to the side and tried to keep things friendly between you two.

however, it was getting to a point where harry could barely spend more than a few minutes thinking about anything outside of you. he brought you up constantly when you weren't around, everything reminded him of you, his entire mind was stained with you and it was starting to have an effect. ron and hermione had teased him for being so lovesick for a malfoy, which he shrugged off. he knew you were different, you weren't just a malfoy, you were entirely your own. he'd never met someone like you, you made him feel things he didn't even know were possible.

soon harry knew his feelings would grow to the point that they would begin interfering with how he acted with you. you already made him nervous just by being so pretty and comfortable around him, constantly making jokes and teasing him in a friendly way that just made harry feel so giddy inside. he knew soon his thoughts of you would start to get in the way of how he looked at you, how he talked to you, and it scared him. harry couldn't lose you now, you'd very quickly become an important part of his life that made him feel complete. his silly crush could never matter as much as his friendship with you.

there was a dinner being held for the last year students this weekend, and harry was trying to figure out a casual way to ask you to go with him so it felt friendly. he didn't want to be too casual and make you think he was asking as a last minute effort, but he also didn't want to be too formal and make you think he'd been thinking about this date for months. which, in reality, he had, and it was stressing him out.

harry finally figured he would just ask you like he'd ask you to do anything else with him, but he also wanted to wait for the right moment. however, he was running out of time, and you had been unexpectedly busy this past week so he's barely seen you. it's only a few days until then, and he still hasn't even found a formal outfit to wear, because he might not even go if you're not beside him.

luckily, harry had planned a time to meet with you tonight to 'study', which, again, usually involved you two sitting with open books as you chat about everything except class.

harry was on his way to the slytherin common room, a pep in his step as he tried to encourage himself to ask you without fear of rejection or judgment. it's just you, he knows you'll be kind either way, but he really wants you to say yes and he's not sure how he'll react to any other answer.

upon entering, you're already sitting and waiting for him on the sofa. slumped into the curve of the cushions, your nose buried in a book as your head is held up with a throw pillow. harry thinks you look so precious, all curled up with a book, it's tough for him to break you out of your daze.

but harry clears his throat, and you jump a little before smiling at him. "harryyy," you call out, closing your book as you throw your arms up for a hug.

harry comes over and leans down to give you a half hug. he doesn't realize just how much he's missed you until he catches a whiff of your perfume, and he's practically melting over you once again. everything about you intoxicates him.

"i've missed you, [y/n]," harry says before letting go. he sits across from you on the sofa, setting his bag down on the ground beside his feet. "i've missed you too, sorry things got so crazy," you laugh.

harry waves his hand at you. "don't worry about it. i'm just glad you were free tonight," he says, admiring you in the light of the fireplace. you just get more beautiful with time. something about you tonight is different, maybe it's your hair, maybe it's your comfy clothes, but harry's completely captivated by you in this moment.

you catch up with each other briefly, with harry mostly happily listening to you describe all the time you've spent with friends recently and the projects you've been working on for classes. he loves to listen to you tell stories, he just finds you so funny and endearing and could listen to you laugh all day if you'd let him.

after a while, harry builds the courage to bring up the dinner this weekend. he's just about to open his mouth when someone comes down the stairs into the common room.

draco, of course.

his icy stare lands on harry, and his face naturally twists in disgust. he looks at you, and the disgust drops to a neutral expressions. "[y/n]. potter." he says simply.

"hey, dray, where are you off to?" you ask, your eyes gesturing to his bag. draco shrugs, his eyes returning to harry with disdain. "just going out for a bit. need new shoes for dinner this saturday." he says, making his way to the door as he adjusts his over-the-shoulder bag.

"oh, shit, i forgot that's this weekend. do you have your suit?" you ask, your face dropping in concern. "i've got it. i'll see you later, okay?" draco says curtly as he opens the door. "okay," you say with a smile, waving as he leaves.

harry was suddenly hit with a realization he hadn't thought of before. of course. he felt so stupid not even considering it. what if you were already going with draco? he's your brother, and practically your best friend, of course you'd have to go with him.

harry tried not to think about draco much anymore, so it must've slipped his mind. he's seen him a few times since that day in your room when he found out you two were friends. mostly in passing, like what just happened, or in an awkward exchange as you went from hanging out with draco to spending time with harry like some strange divorced parent agreement.

other than that, draco was just your brother to harry, and though you brought him up a number of times, he was mostly a topic to avoid. so, harry forgot, and now he's even more nervous to ask you if you'd rather go to dinner with him this weekend.

"it's crazy draco's going to his last year dinner already…" you interrupt harry's thoughts, your voice trailing off. harry looks at you, and you're lost in thought. you look at him and smirk, reaching to push his shoulder. "and so are you! damn, you're old," you joke, trying to hide your laugh.

harry rolls his eyes, but you manage to get a laugh out of him. "have you asked someone yet? draco's taking that greengrass girl i believe, or at least he wanted to if he hasn't already chickened out," you say, still laughing.

harry can breathe a sigh of relief. he's not sure what he would've done if you were already going with draco. he had been trying to plan the perfect night since christmas.

"uh, actually, since you've already asked, i was hoping that you'd maybe like to join me?" harry asks, his eyes nervously shifting away from yours.

"oh," you say, clearly taken aback. harry's gaze meet yours again, and he's instantly sweating at your reaction. "unless, y'know, you don't want to, or…i'm sure someone's asked you already," harry interjects, trying to laugh it off entirely.

you're watching harry closely, your cheeks slowly turning red. "um, no, actually, no one's asked, and…i would love to go with you, i just…" you trail off again, your eyes still wide with surprise.

harry prepares himself for rejection. he knows there's a number of reasons you'd say no, and draco's at the top of the list.

"frankly, i have nothing to wear," you say, a bit embarrassed as your blush only deepens. harry breathes yet another sigh of relief. you always manage to put him through so many emotions and you don't even realize it.

"you could be wearing a paper bag and i'd just be glad you're standing next to me," harry tells you with a laugh. you drop your head, clearly flustered.

when you look up at harry, you have a shy smile pinching your cheeks. he thinks you look so adorable, knees to your chest, completely flushed, giggling like a nervous school girl. "well, then, i'd love to go with you, harry. but no paper bag. maybe after dinner." you tease him.

harry laughs with you, but part of him wonders if you're flirting with him a bit.

the rest of the night was spent joking, laughing, and enjoying the warmth of the fire together. before harry left, you thanked him for asking you, even if it was such short notice you'd have to spend all day shopping tomorrow. "don't feel pressured, i'm sure you'd look beautiful in whatever you already have," harry had told you, eager to get a blush out of you again.

when you did, harry smiled proudly and gave you a warm hug goodbye. he was practically skipping back to his room to tell ron he'd finally asked you, and that you'd actually said yes. ron was happy for harry, teasing him for taking so long, but nothing could bring harry down. even if he just meant it as being friendly, as he's sure you did as well, this was still a date in his mind.

and, shit, he still needed an outfit.

the night of the dinner, harry waited patiently outside the dining hall doors with his gift for you in hand. there was a soft mumbling coming from the dining hall as people began gathering, speaking to each other, and listening to the small band playing instrumental music. however, all harry can hear is his blood pumping through his ears as he nervously waits to see you for the first time tonight.

harry went for a simple suit, all black, nothing too showy or special as he wasn't sure what you were wearing. he actually hadn't been able to speak with you since the night he asked you to come with him, only agreeing to meet you right here just before he'd left the slytherin common room. his heart was pounding, and he felt like a young teen again, waiting for his crush to come around the corner. but he wasn't a kid anymore, and you were so much more than just a first year crush. you were everything.

harry hears someone walking up behind him, and as he turns, he's instantly drawn to you. walking arm in arm with draco, also dressed in all black, you're wearing a dark green dress that fits you perfectly, hugging your waist and hips like it was tailor fit. it's floor-length, with an off-the-shoulder neckline, and your hair is twisted up into a curly, elegant bun, with multiple curls hanging out for a casual look.

your outfit and hair are nothing, however, in comparison to just how beautiful your smile is.

harry's absolutely captivated by you. he knew you'd look beautiful, like he said, you could make a paper bag work, but he didn't think it was possible for a single person to be so striking. he was sure he looked like a complete fool, jaw slack open as he stared into your beautiful eyes from down the hall, but he truly couldn't help himself. you were everything.

"[y/n]," he manages to say once you're closer. "you look incredible," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. you smile, turning towards draco with a growing blush.

harry looks at draco, who's already staring at him with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

"draco," harry greets him, trying to be courteous. "potter," draco spits out, seeing through him.

you slightly roll your eyes, motioning for draco to go into the dining hall without you. "i'm sure daphne's waiting for you," you tease him with a smirk, pushing him along. draco gives harry a dirty look the entire time he passes him, and even until he's left the hall.

harry can't bring himself to care. all he can think about right now is you.

he's so mesmerized by you he forgets he has something in his hands, nearly dropping the slim box before gripping it tightly again, clearing his throat to break his focus.

"what's that?" you ask, looking at the simple black box in harry's grasp. harry can hear the smirk in your voice, knowing it's for you.

"i-i don't know, guess you'll have to open it to see," he says, handing it over to you. you scoff at him, still smirking as you accept the gift.

upon opening it, you gasp. a beautiful necklace with green gemstones that match your dress perfectly. "harry…" you gasped, staring at the jewelry in your hands. "it's beautiful…and, my dress, how did you know?" you ask in disbelief. harry just chuckles. "you have green everything, my little slytherin," he reminds you.

you blush again, handing harry the necklace. "put it on me?" you ask, turning around and holding up the curls that might be in his way.

harry nervously unclasped the necklace and put it on you, taking extra care to let his hands graze across the skin of your neck more times than what was necessary.

as you turn around, harry's heart races. it's perfect. it matches your dress, it looks amazing on your skin, and it pulls your entire look together. it draws the perfect amount of attention to your beautiful shoulders and collarbones. harry was extra proud of himself for this one.

looking down at it, you touch the necklace carefully, admiring it. "i spent forever looking for a necklace for tonight, and i couldn't find one i liked, but…it's perfect, harry, thank you," you say, throwing your hands around harry's neck as you embrace him tightly. harry smiles, his heart still racing as he pulls you in close. "thank you for coming with me tonight. i didn't want to come at all if it wasn't with you." he tells you, placing a soft kiss on your head just in front of your curly bun. you give him a shy smile before pulling him to the dining room.

it was an incredible night together. ron and hermione had quickly found you both, and hermione was gushing over how good you looked the entire time. ron was watching her with so much love in his eyes it made harry a little sick, but he was happy for his friends. he gave ron a knowing look, which ron just shook his head at and escorted himself and hermione away to get drinks.

as you and harry made your rounds around the room, meeting up with friends and stopping to say hello to professors, harry noticed just how many people were watching you and whispering amongst themselves. you two had spent plenty of time together this year, so it wasn't necessarily a shock to see the boy who lived hanging out with the malfoy sister anymore, but people were seemingly still stunned by the fact that you came with him tonight, and that you looked as good as you did.

after a while of mingling, harry caught draco's stare from across the room. his arm was entwined with his date's, but his full attention was on you and harry. he rolled his eyes at harry and walked away, pulling his date with him. harry shrugged him off and his attention turned back to you.

beautiful, perfect, effortless you.

your arm was wrapped around his in the same way, as it had been all night. harry expected himself to be incredibly nervous and awkward tonight seeing you so dolled up to be his date, as a friend, of course. but he was surprised at how natural everything felt with you. it always had, nothing ever felt forced between you two, conversation and smiles seemed to just flow naturally without either of you trying. it just made sense to harry, being with you, holding you close to him, being together in front of everyone. it was all he'd wanted for so long.

sitting down to eat dinner, you quickly made conversation with hermione and ron as harry took the seat to your left, admiring you as you laughed with hermione over something he hadn't heard. you just looked so beautiful tonight under these candlelights, in the necklace harry picked out for you, the jewels falling just above the curve of your breasts spilling from your dark dress.

as you leaned forward to whisper something to hermione, harry got the perfect view of your chest from his seat, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before ron noticed and started snickering at him.

harry gave ron a look, kicking his foot under the table.

once dinner is served, the hall quiets as everyone enjoys their plates and drinks. some small talk is shared between bites, multiple glasses are drunk amongst you, ron, harry, and hermione, and the laughter continues throughout dinner.

before dessert comes, you and hermione take a short trip to the bathroom, leaving harry with ron. they laugh once they're alone, out of habit.

"i know i give you a hard time, but really, harry, i think [y/n]'s good for you. i haven't seen you this smitten in a long time, not since you dated my sister," ron teases, taking a sip of his drink as he chuckles to himself.

harry gives him a look, but can't help the smile growing on his face. "thanks, ron. but we're just here as friends. not like you and hermione," harry tries to turn the teasing back to ron, cocking his eyebrow with a knowing smile.

ron rolls his eyes. "please, at least i can say she's my girlfriend. you don't wanna be friends with [y/n] and you know it," ron responds, not giving in.

harry stays quiet.

as you and hermione return, giggling from across the table, you put a hand on harry's neck down to his shoulder to steady yourself as you sat in your dress.

harry got the shivers, but gave you a friendly smile as you met his eyes. you took back your hand, smiling at him in return.

while eating dessert, harry can feel draco staring at him again from somewhere in the room, but he can't bring himself to care enough to find his gaze. if draco wants to watch harry enjoy his date with draco's beautiful sister, he can spend all night watching for all that harry cares.

harry's thoughts are interrupted as he hears you let out a soft moan beside him. your spoon is left in your mouth as you pull it out slowly, your eyes closed delicately. harry watches discreetly, not wanting to draw ron and hermione's attention from their own conversation, but he's enamored with the way you let the spoon leave your lips, enjoying the dessert in front of you.

