#all these horrible memories are responses you had to someone continually messing you about and wreaking havoc on your self-esteem like

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mentions of weapons

↳ song: don't try suicide—queen

masterlist!

• It had been a slow day at the prison when Rick suggested setting up a shooting range

• It wasn't unlike the time he had attempted to teach Carl and the other how to shoot back on Hershel's farm; only now there were a lot more holsters to fill and targets to find

• He tasked you and Daryl with going out and finding spare bullets and targets specifically for that purpose. The seemingly simple task quit being simple the moment Rick picked the two of you to be paired together. A small supply run resulted in the two of you arguing about who was the better shooter

• "Oh c'mon that's bullshit." Daryl snarked, kicking up dead leaves and stray sticks as he walked next to you. "Both of us know I'm th' one with better aim."

• "Oh yeah? What about that time at the camp when I shot an apple of your head with your own bow, Dixon. How's that for aim?" You huffed in response, pulling out the memory with a smugness. A scoff came from your left

• "I call that dumb luck, kid." He replied, grinning when you glared at him without any real malice

• You just stuck your tounge out at him when he turned his head, quickly falling back into a normal pose whenever he whipped his gaze around to you

• "Did you jus' blow a fuckin raspberry at me?"

• "What are you talking about? See, this is what I mean. You're already losing your mind from old age. How could you possibly be a better shot than me."

• The playful bickering continued all the way through the forest and into town, eventually becoming a competition to see who could kill the most walkers the quietest

• "Do the ones I shot on the way here count?" You asked in a tone barely above a whisper, eye's sqinted in concentration as you observed the town block from atop a building

• "No." Daryl grunted and offered nothing more

• "Damnnit."

• It was nearly sundown when you got back, targets slung over your backs and pockets stuffed with ammo, only to be bickering rather loudly over who had the most hits

• Rick watched as the gates opened to let you in, a small smile on his face at the materials you had brought with

• "Thank you both." He'd began, only to pause abruptly when he realized you weren't stopping for him. Either of you, actually. Both you and Daryl just strolled right on by him, talking up a storm about whatever it was you were

• "The one in the drug store made eleven!" You huffed. Daryl just raised and eyebrow and shook his head, rebutting your argument

• "I ain't seen the body, so no way." Both of you stopped in unison at the courtyard to shrug off the items you had brought back, the spell that had fallen over you both not breaking all the while. "Besides, even if it did count, that still puts you behind me three."

• "You had an advantage with your stupid ass bow!" Came your exasperated response

• "I had no idea you were a sore loser." Daryl smirked, letting out a sound that mirrored a laugh as you went to hit him

• "I'm not, I just don't like to play with cheaters, you redneck!"

• "Whatever." He grinned and shoved you back, both of you doing a horrible job to contain the smiles on your faces

• From a few yards away, Rick watched the whole exchange with the slightest grin of his own, only looking away when he heard someone else pull up beside him

• "Haven't seen that out of them in a long time." Hershel smiled softly, referring to the way you and Daryl messed with each other

• "Yeah." Rick nodded. A beat passed before he spoke again. "It's a nice change of pace."

• A pause. Nothing but the sound of wind blowing throughout the tall grass and your voice in the distance sounded

• "Think we should leave them to it, Rick?"

• "Oh definitely."

[thgobsessed]

Just a little Finnickxreader I wrote while pulling an all-nighter

Hot tears silently rolled down your cheeks as you cried, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake your boyfriend Finnick who was sleeping soundly beside you. Fortunately your nightmares had gotten less frequent since you left that horrible arena, but they never got easier to deal with. You had had a particularly bad one tonight, causing you to wake up in tears.

You slowly wriggled out of the covers and pushed yourself out of bed, wincing at every creak it made. After confirming that Finnick was still asleep, you tiptoed out of your bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen.

Your tears continued to fall as you made your tea, the nightmare and memories of the arena still fresh in your mind. You wrapped your trembling hands around the warm mug and curled up on the couch, finding some peace in the snow falling outside which was illuminated by the moonlight.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice coming from the top on the stairs.

“Love?” Finnick called softly, the stairs creaking as he made his way down. You sighed. You had not meant to wake him, and your heart ached at the thought of being such a burden, making you want to cry even more.

Finnick, always being one to notice when something’s been bothering you, instantly sat down beside you. He carefully pried the hot cup of tea from your hands and placed in on the coffee table, scooping you effortlessly into his lap. He wrapped his arm securely around your waist and rubbed small circles with his thumb on your side, gently brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face and combing through it with his other hand. He always loved your hair. He loved whenever he got to run his fingers through your soft h/c locks. He loved the fact that only he got to do that, no one else. You were his and he was yours, always.

“Nightmare?” He asks softly, already knowing the answer. He too suffered from nightmares about the arena once in a while. He was more of a suffer-in-silence kind of guy though, not really liking to bother you with his inner turmoils. You just nod and whimper in response, feeling a little silly for crying over some stupid nightmare. You knew that Finnick had to go through much worse, especially during his trips to the Capitol. You weren’t really worried about the women he had his “affairs” with though, because you knew that he had no choice. It was either that, or President Snow would kill someone he loved. That, and you knew that Finnick’s heart belonged to you and you only, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

Finnick eased your head against his chest and continued to stroke your hair soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek. Finnick wipes the tear away as quickly as it appears, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment longer as a frown forms on his lips.

“For what? You did nothing wrong, love,” he replied just as quietly, heart breaking at the sight of your tearstained face. He hated that he couldn’t save you from whatever was going on in your mind.

“For being such a mess,” you sobbed, burying your face into his t-shirt as more tears escaped from your eyes. “I mean, you have to go through so much worse, I don’t deserve to be crying over some stupid nightmare.”

“No… no no, darling listen to me,” he begged, shifting you on his lap to where you’re looking at him and gripping your hand in his. “Please don’t discount your feelings like that. You have every right to feel what you’re feeling. Nothing that I have to do or go through will ever change that.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you…” you murmured, looking down at your intertwined hands. You didn’t deserve this man, and you certainly didn’t deserve his comfort.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting up your chin to look at him. “It’s no problem. No problem at all. I want you to wake me when you have a nightmare, okay? You don’t have to suffer alone all the time.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, staring into his deep sea-green eyes filled with love and affection. He chuckled softly, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes.

“Oh come now, none of that nonsense. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, love,” he said, planting a gentle, loving kiss on your forehead before his expression became serious. “I love you. Don’t you know that by now?” You sighed.

“I know… but I still don’t know why.” He frowned and pushed a strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. He looked genuinely hurt.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” He breathed, stroking your cheek with his thumb. His heart broke in two when he saw the uncertainty in your eyes. He pulled you into his chest and continued to stroke your hair. “Let’s see… I love your eyes, your smile, your personality, your hair, the way you make me smile, and most importantly, I love every single one of your flaws.” You smiled.

“I love you, Finn,” you whispered gratefully, tilting up your head to look at him.

“I love you too, darling. More than anything,” he replies in an equally quiet tone, peppering your face with little kisses. “And don’t you dare forget it.”

[color-coded-cryptid]

how kyoya got his scars: a headcanon

tw/cw for gang attacks, semi-graphic/detailed descriptions of violence, mentions of knives

kyoya and kakeru, ages 10 and seven, were taking a late night walk

maybe to get ice cream or another treat, or just for the hell of it

kakeru runs ahead, and kyoya thought it was fine since he could still see him, but a group of high school/college age boys made their way out of a nearby alleyway

they weren’t planning on doing anything, but when kakeru crashed into them by accident, they got mad

they grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, hoisted him up in the air, effectively asphyxiating him

kyoya obviously saw all of this, and he just had to save his brother, so he ran up to them with vigor

an angry expression painted on his face, he yelled at them to let kakeru go, offering himself as a punching bag

“i’m older, i can hold out longer, you’ll get a real beating in with someone like me!”

or something along those lines

the group, the delinquents, the outcasts, thought about it

this kid didn’t know what he was saying, but he was confident

that’s respectable as hell, they thought

so they threw kakeru off to the side, and grabbed kyoya instead

“you’ve got spunk, kid, but it’s misplaced. after this, you’ll know who not to mess with!”

they grabbed his neck and pinned him to the ground, along with his arms and his legs and a hand pressing on his forehead, ensuring he couldn’t move an inch

with kyoya bound and restrained, they grabbed their knives, and carved into his cheeks

it was getting late, and the street lights were starting to turn on, so they left

they feared kyoya’s screams in pain and kakeru’s desperate pleading would attract attention, and they didn’t want to get caught

kyoya’s face was drenched in red, his bottom eyelids were sliced in half, there was blood in his eyes, he was scared to open them

kakeru helped him up—with one hand grabbing onto his brother’s for dear life, and the other planted firmly over his eyes, kyoya let kakeru lead him home

they were both in a frenzy, kakeru more so than kyoya, since the older of the two was still in shock, still living in the moment of the attack

he barely registered the handhold, but as soon as it was broken, he felt alone

he started to panic, feeling as if kakeru left him for good, as if his attempt to save his brother was for not

kyoya became very resistant to touch

kakeru was the only one who could touch him, grab him, hold him, and not bring about horribly terrifying memories

every thought about the event made his wounds burn, more than they already did

even after they scarred over, they would burn

his parents hired a therapist for him, and thankfully, it helped

he wasn’t plagued by haunting nightmares every time he closed his eyes, and he was much better about being touched

he still didn’t like it, but it didn’t scare him anymore

being grabbed on the other hand, well.. that was a different story

nobody but kakeru was allowed to grab him (although he allowed his parents to from time to time)

that transferred over to his teenage years

although it’s a lot more manageable now, kyoya still didn’t allow anyone to grab him

if touch happened, then it happened, and he would just yell at whoever caused it

if he was grabbed, his body would tense up and his fight or flight response would kick in, often times leading to kyoya pushing or punching or kicking the person away

by the start of his adulthood, he’s better with it

he prefers not to have it happen, but it doesn’t make him uncomfortable per se anymore

kyoya is healing

he learned not to care about his scars back when he was a young teenager, being the leader of the face hunters will do that to you

but now that he’s an adult, he can view them in a brighter light

he sees them as an accomplishment of sorts, showing off to everyone that he was able to protect his little brother, and he didn’t die trying

he survived, and he’s going to continue surviving

[sweetfickle]

People will never cease to amaze me in this life.

I thought that I had seen it all and heard it all until…..

I was accused of setting fire to my own home.

How can I be a horrible person and still want what’s best for everyone else while I take a back seat to everything?

How can I be insulted to my face and still love the person trying to break me down?

How can I give so much of myself to people and yet never ask for anything in return?

I have been called Satan, evil, a liar and a cheater more times in the last few weeks than I think I’ve ever even said those words myself.

If all of this is true about me then why does anyone continue to speak to me?

I’ve been called a narcissist, a jezebel, the devil and more over.

I have looked for the reasons to this within myself and wonder what I have done so wrong in this life to be treated like I am nothing.

I am 46 years old and I am still learning how to navigate through this world most days.

I thought I had it all pretty well together now. Made good choices and took care of my responsibilities.

A few bad choices over the years but took accountability for it and paid my dues. Took the punishments.

I will admit that I am a beautiful mess at times. A train wreck when it comes to communication. But I find myself shutting down and not knowing how to come back up for air.

I feel like I’m reliable and trustworthy and have the ability to take a problem and fix it.

I know I have a big personality and a I don’t give a fuck attitude. But damn. I have to have that to survive sometimes. This world is cruel and fierce and on days I feel like I can’t go on I look around at all I have and push through the madness.

I don’t feel I have ever done a person wrong on purpose. And if I made a mistake I made up for it and asked for forgiveness.

I fight for the ones I love and go above and beyond my loyalty.

I will always admit if I am wrong and I will always stand up for what is right.

I do not do this for accolades or glory or recognition.

I have never been selfish a day in my life and would give someone anything if I felt they needed it more than me.

I feel distant and lonely and 100% defeated. I have never felt so betrayed in my life and yet I still love him.

The pain of letting go is hard but I feel it is necessary in order to get up off the ground he has put me on.

I don’t understand why God has allowed this to happen but I can only believe that he has a plan for me. A plan for happiness one way or another.

The unrealistic version of myself that someone else has painted is starting to make my search for his truths.

Did I do it? Have I become this monster that I’m being made out to be? I can’t for the life of me understand any of it. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle with too many missing pieces.

I’m hunting for the fragments and trying to gather everything that resembles what I remember of who I was and who I am now and who I need to be to handle this devastating blow to my heart and soul.

Everything has been taken from me and I’m just a hollow shell of someone that looks like me.

With pure intentions I am now questioning everything I have ever known.

Take the hex off, cleanse the soul. Something. I’m begging you. Why me? Why you? You were not supposed to be the one who puts me under. We were supposed to lift each other up and make the pieces fit to the life we wanted.

Now it’s just wasted time and even more dismal memories. Feelings gone and an empty desert of emotions.

Cold as ice yet the burns are agony.

[bejcwcled]

"it only gets trickier when they start to come back. maybe you're the lucky one not remembering. i know my head is a mess trying to sort things out. odin knows my relationships are all a mess." he shook his head. right now he either wished to still not have the memories and continue living in ignorant bliss or to have them all back. "oh well... i'm sorry if i was a pest." he had to have been right? why would want someone who was always whining around? why would anyone want him around in the first place? tony wanting him in the first place was anomaly but to have two people love him... no that just didn't sound believable. "really? well then i'm glad i have you in my corner." he couldn't help but smile at that news. perhaps sif had been wrong all those years ago when she said he'd deserved to be alone and always would be. "yeah. add it to the list of reasons why he's not my first contender for-" he cut himself off. that probably was not the best way to tell his ex that he was engaged. was there a good way? it was so tricky with mobius being the closest thing he had to a best friend before all this. "i am very happy to have her in my life. she's made me less lonely these last few months. almost made up for forgetting you." okay so maybe he wasn't brave enough to call mobius his best friend and here it possibly be shot down. "i think i kind of remember that. there was this guy, o.b. i think, i talked to a little while ago and well... it brought back some memories of you, of us. i miss it. us being close." he wasn't sure if that was a possibility anymore but he hoped he could still have mobius in his life some way. "you'd want to? even after horribly i've treated you lately?" he asked staring at mobius in disbelief. "you sure? i feel like i'm a bit responsible for it too. i was... i humored some other people more than you on the memory thing. yeah we definitely deserve some fun." he agreed nodding. "yeah. they just bring back other unpleasant memories. i have enough nightmares on my own." he was rather surprised he wasn't made fun of for that. he was expecting to be teased at the very least. "i've been told about that some. still don't really understand it. just know it has a bad reputation or its leader... leaders do? so then you know what i am? how i'm not even the good kind of alien. not even asgardian." @xtinyslip

"ehhhhhh. it's... well, as you well know. it's complicated. i don't know exactly how much of my past i don't remember. too late now anyway, doesn't matter anymore. not sure it ever did." sure, he could sit and dwell on it but it hadn't been his life. had it? it hadn't and... this was his life and even if this wasn't what he had ever been expecting. he was just trying to make it work. "here and there." it was difficult because he knew different variants of loki and yet... they almost felt like the same one. with being trapped here, being stuck here and not being able to get back. it was getting harder and harder to remember that they were different people. maybe that was wrong, he didn't even know anymore. "never enough to put me off though so you don't worry about bothering me. let you in on a little secret? deep down, i wouldn't have it any other way." he smiled sadly at that. when he thought about just how much he actually missed his best friend? ugh, it hurt. it really did. "fake daughter, huh? that's... harsh? look... if she's real to you and you're happy? if you say she's your kid? then, that's enough for me." it was weird but seriously -- wasn't weird just part of all their lives? and loki having a kid? damn stranger things had happened. "yeah, it would make sense that you remember that. we didn't attend together but... as always it didn't take us long to find each other. i lost you in the chaos --" he could go into all the shit stark had done but... he wouldn't. not willingly. hadn't they all done shit they weren't proud of? "well, would you look at that? i could use a friend to go with too." of course, he smiled at that, gently placing a hand on loki's shoulder. things hadn't been great between them for what felt like the longest time and that honestly sucked. mobius didn't really have anyone he cared about here. jeez, loki was probably the only one? and losing him had truly sucked. "i feel like a lot of that might have been on me. i'll take the hit for this one. feels like you and me have been through hell and back. hey, and more than once. feel like we deserve to have some fun now. eh?" he smiled hopefully, dropping the hand he realised had still been on loki's shoulder. sure, mobius could have made a joke, poked fun that loki was scared of movies. it did seem a little... strange with everything he'd faced but hey. who the hell was anyone to judge and he hated how loki had looked down like that. no. "they make that stuff way to realistic these days. right? it's why i'm sticking to the old ones." he smiled, hoping the other knew he didn't have to feel even remotely embarrassed in front of him. "... i worked for a place called the tva. we saw a bunch of weird shit all the time. vampires? kree? uh, aliens... i guess you'd call them? not the best term but -- there's a hell of a lot." @bejcwcled

[soracities]

are we ever free from feelings of inadequacy? i've had a horrible dating experience with someone who consciously led me on for months (being overbearingly romantic on the phone, then giving me a cold shoulder when meeting irl etc etc) and i thought therapy helped me see past that deception. now i met this amazing girl who's actually been pretty direct about her feelings for me and even though we flirt all the time and we had a few wonderful dates, the fact that we're still in the "uncertain" phase where we havent put a label on our relationship (not saying we should rush to do that, though, i think this progression is great as it is) brings back all the negative memories. begging for a confirmation, reading too much into mixed messages, assuming the worst at all times. its hard having to confront trauma so often, but i'll keep trying because i dont want to ruin this connection 😔

i think one thing that has really, drastically, re-formulated how i think about rejection and hurt in relationships is when ask polly said that "the pain of heartbreak is not so bad when you take shame out of the picture". and i think, especially, when someone treats you in the way you were treated, subtracting whatever shame you may be feeling from the other person's behaviour is the most vital thing because what they did, what they chose to do, had nothing to do with you. we internalise other people's crappiness by rationalising that there must have been something we did or something about us that's inherently negative to warrant them treating us that way--maybe if you were prettier, or funnier, or more interesting, or more this or that, or not enough of this and not enough of that they would have cared for you more, or been more interested but the truth is that there is nothing you can do to make another person decide to treat you with basic decency. decency and respect that is conditional is not decency and respect. people act crappy and cruelly from personal issues they are either unable, or unwilling, to address but that doesn't mean you need to take their actions onto yourself as confirmation that you don't deserve care, attention, communication, and respect. there is no part of you that secretly deserved this treatment because you weren't good enough and no measure of your own worthiness and value as a human being that is now diminished because someone else didn't have the basic decency to not toy with your feelings. your worth and importance and deserving of respect from others exists regardless of what someone else does or doesn't do, regardless of their behaviour towards you, and regardless of any mistakes you yourself make or any flaws you see in yourself. you don't have to earn decent treatment from the people you date (or anyone, really). i don't know if feelings of inadequacy ever go away (i'm still working on mine), but i do know that when you learn to establish your own worth (as a potential partner for someone, as a friend, a colleague, a student, whichever) as an independent fact, not contingent on other people seeing it and accepting it, then i think it does become easier to deal with hurt like this -- i'm not saying you will never ever feel pain, but that maybe it will feel less devastating because you can separate other people's hurtful and careless actions from this idea that you are somehow lessened for having been subjected to it, or that it meant you were lesser to begin with. in the same way that you can make a mistake without it being an indictment of your entire person, you can be hurt and rejected by others (whether they do it respectfully or not) without it being undeniable proof of what you may feel is your own unlovability (which doesn't exist, for anyone, ever).

it is hard, but i think you also deserve to show a little kindness to yourself and look at where you are now, the effort you are making and the work you are putting in to move closer to your own happiness, to where you were before therapy and dealing with the fallout of someone who treated you and your feelings so callously. did you ever think, in the immediate aftermath of that, that you would ever feel confident trusting someone again? that you would find someone who not only genuinely liked you but also respected you enough to be direct about how they felt, who would not treat you the same way this person did? could you have imagined then the possibility of having a connection like this at all? of not having your life dictated by the fear and the hurt of what this person did to you to be willing to step out for yourself once again?

i think it is important, of course, to acknowledge the past and where any lingering hurt and fear remains and bring it out into the open, but it's also just as important to set that in contrast to your present and what it, and you, looks like now. revisiting the effect that other person's treatment had on you doesn't mean you need to, or will, be living in the past forever as you do so. you're simply coming back to it with new tools that you did not have a month ago, three months ago or whenever, in order to better understand and work through something you weren't able to properly address then. even if you find yourself coming back to these worries a few months from now and trying to deal with them, you will still be doing so as a different person than you were the last time. this is why it's so important to allow yourself to recognise the progress you have made; i can only imagine how profoundly painful and belittling that dating experience was for you and i'm so sorry that you were put through such cruelty, but the fact that you are still meeting people and trying your best to carve out happiness for yourself by addressing these fears as best you can speaks SO much to your own self-awareness and resilience and growth and it's something to be proud of. i hope you can see this and accept this and love this about yourself some day, even though it may be hard to internalise right now, especially given everything you had to work through.

i don't know if you are still seeing them, but i think if you need to, it may be a good idea to revisit therapy with your current concerns so that whoever you talk to can help give more clarity on the healthiest ways to approach these worries with respect to where you are now. i don't think therapy is always as straightforward as something like straining a muscle, or appendicitis where there's a course of treatment and then (usually) you're done -- it's an on and off thing, changing with circumstances and experiences, and while you may have made amazing strides in getting past what this person did to you, there's nothing wrong with going back to get more advice and guidance if you need it and feel it would help you. for what it's worth i'm immensely proud of you for all the effort that you are making to heal and move on from such an awful experiences, and that you have found a connection with someone who respects your feelings and you far more than that person ever did. i hope you are able to grow this connection at the pace that makes you most comfortable and that, bit by bit, you are able to see your own worth in this and work through the lingering pain you need to work through. you deserve to be happy and cared for and that doesn't and won't ever change, no matter how badly someone else has treated you x

[noteguk]

any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship 

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here 

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no. 

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles. 

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying. 

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower. 

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times. 

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener. 

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync. 

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling. 

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure. 

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell. 

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates. 

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt. 

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night. 

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?” 

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.” 

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...” 

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked. 

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.” 

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated. 

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.” 

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.” 

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!” 

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said. 

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa. 

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense. 

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.” 

“How’s that possible?” he asked. 

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you. 

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.  

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.” 

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.” 

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years. 

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird. 

But you also kind of didn’t care. 

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?” 

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked. 

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down. 

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?” 

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in. 

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. 

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point. 

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”  

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him. 

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt. 

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind. 

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations. 

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?” 

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on. 

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were. 

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.” 

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth. 

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations. 

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.” 

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue. 

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…” 

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them. 

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him,  meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer. 

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry. 

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression. 

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.” 

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him. 

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.” 

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats. 

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.” 

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked. 

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you. 

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. 

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to. 

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?” 

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try. 

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you. 

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?” 

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.” 

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.” 

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…” 

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you. 

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips. 

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.” 

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered. 

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss. 

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch. 

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream.  “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.” 

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.” 

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.” 

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name. 

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.” 

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…” 

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever. 

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.” 

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“ 

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.” 

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.” 

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.” 

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.” 

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again. 

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you. 

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts.  “Hey, ___?” He called. 

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

[sweetteaanddragons]

Do You Remember Me?

“They tell me you’re the king now,” Feanor said with bright eyed curiosity. “Is it always one of your responsibilities to welcome the newly re-embodied?”

The first sentence, Finarfin had to admit, was not wholly unexpected.

. . . Even if it was said with far more cheerful curiosity than he had heard from his half-brother in - a long time.

“Not always,” he admitted. “Time would not permit it. But I was eager to see you again.”

Anxious. Furious. Bewildered.

But eager.

Feanor’s face brightened. “Again? We knew each other?”

Finarfin’s cautious smile froze. He turned, very slowly, to face Namo where he sat on his throne of judgement.

“My lord?” he asked through teeth that were still gritted into his most diplomatic smile. 

“It was decided that it would be unjust to require Feanor to remain in these halls since even the commanders who fought at Doriath were long since returned, and he committed fewer crimes than they.”

“ . . . Technically, yes,” he agreed. “Although I would point out that my nephews who died at Doriath are also not yet returned.”

“In their due time,” Namo said. “Unlike Feanor, their spirits were not yet healed.”

Finarfin inclined his head.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Feanor offered.

Finarfin resisted the urge to scream.

“He does not remember his own sons?”

“He does not remember anything,” Namo said.

“But I’m learning more all the time!” Feanaro said. “For instance, if my sons are your nephews, you must be my brother. Older, I’m presuming, since you’re king. Or do we use a different system?”

“It’s gotten . . . complicated,” Finarfin said. “Since people started leaving. And dying. And secluding themselves in whatever exile they find most aesthetically appropriate.”

And, apparently, returning with amnesia.

He took a deep breath and tried addressing Namo again.

“Why doesn’t he remember anything?”

“It was unjust to leave him to languish,” Namo repeated, “but it seemed likely to stir up trouble to send him back to the world of the living as he was.”

“Apparently, I committed crimes,” Feanor said helpfully. “Though no one will tell me what they were. Do you know? I’m afraid I don’t remember our legal system, so I can’t even make educated guesses.”

“You stole some boats,” Finarfin said blankly. “Among other things.” Although frankly, half of what Feanor had done wrong hadn’t technically been illegal for the simple reason of no one thinking there was a need.

“I was a thief?” Feanor frowned. “Hmm.” 

“It was also decided that it would be safer if he was not informed of his past,” Namo interrupted. “Lest his pride cause divisions.”

Lest he try to retake the crown, Finarfin interpreted.

Which was all well and good, except, “How exactly do you propose to stop someone from telling him?” Even if Nerdanel refused to see him, plenty of Feanorian supporters had been released - and even if they were all kept away from him, there were plenty of people who would inadvertently inform him through accusations.

“Enforcing that restriction will be one of your roles as his . . . guardian.”

Finarfin balked. “Guardian? He’s not a child!”

Namo stared at him implacably.

He was very good at it.

It was only years of experience with diplomacy that kept him from rubbing at his growing headache. He could see, if he turned his head and squinted, the logic behind thinking Feanor would be less dangerous if he knew fewer things. It was just that the problem with this kind of thinking was that a Feanor who did not know things was a Feanor who was dedicated to learning things without much concern for how many new problems he created in the process. 

And even that paled next to the biggest logical leap of this whole mess, which was, “And Feanor consented to all of this?” To forgetting his birthright? His family? Had he thought he had some trick to get around it? Did he have some trick to get around it and this was all some clever ruse? Or - 

Namo looked almost confused. “This was his sentence.”

A cold feeling crept up Finarfin’s spine. He did not think it was just due to the draft in the frigid stone room.

“This was his justly decided punishment and pardon,” Namo continued. “Do you ask those you judge in Tirion for consent?”

Finarfin considered bringing up some interesting political theories being discussed in Tirion about the consent of the governed.

He also considered screaming and never stopping, but he’d been considering that for roughly three ages now, so he was able to push that urge aside.

“I see,” he said, still smiling. Sometimes he thought his face would freeze like that. “I’ll just. Take my brother and go then. Shall I.”

“This is acceptable,” Namo said.

“Grand,” Finarfin said, smile cracking, as he grabbed Feanor by the arm and all but dragged him out of the receiving hall and out into the sunlit world. 

It was the first time Feanor had ever seen the sun, he realized. Remembered or not. His brother was looking around at the light in wonder.

“In the interest of fairness,” Finarfin said, “I feel I should warn you that if you had all your memories, we would probably be in the middle of a shouting match right now.”

Feanor tilted his head. “Because I steal boats?”

“Because - well, that’s part of it.” He paused for a moment. “Please don’t say that in the present tense again.”

“I don’t even feel particularly interested in boats,” Feanor said, sounding bewildered. “Why did I want them?”

Finarfin opened his mouth to answer before stopping himself. “I am not rationalizing your horrible choices for you.”

It was possible that the words came out a bit more shakily than he intended.

“Alright,” Feanor said, looking alarmed. “Please don’t be upset - brother? My king? I’m sorry, I still don’t know your name. Or how I’m supposed to address you. Or much of anything, really.”

Finarfin wanted very badly to sit down and cry.

But he wanted to get Feanor away from here even more badly, so he forced a smile onto his face and said, “My name is Arafinwe, but you’re welcome to call me Finarfin if you prefer. Or brother, though you’ll be angry at yourself later if you do.”

“Even if the Valar don’t let me get my memories back?”

It was probably not wise to say such things in the very shadow of Mandos’s Halls, but -

“Feanor,” he said, very seriously, “you have never waited for the Valar to permit anything in your life. I beg you, don’t start now.”

If his brother couldn’t remember how to fight just now, then, well.

Finarfin would just have to remind him.

[shiroi---kumo]

·:*¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨*:·. There's something about the way the smaller man practically wraps himself around him that is comforting in an odd sort of way. He's still himself but he's just compromised now. Compromised by trauma and other experiences outside of his control. Just like Valo's health was compromised and Revon's emotions were. Just like his eye sight was. They all were a little less of themselves than they were before Misterica fell but at the same time - they weren't. Compromised and complicated. This world changed them as they had to grow and evolve into whatever sort of beings it took to survive.

"You're fifty-three Sielu." The mathematician states plainly as if correcting his friend's inability to remember his own age would be a normal occurrence. "You're fifty-three, I'm fifty-six now and Valo is fifty-eight. Revon is sixty-five. It has been sixteen years since Misterica fell so that means if we do find the prince, he will be a grown man. He should be about thirty-three now."

And he has to say he's proud of this. Not Sielu's gapping memory but his willingness to attempt to open up a bit more. If the last thing he remembers is forty-four then the woman that had him... she for did so for nine years and honestly -even with his blindness- he can't imagine living under someone so oppressive for so long. It seems they're lucky that Sielu made it out alive.

Perhaps it's a blessing from the Celestial Mother after all, because Pilvi abandoning any one of them is still so hard to believe. Then again, it's hard to imagine that boy ever swinging the Holy Blade in the name of killing anyone - really at all but those wanted posters say otherwise.

Valo would insist that take perspective into consideration though. History is often written from the eyes of the victory and the oppressor he would say. He would insist that it was fully possible that whomever was responsible for those posters was inflating the truth. They needed to keep Sielu's words and perspective in their minds though and be careful not to invalidate what he's gone through.

This place is a strange world however. Would it be possible for someone else to masquerade as the prince? Were there beings that could twist their shape at will? At this point, the dawn considered anything possible.

His hand is moving to stroke over blue waves and there's voice in the back of his mind, happy and telling him he needed to thank Valo again for not neglecting the task. Even in the conditions of the places they're being forced to stay most days these days - the historian is careful to brush out wave colored locks nonetheless.

"And you don't have to live with conditions - no. Not even when we find the prince. I don't care if he is a grown man now. He doesn't get to dictate anything horrible and he better have a damn good explanation for this mess he's made. " There's a pause as he grins a little behind his mask. "Though I don't know if I've quite wrapped my brain around having to speak with Svaardzjetrorahm. What could that boy be thinking staying around such a person?"

He sighs as his fingers continue to softly work through cyan locks.

"It doesn't matter. The only thing we need to worry about right now is us."

He's got no clue what exactly he expects to happen from voicing any of his deepest fears or anything about Pilvi.

That subject always seems to turn as sour as his Mist, one way or another. He knows why, and really it's because he knows why that he's so terrified. If Pilvi hates him, surely the ones so loyal would follow, or so he's been told this whole time.

And then there's that issue. No one else seems to hear them, but the plants are as loud and clear as any person. On occasion, they're louder, and if he's the only one who hears them... surely then he's hallucinating.

Even given that logic, it's hard to ignore them when it's a near constant onslaught of things he's already worried about.

If he's even more honest with himself, these aren't even new feelings. They're ones he's held since childhood, but warped and reshaped into monsters he can't face as bravely as before.

He's always been an anxious mess underneath whatever he managed to convince himself of on Misterica. It's just that those outer protective layers are gone now, leaving everything that he kept to himself before exposed to the open to be relentlessly mauled by the seemingly-endless horrors that this place has to offer.

And the more he tries to put these insecurities underground, the worse they seem to gnaw at him. It leaves him no choice but to admit them, even if it all goes wrong again.