"so yummy," you say happily, your eyes rolling over to harry. he turns to look at you fully with a chuckle. "yes, very yummy," he teases you.

you narrow your eyes at him. "you're yummy," you tell him, laughing. harry's stunned before you continue. "i didn't even get to tell you, but you do look really good tonight, harry. you clean up well." you say softly, your words just for him.

harry's still a bit stunned, but tried to not let his nerves get in the way. "well, thank you, [y/n]. and, i never got to tell you as much as i should have tonight, but, you just…amaze me with how stunning you are," harry sighs, not caring how lovesick he looks as he continues to admire you, a true work of art sitting right beside him.

you chuckle, taking your bottom lip in your mouth. harry memorizes every detail of you, never wanting to forget how lucky he is to have you beside him tonight.

"thank you, harry. it was a bit difficult for me, all this, just reminds me of home…" you say, gesturing to the grand dinner party going on around you. harry gives you a sympathetic look and a reassuring hand on your knee. you look at him, your eyes sending more shivers down harry's spine.

"we can leave whenever you're ready," harry tells you with a soft smile and lingering gaze. "you just say the word and we'll go 'study' in pajamas," he's only half joking.

you laugh at him again, but harry believes it's full of love. "there's nowhere i'd rather be," you assure him, putting your own hand on his knee.

harry blushes like crazy at the contact, but just laughs you off again.

after dessert the band starts playing more upbeat music, and the floor is cleared towards the front of the room for people to dance. you pull harry to the floor, along with a number of other couples, and start dancing with him. harry's not a very skilled dancer, so he just follows your lead and has fun moving around with you randomly, letting himself be free as the music and other people dancing relaxes his nerves.

after a while of dancing separately, you grab harry's hand and begin dancing closer to him, still laughing and smiling as you twirl yourself around, making him laugh as well. harry starts playfully moving with you, bringing you closer to him and further away, again and again until you're a giggling mess in his arms, practically falling all over him.

just as harry's enjoying the feeling of you in his arms, draco comes out of nowhere just beside him. "[y/n]," he snaps, trying to contain himself.

you look at draco, your smile fading at his irritated expression. "i'm leaving, just thought you should know." his words bitter, examining you entwined in harry's arms.

"draco," you start to say, but he's already making his way around you to the back door. you try to go after him instinctually, but harry pulls you back. "stay here, i'll talk to him," he says, surprising both you and himself as you turn to look at him. hermione comes up beside harry, watching the interaction from afar.

"harry…" you warn him. but harry gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand, already heading for the door himself. "trust me?" he says, letting you go and turning away as hermione grabs your hand instead and begins asking what happened.

as harry enters the hallway, he sees draco's turned back heading away from the dining hall.

"draco," harry calls out, causing draco to stop in his tracks.

he turns to harry, an odd look on his face before he scoffs. "did she really send you to try and talk to me, or are you just dumber than i originally thought?" draco responds, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"no, i came to talk to you. i'm tired of this, draco. can't you just let [y/n] and i be friends?" harry asks, trying to contain his own anger.

draco only rolls his eyes harder, making his way towards harry with an angry step. "oh, please, potter, you're not fooling anyone. and, frankly, neither is she anymore." draco retorts, stopping a few feet away from harry with a nod to the dining hall doors.

harry's confused at his statement, and draco can tell just from the look on his face, which only makes him angrier. "you're clearly shagging my sister. and to top it all off, you made her your little date for the night in front of everyone here. and, honestly, you should be kissing the ground i walk on for letting you even so much as look at her, you fucking pig." draco's words are dripping venom, clearly having the words ready to spew in harry's face.

harry is dumbfounded, and actually outwardly laughs at draco's statement. draco takes another step towards harry, visibly turning red with anger. "don't make me fucking kill you, i'd hate to hurt my sister's feelings like that."

harry just continues to chuckle, his arms crossing. "well, as flattered as i am that you think she'd shag me, we're just friends. really." harry informs him, a smirk on his face.

draco looks at him confused, his expression falling for only a moment before returning. "well then, you still clearly like her. and you're not very good at hiding it, either." he says, his voice faltering as he steps back.

harry can't disagree with him there. as much as he hates draco, he's not going to lie to him and say he doesn't have feelings for his sister when he knows he does. it's just not right.

"and so what if i do, huh? it's our last month of classes, malfoy. after this you'll never hear her talk about me again. is that what you want? because that's what's going to happen." harry says, his anger seeping through again as he admits what he believes to be true.

draco is in even more disbelief than before. he just looks at harry like he's joking. "are you being serious or are you trying to fuck with me?" he asks, examining harry from head to toe.

harry's even more confused. "what?"

draco turns away, chuckling to himself in both disbelief and anger. "i was right, you are dumber than i thought," he starts out, giving harry a look before turning away again. harry's hands ball into fists before he releases them, letting out an angry huff.

"[y/n]'s clearly all over you, spending all her time with you, you're all she ever bloody talks about anymore, fucking hell i thought you were shagging her, for god's sake," draco rants, his back still turned to harry. "she's been obsessed with you since we were kids. all she ever asked me, 'what's harry like, draco? is harry potter really that brave, draco?' blah blah blah," draco mocks you in a high pitched voice.

"and just when i thought she had found some sense in her and loathed you along with me for a few years, you trapped her again with your fucking namesake and…god knows what else she sees in you," draco sneers back at harry, turning to him once again.

"so yeah, excuse me while i watch my baby sister, my only solace in this lifetime, practically throw herself all over you at this pathetic party," draco gestures back to the room, his eyes cold as ice as he continues staring through harry.

harry's stunned by draco's outburst, but is more stunned that he thinks you may like harry back.

they stand there for a moment, examining each other, draco breathing heavily and unevenly as he tries to regain his composure.

harry's not sure exactly what he should say to him in this moment, so he just speaks the truth, the only thing he knows. "i care about [y/n], draco,"

draco rolls his eyes for another time. "no, really, draco. i do, and i have this whole time. i don't know if she feels the same, but, quite honestly, i don't care. all i know is that she makes me happy, and i hope i can do the same for her. that's all." harry tells draco, his eyes searching for a response.

draco just watches harry for a moment, his expression unreadable as he finds the words to respond.

he sighs, his body language completely shifting as he turns away from harry, his hand covering his face in distress. "you're an idiot if you think she doesn't. she turned her back on us, on me, because she was fighting for you. she was never like my parents." draco says softly, his anger fading.

"she was fighting for what was right." harry reminds him, making draco laugh sarcastically as he moves on.

"you know, she's the only thing i care about. the only person i not only tolerate, but actually love." draco says even softer before turning to scowl at harry again. "when she chose you that day, i wasn't surprised. i wasn't even mad. [y/n]'s always been that way. it's part of the reason why i keep her so close to me." draco's words are the nicest they've been directed at harry all night.

"now i know you wouldn't understand family love, potter," draco smirks, causing harry to bite his tongue. "but that girl is everything to me. when she trusts you, when she believes in you, when she turned her back to me in hopes i could see what she sees in you…" draco trails off a bit before turning away again.

"i know she's right."

harry's more than shocked at draco's words. he can barely process his sentiment before draco continues talking, making his way down the hall.

"so, again, i may not like it, but i'll try to be civil. if you, just, please, potter," draco turns one last time, a slight smirk on his face. "for my sake. just ask the damn girl on a date so she'll shut the hell up about it."

with that, draco's gone and around the corner, out of harry's sight.

harry's left alone with his thoughts, the muffled music from the dining hall filling the air around him.

he can hardly comprehend what draco's just told him, both about you and about his belief in harry. but mostly when it comes to you.

you. alone in the dining hall.

just as harry turns, you're opening the door, your sweet face twisted with worry as you search the halls behind him. "where's draco?" you ask urgently, making your way out of the doorway as it closes behind you.

harry's hands go to your shoulders, and you look at him. he smiles down at you, his mind spinning as he examines your beautiful face still pointed with concern.

"he's fine. we talked."

you give harry another shocked look like earlier, your mouth slightly open. "you and draco?" you ask in disbelief.

harry just chuckles at you, looking you up and down again to fully appreciate just how good you looked in front of him. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" harry asks, his eyes still wandering. knowing you seem to like him as well, harry takes this opportunity to test the waters with you.

you instantly blush, but you give harry a knowing look. "yes, harry. now, what did you talk about?" you ask suspiciously.

harry, again, just chuckles, pulling you to his side as he turns to the hall. "let's get out of here, hm?" he asks, already leading you away.

"oh, but, hermione and ron?" you ask suddenly, gesturing back to the party. harry shakes his head. "they won't mind."

you're a bit confused as harry continues to lead you towards the gryffindor common room, but he distracts you with plenty of compliments and questions asking if you enjoyed yourself tonight.

harry then leads you to his room where his nerves finally hit him. he had been confident until now, but it was make or break time. if draco was right and you did actually like harry, he was finally ready to make his move.

what that move was exactly, he's not sure.

but again, things with you are so natural, and once you close the door, it only feels right for harry to come up to you against the doorway. he smiles down at you, a nervous, blushing, beautiful angel just within his grasp.

without thinking, harry's mouth does the talking for him.

"[y/n]," he starts, his heart racing as you look up at him innocently. "can i kiss you?"

you're clearly shocked by his question, but don't miss the chance to eagerly nod your head, already leaning towards harry. he smiles, gently pushing you against the door as his lips finally lock with yours.

the kiss is urgent, needy, but full of longing and love. your hands find their way to harry's neck instantly, and his continue to linger against your shoulders. your body arches into his, clearly already wanting more just from a short kiss.

harry isn't stopping anytime soon though, as he's thought of this moment longer than he's planned to ask you to dinner tonight.

he savors everything about your kiss. your enchanting smell, the softness of your lips, the moans rumbling from the back of your throat; all of it is driving him crazy, but he's insistent on enjoying the moment for what it simply was. a kiss he's wanted so long from a beautiful girl he thought he could never have.

however, you're not as keen on savoring anything as you only become more desperate under harry's lips. your tongue is quickly involved, though harry's not complaining as you explore his mouth with hunger.

he's a bit flustered at your boldness, but isn't afraid of it. if anything harry only enjoys seeing you quickly submit to your desire for him. he wasn't sure how this would go, but clearly you've wanted this as badly as he has, if not even worse.

his hands finally begin to wander as he traces your collarbones lightly, his fingers running over the jewels of the necklace he bought you. "look so pretty in my gift," harry tells you between kissing you. you moan in response, your hips finding harry's as you only bring him closer to you.

before long you're dragging harry to his bed, his hands falling from your shoulders to your waist and down to your hips.

you sit on his bed, and your hand instantly lands on harry's belt, lingering fingers on the cold metal. harry just looks at you in shock. he didn't expect you to initiate anything like this so quickly.

"u-uh…" is all he can say with you looking up at him like that, your eyes already drooping so seductively as you messed with his buckle innocently.

"please?" you taunt him, your finger making its way down his semi erected cock under his slacks.

harry sighs. he wants to, he really wants to, but he wonders if it's too much all at once for you. he doesn't want you to think this is all he was looking for.

"[y/n]...i, i really like you…you don't have to–""i like you too, harry," you interrupt him, a sweet smile on your bitten lips. "i want this. so bad. please. you don't have to, but…" you practically beg, your fingers still toying with the latch of the belt as you bring your pouted lips closer to it.

harry sighs again, his hand stroking your hair as he admires you from above. so pretty, so innocent. it's like you wanted him to ruin all of that.

"i want to, but, you don't have to," harry reminds you, his cheeks starting to turn red. you giggle, and it only makes harry even more turned on. "i want to, but, you don't have to," you mock him, slowly unbuckling his belt and slacks.

harry chuckles nervously, watching you intently. he really does want to, and as long as you want to as well, who's he to deny you of what you both want?

soon your mouth is wrapped around the tip of his cock through his briefs, your warm tongue laid flat across the head as you continue watching harry's expression through your eyelashes.

his head is rolling back in pleasure already, his erection only getting more uncomfortable as it hardens in response to you.

you help him take his underwear off, and your lips reattach to the head of his cock, your tongue licking his precum. he's watching you with a lax jaw, his eyebrows furrowed as you continue running your tongue in circles around the sensitive tip.

he's already in pure bliss, his hand finding your hair again as he continues to admire you. even when you're in such a filthy position below him, you still look so soft and beautiful.

from this angle he has the perfect view of your breasts, and you notice his eyes flickering from your own down to your chest. pulling your lips off of harry, you pull down the neckline of your dress and let your tits pop out of the restricting fabric.

harry can hardly believe the sight he's witnessing in front of him.

before he can try to process just how incredibly sexy you look with your elegant dress pulled down below your tits, your mouth returned to his throbbing cock, along with your hands. you start to bring more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke him slowly. harry was practically thrusting into your hands and mouth at that point, desperate for relief.

you can see how worked up harry's getting, so you stop, much to his disappointment. you have harry lay on his bed as you make a show taking your dress the rest of the way off along with your shoes and stockings. once you're left only in your panties, you get back on top of harry to kiss him again.

"so fucking beautiful, darling," harry growls into your lips, his hands grabbing for your tits. you giggle, your hands going to harry's button up as you start to take it off of him.

once it comes off, you pull harry back into the kiss. his hand travel down to your hips as you start grinding against his throbbing cock. "baby, please," he pleads, the teasing becoming too much.

you giggle again, sliding your panties off carefully with harry's help. he also helps you line yourself up with him as you slowly lower yourself onto harry's cock.

your eyes roll in pleasure, a slight whimper of discomfort escaping your lips as harry's hand goes to your face, comforting you. "slow, my love," he reminds you, guiding your hips with his other hand.

once you're starting to moan in pleasure, your speed increases, your eyes locking with harry's as you already feel pressure begin to build inside you.

just looking at him makes you whimper pathetically. "god, harry, i've wanted this for so long," you tell him, leaning down for another kiss as you readjust your position on top of him.

harry's hands trace the curves of your body as you continue riding him, his thoughts incoherent as the pleasure rises by the second. your heavy breathing into his ear and beautiful body against his in the lowlight of his room is everything he's ever wanted.

"wanted you so bad, [y/n]," harry moans as you sit back up, your tits bouncing as you grind down into harry's cock.

he admires your body, your perfect curves, your insane hips, and he's even more turned on. you're already truly perfect in every way, but you have the most phenomenal body harry's ever witnessed to top it all off.

"you're perfect," he tells you, his hands gripping for your hips and ass. you giggle, your hand covering your flustered smile as you continue whimpering and whining, riding him into your own oblivion.

"h-harry…" your voice is so broken it only makes harry hungrier, his hips thrusting upwards slightly into you to relieve the tension. "fuck," he cries, his eyes going dark just watching you fall apart for him.

"harry…please…" you lean back down, your lips grazing his ear as you made your request. "cum inside me?"

harry's in disbelief, he pulls you back to see if you're joking, but you're only looking at him hopefully through hooded eyes, still riding his cock in perfect rhythm.

"are you crazy, [y/n]?" he asks with a laugh, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sarcasm, his stomach still tightening in overwhelming pleasure.

"yes. for you." you tell him seriously, your pace quickening on top of him, your tits bouncing against harry's chest. he winces from the rush of pleasure.

"f-fuck, [y/n]," he utters, barely able to hold himself bsck.

you moan, your hands grabbing harry's as you pin them down beside him. "mm, keep moaning my name like that, harry, you're gonna make me cum already…" you tell him, your face resting against his.

harry moans your name repeatedly, only getting more and more desperate as you pleasure yourself using his cock. he was almost completely lost in the moment before you squealed, your hands squeezing harry's as you tightened around his cock, your hips stuttering as you ride out your high, breathing heavily.

harry's overwhelmed with the feeling and sight of you orgasming on him, your face twisting as you moan his name in return, filthy sounds escaping your innocent lips. he's getting closer before he remembers what you asked him.

"i'm, [y/n], i'm gonna cum," harry says as you're still moving your hips to satisfy your climax. you moan again, letting your head fall into harry's neck as you continue holding down his hands. your pace quickens again, and harry is a mess under you.

"cum inside me harry, please, give it to me, i'm yours, i want to be all yours, please, please, harry, breed me and make my pussy yours," you have no shame in begging harry, his hips bucking as you only grind against him quicker.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's cursing, slightly in panic. he wants to cum so badly, and the idea of you wanting him to breed you just from the first time you're together makes him even more turned on. part of him is scared, but it only ends up fueling the desire and taboo more as harry finally unloads inside of you, his voice breaking as he continues cursing between heavy breaths.

you're enjoying the moment thoroughly, your pussy quivering as it's filled with harry's warm cum. you go to give him another kiss, and he can barely reciprocate.

you giggle at harry a bit, wincing as you gently pull his cock outside of you. harry groans, but his eyes remained closed, still catching his breath. you offer to help him clean up, and it takes a moment, but he agrees, following you to his bathroom and admiring your naked body in the soft light of the room.

afterwards, harry insists you stay with him for the night as he hands you one of his favorite shirts to sleep in. you accept, laughing at his lovesick attitude already, and climb into bed beside him for the night.

harry can hardly believe he has you in his arms, finally, after being so captivated by you for practically his whole life. he's thankful to have you next to him, smiling as you trace his skin, telling him how much you've liked him this whole time, how you don't care if your parents don't approve, and how much you need him in your life. harry feels at peace with you, his little slytherin, in his bed, the moon the only source of light across your tired face. he truly finds you so beautiful, inside and out.

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dangermousie · 2 months ago

Text

Incest vibes INTENSIFYING but that is not a brotherly look. In fact, have another ancient Egyptian poem that is probably more accurate in reflecting what it is ML is thinking instead of "awww little sis"

Oh beautiful one! My heart's desire is To procure for you your food as your husband, My arm resting upon your arm.

You have changed me by your love. Thus say I in my heart, In my soul, at my prayers: "I lack my commander tonight, I am as one dwelling in a tomb."

Be you but in health and strength, Then the nearness of your countenance Sheds delight, by reason of your well-being, Over a heart, which seeks you with longing

#cdrama #ren min #zhang wanyi #the rise of ning #i have soooo many more poems to use ahahah

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only-lonely-star · 5 months ago

Note

Fic request:

Twobits little sister gets mad at their mom and runs away from home and ends up getting lost and terrorized by some Soc kids after she wanders into their side of town. Darry is over there roofing when he spots her wandering all upset and scratched up amd immediately goes into protective mode? I feel Darry is good with kids and I just want to see that more please 🙏

❤️ stay gold

୨୧ ☁︎ Too Young ☁︎ ୨୧

~ Darrel Curtis, Two-Bit’s kid sister (PLATONIC) ~

This is NOT an ‘x Reader’ story.

Warnings - I feel like classifying this as angst is a better description, so there are obviously a few warnings. Mentions of drinking, running away from home, minor pain inflicted on a small child, manhandling, harassment.

Summary - Karol Matthews has had enough, her plan to run away from home not going as expected. Luckily for her, a brotherly figure comes to her aid.

Author’s Note - This one is a bit of a longer fic compared to the other ones I have posted, so sorry for the long wait! Other requests may take a few days since I am a bit behind. Besides that, I thank you so much for this request! I could totally see Darry becoming protective when it comes to defending someone so special to him. I hope you enjoy it, Stay Gold! 💞

Word Count - 2.6k.

࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐ •°. *࿐

(Quick A/N: I try to keep things as accurate as possible to both the book and movie combined. For appearances I go based on the movie since it's easier for me to imagine. BUT it is canon that Two-Bit has a little sister although she is unnamed. I felt like this story would run much smoother if it was in a complete third-person perspective, making this not an 'x reader' story.)

Karol Matthews sat perched atop the armrest of the sofa, her wide eyes filled with curiosity following Keith's every move. He paced around the kitchen, absolutely raiding it and chugging down a cold beer before taking a seat beside his kid sister.

Keith couldn't sit still for the life of him, always buzzing around or out and about with his friends. His leg bounced up and down, sipping on his drink. It was obvious to Karol he was about to venture off and get into some trouble - but their mother didn't mind much. She practically supported his troubling antics from time to time.

Karol tapped on his shoulder, preparing her tiny voice to engage in conversation with him. Keith was zoned out, his consciousness coming back to reality at the gentle tap. He turned his head to face hers, a small grin evident on his face. "What's up?" he posed, the soft tone in his voice typical for her to hear.

"Where are you going?" Karol asked, her voice soft and quiet. She adored Keith and found him to be the funniest person she knew. Even at six years old, the girl had a slight understanding of what exactly her brother would be getting involved in. Late-night drives, smoking and drinking with his buddies, maybe even going out to see a girl. She was aware of the different blonde girls he would bring home, him swearing it was the same person each time - Kathy. She wasn't stupid, she knew they were all different.

"Going out with Dally and some others," he replied simply, expecting a soft sigh and for her to head back to her bedroom. Instead, she smiled and tapped his shoulder again.

"Can I come?" Karol's sweet voice spoke up, her enticing smile attempting to draw him in.

"No," Keith said, taking his free hand to ruffle through her blonde wavy hair affectionately. He found it rather amusing that she wanted to tag along. He chuckled and took another large sip of his beer as Karol pouted and let out a huff.

"Why not?!" she protested, demanding a real answer from him. Karol loved Keith and would rather spend her day out and about with him instead of being stuck at home. She crossed her arms and glared at her brother.

"You're too young," he replied, standing from the sofa swiftly, "Besides, Dally ain't too good with kids."

Karol's irritation only grew from there, souring her mood for the day. She tugged on Keith's arm like a lifeline - pleading to come along. "Please...? I'll be quiet!"

He shook his head firmly, stepping for the door without another word on the matter. He took a deep breath, "Heading out! Be back around seven!"

A woman's voice could be heard shouting back in response, stepping for the door before Keith could leave. "Six!"

She enveloped him in a side hug and kissed his cheek, staining it with a dark hue of pink lipstick. He grinned softly, smearing it off and turning the doorknob. "Six-thirty. Bye, ma,"

She let out a sigh, watching her son dart for his car - beer in hand and all. She turned to Karol with a lopsided smile. "What are we going to do with him? Hm?"

Karol sat back down on the sofa, a frown still intact. "I wanna go," she stated with crossed arms.

Her mother glanced down at her with a slight frown. "You shouldn't be hanging around those boys, you're way too young, honey."

Karol didn't like that. In fact - she hated being referred to as 'too little' or 'too young'. In all reality it was true; she was six years old and nowhere near old enough to befriend a group of teen hoodlums...even if they were her brother's best friends.

"I don't wanna be young! I wanna play with the big kids and be cool," she fumed, eyebrows sewn together and tiny fists clenched.

"Karol... you don't understand. Little girls shouldn't try any of the things they do," her mother shook her head, attempting to calm her down. It was obvious how badly this was affecting Karol's mood, sending the child into an upset rage.

"I'm not a little girl!" she shouted, hopping off the couch and reaching for the doorknob at a moment's notice. "And I'm running away from this place! I'll go find Keith on my own!"

Her mother only rolled her eyes. Karol had done this countless times - attempting to run off and merely making it down the street before she came crawling back. "You'll be back," she muttered under her breath as she watched her daughter pry open the door and step outside into the blazing summer heat.

Karol's dark expression meant business. She didn't intend on coming back this time, she was determined to prove herself as a big kid. With heavy stomps, Karol made her way down the sidewalk, thinking of where her brother could possibly be. He'd taken the car and everything, not even mentioning where he was heading off to. She turned her head around to notice the door had already been shut - stranding her outside for good.

"I'll show her,"

Karol continued on with her journey, wandering down streets she'd never been to before. Every house she passed seemed to appear bigger and bigger. The one-story shacks turned into two-story houses with beautifully painted fences surrounding them. She stared at a few in awe, wondering how she could manage to buy one of her own and prove she was all grown up.

All was well until a few snickers could be heard off into the distance. Karol turned her head and squinted to have a better look at the trio of teenage boys coming her way. Her mind instantly thought those could be Keith's friends. Maybe if she asked them where he could be then she could hitch a ride with them. Her tiny legs strode to stand in front of the boys, a charming smile on her face.

The first to speak up, a tall brunette with khakis and a white button-down, kneeled to her level. A sly grin arose on his lips, his voice coming out overly sweet. "Well... are you lost, kid?"

It was quite obvious Karol wasn't from the area. Her tattered sandals and colorful- yet floral sundress gave it away. No Soc child would wear something so bright and bold. The little girls were typically dressed head to toe in fancy skirts, headbands, and bows. Karol was a misfit.

"I'm looking for my brother," she beamed with a sweet tone in return, oblivious to the evil intent in his tone. The other boys circled around her as they stifled their snickers.

"Who's your brother?" the Soc asked with a raised brow at Karol's revelation. He looked to the other two, motioning for them to stand close by.

"Keith," Karol spoke excitedly, expecting them to immediately welcome her with open arms, "He said he was with Dally. Can you take me wherever that is?"

All three of the boys's ears perked up at the name. 'Dally' was an easy name to remember - recognizing the infamous greaser left quite a small crowd to narrow down from.

"I ain't ever heard of a 'Keith' who hangs 'round Dally," the slim and blonde-haired Soc spoke up, exchanging glances between the others.

The third boy shook his head, furrowing his brows as he tried to recall the person he had in mind. He ran a hand through his jet-black curls. "No, she means Two-Bit. That guy with the funny sideburns."

The brunette Soc who had originally spoken to Karol let out a soft snort. "Two-Bit..." he nodded along, testing out the name on his tongue. "He wear a Mickey Mouse shirt, kid?"

Karol's smile only grew, nodding to confirm that was indeed her big brother. "Yes! That's him!" Her arms pumped up in victory, a gleam of hope in her eyes.

The sight was precious, they didn't even have to push her for answers - she willingly gave them away. The boy chuckled dryly, standing to his feet with a smug smile. "Well since Two-Bit thinks it's funny to swipe cash that ain't his..."

The other boys had a similar look of cruel intent written all over their faces. The blonde boy stood behind her, a singular arm snaking around her small torso to lift her up. Karol yelped in confusion, not expecting such a move.

"Hey!" she hollered to them, her voice almost a whimper. She was roughly tossed in a soaking wet puddle of mud, hidden beneath the grass on a stranger's front lawn. "My dress..." she pouted, tears welling to her eyes.

The boys didn't hesitate to terrorize the poor girl further. They jabbed their hands into the muddy puddle, one holding her down as the other two slathered the mud all over her. She let out a wail, one that anybody in their right mind couldn't brush off.

"Tell your brother to not touch what ain't his next time," the Soc in the white button-down cackled, his hand running down the side of her cheek.