So he voices it. And he waits. And he's nearly holding his breath because this will either go horribly or it won't be so bad.

Briefly, he's left with a sense of longing for certainty. As much as he loves Aamunkoitto, he still wishes he could predict the man accurately.

Any prediction he could have ever made would have been wrong in this instance though, because the taller man starts by placing him at the same level as Valo.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that, Aamunkoitto is giving his nickname back to him, saying he's still so glittery and - he's not Pilvi. He is not a replacement for Pilvi.

He is not a replacement.

"I always want you around," he responds, and he's not sure if the tears in his eyes are new or if they've been there for several minutes, but they aren't unhappy. He's calm, at least. His pulse hasn't jumped and his breathing somehow hasn't gotten stuck.

"It's... just hard to understand that I can exist without... conditions. Because that sort of lie is almost all I heard for... hm."

He doesn't even know. He still hasn't asked. It isn't something he often thinks about, because as long as he's with the others now he doesn't care at all what day it is. Maybe he should give it some consideration, or... maybe he'll attempt lightheartedness again. That's what glitter pens do.

"... I swear this isn't just me being abysmally bad at math as usual, but... I have no clue how long. Last I was able to keep track of, I was forty-four, but I know that number isn't right. I guess that's what odd people who like math are for."

[wildernessuntothemselves]

I'm Yours, You're Mine | 7

Word Count: 4k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: yandere!felix, sub!felix, dom!felix, sub!reader, dom!reader, mentions of violence, character death, drugging, noncon, breeding kink, binding, doggy

GIF CREDIT @christopherbanq

You wake up in a warm embrace, surrounded by the sweet, vanilla scent of Felix. Opening your eyes, you’re met with the splatter of his freckles that seem to glow under the sunlight. Everything feels perfect. It feels right, and you wish you could stay in this moment forever, protected from all that has happened or will happen. But you can’t, the memories of last night’s darkness creep around the corners of the brightly lit room, seeping the warmth out of it until everything is plunged into darkness.

Felix opens his eyes, his bright sparkling eyes, unaware of the darkness surrounding him, his ignorance protecting him. But his light diminishes as his gaze focuses on you.

“Noona, why are you crying?” He asks, arms pulling you even closer to him to the point where you don’t know where your skin ends and his begins.

“Chan…” You sputter, little sobs rattling your chest now. Felix frowns sharply, “Did he do something to you?”

You shake your head, your tears now flowing down your cheeks. “He’s in the hospital. Someone attacked us while we were coming back from the cinema yesterday.”

Felix bolts upright, pushing you at an arm’s length and scrutinizing every inch of your body. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but Chan is.” You wail, throwing your arms around him and burying your face in his shoulder. “He’s hurt really bad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” For the first time, Felix doesn’t comfort you, his body rigid in your embrace and you hesitantly pull back to look at him. He is completely still, a numb look on his face. And you suddenly realize how thoughtless you’ve been. Despite their fight, Felix and Chan have been best friends for years, way before you met either of them. You should’ve told him as soon as it happened.

“Is he going to be okay?” His lips quiver as he speaks, his eyes terrified and looking through yours for help, and you could smack yourself for being so selfish.

“Oh, baby.” You breathe, pulling him into your embrace again. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

_______________________

He wasn’t.

Chan hasn’t woken up by the time you both visit him in the hospital, and the doctors were giving you vague responses every time you tried to ask about his condition--if he’s going to be okay, if he’s even gonna make it--and that petrifies you.

“We’re doing the best we can, but I can’t say anything for certain. He’s in a really bad condition.” The doctor informs you after you’d asked for the millionth time. You nod heavily and he lets you know that he’ll be there if there is anything else you need before he leaves. Yeah, right. The doctors were basically running from you at this point. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it meant.

“Thank you, doctor.” You mumble. You feel guilty, like this is all your fault for wishing for Felix to come back, like somehow this had been a bargain by a cruel god, giving you Felix back but taking Chan away.

As soon as the doctor leaves, Felix falls to the floor beside the bed sobbing. You run to him and wrap your arms around him and he immediately leans into your touch. “I did this.” He wails and your body goes stiff, your breath stuck in your throat, choking you.

But then he continues, “I wished for this the night he threw me out. I was so angry at him, but I never wanted it to really happen.”

Your body turns to jelly, the fear that had gripped it was so intense that it left no energy in its wake, and you can’t even caress Felix’s back to comfort him.

_______________________

The police interview you over and over, asking you to remember if there is something about the man who mugged you that you’re forgetting that could help identify him. You don’t have to force yourself to remember, you see him in your dreams every night, and every night you wake up screaming, poor Felix having to comfort you and kiss you back to sleep, never once complaining.

Through it all, those few agonizing days, you held a terrible secret close to your chest. You felt wretched just thinking about it, but you couldn’t help it. You knew he was going to die anyway. You just wished it would happen sooner than later so you could properly grieve instead of being stuck in this fake limbo, pretending like you think he’s going to make it, even to Felix, so that he wouldn’t completely break down.

You go to visit him less and less until you stop completely, which doesn’t paint you in a very favorable light in front of law enforcement or the doctors, letting Felix go on his own to the hospital every day. But fuck them. What do they know about the pain you’re going through? The guilt?

When it finally happens, you can’t believe it. They say he coded in the night and they tried to do everything to save him, even brought him back a couple of times, but it was ultimately useless. He was gone.

You had to see him for yourself to believe it. You went alone. Felix couldn’t bear to look at his best friend’s now dead body. He begged you not to go but you needed to.

As you gaze across his face, you’re thrust back to that night. You had heard that dead people often have a peaceful look on their face, but Chan didn’t look peaceful. It almost looks angry, accusatory, asking you why you weren’t there for him.

He doesn’t forgive you, but it’s okay. You don’t forgive yourself either.

_______________

The case officially turned into a murder investigation following Chan’s death. His body was handed over to the coroner to do an autopsy and try to gather any forensic evidence left, but neither yielded much information, and the police had no leads.

Soon, the case turned cold.

As for you, you had moved in with Felix,, unable to step back into your apartment without Chan. Fearing that in doing so you’d be acknowledging that he’s gone, and then his spirit would remember to come back to haunt you.

Felix takes such good care of you, even though he’s the one who has the right to be hurt more. He stuck around you all the time, making you feel safe and comforting you. He also kept his distance as much as he could. You could tell he wanted to seek comfort in your body, to help each other through this pain, but you were selfish as always. You only let him comfort you. You never comforted him back.

As the months passed, Felix started getting more and more needy, making you feel even more wretched even though he never said anything. He loved you and you loved him, but Chan’s death had pushed a wedge between you. You couldn’t touch the younger boy without feeling guilty. It felt like you were cheating on Chan more than you ever did before, and so you kept Felix at a distance.

For his part, Felix never outright made an advance on you, respecting your need to grieve, but you could tell from the boner he’d get every time you kissed him even a sweet innocent little kiss or put your arms around him that he needed more, and it made you feel even more horrible. You couldn’t help Chan when he was alive and now you can’t help Felix. You felt like the most selfish fucking human being in the world.

So when you’re woken up from sleep one night, feeling hot and with something hard poking against your ass, you decide to finally give back.

“Noona...” Felix whimpers into your ear, nuzzling his face in the nape of your neck, making goosebumps erupt along your body. You weren’t ready to go all the way yet but at least you could give him some release.

Turning on your back, you guide him to straddle you and let yourself slip into the right headspace. "You dirty little thing, humping your noona in her sleep?"

His eyes light up when he realizes that for the first time in a long time, you’re reciprocating, and he sighs in relief, starting to grind his hips against yours. Tantalizing, you lower the straps of your nightgown, a delicate pink satin piece that Felix bought for you, to expose your tits for him. He hums appreciatively, reaching out to touch, but you slap his hand away. “Only look.”

He shudders, nodding, and humps against you faster. "Noona, please, fuck me. Fuck your dumb baby."

"No whining." You reprimand, lifting his shirt up to his mouth and he obediently bites on it, muffling his noises. With the shirt up, his boxers are exposed, and you watch as every time he thrusts forward, the tip of his dick pokes out from his boxers, red and leaking. “And I thought you’d thank me for being so nice to a pervert like you.”

Felix pants around the fabric in his mouth, his dick dripping over your panties. Placing your hand on his ass, you feel the muscle clench and relax as he ruts desperately against you. “Is this how you wanna fuck noona? You think your little dick can make me feel good?”

He pushes the shirt out of his mouth with his tongue and babbles. “I can noona. Just let me put it inside.” He grabs his dick and runs the head of it over your clothed slit, making you shiver at the stimulation. Then he pushes the head against your hole but is prevented from pushing in because of the underwear “Just let me put it in, noona.”

“You’re a greedy little kitten aren’t you? Put your hands up to your chest, kitty.” You order, and he reluctantly obeys. “Now stick your tongue out and pant for me.”

He does so with a flush, looking like a cat in heat. Absolutely filthy.

“That’s it. That’s a good, boy. Putting on a show for noona.”

He nods happily, high off the praise you’re giving him. "I'm gonna cum for you noona. Watch me cum for you."

“I’m looking, little whore. Cum for me.” You purr, cupping handfuls of his ass as you encourage his now sloppy thrusts.

Felix cries out, cum spurting out of the tip of his cock and landing on your pretty silk nightgown. You tut disappointedly, “Look at the mess you made, kitten. You ruined my nightgown with your filthy cum.”

“I’m sorry, noona.” Felix pants, not looking sorry at all. In fact, he looks enraptured by the sight in front of him. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He falls over your chest, suckling on your breasts gently as his breathing slows down and becomes deep as he falls asleep.

_____________________

That’s how things go for a long while. Just you helping Felix take the edge off without actually going all the way. You can tell he’s disappointed. He must’ve thought that this was the start of you reigniting your relationship, but you still can’t get yourself to be there for him in the way he needs you. And despite you acting romantically together and going on dates, you never officially acknowledged that you are in a relationship, and you can tell that this, more than anything, hurt him the most.

You feel pity and self-hate fill you up as you play with the boy’s hair, his head resting on your lap.

“How do you like the cocktail?” Felix asks lazily, taking you out of your thoughts.

You blink and take another sip of the drink he made you, appreciating the taste on your tongue. It’s actually pretty good, and you tell him exactly that. “But it seems quite strong. I’m a little lightheaded already. What’s in it, kitten?”

Felix giggles as he presses a finger to his mouth, making a shushing sound. “It's a secret.”

You smile fondly at him, soaking up his laughter along with the afternoon son, the calming rhythm of lix's breathing and the strong drink making you feel sleepy. You decide you’re gonna ask him if he’d like to take a nap with you, but before you can form your words, you abruptly get much sleepier, your eyelids turning to lead as they struggle to stay open to the world spinning around you.

You finally manage a little groan, attracting Felix’s attention. He looks up at you in question and his curious eyes are the last thing you see before it all goes black

_____________________

You wake up feeling hot and sticky. Groggily coming to, you blurrily see a mop of blonde hair over your exposed chest and feel wetness over your nipples. Despite your heavy head, you can immediately tell it’s Felix, and your thoughts trudge along as you try to think of what you were doing last but the memory is too fuzzy.

You’re easily distracted when you feel his moans against your skin as he kisses and suckles on your breasts, his hips dragging over your thigh needily. You try to move your hands to push him away, confused and mad that he is touching you without permission, but you only hear the sound of metal clanking as your hands stay above your head, and with a panic, you realize that you were shackled to the bed.

At the sound, Felix lifts his head up and smiles at you sweetly, as if nothing about this was weird. “Noona, you’re awake!”

You stare at him in bewilderment, and he finally realizes what’s wrong. Sheepishly, he explains, “I’m sorry. You were taking so long to wake up and I couldn’t help myself.”

His words don’t really make the situation much clearer. "What is happening? Why am I bound?"

He smiles, moving up your body so his nose is touching yours. "You've been bad noona, rejecting me for so long. I tried to wait. I tried to be good for you but you still kept rejecting me. So I decided to push things along a little."

"What?" You ask, throat dry.

"I put a sedative in your drink so you'd pass out and I can play with you." He explains cheerily, like that was a completely normal and benign thing to do.

"What the fuck, Felix?” You shout, pulling on your shackles in alarm. “You're crazy."

"Crazy over you." He giggles, pinning your hands to the bed so you wouldn’t struggle. “Now stop or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re the one who is hurting me!”

He frowns. “Don’t say that, noona. I’ve been taking good care of you, haven’t I?”

“And you think that gives you the right to drug and assault me?”

His frown deepens at that, all air of playfulness gone from around him. “Stop. Saying. That.” He grits, “I can’t assault you when you’re mine.”

He leans back and palms at your breasts greedily, his thumbs brushing over your wet buds, and you struggle to not arch up into his touch, a fresh wave of arousal sticking your shorts to your pussy even more. “You’re so perfect, noona.”

"Let me go." You cry, gradually getting more and more panicked.

"I'll never let you go again." His voice is gruff and it sends a shiver down your spine as he rubs his fingers over your clit coarsely. “So stop this or you’ll make me really angry, noona.”

You still immediately, thinking back on what he did last time he got mad. You could still feel the suffocation gripping your throat.

“If you’re wet, noona. I’ll know you want me too.” He pulls back from your chest and slowly peels your shorts down your legs, a gasp escaping him when he is undoubtedly greeted by your underwear sticking to your slick, puffy lips in arousal. “I knew it. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

He grabs the top of your panties, pulling them up so they’d rub over your pussy, teasing you and delighting in watching you involuntarily squirm. “You’re so sensitive, noona.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.” He slinks your panties down your legs then pulls your thighs up, spreading your legs wide for him, and moaning out in appreciation. “Ah, fuck, noona…so hot.”

His fingers slowly rub over your exposed, drenched pussy, driving you crazy with the deliberate, wide strokes. You have to fight hard to not close your legs around him. “Want more, noona?”

You bite down on your tongue. You won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. Resolutely, his fingers trail down your pussy and into your warm, tight heat, and you can’t fight back the gasp that is ripped from you. You shake as his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you. And when he puts his mouth on you, your moans flow out, not caring anything for your ego.

Felix moans into your pussy, eating you out slowly too, maddening slow as if he was kissing you. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue on you make you burn in shame and arousal.

He stays between your legs a long time, driving you mad, his tongue deliberately moving along your folds and and his lips sucking on your sensitive skin, while his fingers stay inside your pussy and relentlessly but equally as slowly rub against that sweet spot inside you. You feel the burn gradually build in your body, it fries your brain and by the time you cum, your entire nervous system is on fire.

He climbs up your body, looking down at you with the most fucked out look on his pretty face, his eyes absolutely glazed over with lust as he bucks his crotch against you and kisses your mouth the same way he did your pussy. You taste yourself on him so clearly it feels like the taste is imprinted on his tongue forever.

Pulling away, a trail of saliva and cum connects your lips. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Let me go, baby.” You coax gently, hoping he won’t get upset if you’re sweet. “Let me go and I'll fuck you."

He shakes his head, "I know you're lying to me, noona. I know I have to break you in first before I let you go."

You pale, bile rising up your throat at the ominous words. "Break me in… how?"

"You’ll see." He giggles, craning your neck up and kissing your skin harshly, growling in between the sloppy kisses, "But when you're over those worthless boys, maybe you can fuck me again. I hate being a bad boy but this is the only way to make you see."

Pulling back from your stinging neck, he presses his dick to your entrance. Your pussy spasms around the tip of his dick, and he chuckles deeply. “Look how needy your pussy is for me. Noona was wasting time being a little slut and letting those bastards touch her when she could've had me." He says reproachfully, as if you were a misbehaving child, and it makes your anger flare up and overpower your fear.

"I don't want you, you freak." You spit out and he slaps you, hard, the force of it busting your lip open. Taking a deep break, he calms himself down and smiles again. "Now that's not very nice, noona. After all I've done for you." He leans down and licks at the drop of blood that sprung from your lip, moaning at the taste.

"You made me wait for so long, noona. I can't wait anymore." He shakes a little, as if it really was hurting him physically to hold back. Pushing into you, he lets out a shuddering cry. "I love you so much. You're finally mine."

You arch your back as he buries himself all the way inside of you, and he takes that opportunity to bend down and pluck one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimper against him, making him speed up his thrusts.