Just as Karol felt she couldn't take any more of the torment - pounding footsteps could be heard coming closer. Her screams and cries for help had paid off, and none other than Darrel Curtis had come to her aid. He grabbed the collar of the brunette's shirt from behind, scaring the other two off. They ran without hesitation, sprinting up the street the same way they came. The boy managed to slip out of Darrel's grasp, speeding off before he really had his world rocked.

Karol still sat in the puddle, wailing and hollering like she never had before. She truly felt those boys would help her find Keith. Darrel cursed under his breath until they were completely out of sight. He quickly turned his focus back to Karol.

Gently helping her up, he placed both hands under her arms to stand her back on her own two feet. He sighed and assessed the situation, looking over her body and face for any signs she was hurt. "You alright?"

Karol used the back of her hand to wipe away the overwhelming amount of tears that flooded her eyes. She nodded and tried to calm herself enough to speak. Darrel was no stranger to her, they had met numerous times before since Two-Bit was close friends with him.

"Darry~" she whimpered, clinging onto his leg as she went in for a hug. She cried softly against him and didn't show any intention of stopping.

Darrel was a bit taken aback, but he rested a hand on her shoulder nonetheless, patting it gently to bring her a bit of comfort. She was muddy all over and was soaking Darrel in the mess but he didn't mind it one bit. The poor child had to have been hurt from the way she had been screaming. "Karol, look at me."

She reluctantly tilted her head upwards to meet his eyes, her pout seemingly stuck on her face. His heart sank at the sight of the girl's dirtied clothing along with a few minor scratches along her face and arms. "What happened? Tell me everything."

He subtly maneuvered her arms off so that he could begin to walk her to his car. He held his hand out to her, opening and closing a fist to motion for her. Her small hand wrapped around his pinky finger, melting his heart further. He listened intently to her soft cries.

"I was looking for Keith...I ran away," Karol explained with a deepening frown, her mind racing with thoughts of him and how she could only hope he was safe out there.

"You ran away?" he echoed, his words almost full of disbelief, "Why would you do that, kiddo?" Darrel guided her to the backseat of his car, the last thing on his mind being the muddy mess she would leave behind. He followed her inside the car, grabbing a hand towel which was stuffed into the back pocket of his denim. He gently dabbed at her cheeks, mentally reminding himself to be gentle around the scratches.

Karol sighed deeply and glanced down to her lap shamefully. She winced every now and then, the burning sensation on her skin still lingered. "I don't wanna be a little girl anymore, Darry... I want to be like Keith. To be cool."

Darry's expression turned from one of shock to one of empathy. He could already imagine how left out Karol must feel. Her brother always out of the house and getting into all sorts of trouble with his friends, her mother housekeeping constantly and working hard to make ends meet. The Matthews' home could often leave Karol feeling lonely and unwanted.

"And you wandered all the way here... on foot?" he implied, the question sounding surreal to even ask a six-year old.

Karol nodded and watched as Darrel tried his best to finish wiping off the dried up mud from her arms. He was unable to do much about her dress - but what he could do was give her a ride home. He finished tidying her up, setting the towel on the floor beside her feet. He smiled at her warmly, his thumb gently running over her cheek. “Lemme take you home, get you all freshened up with your momma.”

Darrel had a tendency to be good with children, Karol being no different. His instinctive protective nature came in handy in situations like this. He would do so much as to drop everything in terms of his job to tend to Karol’s desperate cries for help.

The car ride home was mostly quiet, the soft music playing as Karol settled herself into the backseat, her head resting against the car door. Darrel pulled up, the car coming to a halt as Keith and their mother swarmed the vehicle in a panic. They were both worried sick - her mother expecting her to return moments after ‘running away’.

Darrel immediately emerged from the car, opening the backseat door and revealing the child to them. Two-Bit was first to sling her into his arms, a powerful hug between the two. He didn’t mind the crumpled clumps of dirt that fell from her body. “Karol - we were so worried about you…” he began, his voice almost a quiver.

Darrel smiled softly, admiring the sight of a little family reunion between the three. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and observed. She was set back down, stepping closer to Darrel in an instant. He crouched down in response and held out his arms for her. Karol obliged and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. “Karol, look at me,” he whispered quietly, only for her ears to hear only.

She leaned in, the expression on her face displaying curiosity. Her undivided attention was on Darrel. “You are the toughest, bravest - coolest gal I know,” his tone was nothing but tender and loving with her. He was already aware of how she felt being babied and portrayed as nothing more than a little girl. He chose his words carefully, “And don’t you ever forget that, you hear? You’re just as cool as your brother… maybe even cooler.”

The wink he added onto those last words sealed Karol’s belief in. She felt a strange sense of newfound confidence within herself. Darrel had done more than just protect her today, more than scaring the boys off before they could harm her more, more than rushing to help assess the damage….

Darrel left her feeling important. She felt noticed for once, her strength revealing itself since the terror inflicted on her today. Karol tightly hugged him, her grasp not loosening a single bit as she prolonged the hug to its fullest.

Her soft voice whispered back, a smile plastering all over her face - the first one in a while, “Thank you, Darry.”

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 7 months ago

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Hi, I have an unusual question about the word nakama. In the fandom concerning another anime, a discussion heated up because one of the characters, while talking about her traveling companion, just called him nakama. They say that he can't be her love interest because just the word nakama removes that possibility. I wonder if indeed in manga,anime and video games nakama is more directed towards brotherly love and romantic love is excluded. What are your thoughts on this?

仲間/nakama just means comrade, teammate, partner, or companion. it's a word like any other. if he is her traveling companion, then nakama is an accurate way to describe him. it does not, to the best of my knowledge, have any specific implications regarding romantic relationships one way or another.

like, i think series like one piece might give the impression that nakama refers to like, a special and specific and untranslatable type of relationship, but that's not really the case. it's just a word.

#jonny answers #japanese #not one piece

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akookminsupporter · 8 days ago

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Have you seen those videos on TikTok, especially the ones where they describe the type of love the members have for each other? Almost always—especially if the video or edit was made by an OT7 Army—they label Jimin and Jungkook’s bond as “brotherly love” while using clips that give off anything but sibling vibes. I always laugh because, while I don’t expect them to say their love is romantic or anything like that, calling it “brotherly” doesn’t feel accurate either. Soulmates, true friends, or kindred spirits make way more sense than “brothers,” but oh well.

#jikookphobics

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nerdanel01 · 5 months ago

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Another great day to practice necromancy 💀. How do you do? 💚

So, we know that Emmrich, as an esteemed member of Mortalitasi, is expected to attend the gatherings of the Nevarran nobles from time to time or visit them in their estates. Has Emmrich ever met Lord Halkias then, I mean Agnes's father? Was Agnes present? If not, did he tell her about it afterwards?

Or maybe they've met during or after the events of The Veilguard? How would such a meeting play out, I wonder?

in short: badly! 3.5k+ below the cut

9:51 Dragon

Emmrich had been told the extravagant excess of Tevinter’s Altus class made the indulgence of the Nevarran nobility look quaint by comparison—but truthfully, it tested the bounds of his creativity to imagine exactly how that could be the case.

At the Dietrich estate, the nobility glittered like a swarm of beetles, jewels dripping from fingers and ears and necks, women swanning in crystal-crusted dresses that gleamed from a distance like the most brilliant carapace. Two quintents had been booked, instead of the customary one, so that the music would continue ceaselessly when the first group of musicians took their rest. The wine flowed freely from two golden fountains at either side of the wide hall—both red and white. Flanking the walls were banquet tables piled high with food that looked almost too good to eat: butter and ice and sugar carved into elaborate shapes (the Necropolis; the Nevarran palace; the face of a revered Dietrich ancestor); pyramids of glacé fruit preserved at the peak of its freshness; flaky finger foods arrayed on plated towers. Indeed, it appeared that hardly anyone had touched it, preferring (if the general atmosphere of the room was any indication) to indulge in libations instead.

Emmrich himself had avoided the wine. He had never been a wistful drunk, not really… but over the past year or so he had learned that even the slightest taste of alcohol was likely to turn him morose.

And Johanna had dragged him here to be the opposite. It was a precarious time in Nevarra, with King Markus in such ill health, and still no clear heir to replace him. Already there were political machinations, assassinations and deals being cut to determine whom among the Nevarran nobility would be left sitting on that throne once King Markus passed, and who would wield the most influence over the country’s new regent. Worse, in recent years, the accusations that the Mortalitasi ruling by proxy through the weakened King had reached a fever pitch… not whispered as they used to be, but speculated out loud in the open. For his part, Emmrich could not say whether or not those rumors were true. That was the business of the priest-mages, not the Mourn Watch; and anyway, Emmrich had never been keen on politics.

But, “You are charming,” Johanna had implored him, though Emmrich thought that was not quite accurate—he had, perhaps, been charming once upon a time, but he felt himself growing more and more into a bitter, withdrawn old man with each passing month. “The nobles adore you,” Johanna had continued—that, maybe, was still true. He had spent much of the past year in seclusion, and had not yet burned the bridges of amicability and influence he had so carefully built during his time as part of the Mourn Watch. Finally, the coup de grace, her plea: “Please do not make me attend Lady Dietrich’s party by myself.”

Emmrich wanted nothing to do with parties—it was difficult to imagine he would ever be light hearted and mirthful enough to enjoy the gaiety of such gatherings ever again—but he did love Johanna with a strong, brotherly affection that was difficult to deny. She had been patient with him, this past year, as he had crumbled into a shadow of his former self. For as long as she could, Johanna had shielded him from the social responsibilities of his role, giving him time to grieve Agnes’ absence and the smothering guilt he carried for having caused it. More than once in the past year, he had behaved in such a way that Johanna could have dismissed him from the Mourn Watch—it would have been entirely right of her to do so—but she had not. She had protected him. And it was so small a thing: one evening, swanning among the nobility, eating fine food and pretending to laugh at bad jokes. It would not be pleasant, certainly, but it would not be terrible.

Or so Emmrich had thought.

Lady Dietrich had cornered him; literally, had backed him into the corner of the room and now stood in front of him, gesturing in such a way that it was difficult to get past her. Her efforts to bed him, never particularly subtle to begin with, had become more overt and outlandish in the year since her husband had passed. Regrettably, by now, Emmrich was quite used to her flirtations; he knew how to make her feel heard without really listening, when to nod his head or smile for emphasis, when and how demure in the face of her more lascivious suggestions without offending her. He occupied her thusly now as his eyes scanned the room, wondering how Johanna was fairing.

His eyes locked first, however, on a man he had never seen before. That was odd. Emmrich had been part of Nevarran society by blood before he had ever become Mortalitasi; there was scarcely a family in the noble class with whom he had not been acquainted since childhood. And yet there he was, this old man standing beside the nearest fountain and filling a wide goblet to the brim with more wine, his wrinkled face ruddy with drink, cheeks looking all the more splotched and red in contrast with his white beard.

Strangest of all was that—although Emmrich was quite sure he had never met the man before—there was something painfully familiar about him.

“Forgive me, Lady Dietrich,” he interjected, interrupting her as she was telling him (rather too pointedly) that the extravagant decorations she had imported from Minrathous for the party extended even to the estate’s bedrooms, “That gentleman over there, beside the fountain. I do not think I have had the pleasure of meeting him before. Who is he?”

Lady Dietrich blinked in surprise—Emmrich rarely interrupted her, and when he did, it was often with far more grace (or “charm,” he supposed, to use Johanna’s words)—then turned to follow his gaze. When she saw the old man, her lips curled back in distaste.

“That is Lord Halkias,” she answered disdainfully. “His estate is out west, you know. Far west, in the borderlands. Practically Orlais,” she intimated, her sense of superiority dripping from every word.

Emmrich had not drank a sip of wine yet that evening; suddenly, he dearly wished he had. Now that he had the man’s name, the resemblance between Halkias and his daughter was undeniable: the arch of his nose, the v-shaped peak of his hairline over his brow. The deep, sensual bow of his upper lip. It was not in fact Lord Halkias who had been painfully familiar to him; it had been the ghost of Agnes, staring out of her father’s face.

“His wife just passed,” Lady Dietrich continued, rattling off gossip; Emmrich barely heard her. “He accompanied her body to its final resting place in the Necropolis last week. Did you not know?”

He had not. He did not think for a minute that it was a coincidence. Johanna would have done everything in her power, no doubt, to prevent Emmrich from having anything to do with Lady Halkias’ last rites.

Emmrich tried and failed to keep the bite from his voice when he replied: “He does not appear to be grieving the loss of his wife too terribly.”

Lady Dietrich shot him a glance, surprised at the uncharacteristic venom in his tone. She leaned closer, whispered to him conspiratorially, not bothering to hide her distaste: “He has extended his visit to the city. There is great speculation he has done so in order to hunt for a prospective bride—although he is kidding himself if he thinks to accomplish that aim in this household. None of these self-respecting families would marry a daughter into a family such as his.”

Emmrich was staring. He knew he was staring. He could not pull his eyes away. Could not help but think how much it must have pained Agnes, to grow up and see the resemblance to her father marked so plainly on her face—her father who had abused her mother, her father who had been anything but fatherly to Agnes herself. Who had made every effort, for his own personal gain, to see Agnes forced into a marriage that would ultimately serve him. That Lord Halkias had failed spectacularly in his aim to sell off his daughter like a common whore did not make it any less despicable.

“Are you alright, dear? You’re looking rather pale.”