“I’m making you feel good, aren’t I, noona?” He grunts, keeping your legs wide open as he fucks into you but you don’t reply, angering him. Suddenly, you’re flipped onto your stomach, and he pushes himself between your spread legs so you can't close them, plunging his dick back inside you. “You will not ignore me, noona. I will not allow it.”

He steadies himself on both sides of you and leans over you, trapping you under him and fucking you hard and slow, trying to get as deep inside you as possible despite his size and making you shiver as his dick drags against your walls. He gradually speeds up, his dick gliding easily over the track it made, overwhelming your poor pussy.

He fucks you so well, and you’re entirely, completely ashamed of how good it feels. It seems like he is intent on humiliating you, his dick hitting the sweet spot inside of you perfectly with each thrust, and your pussy keeps clenching around him more and more as the sound of your flesh smacking together fills the room. You’re transfixed under him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open with your back perfectly arched to receive his thrusts, and soon, he grunts into your ear, "I'm so close."

Your eyes snap open urgently. “Pull out. I'm not on birth control. You can’t cum inside me." You explain hastily. You had stopped taking the pill ever since Chan had passed away. You weren’t fucking Felix so you felt no need to take it.

"I know, noona." He says and you almost sigh in relief, fully expecting Felix to whine but pull out. But to your horror, he continues, "Gonna breed you so you'll never leave me again."

Your breath catches in your throat and your nerves go numb. You sob, “Felix, please no. Pull out, baby please. I won’t leave. I’ll stay.”

“You will.” He promises you, and doesn’t pull back. Instead, fucking you harder and spanking your ass as he grunts loudly, "Take it like a good noona."

He empties himself inside of you, his hot cum flooding your pussy, and to your great shame, that pushes you to cum too, your pussy milking him obediently. He praises you happily, "Good noona, taking all my cum. Your pussy knows you belong to me."

You think he’ll be done now, having fucked you and filled you up. But to your horror, he turns you on your side and embraces you from behind. Lifting one leg up in the air, he starts fucking you again. With how wet you were and his previous ejaculation, wet lewd sounds fill the room along with his low grunts and your breathless gasps.

He spends the whole night fucking you, taking you in every position conceivable and making sure to empty every little drop inside of you, apologizing for being a bad boy and promising you that he'll take any punishment you give him once you’re pregnant with his baby and he can be sure you'll stay.

The worst part is that he makes sure you cum too, seeming intent on not allowing you any space to later claim like you didn’t enjoy yourself, murmuring praises into your ear every time you orgasm. "Good noona, cumming around my cock. Kitty is so happy with you. You wanna cum again?"

You are almost passed out when he’s done fucking you. Leaving you used up and sprawled out on the bed, he gets up to retrieve something. When he gets back on the bed, you purposefully don’t look at him, expecting him to now try to suck up to you and get you to forgive him.

But he doesn’t say anything and you suddenly jolt at the sharp sting you feel along your inner thigh. You look down in horror to see felix carving something with a knife onto your skin. His own name.

You shout and begin to struggle, only to quickly realize that you shouldn't be moving around with a sharp knife so close to your genitals, and Felix is aware of that too. He ignores your tearful pleas and pained screams until he’s all done. Brandishing the now bloody knife, he whispers conspiratorially, “Wanna know something, noona?”

You don’t reply but he doesn’t care, smiling as he pushes the knife to your throat. “This is the knife I used to stab Jisung.” Your stomach drops and your blood beats frenziedly against the knife pressed to your skin. “It’s also the same knife I used to kill Chan.”

You stay frozen in place, not even breathing, not even blinking.

"I didn't want to kill him. I really loved him. He was the only one I was willing to share you with but he left me no choice.” He goes on, pouting slightly as if he was lamenting losing his favorite mug. “But it’s better this way. Now you’re all mine. And once you're broken in, I'll let you use this to mark me up too."

____________________

A/N: let me know what you think of the ending. I love to hear it!

[drawlfoy]

detention retention finale p.2 (the real finale!)

masterlist (catch up on parts 1, 2, and the first half of the finale here!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no my original idea

summary: gryffindor and friend of the golden trio y/n y/l/n is tasked with getting close to malfoy to learn his secret in 6th year. things quickly become more complicated.

warnings: (please pay attention this time around) nsfw content, implied sex, swearing, character death. however, if you are sensitive to gore know that this one is a lot less graphic than the first half of the finale

a/n: wow. here we are! this part is going to be considerably more light hearted than the first part. ngl while writing this i reread my 8th grade diary when i spent hours overanalyzing what my crushes did/said and i kind of wanted to emulate that school crush feeling of “does he like me does he not”. if this seems like a weird turn considering how dark things were in the last chapter, i’m sorry i just really wanted to give poor draco and y/n a break fdajkfls. i hope you guys like it :) 

word count: 16.1k (the longest part of them all...lmfao)

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

here’s a spotify playlist i made for this!

enjoy!

Back at the Gryffindor tower, she was met with a surprise: Ron, sitting cross-legged on her bed, paging through a random Quidditch catalog he stole from Fred. 

“Hi, Ron,” greeted Y/N tentatively. Despite the fact that Harry and Hermione had both been outwardly stand-offish towards her, Ron had, for the most part, remained neutral. “What’s up?”

He jerked his head upwards, his eyes wide. “Sorry, er, you scared me. Hey, Y/N.” Ron awkwardly waved. 

“Is something...going on?”

“Oh.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, his thumbs twiddling together in his lap. “I just wanted to, erm, have a chat with you. I know Hermione and Harry are a little angry with you still, but I miss you. And I don’t think they’re right in doing this to you.”

Y/N allowed her shoulders to sag in relief as she joined him, letting the bed sink under both of their weight. “I understand why they’re upset. I just felt so bad, you know. Drac--Malfoy is going through a lot right now, and even though he’s been a prat to you guys, all of a sudden it was like I would be a horrible person to ignore what’s been going on with him.”

“Harry and Hermione think it’s because you’re a pureblood,” Ron said. “That’s mostly why I came to talk to you. Harry said something before the day in the bathroom about how he wasn’t surprised ‘your kind’ was so quick to turn on us.”

“Does he not know that you’re literally a--”

“Exactly.” A nervous laugh left Ron’s lips. “I mentioned that, and I think he realized how messed up that line of thought was. Anyways, he feels proper terrible about hurting you the way he did. I think you’ll have to wait around a bit before he swallows his pride and apologizes to you himself, but he hasn’t been the same since what happened before the break.”

“Wow.” Y/N allowed that thought to sink in. “And...Hermione?”

“She’s still hurt,” admitted Ron. “Can you blame her, though? One of her best friends starts messing around with her childhood bully?”

She winced. “I know, I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re not...like that.”

“I think you should try talking to her again. I’m not sure why you’re so insistent on keeping a promise to Malfoy, but nothing’s going to change unless you tell her why you did what you did.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Y/N reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Also, I don’t want to be gossipy or anything, but I think you should leave Lavender for Hermione.”

Ron balked. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just an idea,” said Y/N, shrugging. “I just have a feeling you two would be really cute together. I dunno what it is. Just an inkling of a thought.”

“I would never leave Lavender,” he said, frowning as his eyes hazed over. “I would never do that…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Y/N smirked, elbowing him in the side. He grinned at her, the dimples easily forming in the freckled skin of his cheek. 

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Hermione Granger was not a difficult witch to locate. All Y/N had to do was wait until prime studying hours before searching the library’s long halls until she found the bushy head of hair craned intently over a large textbook.

“Hermione.”

At her voice, Hermione snapped to attention, a sour expression forming on her face. “What do you want?” She didn’t even wait for a response, dipping her head back down and continuing to take notes.

“I want to apologize, properly, for what happened,” Y/N said, settling into the seat across from her and dropping her voice. “I know I didn’t give you a very good explanation about what was going on, and I know I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

“I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say right now, Y/L/N.”

She brushed off the pain of her last name being used instead of her given name and continued. “I know you must be really hurt that I got close with Malfoy, especially considering how cruel he was to you.”

Hermione remained silent.

“I know that I’ll never understand how it feels to be an outsider in this world,” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t change what happened in the past. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want with me. Believe me when I say that I never meant to lie to or to deceive you. You had to have noticed how different Malfoy looks. He needed someone, and I was there. He might not deserve that kind of treatment, especially not from you, but it would’ve been wrong of me to just let him suffer on his own.”

Hermione finally met her eyes, a few tears shining in the deep brown depths of her stare. “I don’t understand how you could overlook all the things he’s said about me. Is...that what you think of me, too?”

“Of course not, Hermione,” exclaimed Y/N. The angry shh from the table over made her drop her voice once again. “You’re twice as capable as my entire bloodline combined. You have every right to be part of this world. You are part of this world and you always have been. If I thought that Draco hadn’t changed, I wouldn’t have become friends with him.”

“You call him Draco now?”

“He’s my friend. And I think that if things were a little different, he’d actually defect from his family’s beliefs and join our side. Living firsthand in the close proximity of Death Eaters really took a toll on him.”

Hermione chewed her lip. “This is really hard. I don’t know what to say.”

“I miss you,” confessed Y/N. “And, to be honest, I felt quite left out, too. I know you and Harry and Ron have important confidential business to attend to, but the way it was treated made it seem like I was too stupid to hear about or understand it. Draco didn’t make me feel that way, and I liked it.”

To her surprise, Hermione’s features softened. “I’m sorry. I really am, Y/N. I don’t know why I didn’t realize earlier how unfair we were to you about that.”

“Really?” 

She shrugged. “I think so.”

“Are we okay, then?”

Hermione frowned a little deeper as her idle hand allowed her quill to dribble ink over the fresh parchment she used. “Not really. I think I need some time. It’s hard for me to feel like I can trust you again after all of this.”

“I completely understand,” Y/N rushed out. “Hopefully one day things will be better, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Hermione offered her a small smile before turning back to her work. If it had been another time, Y/N would’ve invited herself to sit across from her and distract her as she tried to study, telling Hermione all about her day and how much she wanted to drop kick Goyle across the Quidditch pitch, but it was different now, and she knew that. 

Without another word, Y/N got up and left her old friend in her library. 

Her dorm was rather quiet as she settled back into her bed for the second time that day, this time happy to find it entirely empty. It was a Sunday, after all, and she had an entire stack of homework to try and drag herself through before her classes the next day. 

As her fingers began to card through the messy parchment of her desk, she took notice of an item that hadn’t been there before--a crimson red envelope, embossed with glittery golden piping and a roaring lion. Her family crest.

Y/N tore into the parchment as she wracked her brain to try and guess the contents. A howler? No, she’d been (mostly) good. A gift? She hadn’t been that good. What awaited her was much more underwhelming--just a boring old piece of parchment with black ink penned in her father’s handwriting. 

But the news that it brought her had the memories from Christmas Break rushing back.

~

The next day, he was sitting in his Potions seat, making small talk with Pansy that coaxed a few laughs out of both students like nothing had happened the day before. Their eyes met briefly before he uncomfortably cleared his throat and turned away, back to Pansy’s animated speech over how ridiculous this class was. 

Her heart ached at the sight. How could he act like nothing had ever happened between them? How could he just evade eye contact like that? Y/N felt a wave of uncontrollable jealousy wash over her when the thought of Pansy lying in his silk sheets with the knowledge that she was actually HIS, that he actually wanted her. It was all she could do to avert her eyes and pretend it didn’t happen, though Draco wasn’t exactly ignoring her anymore, which was almost worse. Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls. 

The days began to bleed into each other again, speeding along even quicker now that she actually had people to sit with during meals and to talk to during common hours. Hermione and Ron had begun speaking to her again, though Harry was still making himself sparse whenever she appeared in a group.

To her surprise, though, that changed one day when a paper crane fluttered onto her desk in Charms. She opened it quickly, hoping desperately (and against her will) that it was from Draco, but instead she was greeted with a messy scrawl that she knew very well.

Meet me after practice on the pitch if you’d be okay with talking to me. -Harry

Despite the recent events, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the many times that Harry had written her similar notes, back when their relationship wasn’t rocky and she was actually helping the Trio. That wistfulness was quickly replaced with anxiety when she tried to figure out what to expect from Harry.

“Y/N,” he greeted her a few hours later. She rose from her seat on the bleachers and began to walk alongside him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Listen,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I know I’m not very good at talking about feelings--that’s why I’ve been putting this off for so long--but you deserve an apology for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I don’t think I’ll ever understand your connection with Malfoy, but that isn’t an excuse for what happened.”

Well, this was going better than expected. “I’m not going to lie and say that it’s okay that you hexed me, but I don’t blame you all that much.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “That’s, er, really good to hear, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” responded Y/N. “Madame Pomfrey even said that the scarring might go away.” The way the blood drained out of his face made her realize that that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh, Merlin, there’s scarring?”

“Forget I said that,” replied Y/N, placing a hand comfortingly on his arm. “Water under the bridge. It really is okay.”

“Well…” He coughed awkwardly as they neared the castle’s entrance. “I think I owe you an explanation as well. If you want one, that is.”

“Shoot,” she said. “Preferably not a deadly curse at me, though.”

If Harry thought that was funny, he certainly didn’t show it. “Looking back on what happened, it was all just a complete blur. I lost control.”

“Because I hadn’t told you about Malfoy?”

“Oh, well…” He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. “Obviously I was angry that you’d lied to us. And I was angry at Malfoy over Katie Bell. But that wasn’t what made me lose control. It was seeing you together. There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…” Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood.”

“What do you mean?” asked Y/N, beginning to grow more and more confused. How could Harry have seen something that wasn’t even there in the first place? 

“And the way you two looked at each other in Potions,” he continued, clearly not planning on answering her question. “It makes me sick. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t see me that way, Harry,” she said, her voice little.

“Has he told you that?”

“As a matter of fact he has.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replied, holding his palms up in a surrender. “It’s not as if it came as a surprise or anything. Plus, not like I care. Just because I don’t want to see him get hurt does not mean I have feelings for him.” Y/N was talking too animatedly, something that prompted her friend to tilt his head and send her a curious look. 

“Right. Well…” Harry stood up, brushing his robes off. “If I didn’t make it clear enough already, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you see in him. But you haven’t lost me. I just hope I haven’t lost you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile before launching into his arms. He started, but once Y/N had her arms around his neck, he hugged her back. She breathed in the familiar woodsy smell she’d known since she was 11 and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I missed you, Harry.”

“I missed you too. So much.” 

She was just about to poke fun at him for being sappy when someone pointedly cleared their throat behind them, prompting her to spin around and prepare to tell someone off for interrupting her conversation. Once she saw who it was before her, though, she froze. 

“Try and keep the PDA at a minimum, yeah?” Draco Malfoy said, his lips twisted into a bored scowl.

“Draco,” she warned. He simply arched an eyebrow at her before swiftly passing by the two, being sure to brush harshly against Harry’s shoulder.

“What has gotten into him?” she asked in astonishment. “Merlin, it’s like we time traveled back to 5th year or something.” 

He scoffed at her side. “Y/N, what did I tell you?”

The next day, Draco wasn’t at breakfast. Y/N tried not to think too much about his empty seat as she listened to Ron ramble on about how crazy Lavender was being. She had finally migrated over to the Gryffindor table, bringing her new Ravenclaw friend along with her. Hermione was still giving her side eye, but it was better than being treated like a complete outcast. This time around, Parkinson was gone from the Slytherin table, too. The thought of Pansy being the one to comfort him filled her chest with the slimy coolness of jealousy, but instead of dwelling on it further, she stabbed her fork through the strawberry on her plate and took a bite. If he wanted to mess around with her, he could. Merlin knew he needed some sort of distraction. But her most private thoughts couldn’t help but wonder if he ever had feelings for her. There were so many moments that made her think otherwise--the way he’d blush when she said anything flirtatious, how eager he had been to walk her to her dorm, all the glances sent her way…

It was at moments like these when Y/N sternly reminded herself that they were just friends and that was all he’d ever seen her as. Friends brushed hands. Friends walked each other to their dorms. Friends stared across the room at each other sometimes. Friends gave each other gifts. Hermione, Ron, and Luna had all acted similarly to her in the past and it was entirely platonic. She was just overanalyzing.

He didn’t show up to Potions, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape was giving her the eye, and Y/N uncomfortably shifted in her chair as she wondered if the wizard had found out it was her who stole the Veritaserum.

“As you all may know,” he drawled, stalking the perimeter of the classroom, “A particular potion of mine has been...misplaced. If any of you happen to know where it is, I suggest you confess now.”

Nervous chatter erupted around the room as Snape’s eyes bored into hers. Was he using Legilimency on her? Wouldn’t she feel something? Despite her worries, he broke eye contact and spun around to the board, scrawling the topic of the lesson on the chalkboard. Y/N reminded herself to breathe. 

He wasn’t at lunch, Transfiguration, or dinner. Y/N was starting to believe that Draco had just up and left Hogwarts as she began to get ready for bed, showering off the day and dressing in comfier clothes. For once, her homework load had been lightened to the point where she could put it off for a full day. Diffuser on, windows open, and sleeping clothes on, Y/N was ready and settled into bed early with nothing but her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Was Draco okay? Did something happen with his task? Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light rap on her door.

“Y/N?” A young girl’s voice, muffled but distinguishable through the heavy wooden door shook her out of it. She groaned, throwing the blankets off her and closing her hand around the doorknob. She wasn’t even a prefect, but for some god-forsaken reason the first-years always went to her instead.

“Candace,” she greeted. “What’s cracking?”

“Someone wants to see you.” The first-year’s voice sounded shakier than usual. Y/N finally cast her eyes up from the short girl to take in the sight of a rather disheveled looking Draco Malfoy standing in her hallway.

“Draco? What are you doing here?” 

He cleared his throat. “Are you busy?”

“Candace,” Y/N said, addressing the eleven year old in front of her first, “Thanks for helping Draco. You should go to bed, you know. It’s late.”

Wide-eyed, Candace dashed off without any protest. Y/N cast a raised brow to Draco and tried to look like she hadn’t spent the past 12 hours obsessing over his disappearance. “You better have a good reason for showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night and scaring one of my first-years to death.”

“She wasn’t scared,” he argued.

“You must be horrible with reading children,” stated Y/N. “Anyways, is this a conversation that you want to have in my dorm hall? Or would you prefer to come inside?”

He tilted his head towards the doorway. “May I?”

“Er...sure. Come on in.” She bit back the quip about already offering. “What’s going on? You missed all your classes today.”

“I’m aware,” he responded drily as he sat down on the same spot she’d just been nearly asleep on. “I just...something happened last night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Y/N tried not to blush at how flattered she was. He didn’t even like her. Why was she acting like that still? Friends did this sort of thing. Friends were there for each other. “Oh. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to just take your mind off of it?”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment before exhaling a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe take my mind off it until I feel ready to talk about it.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, leading him by the cuff of his sleeve over to her window. “I think I know something we can do. Grab a pillow and a blanket.”

He did as she asked while she opened up the window wider until it was large enough to crawl through, spelling the tiles of the roof outside clean. 

“Are we going on the roof?”

“As long as you’re not too scared of heights, yeah,” she responded, using her desk as a stepping stool while she swung the rest of her body out on the old Hogwarts roof. Despite the age of the castle, the structure was thankfully sturdy. “Pass me anything you want out here. I’ll get it set up for us.”

“I’m not sitting on that dirty roof,” he said, his usual snotty tone creeping into his voice as he handed her a blanket for each of them. 

“Okayyy, Your Highness.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “We can sit on my blanket.” True to her word, she took the one she usually slept with and covered the tiles. “Will you come sit with me now?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He settled in next to her, his own blanket barely draped over his knees while she sat cross legged at his side, trying not to shiver from the cold late winter air. “Wow. This is actually a better view than from the Astronomy tower.”

“I know, right?” she said, trying to ignore how her heart fluttered every time he looked at her. “You can see Hogsmeade from here, too.”

The pair watched the scenery before them in silence. Y/N drank in the landscape bathed in soft moonlight, the winding creeks leading into the Dark Forest reflecting the moon while the Black Lake’s waves gently lapped at the shores. 

“I come up here sometimes when I get stressed,” she confessed after a little while. Draco turned to look at her, his lips slightly quirked up and his eyes soft. 

“Yeah?”

“It just helps clear my head,” she continued. “I feel really lucky to live in the Tower. It must be kind of weird to know that if you opened your window you’d just flood your room.”

Draco snorted. “You get used to it.”

Y/N hummed in something that felt a little like agreement.

He shuffled, clearing his throat. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you this since that night. I’m…sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”

“It’s really okay,” she said, her cheeks growing hot. “I understand. You can’t change how you feel. I’m happy to be your friend and eventually that’s all I’ll ever want.”

Draco dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement when a brilliant display of lights suddenly exploded over Hogsmeade. Fireworks. They were obviously magic, charmed to glitter in the shape of the words, “Happy Birthday, Margie!”

“Oh my god, happy birthday Margie,” Y/N echoed, eager for the distraction of their conversation.

“I wonder how old she’s turning.”

“I bet she’s 34,” said Y/N. 

“32.”

“33, maybe, but that’s pushing it.”

She returned his grin before she felt something hit the top of her head--a raindrop, fat and cold--and roll down the back of her neck. “Shit. I think it’s going to rain soon. Do you want to go back in?”

As if to accentuate her point, the clouds above them rumbled. Draco shrugged. “If you want. I kind of like staying out here, though.”

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few more moments, the only sound coming from the soft patter of the rain and the occasional boom of Margie’s birthday fireworks. Y/N began to shiver as the raindrops became more frequent, her loose sleeping shirt and her shorts not really doing much for her. All of a sudden, she felt something fuzzy on top of her head.

She looked to her left to see that Draco had lifted his blanket to drape over both of them, creating a tent of some sort. “Thanks, Draco.”

“Don’t mention it.” His smile set off the butterflies in her stomach once again, but she beat them back. The fireworks continued, now switching to a glittering sage green. “I bet Margie was a Slytherin.”

“Or maybe she just likes sage green,” argued Y/N. 

“Maybe.” He held her gaze for what felt like a second too long before clearing his throat and turning his attention back onto the night sky. It occurred to her at that moment that they could’ve just transfigured the pillows they were sitting on into umbrellas, but traitorously, she didn’t want to mention it if it meant she lost her chance to be near him. 

She felt something lightly brush past the hand she had rested in the space between them but thought nothing of it, instead focusing on her breathing and making sure she didn’t sound like she was hyperventilating because she most certainly felt like she wanted to. She’d never shared her special roof spot with anyone, not even Harry or Ron. But he didn’t know that. 

The fireworks exploded with a crescendo of motion as multiple green sparkles were launched into the air, crackling and sparking with energy. At any other point in time, Y/N would’ve found it easy to focus on the beauty of the show, but something else caught her attention: the fact that Draco’s hand was now set directly next to hers, the edge of his touching her with the lightest of pressures. Every nerve ending in her left hand felt like it was burning with energy as Draco, without even sparing a glance in her direction, inched his hand over just enough for his pinky to overlap with hers.

Y/N tried to remember how to breathe as her thoughts ran wild. Friends touched hands sometimes. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he didn’t even know it was her hand.

She heard Draco’s own breath hitch in his throat as his hand finally slipped under hers, intertwining their fingers and turning them so her hand rested in his palm. 

Friends held hands sometimes. There was nothing romantic about this. Nope. This was normal. Y/N’s frenzied thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s voice.

“You know how much danger my family is in,” he said, finally revealing what had him so shaken up. “Well, I got a letter from my mother last night. Apparently she’s been getting these strange, veiled threats. She can’t identify the owl and it seems like whoever this is is hell-bent on breaking into the manor. My aunt and the rest of the Death Eaters have been ridiculing her for even worrying about it.”

Y/N started to feel a guilty pit in her stomach. The letter her father sent her was beginning to make more sense. “Draco, that’s awful.”

“Do you think that maybe they’re the ones who are sending them to her?” he asked, his voice raising an octave at the end, flourished with a small crack in his tone. “As a way to rush me to the end of my task?”

Draco had slowly leaned into her as he told her his worries, and Y/N found herself gently squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything else. This isn’t fair to you. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need help solving the cabinet?”

He shook his head, casting his gaze down to their hands. “Is it okay if I just stay here for a little?”

“Of course you can,” she said, immediately regretting her words. Having him around would only make her feel worse. Was this how he treated all of his friends? She held back an ill-timed chuckle at the thought of him holding hands with Goyle. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” His eyes were so light that she could still see the silver hue of them in the dark, reflecting what little moonlight found him under the blanket. “You know, I’m glad we had detention together. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Pansy kept badgering me all day about how she could help instead of actually listening and Blaise just told me that if I kept moping around he’d nab my mother himself.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. Jealousy surged through her as she thought again about Pansy. When she held hands with him, she probably never had to wonder what it meant. “Do they know about…”

“Not everything,” Draco clarified. “That’s just you. They just know about my current house guests. I haven’t told them any specifics.”

Another pang of guilt rattled through Y/N as she ran through the information she’d gotten the night prior in her head while he squeezed her hand back, his thumb running along her skin. She felt like the shame of not mentioning it earlier was burning her up.

“Draco, I need to tell you something.” The makeshift blanket tent all of a sudden felt like the most intimate location in the world as he turned to face her fully, now gripping her hand with two of his own and leaning closer, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally ran through the contents of the parchment on her desk. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of rain and Draco’s breathing. 

“If this is what I think it is, then I--”

“I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected,” she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. “I’m not that stupid.”

Draco took his own hands, now empty, and folded them neatly on his thigh. He stopped meeting her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t--I wasn’t going to--”

“It’s--no, I’m sorry.” Y/N found herself angry that she gave up her excuse to hold his hand. “That was just a little embarrassing for me. I promise I won’t bring it up again. This is something totally different.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” To her surprise, there was no usual teasing lilt to his tone; he was being entirely genuine.

“I want you to know that we can call this off at any time,” she began, watching his blank expression carefully should it change, “But I hope you think about this.”

“Think about what?”

“I’m kidnapping your mom.” 

There. It was out. Draco’s mouth had long since fallen open, a look of mild horror on his face. “What the actual fuck?”

“Let me explain,” Y/N rushed. “The Order owes my family a favor. My mom knew yours. I may have mentioned something about the treatment towards her over the holidays and now my family is orchestrating a way to fake a kidnapping-turned-murder situation to get her out.”

He blinked at her.

“Of course we can call it off anytime you want,” Y/N repeated. She cast a quick Accio (something she was surprised worked considering how shaky she was) and summoned her father’s letter from her desk, thrusting it into his arms. “Read this. It has all the details.”

Draco scanned the document without a single word leaving his lips.

“You’re scaring me, Draco. What do you think?”

“You have an Italian beach cottage?” he asked. 

“Apparently so,” answered Y/N. “I’ve never been there, but we haven’t actually registered it through the British Ministry. If we hide your mother there, no one is going to be able to find her. She’s not required to give up information to the Order, either--I mean, we kind of hope that she will, but there’s no mandated amount of intel to keep her safe.”

“And I can…”

“Yes. After your task is straightened out, you can join her if you want.” She hardly finished her sentence before Draco’s arms pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever been given in her life.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbled, his voice strained. “How did you...wow. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. “I’m just glad I could help.”

He finally pulled away, still keeping his hands gently placed on her forearms. She tried to keep her thoughts from straying too much as he gazed down at her, a slightly sad downturn in his lips. The way he was looking at her began to make her even more nervous.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she stated. “I want to get up early tomorrow so I’m not too late to Potions. Are you feeling better?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Er, yes. I suppose so. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m assuming this is when you kick me out?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She spelled her blanket clean from under him and stepped back into her room, turning to face him. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me.”

He sent her a small smile before swinging his legs over the windowsill and making his way to the door. “I hope you have a good night. Sleep well.” He went in for another hug, but this time Y/N accidentally leaned the same direction as him, nearly crashing her lips into his.

“Shit, sorry,” she murmured as she quickly corrected herself to lean the other way--and was horrified to find that he had done the exact thing as well, barely dodging him this time and instead reeling herself back as far as his hold on her allowed. Draco let out a nervous laugh, letting her go and stepping away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well. That was poorly timed considering the conversation we had,” he pointed out. What stellar observational skills.

“Er, yeah. Well…” Y/N held her hand out and immediately felt herself cringe. “Here’s to being good friends.”

He took her hand in his and tentatively shook it, a sort of half-smirk dancing on his lips as his eyebrow raised. “To being good friends. I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, and Y/N was able to flop back on her bed and frantically sort through her thoughts in peace. He’d almost--no, she’d almost--well, they both had almost kissed. As friends, though. Obviously.

This is ridiculous. She pulled a blanket up around her and immediately froze when she breathed in--black tea and sage, just as she remembered. She decided it was high time to switch her blankets anyways and tossed that one in the laundry bin.

~

“And then guess what she said?”

“Come on, we’re waiting,” Y/N said to Ron as they chattered over their cauldron in Potions together, flanked by the rest of her Gryffindor friends.

“Lavender said I’m obviously pining after Hermione because I keep asking her to study with me.”

“No!” came from Neville after a theatrical gasp. “She did not.” 

“She literally did, mate,” Harry cut in. “I saw it myself. Honestly, I think she might be onto something. I’ve always sensed some sort of tension between you two.”

“I think Harry’s right, as much as it pains me to say it,” she teased, giving her friend a little shove. Seamus had just opened his mouth to start talking when the sound of shattering glass prompted them all to whip around to face the Slytherin section. Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly clutching the broken remains of a glass vial in his hand like he was still in disbelief over what had occurred. 

“Malfoy, boy, is everything alright over there?” Slughorn asked from the front.

“Yes,” he said quickly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened.”

“You should sleep more,” the professor continued. “It’s harder to control your magic when you’re young and exhausted.”

Draco just nodded, his gaze turning over to meet Y/N’s worried one. She tilted her head, mouthing, “Are you okay?”. He sent her a tight smile and nodded, though Pansy sent her a very dirty look. 

“So that was weird,” said Y/N, turning back around to face Harry. “I haven’t broken glass by losing control of my magic since I was a kid.”

“One time I let a snake out in a muggle zoo,” said Harry, his eyes miles away as he traveled down memory lane.

“You what now?”

“I can’t believe I never told you that.”

“I think I would’ve remembered that. What’d you do, whisper in its ear about how the only thing it has to lose is its chains or something until he was motivated enough to escape?”

Harry laughed. “No. I vanished the glass. And then it thanked me, which was horribly alarming for a kid who had no idea what magic was.”

“You poor, poor thing,” she mocked before Slughorn dismissed them and they began to make their way together down the hall. “Suffering from success.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N felt a surge of affection for the fact that they were friends once again. “Basically the story of my life. Anyways, I’m off to see Snape.”

“Merlin, are you okay?” asked Y/N, holding her hand to his forehead and miming the motion of checking for a fever. “On your own time?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he said, suddenly looking more somber. “I’m just serving detention for what happened in the bathroom. I am still very sorry about that, you know. If you wanted to curse me to get back at me, I’d understand.”

She shoved him forward, a smile dancing on her lips as she said, “Go on, suffer for my honor.” Then she felt a hand pull her back into an empty, dark classroom. 

“Let go of me!” she exclaimed, twisting around to try and see the person who had grabbed her.

“Boo,” whispered a familiar voice in her ear. 

“Draco, you do realize you could just talk to me in the halls like a normal goddamn person,” she chided, finally being released from his grip so she could give him a stern look. He only shrugged, a slightly impish look displayed across his features.

“But it’s more fun this way.”

She tried her hardest to frown at him, but it was honestly difficult when he was smiling at her the way he was. “So, what’s up? Did something happen?”

“Nothing really,” he admitted. “I just know that we both have free periods. Do you want to spend it together?”

Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends Y/N chanted in her head. He’s only saying this as a platonic thing.

“I guess I don’t really have anything better to do,” she teased. Despite her light hearted tone, she couldn’t help but notice the shift in Draco’s behavior. In a matter of days, he was looking more like himself than he had all year--the color finding its way back into his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled, the food on his plate in the Great Hall actually being eaten. 

If there was one thing that Y/N was quickly learning about Draco, it was that under all of his snobbery, he was endearingly weird. He’d memorized all of the captains of the Slytherin Quidditch team, read everything there was in the library about alchemy, and always sent her the dorkiest fucking waves whenever their eyes met. 

So, in spirit of Draco’s newly recovered persona, Y/N spent the rest of her free period sitting in the empty classroom and chatting with him about a whole load of nothing. They’d both sat on top of adjacent desks, and sometimes Y/N would swing her feet so she kicked his shin. He’d always promptly return the favor.