Lady Dietrich was looking up at him again, her watery blue eyes filled with uncharacteristic concern. Were Emmrich not so consumed by this feeling building inside of him (unnameable; ichorous; dark) he might have been touched. Instead, he made a hasty retreat.

“Yes, Lady Dietrich, I'm alright—just feeling a bit peckish—if you’ll excuse me…”

And he slipped past her, making his way towards one of the banquet tables. But he had no interest in eating. His heart was racing, his pulse thundering in his ears. He held his fingertips to his temples, rubbing them gently, trying to slow his breathing. But it was impossible. The food, the drink, the luxury, the excess—and the memory, seared into his skull, of how Agnes’ father had reacted to her desertion.

…because of course, though Emmrich had told Johanna emphatically and repeatedly that Agnes would prefer to die in the gutters of Nevarra City rather than return to her father’s estate, Johanna had sent guards to check it nevertheless. ‘Due diligence,’ Johanna had called it.

Lord Halkias had called it a ‘grave insult.’

Among the many gems of hard, crystallized hatred that had made up the missive he sent back with the soldiers, Emmrich would never forget how he had concluded the message:

‘If that ill-conceived, misbegotten issue of mine had dared to come back here, I would have beaten her bloody and senseless for the disgrace she has brought upon our family and my own good name. Whatever was left of her afterwards I would have returned without delay to the Mortalitasi, happy to be rid of her and happy for whatever additional punishment you sought to bring to bear upon her for her betrayal and her cowardice. When you do find her, be harsh with her. Tranquility is too mild a punishment for that thankless slut.’

At the memory alone, Emmrich was clenching his fists so hard his nails threatened to draw blood.

Food was not going to help him. Drink was likely not going to help him either, but at this point he was going to take his chances. Morose was not good company, but it was still preferable to murderous. Spinning on his heel, he let his feet carry him to the far fountain, opposite the fountain flowing with red wine that Lord Halkias was still lurking beside. Emmrich did not prefer white wine, but he also did not trust himself to secure a cup of red while fully resisting the urge to grab Lord Halkias by his white hair and hold him beneath the fountain’s surface, drowning him in the drink he was so besotted with.

But as he stood with his back against the wall, taking polite sips from his goblet (resisting the urge to down the glass in one long swallow) Emmrich did not feel his mood mellowing. On the contrary. As usual, the drink summoned visions and phantoms, memories. How Agnes would side-step any questions he used to ask her about her childhood; the cursory answers she would give about her family, her step-siblings. The upheaval that followed her mother’s death; the trauma of learning exactly who and what her father really was; the fear and injustice and lovelessness of being kept under his roof. Her obsession with neatness, with cleanliness, with cleverness; the remnants of the impossible standards she had been held to in Halkias’ household, never good enough, never as good as her legitimately born siblings. The last argument they had before Agnes had left: “you are not my father,” the words spat with more hatred and vitriol than Agnes had ever used with him before.

‘Indeed, I am nothing like her father,’ Emmrich thought to himself darkly, brooding over the rim of his goblet. ‘Unlike him, I loved her.’

And he should have told her that, then. Should never have tried to keep his love secret from Agnes, who had lived so much of her life starved of the love that her family should have given her, who had spent so many of her years feeling alone and was now alone again, for all Emmrich knew.

Perhaps if she had a father who loved her, Emmrich would not have felt obligated in some way to step into that role himself. To guide her. To protect her, to watch out for her in a way that no one else ever had. To protect her even from himself, when Emmrich’s desires and feelings for her became anything but fatherly. Perhaps he could have been honest with her, then; perhaps she would not have had to leave. Perhaps she would still pass her days in the Necropolis, safe and loved and cherished by him. Perhaps….

But ‘perhaps’ meant nothing now. Agnes was gone, and more likely than not, Emmrich would never see her again. His fault. More than a year had passed since her departure, but time had not blunted the ache of her absence one bit.

The ring Agnes had gifted him—the one he could not bear to wear on his fingers, that he could not endure the sight of any more than he could discard it—felt twice as heavy on the chain it hung on around his neck, resting beneath his shirt, close to his heart.

…and here was her father. Drunken, merry, undisturbed in the least by her disappearance. Worse than that, maybe. Gleeful that she was gone at last, that his bastard child, his eldest, his firstborn, had removed themselves from the picture and would never darken his doorway again.

“You are charming,” Johanna had said, “the nobles adore you.” But over the past year, Emmrich had discovered he was much more than that. Capable of a darkness he had never quite acknowledged before he sank into it. He had been charming, upbeat, optimistic, inquisitive. Now, he knew he was also spiteful, prone to isolating himself from others—and, occasionally—inclined toward acts of great cruelty.

The wine had loosened him up just enough that he no longer felt any inclination to resist those darker impulses.

Emmrich tucked his right hand behind the small of his back, near to the wall where no one else could see it. Affecting a calm and collected demeanor, he sipped politely from his goblet as behind him, his fingers curled, wrist revolving, spinning the magic out of the Fade into the waking, shaping it into horrors. It had been so long since he had cast magic without the foci of a staff. The danger and thrill of it was exhilarating.

No one else witnessed him, nor the curse, as it curled around the party-goers’ feet, slithering like an adder across the room towards Lord Halkias. Into it Emmrich poured all self-hatred, all his rage and his loneliness, all of his regret. Let Lord Halkias take a wife, if he so desired. She would never know a night of peace while she shared a bed with her husband.

Johanna grabbed him by the shoulder so tightly and abruptly he nearly spilled the rest of his wine over the front of her gown.

“What,” she hissed, low enough so that she would not be overheard, “do you think you are doing?”

“Nothing!” Emmrich answered, a little too loudly and perhaps too quickly. “I’m not doing anything.”

Emmrich could see her fighting to keep her face pleasant, just in case any of the other guests should look in their direction. But her nostrils were flaring, and the fixed grin on her face looked more like a grimace by the second. As a servant passed by them, Johanna plucked Emmrich’s wine goblet out of his hand and set it down upon the serving tray, the wine sloshing over the rim with the force of the impact. Then, with just as much authority and force, she steered him out of the main banquet hall, guiding him down the hallways of Lady Dietrich’s estate until she was satisfied they had found a corner where they would not be overheard.

Then she turned on him. And Johanna may have been a full head shorter than Emmrich, and he may have loved her like she was his sister, but she was still utterly terrifying to him when she was furious.

“I would not call hexing Lord Halkias nothing,” she said, her eyes shining with indignant rage. “Maker’s breath, Emmrich—the rumors about the Mortalitasi are bad enough already. Do you have to make it worse by putting a curse on one of the nobles in public? At a party?”

Emmrich folded his arms defensively over his chest. “It was a very light curse,” he lied through his teeth. This much, at least, was the truth: “He would not have even noticed it—not until he laid himself down to sleep tonight.” With a self-satisfied smirk, Emmrich could not help but add, “Or, well, until he tried to sleep. The night terrors would have kept him from true, restful sleep until the end of his days.”

Perhaps he should not have been so bold in public, that much was true. But Maker preserve him, he had been so close to succeeding, and it had felt so good.

And he had expected Johanna—all command and spitfire—to argue back at him. Instead she just stared at him, stunned.

Somehow, that was worse.

“And do you think that is appropriate behavior from one of the most senior ranking Mortalitasi of the Mourn Watch Guard?”

Probably not. But sometimes, exceptions needed to be made. “I think it is entirely appropriate, given what a brute he is. You are aware, are you not, of how he violates his servants?”

Or at least, that he had violated one. Forced her into submission more than once under the hot countryside sun—

“Emmrich…” Johanna began, entirely too much pity in her voice. She closed her eyes and sighed. “This is my fault. I should have known he would be here, after his wife’s final rites earlier this week—”

“—strange,” Emmrich interjected, “since as a senior ranking member of the Mourn Watch, I’d have thought I would have known about any recent interments—”

“Not strange, but calculated,” Johanna countered, the heat returning to her voice. “Brilliant, to keep it from you. Fucking prophetic of me, really, because I just knew you would not be able to act professionally about it, to get through it without pulling some shit like this.” She bared her clenched teeth, sucking an unsteady breath in to try and calm herself.

“It is my fault,” Johanna repeated, at last. “I should not have asked you to come. So now I will correct my mistake. Emmrich, go home.”

“What?”

The night was yet young. He had not yet had a chance to greet each of the nobles properly, as was custom. If he left now, his absence would be noticed… not least of all by their host, Lady Dietrich herself—

“I said go home, Emmrich!” Johanna was not shouting—she would not raise her voice loud enough to be overheard—but she was close to it. “I’ll make an excuse for you.”

“I don’t need you to—!”

“Agnes is gone.” Johanna articulated each word carefully, brought them down in him like a hammer in an anvil. “You are not defending her from anyone. You are not protecting her from anyone. And as I suspect she is not likely to return, you are unlikely to have the chance to regale or impress her by recounting your clever ‘little’ curse in the future. Your judgment is compromised; I am, quite frankly, embarrassed for you. Go home,” Johanna repeated, turning him around and shoving him in the direction of the estate’s entrance, back towards the street and the city. “I will not repeat myself again. And you will not enjoy the consequences if I am forced to escort you.”

On the carriage ride back to the Necropolis (the city streets at night were too haunted with memory for him to walk) Emmrich found himself replaying the argument with Johanna in his head over and over again, incensed. She was wrong, he was certain of that much, no matter how well she thought she knew him. Emmrich was not a fool. He knew Lord Halkias posed no further danger to Agnes—that cursing him, as Emmrich had intended to do, was not something he had done to defend or impress her.

But that left him with the nagging question of why he had done it. Because he did know better, or should have, had he not still been deep in the throes of his grief. With Agnes gone, his position in the Mourn Watch mattered more to him than ever. The work was the only reliable distraction, the only thing that kept his head above the waters of despair. What had possessed him, to make him risk it with so little thought?

The answer, as it turned out, was worse than anything Johanna had accused him of. It was guilt.

Guilt that he had driven Agnes away. Guilt that he had not seen her love for what it was and returned it with every breath, with every beat of his heart. Guilt that there was no amount of self-hatred or debasement or shame that would bring her back; guilt that he would never get the chance to tell her how sorry he was. Guilt for whatever it was she now suffered in the world, shut out from the shelter of the Mourn Watch that had been all she had known for over twenty years.

He could not punish himself enough for having caused her departure. And so he had tried to turn at least some of that pain and punishment upon her father.

…but what was the greater sin? To have never loved her, as a father ought to love a daughter? Or, as Emmrich had, to have loved her deeply—to have blindly spurned her love—and sent her to wander the wide and dangerous world, feeling rejected and unloved and alone?

Johanna was right, of course. No curse would ever fix that mistake.

Nothing would.

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magicwhiskers29 · 5 months ago

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I think with s5 properly confirming Wukong and MK's biological relation in terms of their stone, it's been kinda interesting seeing so many people suddenly declare how much they love the two of them as brothers?

Bare with me here, because I'm having difficulty articulating, but it's like... In the early season days, there were a LOT of blatant readings of their relationship as father-son, because season 1 had no mentions MK's parents at all, and season 2 only had him call Pigsy "Dadsy". Since the show never really established who MK's parents were at this stage (only that MK potentially saw Pigsy as one), a lot of people latched onto Wukong for that, because of his mentorship of MK.

Shadowpeach probably also ties into this, in that if there's two guys that they ship, and then a kid they both mentor, there's gonna be an urge to use that kid as their child. I think this likely wasn't as big of a factor, given Macaque's lack of early appearances, but I'm no Shadowpeach expert, so I couldn't say for certain.

But the point is, this is how a lot of people wanted to interpret their relationship, which is all cool. It's a common enough one to latch onto to, especially for the dynamic they have. I think it was an oversimplification of their relationship, but that's an inevitability when you want to stick a complex student-mentor relationship like MK and Wukong's into a single family label.

So I think it's kinda funny that as soon as canon indicates that a brotherly relationship is more accurate, lots of people start seeing it as that in retrospect. Like, obviously there were always people that saw it as that, just as there were people who saw them as uncle and nephew, or not familial at all. But I think there's something interesting to be seen as how people's perception of the same events warps as soon as they have a suggestion to look at it a different way, especially when it's something as nuanced as how to define Wukong and MK's relationship.

Their dynamic is of a teacher who isn't sure how to teach, and a student who worships the very ground that this teacher walks on, because they're the student's hero, only to see that the teacher is just as fallible as they are, and learn to help them, and stand on more equal footing with them in turn.

That's hard to sum up in a single dynamic! Especially as just a single family dynamic, no matter what it is

#Fandom insights #I guess?#lego monkie kid #lmk #lego monkie kid season 5 spoilers #lmk spoilers #Just about haha #lmk mk #mk lmk #sun wukong #lmk sun wukong #whiskers rambles

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flamingtwiggy · 4 months ago

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Jacegan??? Jace and Cregan…Brotherhood!

I love Jacegan but what about a more brotherly-Jacegan bond fic? Meaning no “incest”; even between sworn brothers. Maybe shouldn’t use the ship name for that…

Premise:

Set during the night Aemond claims Vhagar and loses his eye (year 120 AC). Alicent doesn’t attack Rhaenyra and Viserys is a bit more neutral in regard to his children. Alicent gets the idea to send Lucerys up North to Winterfell (or rather the Wall as a harsher punishment), far away from Aemond as possible, and Viserys believes it would be a good chance for Lucerys to learn as he will be Lord of Driftmark one day (yeah, right). Jacaerys pleads to be sent instead as it was his dagger that was used to injure Aemond and he drew the blade, to which Alicent accepts. Viserys also sees it fitting since Jacaerys is Rhaenyra’s heir, and it would strengthen the bond between House Stark and House Targaryen if Jacaerys bonded with Lord Rickon Stark’s son and heir, Cregan.

The one condition is that Jacaerys will reside in the North until Lucerys comes of age (16).

Note: I know Jacaerys is like super young, being around 6/7, and Aemond was 10 (according to the book timeline) when he lost his eye. I tend to rely on book ages but not book-accurate plot…woops.

Cregan is 12 at this time. And Arra may be 4 or older…but since they say Arra was his childhood best friend, I’d say she should be at least 8 or older…

Another note, according to Cregan Stark’s asoiaf wiki page, his younger brother died in 119 AC.

Plot Points:

(120 AC):

Age-wise reference:

Cregan Stark (b. 108 AC): 12

Arra Norrey (b. 112 AC): 8

Jacaerys Velaryon (b. late 114 AC): 6

Lucerys Velaryon (b. late 115 AC): 5

Cregan took an instant liking to Jacaerys when the kid arrived in Winterfell. Having recently lost his younger brother in the last year, he saw this new kid (who happened to be a prince but Cregan doesn’t care) as a blessing from the Old Gods. More importantly, it became a common sight around Winterfell to see Cregan and Jacaerys together, practically attached at the hip. (Cregan may or may not tell Jace about blood oaths, and they swear the infamous “oath of brotherhood, sealed in blood”.)

Arra Norrey became Jace’s sworn older sister and she loves occasionally stealing him away from Cregan when she visits to enjoy the “softer” things of Winterfell, such as the Glass Gardens, while Cregan is busy training, in the company of his other friends such as the young Lord Cerwyn, or learning how to be the next Warden of the North.

Jacaerys may have other friends with other people in the North; the one thing everybody knows is that nobody gets away with bullying him, and it’s not because he’s a prince.

A southern maester lives in Winterfell, specifically employed to teach Jacaerys High Valyrian, as well as all other lessons that a Prince and future King must have. Jacaerys writes to Rhaenyra in High Valyrian, and she will write back the same, though sometimes she will include corrections to her son’s incorrect grammar or use of words in common tongue. Lucerys often writes to Jacaerys and sends tiny trinkets and shells, which Jace shares with Arra and Cregan.

Vermax resides on Dragonstone, and his bond with Jacaerys is strained but not broken. He eventually travels to Winterfell himself when he senses Jacaerys in great distress (Arra’s death and his mourning being the cause).

(124 AC): Cregan comes of age (16), but Bennard Stark maintains his regency of Winterfell and limits Cregan’s involvement in heading the house. One of Bennard’s plans to keep Cregan in check involves Jacaerys due to their brotherly bond.

(126 AC): Cregan (18) has Arra (14) take Jace (12) away to temporarily foster with House Norrey while he prepares to overthrow his uncle Bennard and his three sons. Bennard tries to goad Cregan into kin-slaying by swearing to end Jacaerys’ life if/when he gets free, but Cregan only hits him on the head and declares he would never let anyone harm his little brother.

“I will tear that boy apart. And when I’m finished with him, I shall leave him for the savages to enjoy a taste of royalty.”

Cregan then marries Arra, much to the delight of the North. Jace spends the night writing his family on Dragonstone about the wedding celebrations, and how curious Northern weddings are.

According to ASOIAF timeline, this is the year Vaemond Velaryon was executed by Daemon (although it is apparently 132 AC in HoTD). Whatever… The only thing that would happen would be Lucerys or Rhaenyra informing Jacaerys that Vaemond challenged Lucerys for the throne of Driftmark, and was killed for insulting Rhaenyra and their lineage (calling them bastards). Jacaerys is upset on Lucerys and his mother’s behalfs for suffering the insults but doesn’t give it much thought since he wasn’t close to Vaemond.

(128 AC): Arra is pregnant with Rickon, and when she’s not with Cregan, she’s accompanied by Jace. Some find it inappropriate with how close Jace is with Cregan and Arra, especially Arra as the Lady of Winterfell. There is a slight rumor that Prince Jacaerys and Lady Arra are having an affair, and her child may be a bastard. This causes Jacaerys to distance himself from Arra to avoid damaging her honor, like his mother’s was. Arra becomes upset by the development and she can’t seem to convince Jace to stop avoiding her, so Cregan has to pose an intervention.

Arra goes into labor while talking with Jace, and he rushes to inform Cregan after getting her to the maesters. He stays outside of the labor room with Cregan, although Cregan goes inside after hearing a particularly concerning noise from Arra in the chamber. When Rickon is delivered, Arra begs Cregan to let Jace in. Whilst Cregan is watching the maesters handle Rickon, Arra—sensing she is dying—tells Jace to make sure he and Cregan take care of each other, as well as Rickon. Jace doesn’t understand why she’s says this until her breath stops and her hand holding his loosens in pressure. His cries are what attracts Cregan’s attention as well as the maesters’, and Cregan realizes Arra has passed.

“Swear to me that you will take care of them, and that he will take care of you. Jacaerys…

Avy jorrāelan, valonqar.”

(I love you, little brother). Jacaerys taught Arra some High Valyrian throughout the years… Their favorite pastime was speaking to each other with certain practiced phrases when in company with Cregan to annoy him.

Arra is buried in the crypts. The day of her funeral, Jacaerys remains in front of her burial place the entire night, drowning in his grief. Arra was Cregan’s wife and soul, but she was Jacaerys’ sister and light. Cregan must attend to his duties as the Lord of Winterfell, as well as his newfound fatherly duty, despite his own grief.

Vermax senses Jace’s deep grief through their strained bond and leaves Dragonstone, surprising Daemon who was singing to Caraxes.

It takes about three to five (business) days…or a week for Vermax to fly to the North, with a couple pit stops for food and water, because he is a dragon who needs nutrients on a long journey. His arrival causes a stir in the gloomy aura of Winterfell, as they are still mourning their passing of their lady and Jacaerys is recovering after having fallen ill from spending too much time in the crypts without eating or drinking. Cregan found him on the third day since Arra’s funeral and berated him rather aggressively for nearly killing himself after he woke up.

“You cannot leave me. I beg of you, my brother, my blood…do not leave me too.”

Jacaerys hears the scream of “Dragon!” and bolts as fast as a recovering-ill dude can out of his chambers at the thought that his mother or even one of his beloved little brothers came to visit him. He doesn’t immediately recognize Vermax, and Vermax doesn’t recognize Jace, but he does sense the dragonblood in Jace’s blood. Cregan arrives and his dread worsens over seeing Jacaerys unarmed, facing an ill-tempered Vermax. He goes so far as to draw Ice from its sheathe, which startles Vermax into defense-mode.

Jacaerys is eventually able to calm Vermax, and all those who witness the fearsome dragon grow less defensive. Jace would fly on Vermax, though he is still a bit physically weak from the fever. Cregan, for one, vehemently protested against it, and relented for Jace to take Vermax to the crypts to doze in. He does go with them to drag Jace to bed once Vermax settled. It does hurt them both to go back to the crypts so soon and see Arra’s statue which is surrounded by decaying winter roses.

Once Jacaerys is deemed fully recovered by the maesters, he begins rekindling his bond with Vermax. He takes daily flights around Winterfell and the upper North. One day, they fly all the way to the Vale before Jace realizes how far they traveled. He meets the Lady Jeyne Arryn, who offers him to stay for a few days.

(129 AC): Cregan and Jacaerys visit The Wall with a new group of recruits for the Night’s Watch. Jacaerys flies on Vermax, although the closer Vermax gets to the Wall, the more anxious Jace can feel him growing. Jace thinks Vermax is going to fly over the Wall, but Vermax suddenly veers off a few meters before with an ear-shattering screech, which startles all who are there.

There is a small encounter with some Wildlings, though Jacaerys sustains a grievous injury to his throat (by a lucky arrow or a short blade) that ends up damaging his vocal cords, almost rendering him mute. Cregan is devastated, and his protectiveness over Jacaerys grows to the point that he has Jacaerys by his side almost at all times after months long of bed-rest recovery.

Let’s just say Cregan often forgets that Jacaerys has another family, so he neglected to write to Rhaenyra or Viserys at all of Jacaerys’ few misfortunes over the years…so Rhaenyra doesn’t find out he is near-mute until she sees him for the first time in 11 years…

And Jacaerys is afraid to tell Rhaenyra that he cannot speak well anymore, because a King cannot rule a kingdom without a strong voice.

Cregan helps Jacaerys with navigating alternative methods of communication when he cannot or does not want to speak, though writing is his go-to method when it’s available. Jacaerys does speak occasionally, but he experiences gradual pain the more he has to use his voice.

(Late 131 AC): Lucerys comes of age (16). Jacaerys is officially invited back to King’s Landing to celebrate the end of his “exile” by King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower. Upon his arrival to greet Viserys and the royal family, Jacaerys and Rhaenyra break formal protocol and hug it out, although some people catch that Jacaerys doesn’t say anything while Rhaenyra both frets over and admires her beautiful grown boy.

Later, the family learns of Cregan and Jace’s close brotherly bond. Rhaenyra is miffed that Cregan’s lack of correspondence with her, especially regarding her son. Lucerys and Joffrey are slightly…or not so slightly jealous that Cregan has “stolen” their brother and has such a close bond that they should’ve had with Jace.

Everybody hugs it out though.

The End. :)

RIP Arra Norrey…again

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #arra norrey #fanfic #hotd fanfic #house stark #house targaryen #hotd

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twistedtummies2 · 9 months ago

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Top 10 Portrayals of Mycroft Holmes

In my last couple lists for the supporting cast of Sherlock Holmes, I discussed two of his closest allies: Mrs. Hudson and Inspector Lestrade. It’s now time for another of his allies, though perhaps the most begrudging of them all: his elder brother, Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft is an intriguing character, because there are essentially two completely different ways to portray him. In the original books, Mycroft is declared to be even smarter than Sherlock is, which is already quite interesting. What makes him even more fascinating, however, is the reveal of his career: Mycroft “IS the British Government.” He’s the head of political and military intelligence, his power seemingly second only to the Prime Minister and the Royal Family themselves. With so much power and brilliance, one would expect Mycroft to be a rather imposing figure…but in Conan Doyle’s stories, the character is actually depicted a sort of comical figure. Mycroft is a sort of stereotypical, pompous bureaucrat in the books; like Sherlock, he’s a trifle eccentric, as well as rather pompous and slightly foppish in demeanor. The humor comes from his blustering attitude and exaggerated rotundity, which are completely at odds with the potential for something more dangerous when you realize what and who he really is. As a result of this dichotomy, different reimaginings and adaptations of Mycroft tend to gravitate more towards one side or the other: some versions play the character very much in the Conan Doyle vein, as a comically uppercrust caricature. Others, however, have focused much more on his political prowess, making him a much more serious character, with the humor stemming now from his dandy manners and the relationship he has with his brother. In the books, Sherlock and Mycroft have a SLIGHT sibling rivalry, but they actually seem to get along fairly well; most reinterpretations, however, really play up that rivalry and have the two constantly at each other’s throats…but when push comes to shove, that brotherly love still shines through. With so many different ways to handle Mycroft, choosing my favorites was rather difficult: this duality to the character and the way he’s been portrayed means that he is both easy to mess up and yet hard to mess up at the same time, if you can imagine such a paradox. I think, however, that the choices I’ve made are more or less finite, though a few may rise or fall on the scale depending on my mood, more than anything else. With that said, here are My Top 10 Portrayals of Mycroft Holmes!

10. Rhys Ifans, from Elementary.

It took me a while to warm up to this version of Mycroft, but ultimately I did come to like him. In here, instead of being the head of British intelligence, Mycroft is simply an AGENT of said intelligence: he’s essentially this universe’s version of James Bond, a suave and classy spy for MI6, who works under the facade of a restauranteur. While I do have a few issues with this take on the character, overall I think it’s an interesting one; a big part of what makes him good comes from Ifans’ acting.

9. Robert Morley, from A Study in Terror.

This Mycroft COULD have been in my Top 5, at the very least, if he had a larger role. Morley is probably the most book-accurate take on Mycroft ever, but he’s only in the film for a couple of short minutes, and…well…frankly, he has absolutely NO purpose to be in the story at all. I feel like someone just included him BECAUSE they wanted to see Robert Morley play this character, and…fair play to them, I suppose, I’m glad it happened. I just wish he had more of a reason to be there, and more screentime in his pocket.

8. Peter Jeffrey, from Hands of a Murderer.

In this period remake of “The Woman in Green” (one of the Basil Rathbone films), Jeffrey’s Mycroft ends up being kidnapped by Professor Moriarty, who is seeking information he wishes to sell to enemy agents. (Which actually sounds similar to a completely different Rathbone movie, “Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon,” but I digress.) While his role is relatively peripheral, I enjoy Jeffrey’s work with the character, and they really play around wonderfully with the relationship between the two brothers.

7. Richard E. Grant, from Sherlock: Case of Evil.

While Mycroft’s role in this film is small, his presence is important: it’s revealed that part of the reason he is such a reclusive figure is because he was captured and tortured by Moriarty (after the previous pick, I’m sensing a pattern) during Sherlock’s first encounter with his arch-nemesis. Mycroft’s brain is as sharp as ever, but his body still bears scars. This is one of the most supportive takes on the character out there, and Grant plays him very well.