“So,” she said after a while, “Have you been thinking about what I told you? My family’s plan, and all?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze cast down to his hands. “A little. I guess I’m just a little confused about what I should do with my task or when all of this is going to happen.”

“I’m only asking because I’ve been thinking about it,” confessed Y/N. “I think I’ve figured out what you should do with your task. If you want to, that is.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve already established that You-Know-Who has nothing to hold over your head without your mother at stake,” began Y/N, searching his face to find agreement, “But it’s going to look suspicious if you suddenly stop sending progress reports.”

Draco reached his hand up to scratch his cheek. “One problem, though. I don’t think I’ll be able to repair the cabinet. I’ve hit a complete dead end anyways.”

“That’s fine,” said Y/N. “That doesn’t matter. Fake the progress reports. I don’t think that you should fix it at all, to be honest. I think you should leave it broken and still invite Bellatrix and her friends to travel through it.”

“And kill them?!”

“Or maim them,” offered Y/N. “I know it’s not ideal, but I think that if I tweaked the cabinet’s lunar belt just right, I might be able to control how the space-time continuum is warped and simply incapacitate them so the Order can take them into custody. Of course, the dark magic as an element may throw a curveball, but it’s worth a shot. And if you do this, it’ll mean that the Order will trust you more.”

“Hm.” Draco caught his bottom lip on his teeth while he shut his eyes, obviously stewing over everything. “That’s quite the risk.”

“I can run it by my family to get their thoughts on it,” she offered. “But the only caveat is that I have to mention what you’re trying to do.”

His eyes shot open. “Maybe don’t mention the part where I’ve already made more than one attempt on the headmaster’s life if we end up going down that route.”

Y/N shrugged. “The Order might already know. Isn’t Snape onto you?”

“He’s not ‘onto me’, he was instructed to help--” Draco stopped in his tracks as he stared at her. “Wait, what?”

“Oh,” she said, both of them frozen as they realized what they’d revealed to each other. “Erm...forget I mentioned that.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he mumbled, sending a half-hearted kick at her. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Love it,” she said absentmindedly. “Anyways, will you go to Slug’s Valentine party with me next weekend? As friends, of course. He wants all of us to bring dates and I don’t know who else to ask.”

Draco looked like he was glowing. “Really? You wouldn’t bring Potter?”

“Eh,” she responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s going with Ginny. Plus, I see him around the common room enough as it is.” Y/N waited a few moments. “So? Are you in?”

He shook himself out of what looked to be a weirdly stupified state. “Er, of course. Just let me know when you need me.”

The Hogwarts bells began to chime outside, signifying that the third period block was beginning. 

“Saturday at 8,” said Y/N, turning to leave. “You can meet me in front of the Great Hall.”

“I’ll just walk you from your dorm.”

“Then you have to be there earlier.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t mind. Anyways, I’m off to Runes. Enjoy Divination.” He bumped her shoulder as he walked past, sending a thrill through Y/N. How had he even known that she had Divination? That was one of the few classes they didn’t share, and she probably just mentioned it in passing once. 

Then again, they were friends. And just because Ron and Hermione hadn’t memorized her schedule, it didn’t mean that Draco was the same kind of friend.

Things only got more confusing as time went on. Draco found any excuse to talk to her, especially when she was with Harry. If he were any other boy, Y/N would’ve immediately assumed the obvious: that he had a crush on her and was jealous. But, obviously, that was impossible. He’d told her upfront that he didn’t have any feelings for her. So why was his behavior so different after that night they spent together on the roof? 

It got even weirder on Friday. Draco once again pulled her away from a conversation with Harry to shove a little box in her hands.

“What’s this, Draco?” she asked, frowning as she turned it around in her hand.

“It’s just something I thought you might like,” he muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Her interest piqued, Y/N opened the box.

“A quidditch bracelet?” Y/N gulped as she looked down at the enchanted diamonds, each glittering with a gentle silver pigment--as well as a slight lavender purple sheen. This was not a normal gift to give to your school friend. This was at least a few thousand galleons--probably even more, considering the enchantments that made the stones glow. Even her considerably wealthy family wouldn’t buy her one because of her horrid track record with jewelry.

He shrugged. “I picked it up while I was at Barnaby’s a bit ago. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want. I remembered I had it when you asked me to Slug’s party and I thought I’d see if you’d be interested.”

“Erm,” said Y/N, stammering, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this from someone before.”

“Believable.” Draco snorted. “Take it and do me a favor. It’s not like I’d wear it. It might as well be appreciated by someone.”

“It’s beautiful, it really is. I’m just worried because I have a bit of a habit of forgetting I’m wearing jewelry and breaking it….”

“I assumed. That’s why I charmed it to be unbreakable,” said Draco quickly. “If you don’t want to wear it, I won’t be offended. I’m just offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be thankful that the abandoned classroom he’d pulled her into was dark. Otherwise, he might’ve seen how red her cheeks were. “I guess we’ll figure out how strong your unbreaking enchantments are shortly.”

“Is this your way of saying yes?”

“Help me put it on, will you?” 

She could see dimples form in his cheeks as he allowed a small, close lipped smile to spread across his face while he unclasped the bracelet from the box and gently turned her arm so her palm faced up to the sky. His touch lingered over her skin for a few seconds. Y/N had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice suddenly low, “About what we talked about last time we were here. About the cabinet, and the Order…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to do it,” he said firmly, finally pulling his hands away from her arm and tossing the empty wrapping into his pocket. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

“Nothing yet, really. Just your consent to tell my family about your task. I’ll let you know if they want anything else.” Though Y/N’s response was truthful and concise, her mind was elsewhere as she came to a depressing realization. He wasn’t giving her the quidditch bracelet because he secretly liked her and wanted to spoil her or whatever. He was doing it as a thank you for what she was doing for him and his mother. An elaborate gift for an even more elaborate favor. 

“That’s easy enough,” Draco mused. “In the meantime, I’ll keep sending progress reports.”

“Good plan,” said Y/N, her voice a little deflated. “Thank you again for the bracelet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left the classroom and spent the rest of her night stewing over the poor decisions she’d made regarding her emotions over the past week. She knew about the effect that Draco had over her, yet she still invited him to Slug’s party like an idiot. And then she’d let herself get her hopes up over dumb little things like the way he looked at her in class or the quidditch bracelet when he was really just being a friend trying to pay her back for a big favor. 

Saturday night was going to be rough if she couldn’t get her feelings in line.

~

At 7:50 sharp, Y/N waited by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Peeves wailed above her as she tried to practice slow breathing--in for 5 seconds, out for 5 seconds. I am in control of my feelings. I control my own reality.

Then she saw him, and all of the work she’d done trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him amounted to nothing. He looked breathtaking. Y/N bit her tongue as she tried to violently beat back the thoughts of all the things she wanted him to do to her. 

“You look nice,” he said smoothly once he was close enough for it to be socially acceptable. Her mouth went completely dry as she drank in the sight of him in an all-black suit.

“Thanks. So do you.” She internally congratulated herself for getting through that without stumbling over her words too much. Gingerly, she pushed herself off her position of leaning on the wall and began to walk alongside him.

As they ascended the steps, her heel teetered. She reached for Draco’s hand in a moment of sheer panic--and, surprisingly, he latched onto her and held her up. 

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you to not wear shoes you couldn’t walk in?” he said, amused. He didn’t move to let go of her hand. 

“Don’t be rude, Malfoy,” she fired back.  

“You’re not wearing it,” he noted. His lips slightly turned into a frown as he cast his eyes downwards.

Y/N stared at him, her mind barely functioning at this point. “What?” 

“The bracelet,” he said, letting go of her hand to motion to her wrist.

“Oh,” she responded lamely. In truth, she’d tossed it into his quill box while she was in the throes of self-pity over the whole ordeal of unrequited feelings, but she could hardly tell him that. “I took it off to shower and it took too long to put back on.”

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to help again,” he said with a teasing lilt. “I’d only judge you a little.”

She smiled, grateful he wasn’t pushing it any further. “Ever the gentleman. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

They made it to the fifth floor in no time. Slughorn only seemed slightly concerned with the presence of Draco, but he didn’t say anything to Y/N. As she expected, Hermione and Ron gave her a little bit of side-eye once they saw her choice of a date, but neither of them brought it up and even spoke to her for a little--though they never verbally acknowledged Malfoy. While she was constantly overanalyzing the little things that Draco was doing--the way he offered her a sip of his drink when she spaced out on the way his hands looked holding it for too long, the way he was always touching her in some way, whether it be a hand on her lower back or a lingering grip on her waist--she couldn’t help but feel overcome with the relief that her friends seemed somewhat accepting of her new friendship with Draco. 

Then Harry opened his mouth. 

“Malfoy,” he greeted through gritted teeth. 

“Potter.”

Ginny met her slightly panicked gaze with one of her own. To her surprise, though, Harry just flicked his gaze to where Draco’s hand was lightly poised on her waist, raising an eyebrow. “Congratulations for finally being honest with her. I always thought Y/N deserved a bloke who outright admitted his feelings. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe that is you after all.”

Draco’s hand immediately dropped. “Do me a favor and bugger off.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong,” replied Harry, looking Draco up and down with possibly the pettiest look she’d ever seen on a wizard before. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“That was weird,” said Y/N, though she secretly revelled in the fact that Harry was picking up on something too.

“I suppose.” Draco slid off one of his rings, running his fingertips over the ridges of his family crest.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Y/N, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just never really been a party person.”

“I imagine it’s probably not helping that Harry’s here,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing him. “Do you want to just get out of here? I think we’ve been here for long enough to justify ditching.” His grateful smile told her everything. “I had a feeling. Where do you want to go?”

He pondered this for a bit. “I’m not sure. Anywhere but here.”

“Anywhere but here” quickly turned into his dorm as they wordlessly made their way down to the dungeons, passing by Marvin the raven outside Snape’s stores. Y/N’s pulse sped up every time their hands brushed--which seemed to happen far, far too often for it to be accidental on either of their ends. 

“I can’t believe you broke in there,” he said finally, chuckling as the raven cooed at her appreciatively. “And just for me? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” grumbled Y/N. Obviously she’d done it just for him--she was hopelessly obsessed with him. He knew that. She found herself profoundly grateful that she’d been under the influence of Veritaserum that time instead of now--if she’d had so much as a drop of truth serum, she’d spend the entire night telling him how much she wanted him. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how weird Harry was back there. I don’t get why he feels the need to make assumptions about everything.”

Draco hummed, tapping his fingers on her wrist. Just friends, just friends, you’re just friends. Merlin fucking damnit, why did he have such nice hands? “I don’t know. He was certainly sure about it.”

“And I have no clue why,” Y/N said, pretending like she was in disbelief instead of acute pain. “I know you don’t see me like that. I’m not really sure where he’s getting that from.”

“Oh?” Draco let his hand fall, a weird tone coming over his voice. “You aren’t?”

“Well, I remember what you said,” she said matter-of-factly, trying her hardest not to read into the way he was staring at her, watching every fidget of her hands. “It’s not like I’d be self-loathing enough to expect anything different.”

He let out a huff of frustration. “Y/L/N, honestly. I sent you a box of special Wurgie’s lavender chocolates on Valentine’s day. I spend all of my free periods talking to you.”

“Ok?” Y/N couldn’t help but be taken aback by how argumentative his tone was becoming. “I suppose I see how Harry could read into that. But I have to spend my free periods with someone, right? And sometimes I get my friends chocolate on Valentine’s day too.”

“I bought you a whole enchanted quidditch bracelet. It’s the only one of its kind,” he snipped, obviously becoming more agitated. “I spent an entire day trying to find the right unbreaking spell. My father literally wrote to me from Azkaban to ask me why the Gringotts bank statement recorded me taking out that many galleons at once. He thought someone had broken into our account.”

“He doesn’t know that.” Y/N was becoming keenly aware of how close he was standing to her now that they’d stopped walking, her back a few inches from the wall as he leaned into her space. “Even if I had worn it out, there’s no way he could’ve known it was from you.”

“That’s not what I’m--” he began waspishly before clearing his throat and collecting himself. “I’m just saying, those things aren’t exactly platonic.”

“Okay,” said Y/N slowly, trying to turn her thoughts away from how soft his lips looked, “I’ll concede that some things that we do can be read as something more than friendship. But I know how you feel. You told me.”

He wet his lips. “Do you actually think I care about whatever goes in that dim brain of his?”

“Normally, no. But considering the fact that we just had an argument over it, then maybe I’m incorrect in assuming.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. He was close enough that she could smell the traces of that expensive cologne he always wore that reminded her of loose leaf lapsang souchong and fresh parchment. “And I was never trying to argue with you about his perception. I was talking about my actual intentions.”

“What?” Y/N choked out as she tentatively glanced up to see his jaw set. Her heart was pounding so hard it must’ve been audible. What the hell was he talking about?

Instead of answering, Draco gently reached up to her shoulders, walking her back until she was pinned up against the wall. His other hand came to tilt her chin so their eyes met. She would’ve been deceived into thinking he was confident by his unwavering stare, but she’d felt how his hands were slightly unstable. “Merlin, are you going to make me spell it out for you? How many different ways am I going to need to tell you?”

In the end, she wasn’t quite sure who it was who closed the gap--just that, at some point, one of them did, and that she was all of a sudden kissing Draco Malfoy with a fervor that she didn’t know she had in her. His mouth was hot against hers as he pressed her up further into the wall, his knee rising between her thighs to prop her up.

In the recesses of the back of her mind, it vaguely registered that this didn’t add up with what he told her the last night they spent together--but she decided to brush all those concerns off to the nebulous concept of later when his hands tangled into her hair.

The sound of footsteps and students giggling echoed down the corridor, making the pair jump apart. Y/N wiped her lips, trying to fix the smear of her lipstick as Draco frantically straightened out his tie that she’d tugged loose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. 

“Do you still want to go back to my dorm?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She dared to look up at him, not expecting the sight of his pupils blown out and his cheeks slightly rosy. “If that’s okay, yeah.”

Neither of them attempted to make conversation as he led her through the empty Slytherin common room. She could feel her heart crawling into her throat. She’d never gone to a boy’s dorm before other than during the Veritaserum incident--sure, she’d kissed some boys before, she’d even gone to the Yule Ball with a cute Beauxbatons boy--but she didn’t know how this worked. Was she supposed to immediately start kissing him the moment his bedroom door was closed? Was she supposed to be kissing him now? Was she supposed to be kissing him at all after that?

They made it into his bedroom before Y/N could come to a decision on her next action, so she decided to just not make any moves. Fuck, that was almost worse. Where would she sit? At his desk? No, who the fuck does that? Next to him on his bed? No, too suggestive. Just stand by the door? Merlin, no. She wished that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so she could sit back in her dorm and think about the way he’d kissed her in private. 

“So,” said Draco. 

“So,” echoed Y/N, finally giving in and sinking down onto the bed next to him. 

“So, I take it that you still like me?” A small smirk danced on his lips. 

Her cheeks blushed into a furious red. “Draco, please don’t make this any more embarrassing than it has to be.”

“What are you...huh?” He shifted so he was on his side, propping up his chin with his palm as he studied her with agonizing attention. “Why would it be embarrassing when I was the one who kissed you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that this isn’t the first time? And the fact that I’m waiting for you to tell me you didn’t mean it again?”

“You think I didn’t mean that?” Draco’s eyebrows raised. “Do I need to do it again to get it through that thick skull of yours?”

“I--what--don’t be rude,” she stuttered. 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t lose the upturn of his lips. “I guess so. I suppose I was planning on it anyway.” 

All her nervousness melted away as Draco edged closer, the coolness of his rings pressing pleasantly into her neck. Instead of kissing her immediately like she expected, he traced the outline of her neck up to her ear where he wound his fingers into her hair, finally leaning in so their lips met. 

His skin was soft against hers as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and pulling her into his lap, his fingers spanning the width of her waist and twisting in the satiny fabric of her dress. When she was out of breath and the pillow she was next to was beginning to get pushed dangerously close to the edge, she finally broke the kiss. 

“Can’t you just tell me how you feel with your words?” she prompted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Draco. 

“I thought it was obvious last time.”

“Well, it was. That was before I knew that I was relieved of my task,” he explained, his grip around her waist tightening to tug her ever closer. 