6. Boris Klyuyev, from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson.

Arguably one of the funniest versions of Mycroft, in my opinion. This Russian-made TV film series used Mycroft fairly often, and he was always fun to see in action, really leaning into the comedy of the character from the original stories, and even doing a few new things with him, such as having him help Mrs. Hudson during “The Tiger Hunt” (their adaptation of “The Empty House”). Very, very amusing to watch.

5. The Version from Moriarty the Patriot.

This version takes some obvious cues from the rendition from “Sherlock,” portraying Mycroft as a more traditionally handsome, limber fellow, and really emphasizing his power as “the very embodiment of the British government.” However, he’s a much “warmer” character than the BBC version, which I think helps make him stand out, and gives him a little more of the humor that was present in the original stories. In Japan, he's voiced by Hiroki Yasumoto; the English dub is played by "Black Butler" star himself, J. Michael Tatum.

4. Stephen Fry, from the Guy Ritchie Films.

Mycroft appears in the second film, “Game of Shadows,” in another case of a “small but important” sort of role. Some of the funniest scenes in the film are thanks to him, and he’s also important in terms of the movie’s climax and conclusion. Fry is a shockingly book-accurate take on the character for the modern era, both in appearance and portrayal, and I think that’s a big part of why I like him. For all the things these films did differently from Conan Doyle, Mycroft almost feels ripped straight out of the pages.

3. Christopher Lee, from The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.

Lee was the first “serious” Mycroft, depicting the character as a more athletic and icy sort of character. This is ironic, since “The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes” is mostly rather comedic in nature, although it does have its hard edges. With that said, while he is a bit more dramatic than earlier interpretations, he still has a lot of humorous bits and moments. Plus, it’s Christopher Lee: of COURSE he’s awesome.

2. Mark Gatiss, from Sherlock.

Gatiss not only plays Mycroft in the series, but is also one of its chief creators. As if the guy needed MORE power. This version rather famously plays up Mycroft as a very, VERY authoritarian figure: much colder and more mean-spirited than almost any other interpretation. At times, he’s more of an antagonist than a protagonist in the show. However, he does still have a heart hidden under his dictatorial ways, a fact that’s made clear literally from the start of the series, and does help Sherlock out in various ways throughout the show. I was sorely tempted to make him number one…hopefully the person I chose instead won’t disappoint.

1. Charles Gray, from the Granada Series.

Gray first played the character in the film “The Seven Per-Cent Solution,” but it’s the Granada series (with Jeremy Brett as his younger brother) that I REALLY recognize him for. Alongside Robert Morley (and possibly Stephen Fry), I would argue that this is the most book-accurate take on Mycroft there’s ever been. I love how even though he is depicted as the generally more lighthearted figure from the original stories, he’s not played up as a caricature or a cartoon, and can be serious when the moment calls for it. The show even had two episodes where Mycroft took the place of each of the Baker Street gang, with one episode teaming him up with his brother, and another teaming him up with Watson. Gatiss may be more recognizable nowadays, but for me, Gray IS Mycroft, just as Brett IS Sherlock and Colin Jeavons IS Lestrade, plain and simple.

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builtbybrokenbells · 2 years ago

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Spitfire | iii

Jake still can’t seem to get the girl from the bar off his mind, even after his time in Baltimore was long forgotten to everyone else. He spends his free time getting to know her, realizing quickly that she’s everything he’s dreamed of. She makes fast at showing him that not everyone is interested in him solely for the fame, but he’s still puzzled at how she pushed him to the brink of falling in love with her in only a mere few weeks.

Read part two here

Read part four here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: university exams/exam season (🤢), drinking, smoking (weed & cigarettes), long distance, annoying brotherly activities, fluff, mentions of provocative text messages, not really a whole lot w this one, but sorry if i missed any!

hi! here’s part three :) this is mostly a filler to advance to the main story, but i wanted to throw in some long distance fluffiness because i love hurting my own feelings! lots of dialogue to set the scene/relationship/emotion. as always, enjoy, and please be kind and ignore any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻🫶🏻 also disclaimer I am no longer a science student at university so some of the science-y stuff may not be perfectly accurate, no hate pls

An incoming call shook you from your focus, your eyes quickly darting down at your phone to see who it was from. You removed your glasses for a moment, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up. When you put them back on, you noticed that Jake was the one causing the disturbance. A small smile crossed your lips as you picked your phone up, swiping across the screen to accept the video call. His face appeared after a few seconds, a beaming grin plastered on his cheeks. His hair was damp, likely from him showering after the concert he’d just had. A few hours earlier, he promised he’d call when he got back to the hotel, and it wasn’t like Jake to forget a promise.

“Hello, beautiful.” He said before you had a chance to greet him. You let out a small laugh, clicking the lamp on that was sitting on your computer desk. You placed your phone against the screen of your laptop, propping it up so you didn’t have to hold it.

“Hello, handsome.” You greeted back. “But, I am far from beautiful right about now.” You dismissed him, taking your hair down from its messy bun and putting it back up, neater this time. “I think this paper is going to kill me.” You truly meant it. You were in the midst of writing your final thesis paper for your undergraduate degree. After doing a research credit all year long, the paper proved the most difficult of the whole process.

“I think you’re going to ace it.” He said, taking a seat on the hotel bed. “What’s it on, anyway? You never actually told me.” He was right; you’d been working on it the entire time you’d known him, but never dived into the specifics with him, too afraid of talking his ear off about your year-long journey.

“Um,” you gave a small chuckle, pulling out your draft report. “The study of blood-glucose measurement based on blood resistivity.” You muttered the title before tossing the book of paper back down. His eyes widened a bit, trying to process what you were saying, but he covered it up quickly with a supportive nod.

“I love it when you talk science to me.” He sighed, a note of humour radiating from him. You let out a giggle, happy he’d called to ease the tension between you and your work. “But, you know, could you give me a refresher on what exactly that means?” He asked, leaning back against his headboard. You noticed he was shirtless, feeling a small flutter in your stomach at the sight.

“You mean to tell me you can’t tell me all about a diabetic study based off voltage and curve fitting?” You asked, an incredulous look in your eye. He laughed, giving a shrug.

“I’m a bit rusty.” You admired his features, how beautiful he looked when he was happy. You also noticed he looked tired himself, his eyes drooping slightly.

“I’ve been doing a research credit for my degree. I read a study about something similar way back in high school and it stuck with me, because my father’s side of the family struggles with diabetes. My dad and two of my brothers have Type 1. I decided to take a deeper look into it for my thesis.” You explained. He gave you his full attention, humming an agreement to assure you he was listening. “But basically what I’m doing is experimenting to see if we can measure a persons blood-sugar level in a non-invasive way. I studied pulses with electrodes and compared the voltage to different blood-sugar levels on a curve to see if it’s a suitable way to calculate it.”

“Did it work?” He asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Well, sort of.” You scratched your head, furrowing your eyebrows slightly, trying to find the best way to explain it. “There’s definitely a correlation, and I think if it was studied further, it could genuinely get somewhere. It would be pretty cool if it did. Blood-sugar level tests are extremely troublesome in general. They take time, they’re painful, and super expensive in the long run. I know my family spent thousands of dollars on Will and Sam when they were kids, and we had good insurance. It was really interesting to look at. I’m glad I picked it, but almost seven months of study is a lot to compile into one report.” You chuckled. “It’s required to be 40-60 pages long.”

“I think you’re a genius,” he said as a matter-of-fact “and I know that whatever you put down on that paper is going to be fantastic.” He assured you. You gave him a smile, appreciating his words.

“I can only be so much of a genius with a recycled idea,” you reminded, sitting up in your chair. “But I’m almost done the bulk of the work now, so I can forget about it soon enough.”

“When is it due?” He questioned.

“Friday.” You sighed, looking at your calendar. “Three days to go and I’m officially done.”

“See? That’s not so bad. I’ll read it when you’re finished and tell you how amazing it is. I probably won’t understand any of it, but I do know how to give you a compliment.” He flashed the smile that you’d been missing so much. And he was right, he sure did know how to compliment you. It was his favourite pastime, even when you looked as run down as you did in that moment.

“And I would be more than delighted to share it with you.” You watched him again, more interested in him than you’d ever been in your schoolwork. “Anyway, enough about me. How’d your show go, rockstar?”

“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you,” the cheesy line was accompanied by a goofier grin. You rolled your eyes, both of you knowing you weren’t really annoyed with him. “It was good. The crowds are always amazing. We played really well, but I am tired though.”

“Of course you are; it’s hard work to put on a good show.” You sympathized. You could tell how much he loved what he did, but he was always exhausted when he called you at night, which was a common occurrence. He’d been gone for almost two weeks, now, and if he absolutely could not call you during the day, he texted as much as he could. Communication was never ceased, in turn, never leaving you wondering if he meant everything he’d told you. It only took him the length of the plane ride to use your number after he left, claiming he didn’t stop thinking of you once while he was flying away from you. Now, the end of your semester was quickly approaching, which meant the end of your bachelor studies as well.

The day you’d so conveniently ran into him at the coffee shop had sparked a beautifully blossoming relationship. That evening, both went back to your house, where he’d met your roommates (well, officially, at least) and you all had dinner together. You’d given him the house tour he’d been so eager for, and eventually you went back to his hotel with him. Much to everyone’s disbelief, it was completely PG the whole night, aside from a few kisses. You’d met his brothers, spent some time with them and were lucky enough to get to know them, even if it wasn’t much past the surface level. You and Jake spent the night talking, listening to music and really getting past the superficialities.

Not once did he make an advance, proving to you even further that he meant what he’d told you. You shared a bed with him night, falling asleep wrapped in each others arms with no intent for sex or any other hidden implications. It was something you’d never experienced before. When you woke, you got breakfast together. You went with him to the airport to see him off, and he’d kissed you. That’s where the intimacy ended. Now, you had to see him through a phone screen or a camera, always aching to be held by him again. It was the most peace you’d ever known from another person.

You were still nervous, finding it hard to integrate another person into your daily routine in such a way, but the process was made so much easier because of the type of person he was. He was understanding of your timidity, always kind and gentle, he was quick with his words and they were always sweet, and he was gorgeous. Making Jake a part of your every day life had been easier than anything you’d ever done. Nothing was official; it was mostly just phone calls and texting, even if it was constant. A lot of it was innocent, asking about each others days, or mindless chatter that you would never bother to share with anyone else. No matter what you had to say, he always seemed to want to listen. Occasionally, the flirting would take over. He was usually very respectful, he didn’t like to initiate until he knew you were okay with it, but every now and then, he’d send a risky text or picture first. Nothing too graphic, just enough to let you know he was thinking about you. You’d never admit it, but they were some of your favourite texts to receive. Sometimes you would send one first, particularly when it was a bad time for him, just to be an asshole.

You were still processing the entire situation. You’d never been in a relationship or a ‘situationship’, as some say, without it starting with sex, or at least the intent of only having sex. It was nice, knowing him so well before he knew you so intimately. The emotional intimacy felt way nicer than any physical gratification you could imagine. You felt yourself really falling for Jake, despite being so evasive of the idea when you first met him. You truly felt like he was someone you could love, or he was someone who could love you like you’d always wanted.

“When is your ceremony?” He asked. Your eyes shot up to the screen, breaking out of your thoughts.

“Uh, what, sorry?” You cleared your throat, feeling a bit embarrassed for zoning out.

“Your graduation ceremony?” He asked again, not bothered by having to repeat himself.

“Oh,” you looked at your calendar again, eyes tracking the days. There was a big red circle with the word ‘freedom’ scribbled in it. You chuckled to yourself, remembering when Eve had written it. She was over the moon for you when you submitted your credits for review to graduate. She was taking her degree slow, likely to finish in five years rather than four. Knowing that you would still be there with her while she finished, or that she wouldn’t have to leave you behind when she moved away, made both of you relieved beyond measure. “The 24th.” You clarified.

“I have a show that day.” His voice was sad. You felt a bit of disappointment at his words, but you understood. Besides, you’d only known him for a couple weeks; you couldn’t expect him to drop everything to go to your graduation when he barely knew you.

“That’s okay.” You assured him. “I didn’t expect you to go anyway.” You realized how harsh your words sounded after they came out. A solemn look fell across his features. “No, Jake, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” You rushed out. “I just meant that we’ve only been talking for a few weeks. I would never expect you to drop your whole life to come and see my ceremony.”

“You say that like you’re not important to me.” He said, fidgeting with something behind the screen.

“I know I am, Jake.” You assured him. “And you’re important to me, too. I just know that life is busy. Especially for you, rockstar.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe Eve will be generous enough to do a video call with me.” He suggested. You nodded, thinking that wasn’t a bad idea at all.

“I’ll have to ask her, but I’m sure she would. I think she likes you.” He let out a small laugh.

“Well that’s good, I guess.” His attention was disrupted by a knock on his door. “Hold on,” he mumbled, getting out of the bed. He continued holding the phone, not wanting to miss a moment of time talking to you. You heard his hotel door open, only being able to see his shoulder on the camera.

“Hello, brother.” You heard a voice say. You could recognize it as Josh’s. He’d joined your calls a fair few times over the last few weeks, just the same as Danny and Sam. You were slowly getting to know all of the boys, which was really making you feel like Jake was serious about this whole thing. “Care to partake?” You heard a laugh fall from Jake, warming your heart. You were certain that it had become your favourite sound in the whole world.

“Yeah, but she has to join, too.” Jake informed his brother.

“Oh, is that y/n?” Josh asked, his excitement growing. “Actually, I don’t think I even have to ask.”

“Hi, Josh!” Your voice echoed from the phone. You saw a struggle on the screen, hearing muffled bumps and noises, until eventually Josh’s smiling face popped into view.