“Why would that matter?”

“Because,” he began, a slightly exasperated look in his eye, “If I had my task and my mother was still at stake, I would’ve had to go back home over the summer. And You-Know-Who would see you in my memories. Plus, I think that being a full-time Death Eater makes it very difficult to be a good boyfriend to someone who’s best friends with Harry Potter. That would complicate things. I knew that if I told you I felt the same way I wouldn’t be able to say no to you.”

“So…” She swallowed. “Does this mean that you’ve liked me all along? Like, from the start?”

“What do you think?” he drawled, his fingers ghosting over the zipper of her dress. “Do you think I just go around kissing random girls in my bed?”

“Well, what about Pansy?”

“Yeah, actually, what about her?” he asked, a little glimmer appearing in his eye. “We haven’t been together since, what, the middle of 5th year? I talk to her as much as I talk to any of my other Slytherin friends. I don’t know what’s got you so up in arms over her.”

“She obviously isn’t over you,” Y/N pointed out. “I just know it.”

“And? I’m over her.” He gave her a knowing look. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “I thought that maybe there was something. It’s not like I’m keenly aware of the Slytherin social going-ons.” 

“Sheesh, so defensive,” he tutted, his thumbs now rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s almost like you like me or something.”

“Draco!” She swatted at him, but he caught her hand in midair and kissed each of her knuckles, giving her an almost sheepish look. It was all she could do to keep her laughs from getting too loud as he dropped her hand and swept towards her again, kissing her fully. 

Before she knew it, they were rolled over so he was on top of her, hovering over her with his elbows supporting his weight as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along the bare curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and let a soft sigh escape her as his lips drags across the spot under her ear, pushing up further into him.

“You liked that, huh?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” she said, reaching up to thread her fingers lightly through his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. Something possessed her to wind her fingers through the locks on the back of his neck and close them into a fist, awarding her with a sharp intake of air from Draco. “You liked that, huh?” she mocked.

He rolled his eyes, muttering a “fucking hell” so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear it. Despite the exasperation in his tone, his mouth was still fixed in an upturn as he looked down at her, his eyes soft. She couldn’t help but move up to kiss him again, and again, and again, until her lungs were screaming for air and her neck was cramping from the angle.

She let her head fall back onto his down comforter, taking in the sight of Draco with swollen, well-kissed lips. 

“What?” He tilted his head as he regarded her.

“I just love you like this,” she said shyly. “Oh, Merlin, wait, I didn’t mean it like…”

Draco let out a chuckle. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. I love you like this, too. You’re not as difficult.” He rolled off of her, taking a moment to shed his dress coat and pull off his tie.

When he was close enough again, she rewarded his tolerance with a smile and a delicate, nervous kiss on his collarbone, dragging her teeth over his skin for just a moment. The hand that was placed on her back scrunched up the material of her dress as Draco’s breath caught. 

“Your hands are bloody cold,” he complained as her fingers wound themselves under his dress shirt, exploring the new expanse of exposed alabaster skin.  

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, pulling away and letting go for just a second before he grabbed her wrists together and hauled her back.

 “No.”

“I’ve never…”

“That’s okay,” he said as she settled back onto his lap, reveling in the soft way that he was treating the skin that was exposed by her dress. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m just scared,” she suddenly choked out. Where did that come from? “I want you, now, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to you telling me that you can’t do this or that you didn’t like it or…” She trailed off, distracted by the way he firmly tapped the outer edge of her thigh.

“I’m not going to do that to you,” he said. “I promise. I made that mistake once. Plus, the burden of the performance is kind of on me anyways, so there’s nothing to be nervous about if that’s a hold up.”

She snorted. “Don’t make me change my mind, Malfoy.” 

Despite her words, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I mean it. If you want to just lie there that’s fine. As long as you enjoy it, it’ll be great for me.” His hand came up to gingerly brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen in her face before dropping to gently toy with the top of her zipper again--a question. Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be helped out of the garment, letting it fall to the ground before turning back to attack the buttons on Draco’s chest. He made an amused sound as she struggled, eventually unsheathing his wand and opening it up in a second.

“I could’ve done that, you know,” she said rather defensively.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, hardly masking his teasing tone. “You’re very capable. Now come here.”

 And so she did.

The idea of sex had always been scary to Y/N. Someone, especially someone attractive enough for her to want to sleep with him, seeing her fully exposed made her want to freeze up and dive under her blankets. But that was before Draco. Somewhere, hidden deep in the back of her brain, lay an anxious switch that flicked off as soon as she was pinned under him with his knee pushing up to part her legs. She no longer felt like she had to be self-conscious--despite how intimidated she was by him, she’d never felt more adored. 

Y/N learned three surprising things about Draco in the span of that night: one, that in some places his skin felt like crushed velvet under her fingers; two, that he melted in her hands when she pressed her lips to the sensitive spot on his neck; and three, that he had a freckle under his jaw. And on his left shoulder. And at the spot where his thigh met his torso.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured to her after they’d slumped together, his duvet haphazardly flung over their bodies while his fingers traced patterns on her back.

“I’m just so glad you feel the same way,” she admitted. “I thought I was going crazy over your actions not lining up with your words. It was driving me insane.”

Draco let out a little laugh. “I thought it was painfully obvious.”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs that time you walked with me after detention?”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs today?”

“You’re ruining this,” she said sourly as she swatted his chest.

Instead of responding, he just snatched her hand and held it hostage. “I’m not the one resorting to physical violence. Which, now that I think of it, is pretty commonplace for you.”

“Hey! If I hadn’t thrown the york pudding at Pansy, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Draco was silent for a few moments.

“You know I’m right,” she pressed. To her surprise, he shifted uncomfortably under her.

“I’m not so sure,” he finally admitted.

“Huh?” Her features flooded with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I’m lucky it worked out like this,” he said hesitantly. “And...so soon. You hated me.”

She sat up, pulling away from his embrace and folding her knees under her. “What are you talking about?” 

“I dunno.” Draco refused to meet her eyes, his fingers instead playing with the edges of his sheets. “This is probably stupid, but do you remember the time we brewed Amortentia in Slughorn’s class?”

She nodded. 

“You told me that it reminded you of a memory,” he continued, “And that you knew you had to have danced with them at some point.”

“I’m aware.” Y/N blinked down at him as she tried to piece the puzzle together.

He finally flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I guess you don’t remember it, but in fourth year we danced together once. I’d never talked to you before--I knew you were friends with Potter and the like--but I just never really stopped thinking about it since.”

“This is so embarrassing,” said Y/N. “How do I not remember?”

He shrugged. “I think you were a little tipsy at the time. I did, though. I’ve never forgotten.”

“Then why were you so mean to my friends?”

“I stopped for the most part,” he pointed out. “And, if you’ll notice, it was mostly towards Harry.”

“I thought that was because he’s the Chosen One.”

“No, it’s because I could see that he liked you and I was jealous. Eventually I just gave up around 5th year, around when I started dating Pansy. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I was ever going to be able to be with you, especially not after getting my task.” 

“Oh,” Y/N said as she mulled over this information. “My story isn't as romantic. I suppose I’ve always had a little crush on you too, but I was definitely in denial. I just always found you ridiculously attractive and tragically funny considering what you used to support.”

He glowed down at her, pressing the pad of his thumb into her cheek. “Well, I’m glad I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“Me too.”

~

The weeks began to pass faster after that. Draco never really struck Y/N as a PDA type of guy, but he was surprisingly affectionate. When they began to brew potions together again, he was quick to tuck away her hair behind her ear when she was looking over the cauldron and sent her sweet, private smiles that made her heart flutter. He even sat with her every once in a while at the Gryffindor table when the trio was busy doing whatever they had to do to save the world. Y/N pretended to not notice the whispers that were elicited from her peers when Draco would casually touch her.

They spent as many nights together as they could, but considering how often her friends were giving her dirty looks for stumbling into Potions after not being seen in the Gryffindor Tower for the past day, they had to be reasonable, cutting it down to three or four nights a week. 

Y/N treasured every moment she had with Draco, even when they were fleeting and in between classes. She learned everything she could about him--how he was actually terrified of snakes, how he preferred his tea black, how he had an elaborate morning routine he hardly ever deviated from--and committed it all to mind. Her favorite version of him in her head was the way he looked when he was between her sheets, fast asleep with his arms draped over her. Whenever she woke up before him, she tried to memorize it.

He was absolutely ridiculous with the kind of gifts he gave her. Y/N swore that one day she’d wake up to find that he’d bought the British crown jewels because he “saw them” and “just thought of her”. She now had enough Barnaby’s quills to rival the number of feathers on the country’s entire population of geese, but instead of feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, all Y/N could feel was the impending doom that, one day, those gifts would be the only thing she had left of him. He seemed to know this, too.

Draco always found some kind of reason to pull her away and kiss her senseless, whether it be behind a tapestry or in a broom closet when Filch heard them walking around the castle after curfew. In a way, it was like they were just normal teenagers, enjoying the thrill of the moment and acting out. When she thought of it like that, it made the inevitable events seem more bearable; at least they had some time together.

The letter came with no more context than just a simple “Tomorrow.” Y/N knew exactly what it meant--Narcissa Malfoy was going to finally be taken from the manor. Bellatrix needed to be convinced over the next 24 hours to enter the Borgin & Burke’s Vanishing Cabinet as a distraction, and Y/N needed to be sure of her work on the cabinet.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Y/N mused absentmindedly as she sat in front of the cabinet. Draco’s head rested on her shoulder after recounting all of the changes he’d made. “That was clever, switching out the conductor clasp with a copper fitting.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. “I’m not totally daft, you know.”

“Of course I know,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft murmur. Fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh as he pulled her onto him. “Draco, I have to fix this first. Then we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Hm,” was all he said, burying his face in her neck once again and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you worried?”

He was still for a few moments before dipping his head slightly in a nod.

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, winding his fingers through hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I should be comforting you, not the other way around,” he said softly. “I dragged you into this.”

“I pushed myself into this,” she corrected. “And, plus, it’s not my mother on the line. It’s okay to care, you know.”

Y/N got up, making her way towards the cabinet and meeting his eyes once. They shared a knowing glance as she brandished her wand and whispered a quick fracturing spell, sending cracks down the eastern side of the lunar belt. Her hand shook as she shrank back onto the couch until his arms found her shoulders and turned her towards him. “I can’t believe I just...I just did that.”

Instead of responding, he simply sat up straight and delicately pressed his lips to her forehead, his hand coming around to cradle her for just a moment. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Out of here” once again turned into Draco’s dorm room.

“I can’t believe this will all be over tomorrow,” Draco said, his back turned as he loosened his Slytherin tie. “I’m going to be gone by Sunday morning.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to let the lump in her throat garner too much attention at the thought of losing Draco into what was essentially the Order’s witness protection program. 

He seemed to notice her uncharacteristic silence, frowning at his reflection before making his way towards her and diligently pressing kisses on her cheeks. Instead of grabbing onto his sleeve cuffs and pulling him closer like she usually did, she just let out a tiny sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the tie slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he murmured, moving so she had to look at him. 

“Hey.” She sent him a watery smile, hoping that he couldn’t see how close she was to tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head, anchoring her bottom lip with her teeth so she didn’t choke up. “It’s nothing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull that with me. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to ask again. What’s wrong?” His hand came up to pull her chin up again so their eyes were level, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

Y/N tried to tell him; she really did. It wasn’t her fault that the most pathetic sounding sob of her life came out of her mouth instead of a confession. Instead of asking any more questions or trying to get her to talk, Draco just pulled her into his arms and held her there, letting her weep into him. His hands came up to rub her back as she struggled to breathe normally.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“This isn’t about me,” said Y/N miserably. “It’s about you. What if something happens to you while we’re apart? What if I don’t get to see you again?”

Draco made a small sound in his throat, almost like he was holding back a sob himself. “Y/N, don’t worry about me, okay? It’ll all be alright, love. Don’t worry.”

Despite the fact that Draco was doing his best to comfort her, Y/N knew one thing for sure: his word couldn’t stand against fate, and if he were meant to die or disappear during the time that he was hidden away in Italy, there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She turned her head and found herself pressing her lips to his with so much desperation that she hardly even noticed the few stray tears that had made their way down her cheeks. He met her with much more tenderness, his fingers gently brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. For someone as cocky as Draco, he could be so shy when he kissed her, almost like he expected her to change her mind halfway through. 

“I don’t want this to be over,” she whispered as she pulled away, leaving the slightest gap between their lips. 

He cupped her face, his eyes shining. “It’s not over. We have a few hours left.”

To her horror, another strangled gasp left her lips. Draco had her tucked into his arms in an instant, his lips pressing into her hairline. “It’s not over, okay? I just don’t want to hold you back if you aren’t allowed to see me. Don’t wait around for me.”

“I don’t care,” choked out Y/N. “I’d wait forever if it meant I got to have you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But it’s not fair of me to expect that from you. I don’t know how long this war is going to last.”

“I don’t care about fairness,” whispered Y/N. “I just want you.”

They spent the rest of the night tangled together in his sheets, just waiting for the morning to come. Neither one got any sleep. Instead, Y/N entertained herself by playing with his hands and asking him questions about his childhood--anything to keep her from remembering what was in store for both of them.

It had been decided earlier that Y/N would have no part in the cabinet plan after they ran the information by the Order. Actually, it was decided that she’d have no part in anything beyond just bringing the situation of Narcissa Malfoy to attention. “It’s crucial to your safety that you don’t connect yourself and by extension our family to this,” one of her father’s earlier letters had read. “Doing so puts you and everyone you love in jeopardy.”

That evening, just as dusk set in, she stood with Draco in her dorm for what was the last time, shaking with unshed tears. He just clung to her for the first few minutes, her head tucked under his chin as his hands were clasped around her back. 

“Give me your hand,” he said finally. “I want you to have something.”

She felt something slide on her thumb, her eyes widening as she realized what it was--his family ring.

“Draco…”

“I probably shouldn’t have this on me, anyways,” he explained. “And I want you to have something of mine, something that’s really mine, not just a gift. Just...maybe don’t wear it in public, and if you do wear it as a necklace charm or something. The last thing I want is you to get connected to this--”

Y/N cut off his rambling by pressing her lips to his, his hand feeling oddly bare as it came up to touch her cheek. “If anything happens to you, I love you. I hope you know that.”

He smiled, then kissed her again--so long that it seemed like he was savoring every moment of 

it before finally stepping away. “You know I love you. Always will.”

She managed to fit in one last kiss before he left.

Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday which turned into the next week. Before she knew it, her 6th year was almost over. Neither Draco nor Narcissa had contacted her. The Order had been cagey about the details leading to the Malfoys--while she obviously had a general idea as to the location of her Italian vacation home and thus by extent the Malfoys, she hadn’t heard anything about their travels there. All she’d heard was the basic news that everyone had--that Bellatrix Lestrange had been found dead and that the Ministry had taken both Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov into custody with near fatal injuries.

But that didn’t make her miss him any less. Y/N found herself longing for the nostalgic, innocent time when she shamelessly flirted with him in detention and only worried about whether or not the Trio would like her again. It all seemed so long ago. 

Falling asleep was the worst. She couldn’t smell the lavender of her diffuser or her room spray without relating it to him, couldn’t slide under her sheets without remembering how it felt to fall asleep in his arms. Around May, Y/N came to the most disturbing realization: she wasn’t entirely sure if she remembered what his voice sounded like anymore. Not in the way that meant she wouldn’t recognize it if he called out to her--she would, of course she would--but she couldn’t replicate it in her mind or replay their interactions with convincing accuracy.

Sometimes, on the nights when she couldn’t sleep at all, she envisioned her last interaction with Draco: his snow blond hair ruffled and his face grim as he turned to leave. Even though she couldn’t hear his voice quite right as he told her he loved her, she remembered the scent of his cologne against her jumper and the feeling of his skin against hers as he slipped his family ring onto her hand. It was killing her that she didn’t know exactly what happened to him. He could’ve been taken by a surviving Death Eater and held hostage at the manor. He could be dead. The papers had printed that he’d been pulled into the Vanishing Cabinet and, true to the name, completely vanished, caught in the space passageway between it and the sister cabinet. She’d known that that was the angle the Order was going to take from the start, but it did nothing to ease her anxiety. 