“Hey, mama.” You could hear Jake arguing with his brother, trying to get his phone back. Josh seemed to be walking down the hallway, now, away from his twin. You couldn’t help but giggle at the interaction. “You wanna get drunk with us?” He asked. You eyed your laptop screen, internally debating if you should or not.

“You know, you guys are awfully bad influences.” You teased.

“Is that a yes?” You could see Jake approaching in the background of the camera, now. Josh raised his eyebrow at you in anticipation. He was still evading Jake, picking up his speed as he ran away from him.

“Josh, don’t pressure her into it.” Jake scolded. He sounded far away, you could barely make out what he was saying. You were having a hard time holding back your laughs, now. The whole situation was perfectly comedic and seemed to be exactly what you needed to feel better.

“Yeah, I’d love to, Josh.” You agreed. He let out a triumphant noise, halting his movement completely. Jake finally reached him, grabbing his phone back. You finally lost control of your laughter when you saw his grumpy expression appear in the frame. “Hi, honey.” You joked through bouts of giggles, wiping away a tear that had fallen.

“I’m glad you think he’s funny,” Jake tried to sound annoyed, but he was failing miserably, unable to stay upset while seeing you so happy. “Try being around him all of the time.”

“Oh come on, he’s not that bad.” You comforted, catching your breath.

“You have no idea.” He grumbled, making his way back to his hotel room. Josh appeared behind him, holding a liquor bottle in his hand. You stood yourself, throwing a hoodie on over your tank top. Jake watched you silently, admiring you. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, even when you were doing the most mundane tasks. You grabbed your cigarette pack from the desk and slipped it into the pocket. “Are you sure you want to stay on the phone? I can let you go, I know you have work to do.” The concern was dripping from his words.

“I’m okay, I want to talk to you guys. I wasn’t getting much work done, anyway. I think I just have to take a break, start fresh tomorrow.” You were lying, but only slightly. Your work was not going fantastic, but you were making progress. Still, you’d rather put the last bit of your report off until tomorrow if it meant you got to spend time with Jake, even if it was virtual.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Jake said, a note of warning in his tone.

“She wants to hang out with us, Jake. Don’t convince her to change her mind.” You could practically hear Josh’s eye roll in his statement.

“What, I’m not- you know what? Get out.” Even as he said it, there was a smile on his face and a ghost of a laugh in his voice. You thought it was sweet, how close the two boys were. Twin thing aside, they really were best friends. They knew each other better than anyone else, and they were always functioning on the same wavelength. Even when they were mad at each other, they were never really mad.

Almost nightly you’d see an appearance from Josh in your FaceTimes with Jake. He’d instantly added you on his personal social media’s, wanting to know you just as bad as Jake did, but for a different reason. You remembered back to a few days after they left, how Josh had sent you a message telling you that ‘if Jake talked so highly about you, he had to know you, too’. The instant acceptance was heartwarming. The boys reminded you of your own brothers. You were excited for them all to meet, eventually. They’d talked on the phone a few times, but you couldn’t wait for them to all be together and really know each other.

Just as you were exiting your room, your phone began to vibrate again. A grin pulled at your lips. Your brother Sam was calling, too. “Hold on, guys.” You said, clicking the hold button on your current call and answering the video from your sibling. “Hello, spawn of Satan.” You greeted as soon as the call connected.

“I’m really starting to question if you love me or not.” He shot back. You chuckled.

“Oh, I do love you, brother dearest, but it’s because I have to.” You teased. “Hold on, I’m on the phone with Jake. I’m going to merge it.” You informed him. He gave a nod. You clicked into the other call, pressing the merge button. Within a moment, the screen was shared between Jake and Sam. It took Jake a moment to realize what happened, but when he did, his eyes lit up.

“It’s other Sam!” He said. Your brother cracked a smile, probably larger than any one he’d ever given you.

“What’s up, rockstar?” Sam asked. Josh peeked his head into view, not wanting to miss out on any of the conversation. “Twin rockstars!” Jake and Josh got a chuckle out of it. You’d instantly told Sam about Jake, calling him right after you got home from the airport. Sam, being a nosy little shit, did a deep dive of him on all social media’s. Within a few days, all of your brothers knew about him, and were begging you to let them meet him. So, you thought you’d ease the transition by allowing them on a few of your calls with him. Sam had taken to him immediately, especially upon learning he also had a brother named Sam. According to him, it was fate that you and Jake ended up together. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted to date Jake, too.

“Glad I’m so easily forgettable.” You rolled your eyes, making your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. Ally was sitting at the table with a bowl of soup and her laptop in front of her. She looked like she’d been crying, staring down her final assignment with a look of disdain on her face. Exam season always put a damper on the household mood. You walked over and gave her a supportive shoulder pat, knowing you were close to the same mental state. Sam found himself chatting away with the other two boys, completely ignoring your comment, which only proved your point further. “M’going outside, if you wanna join.” You told her. She shook her head, barely being able to formulate words.

“I have to finish this.” She groaned, relaxing into her chair. “Due tomorrow.”

“Stuck?” You asked, peering down at her screen. She nodded. You gazed at the question that was left answerless, the last one on the page. “Is this Calc III?” She gave a nod. “Okay, where’s your work for it so far?” She pointed out a paragraph.

“I just can’t seem to get the numbers to work out.” She let out a long sigh, throwing her pencil down on the table. You looked over it for a minute, studying the numbers she was using.

“Okay, it’s a relation between a flux and a line integral, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” You turned the volume down on your phone a bit, not wanting to distract her while the boys talked.

“You remember the unit where you talked about the three main integral theorems?” She gave a hum, seeming to get what you’re saying. “One of those has an equation that will solve this question. And you’ll need to remember it for the exam, too, because there’s a couple questions about it.” You told her. She looked like she was wracking her brain for an answer, desperate to remember what you were talking about. After a moment, it seemed to click.

“Stoke’s theorem!” She exploded, catching the attention of all of the boys on the phone call. She noticed the lack of noise, a blush rising to her cheeks. You held up your hand for a high-five, helping her forget about her outburst. “Thank you.” She whispered.

“No problem,” you assured her “now, if you want to join, I will be outside getting fucked up. I am trying to forget about my thesis.” She let out a small laugh.

“How many pages?” She asked.

“I am on page 51, if you must know. Nearly there!” You cheered yourself on. “I should be able to finish it tomorrow.” You went to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of wine and a container of cut up fruit someone had bought at the grocery store.

“I believe in you.” She said, turning back to her laptop. “I might be out in a bit. I haven’t seen Eve all day. Not sure if she’s alive or not, so I’ll have to check on her first.” You saw Sam perk up at the mention of Eve’s name. He probably hadn’t heard from her, either. She was fully immersed in studying, more so than anyone else. She took her exams extremely serious. With a smaller course load, she wanted to ensure her marks were as best as they could be. You were proud of her for it. She worked really hard, but you did miss her presence during exam weeks.

“Saw her this morning drinking orange juice from the bottle, haven’t seen her since.” You informed her. The two of you shared a laugh. “She’s alive, just in hermit mode.”

You parted ways, opening the front door after putting on a pair of slippers. You moved over to the patio chairs placed around a table on the porch. It was a closed porch with large glass windows and another door leading to the street. You thought it was peaceful, finding it your favourite spot in the whole house. You sat down, resting your feet on the table. You pulled out a joint and a cigarette from the cardboard box in your pocket. “What did I miss?” You asked them, now focusing on your screen again.

“We were actually just talking about how much we hate you,” Sam said, a hint of fake sympathy accompanying his words.

“Mmhmm,” you mumbled, joint now between your lips and your lighter setting the tip ablaze. You took a large inhale, the cherry glowing red in the dim lighting. A billow of smoke flowed from your mouth as you exhaled. Almost instantly, you felt the tension melt off your shoulders. Josh seemed positively buzzed, his cheeks burning red and his smile never leaving. Sam looked as though he was ready for bed, eyes heavy and bloodshot. You were sure he’d been high for hours. Jake was sipping a drink silently, but his eyes never seemed to move from the camera.

“Alex and I are flying in Friday morning.” Sam said. Your eyes lit up, a course of adrenaline flowing through your veins.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Yeah, we decided to come early, spend some with with you before mom and dad got there. I think our flight leaves here at five.” He explained. “So you better have all of your shit done, because we want to party.” He warned.

“It will be, don’t worry.” You promised. “I think I’ll have my report done by tomorrow. I just have to type the conclusion and my entire novel of sources.” You chuckled to yourself, looking down at the joint between your fingers. “I’ll get Ally to proofread it; she said she would a few days ago. After that, I’m a free woman.” You announced, feeling proud of yourself for getting this far.

After that, the chatter died down. Sam eventually hung up, telling everyone he was tired and wanted to go to bed. You bid your goodbye, already feeling the anticipation begin for his arrival. You and the twins continued on with mindless conversation, sipping away at your drinks. When you cigarette pack was down to the last three, and the bottle of wine was threatening the end, Josh was ready to retire for the night, too. He was dozing off in Jake’s bed every so often, a small snore falling from his mouth periodically. You were caught up in Jake, not caring that the rest of the company had dwindled down. He was exhausted but still immersed in your conversations about nothing, and everything.

It wasn’t too long before Josh stumbled away to his own hotel room. He gave a solemn goodnight, telling you that he wished you were there with them, before he toddled away. Your cheeks were warm in the cool night air, the liquor and weed weighing heavily on you, but not any more than your tiredness.

When Jake settled into bed under the covers, as much as sleep wanted to become him, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. “Are you going to bed, beautiful?” He mumbled. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. He was barely formulating the words, head buried so deep in the pillow you could hardly see him anymore.

“I think you probably should.” You told him, concern becoming you. “We can talk tomorrow, rockstar.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled “just want you here with me.” Your heart ached, hating to admit to yourself that you felt the same way.

“I know, I do too.” You finally mustered out. As much as you enjoyed talking with Jake, and as aware as you were about your feelings for him, the opening up part was proving quite difficult. You had no problem with the flirting, or the endless conversations, or even the sex talk, but telling him how you truly felt was troublesome. You weren’t sure if it was because you were scared of rejection, or because you were just scared of falling in love with him. “I miss you.” You whispered.

“I miss you too, beautiful.” He seemed more alert now, energized by the fact you’d made that proclamation first, this time.

“When can I see you again?” You picked at some frayed strings on your pants, avoiding looking at him.

“Soon, I promise. Once you finish school, I’ll take you around the world with me.” His smile brought your attention back to him. You found it impossible to look anywhere else. Your chest burned at his statement, wondering if he was being truthful or not.

“You mean it?”

“Never meant anything more in my life.” He assured you. “I hate sleeping alone, now, ‘cause I know what it’s like to sleep next to you.” You stood to go back inside, butting out your last cigarette of the night before entering through the front door and locking it behind you. You didn’t answer him until you were in your bedroom with the door closed.

“Don’t make promises you don’t mean, rockstar.” You took off your sweater and your pants, climbing into bed. The alcohol was buzzing through your veins, making your head feel a bit fuzzy. You were more than ready for bed.

“I’ve never told you anything I didn’t mean, baby.” The pet name rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like he was meant to call you that all along, but it hit you with such an impact that you were sure it had stopped your heart for a moment. He’d called you plenty of other names, more in a compliment context, but such a domestic title was something very new. He didn’t even notice the effect it had on you; he was laying there with his eyes closed, phone only showing half of his face in the frame. When you didn’t answer, he opened one of his eyes to see what was going on. “I’m sorry, did that bother you? I wasn’t thinking,” he rushed out.

“No, Jake. It’s okay.” You reassured him. “I liked it.” A small smile creeped onto his face. You couldn’t help but return it. “I think I’m falling for you, rockstar.” You breathed after a moment too long.

“I already have, witchy woman.” His eyes were open again, watching the blush spread across your cheeks. That was the best way he could say it, because he was afraid he’d already fallen in love with you. He was glad he could at least tell you a sliver of what he was feeling for you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Soon,” you said, curling up into your blankets.

“Can we stay on the phone tonight?” He asked. “I don’t want to hang up.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” You turned over, plugging your phone into the charger. You set your phone on your nightstand, propped up against a book so he could see you. He shuffled around, doing the same thing. This wasn’t the first time you’d fallen asleep with him on the phone. You hadn’t done it in a few days, though. It was nice. When the days permitted, sometimes you even got to wake up to him before he had to go. He usually waited as long as he could before hanging up so he could at least try to say good morning. If you were awake first, you did the same. You really enjoyed the little routines you two had been building together.

You both settled into your beds, rustling in the pillows and blankets to find the comfiest position. You watched your phone, wanting to soak in every second of seeing his face. “Goodnight, beautiful.” He mumbled, sleep calling to him. “Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning.” He said it as if it were a promise.

“Goodnight, rockstar.” You whispered. His eyes fluttered closed as he bit his tongue, holding back any other words. The ‘L’ word was always so dangerously close to slipping out of his mouth. He felt so stupid, wanting to say ‘I love you’, when he’d only known you for a few weeks, but he felt like he really did. He’d never met anyone else who made him feel like you did, and it started from the minute he saw you.

Before you closed your own eyes, they drifted to the wall behind your computer desk. The record sleeve of one of Jake’s albums stood so beautifully prominent, his signature illuminated by your desk lamp. Your gaze lingered over the sharpie marks, stomach fluttering at the memory of him writing it. You fell asleep with a smile, already excited to wake up to him in the morning.

Tag list: @gvfpal @jakesgrapejuice

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