It was even more concerning when she remembered that they’d never agreed upon anything in the future--just simply that they cared about each other in March. At that moment it had been enough. But it wasn’t anymore. All she wanted was for him to appear, give her that stupid wave he sometimes sent to her from across the dining hall when she saw him enter in the morning, and sweep her up into his arms. But that was hard to do when he was countries away. 

N.E.W.Ts had been cancelled, much to the dismay of Hermione, so Y/N had even less things to distract her with. Harry was off with Dumbledore doing Merlin knows what to try and defeat Voldemort. She was left with nothing to do but wallow in her own pity.

In early June, days before Hogwarts classes were officially concluded, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” mumbled Y/N. While she had thankfully gotten past the habit of crying every day, she’d instead slipped into a sort of anxious paralysis, lying on her bed after all of her tasks were done.

“It’s me.” Ron’s voice made her sit up in surprise. He hadn’t really spoken to her privately since he’d brokered the peace between her and the rest of the trio. “Do you have time to chat?”

“Sure,” she responded, moving over so he had room to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Lavender just broke up with me,” muttered Ron, his hand coming up to brush at something on his cheek. “And I’ve never felt this way before. Is this what it feels like for you? With Malfoy?”

Y/N met his eyes and saw the same kind of hopelessness in them, the edges pricking with tears. “Yeah. I think so.” It was hard to choke back her own sob, so she just hugged him. He smelled of caramel and spring grass.

“Not to be a prat,” he said, “But you shouldn’t waste any tears over Malfoy. I don’t care if he switched sides in the end, he’s still a snot-nosed tosser to me. When this is all over, we’re going out together so we can find you someone better.”

“You know he switched sides?” She pulled back in surprise. Ron sent her a little wink.

“Of course not. I’m not sure why I said that. I’m sure if it was true, it’d be confidential Order information.”

“Who else?”

“Just Hermione and Harry,” he replied in a low voice. “But we weren’t supposed to figure it out--it was an accident over Easter break while we were eavesdropping on an Order meeting. That doesn’t change anything, though. You could definitely do better.”

“And so could you,” she said. “Remember what I said about you and Hermione?”

He laughed. “I’m working on it.”

Her conversation with Ron shed light on something else that had baffled her as of late--the tentative rekindling of her friendship with Hermione. The witch was actually inviting her to study nowadays, making small talk with her despite steering clear of all topics regarding Malfoy and Death Eaters. 

The last day of school rolled around before she was ready, the final ceremony being spoken by McGonagall instead of Dumbledore while he was still traveling with Harry. As she got up from her seat in the Great Hall, Hermione grabbed onto her sleeve.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

So, instead of walking straight up to the Gryffindor Tower on the route they’d used countless times since the beginning of their educational career, they took the scenic route along the Black Lake, away from the hordes of students. They walked the shore quietly until Hermione spoke up.

“Draco needs a tutor to cover what he missed this year.” 

Y/N snapped to attention. “What?”

“Narcissa Malfoy has been requesting it and all the professors are busy with Order work,” continued Hermione, not bothering to repeat herself. “They want me to do it. When they ask, I’m going to turn them down and volunteer you instead. Is that okay?”

“Um…” Y/N stuttered. “I’m going to be a pretty shit tutor. Why would you do that for me?”

“I’m going to try and help Harry this summer,” she explained. “And even if I wasn’t, consider it my formal apology. I know it wasn’t right how I treated you this year. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just hope you understand why I was hurt.”

“Of course I understand!” said Y/N, reaching out to touch her elbow. “Considering the way he treated you, I can’t blame you for feeling betrayed. I should be the one apologizing. It just...happened the way it did. I didn’t want to fall for him, but I did anyway.”

Hermione covered her hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I know. Do you think we can put this all behind us? I’ve missed my best friend. Ron and Harry have been driving me crazy this term. Ron told me to tell you that you have permission to smack me if I ever say something condescending to you again.”

“Please, let’s. And I think I’d resort to throwing a nice york pudding instead…”

The familiar bittersweet feeling of looking forward to putting school behind her yet dreading leaving her friends consumed her as she filed onto the Hogwarts Express, looking back onto the castle for the last time. She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time.

“Luna!” she exclaimed as she ran into someone trying to find her seat. The blonde Ravenclaw sent her a dreamy smile.

“You certainly look happier.” Luna tilted her head as she studied her features. 

“I never got to properly thank you for this,” said Y/N, “But you absolutely saved me this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you in January.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being your friend,” responded Luna. “If you really want to, owl me this summer. I think I’ll miss you quite a bit.”

“I’ll miss you more.” She let her new Ravenclaw friend pull her into a hug before she finally retired to her respective seat next to Hermione, who pressed a package into her hand.

“McGonagall just gave it to me,” she whispered into her ear. “Don’t show it to anyone. I think it’s a Portkey.”

True to Hermione’s prediction, it was a familiar object from her manor--an ornate vase that was normally on display in the main foyer. A piece of parchment was rolled up inside.

Activates at 9am on the 10th of June. Closes 5 minutes after the hour. Do not be late.

~

Instead of feeling excited to see Draco, all she could feel was her nerves as she stared at the vase in front of her at 8:55 in the morning. It’d been so long since she’d kissed him that she wasn’t even sure if she remembered how. She literally felt as if her virginity had grown back like her leg hairs did the morning after she cast hair removal spells. 

And not to mention, seeing Narcissa again--that was terrifying. She’d always been a very intimidating woman, dressed impeccably with sharp, aristocratic features much like her son. Y/N doubted she’d take kindly to her son’s tutor being more interested in him than the actual job at hand. 

That assumed he even wanted her still, anyways. Maybe three months in isolation made him come to his senses and realize he’d been absolutely off his rocker for liking her in the first place. Merlin, did he regret it? Was he going to tell her they couldn’t?

Swallowing her worries as the clock chimed at 9, she wrapped her hand around the vase and allowed herself to be pulled across international borders.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Instead of the florally pine forest that surrounded her family’s main manor, she was greeted with the scent of sea salt and the sound of cawing birds. The sun had long since risen, the temperature a pleasant warmth to her skin after she’d spent a year in the cooler English air. 

Y/N stepped forward, towards the looming white structure that she assumed was her beach cottage. Her feet sunk in the sand as she made her way across the beach. Did he even know she was coming then? She would’ve thought he did, considering that anyone approaching the safe house unannounced would no doubt send everyone into some sort of a panic. 

Finally, she made it to the front door, tapping her wand on the enchanted knocker to signal that someone was at the front door. It creaked, and all of a sudden she was looking into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. He looked less pale than he did the last time she’d seen him, like he’d actually begun to spend time in the sun instead of locked away in the Slytherin dungeons. His hair looked somewhat sunbleached. She could see the faintest beginning of unfamiliar freckles across his nose. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, toying with her nails in front of her and not sure whether or not to embrace him. “I’m not sure if you knew, but your mother wanted someone to review the material you missed this year and Hermione didn’t want to, so--”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he whispered when he pulled away. Her eyes pooled with tears as his voice re-registered in her head. 

“I missed you,” Y/N managed. She let her fingers run over his cheekbones and the rest of his face and hair like she couldn’t believe he was actually there in front of her again. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“Something kind of did,” he admitted. “My aunt died.”

“So I’ve heard. Sorry about that.”

“It was her own fault. She brought a dagger enchanted with dark magic and it messed with the energy.” His smile had morphed into something more tense, so she stood on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, a bit tentative after not touching him since March. 

“You were all I could think about,” she admitted. “I’m not going to be much good at teaching you anything because I honestly stopped paying attention after you left…”

Draco’s smile widened, and she felt her legs turn to jelly. “I don’t mind. You were all I could think about, too. If you ever run out of things to teach me…” His fingers ghosted along her jawline as he spoke, “...I’ve had three months with nothing better to do than to think up ways to make up for the time we’ve spent apart.”

As she basked in the warmth of his embrace and the gentle sound of the Mediterranean ocean lapping at the earth, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in months. There was a war on the horizon, her friends were in danger, and her parents were once again risking themselves to aid the Order. But she’d gotten Draco out of his task. They had at least a summer left together. And at that moment, that was enough. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, tugging her chin up to meet his eyes once again.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

And so he did.

final a/n: thanks for hanging in there! i hope you guys liked it! first off, apologies if my fluff scenes are choppy or repetitive. i’m not very experienced with writing them yet. also, i decided to write draco this way last minute because i like to imagine him as someone who has never had to actually admit feelings for someone and put himself on the line--instead i think he’d try his hardest to get you to confess that you like him if he’s afraid of messing it up. also if you were confused the quidditch bracelet is supposed to be the magic equivalent of a tennis bracelet lol...when i was shopping w my mom i may have been inspired when i saw those bc literally who wears diamonds around their wrist that cost thousands of dollars every day? i asked the saleslady how much the smallest one was and she was like “only 4k and you can wear it anywhere!” like girl i work a minimum wage customer service job and that shit would break in a few seconds. no i would not wear that everywhere. tennis bracelet rant over but anyways ig i was saying that a tennis bracelet def has draco malfoy energy per se

[lightcreators]

@tiimecrash​ continue from here

Sola arched a brow to the Doctor. "What are you saying Theta? That I should be careful with knowing things about you?" She wasn't sure what he was getting at but had a feeling it was about all the issues the pair had went through over the many years of being associated together. "I do hope you are careful, you know. I don't want anything happening to you. I love you too much to think of something bad happening. Which I know will happen soon. I'm just not sure how soon." Was is silly of her to worry? Perhaps so, but she couldn't help it. With all his odd earthly mafia business and amongst other complicated things -- she worried constantly about him.

There was a long pause as Sola pursed her lips. She had someone else watching out for her ( well technically a few people ) in all space-time. His soon-to-be incarnation was one, that bombastic coated man of many colors. He was always worried over her, much like this one was. Then there was the complicated mess that was the Master who somehow always found her in her own travels in space-time. “Don’t worry too much about me, I’ve got friends looking out for me. I’d do the same for you -- but I feel you don’t want me with you. You’re afraid something might happen to me if I’m travelling with you. This you anyways. With all your other business endeavors.” That’s exactly what Sola thought to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her around, he just couldn’t have her around. Funny however, as Sola was able to take care of herself.

An  little  amused  smile  betrayed  his  expression.  Even  explaining  was  complicated  !  Though,  it  was  something  he  grow  accoustumed  to  have  :  finding  most  accurate  words  to  bring  his  perspective  without  be  too  much  perceived  as  condescending  or  perceiving  his  view  as  something  truly  offensive  …  She  was  one  of  rarer  people  he  allowed  himself  to  talk.  To  actually  explain  where  they  were  standing,  the  various  dangers,  all  the  knoweldge  he  didn’t  speak  about  otherwise.  His  right-hand  arm  wasn’t  welcomed  witch  such  treatment,  when  there  was  that  persistent  consciousness  in  one  way  he  would  gain  frontal  forgiveness.  Actually,  he  was  sending  Philip  Butler  bring  his  perspective  for  him.  Depending  how  people  reacted,  he  would  have  to  considering  how  to  treat  with  them  …  when  depending  which  people  we  are  speaking  about  his  presence  would  looking  like  a  damnation.  It  always  had  been  his  motto  —  to  remaining  that  terrifying  boss  in  the  background  who  rarely  interfere  …  meanwhile  staying  an  cardboard  leader  to  offer  reassurance  to  everyone.  There  was  an  hesitation.  There  was  couple  of  things  she  didn’t  knew  yet  …  His  future  amnesia  about  her  exploded  inside  his  next  incarnation,  when  managing  to  return  back  memories  created  more  complications.  He  searched  a  mean  to  been  remember.  He  cannot  guarantee  something  fully  concrete  for  his  others  incarnations.  His  sixth  self,  his  eventual  future  incarnation  if  he  was  inclined  to  die  one  day  into  defined  circumstances,  will  be  haunted  by  the  actions  he  was  currently  did,  of  that  name  Featherine  he  didn’t  wanted  carry.  His  seventh  self  will  have  remnants  of  that,  when  he  somewhere  always  had  been  a  finality  of  him,  a  middle  between  his  two  identities,  a  incarnation  who  understood  very  well  that  chessboard  talk  …  but  wasn’t  sure  he  would  assuming  as  a  witch.  His  eight  self  was  …  tricky.

❝    There  was  some  knoweldge  about  my  eventual  future  that  can  be  horribly  painful.    ❞  He  admitted,  weighting  every  one  of  his  words.    ❝  As  much  couple  of  incarnations  who  might  be  painful  for  you  more  than  others.  Incarnations  when  I’m  a  long  time  ago  memories,  a  ghost  following  them.  Incarnations  when  I  am  an  curshing  remembrance  they  can’t  accept.    ❞  He  pondered  wiht  indifference  inside  his  voice.  His  futures  selves  were  another  possibility  of  his  existence,  a  following  path  outside  the  little  escape  he  created  for  himself.  They  were  him  …  and  they  weren’t.  Will  never  be  able  to  do  responsabilities  he  imposed  to  himself.  It  was  his  price  for  survival.  She  was  in  between,  who  asked  nothing  of  that,  who  asked  nothing  about  how  dramatic  the  future  will  turn  …  At  least,  he  could  offer  her  a  security  no  other  self  would  could  give  to  her  —  a  complete  guarantee  to  be  always  present  at  her  side.  It  was  still  strange  to  be  called  by  his  Academy  alias,  turning  somehow  nostalgia  about  that  time.  Anchored  him  about  how  he  was,  even  if  such  name  dissolved  little  by  little  …  He  wasn’t  anymore  an  peaceful  Theta  pretending  not  having  bloody  hands,  who  pushed  behind  responsabilities  of  criminal  actions  —  he  embraced  them  ;  he  embraced  his  own  darkness  ;  he  embraced  how  complex  his  nature  had  been  ;  he  embraced  a  past  betrayal  over  a  friend  …    ❝  I’ll  make  sure  nothing  can  happens  to  me.    ❞  He  bounced  back  amusingly.  Her  loving  confession  generated  an  pleasant  smile,  flattered  by  it.    ❝  I’m  caring  a  lot  about  you  too.  Concerning  bad  thing  that  will  happens  to  me  …  it’s  inexistent  as  it’s  a  could  be,  but  not  for  that  face.    ❞  If  one  day,  he  decided  to  going  into  Androzani  Minor,  it  would  be  by  choice.  It  would  be  a  willingly  choice  to  let  himself  die  and  sacrifing  himself  for  his  companion.  To  witness  the  chaos  of  that  place  and  doing  a  silly  mistake  on  their  first  arrival.  Before  losing  Peri  brutally  in  Thoros  Beta,  for  found  her  again  couple  of  decades  later.  If  one  day,  he  decided  to  give  up.  There  was  no  comments  about  the  reassurance  she  waiting  to  bring  to  him.  He  knew  there  was  a  protective  next  self  that  will  do  anything  for  not  having  Featherine  acting  as  a  horrible  witch  as  she  did.  His  future  incarnation  remained  anchored  into  denial  about  the  kind  of  man  he  had  been  turned,  about  all  the  crimes  he  committed  inside  another  life  …  when  there  was  guilt  about  another  universe  that  would  eventually  wake  up  for  never  fade  away  …  when  the  reason  who  pushed  him  to  change  dramatically  circumstances  will  be  remembered  …  without  forgotting  some  past  self  decided  to  kill  an  alternative  version  of  that  future  self  …  was  allowed  to  remain  alive  for  the  man  he  was  for  had  killed  a  logic  error  possibility  …    ❝  I’m  aware  I  can  trust  these  friends  you  mentioning.  That  I’m  not  theoretically  alone  into  that  protective  business,  though  such  protections  are  kinda  a  consequences  of  my  actions.    ❞  It  was  a  clue  left  in  the  atmosphere,  without  given  too  much  details  before  laughing  offended  by  how  she  was  experiencing  the  situation.    ❞  You  have  a  complete  security  with  me.  However,  I’m  not  exactly  travelling  in  the  same  way  I  did  before.  However,  how  circumstances  I’m  in,  could  be  emotionally  crushing  for  you.  Phil  never  mind  having  you  around,  expressing  how  much  he  disagree  with  half  of  my  decisions  and  acting  as  a  pleasant  babysister  confident  …  nevertheless  I  can’t  simply  turn  back  responsabilities  I  have.  I  can’t  force  you  to  be  comfortable  if  you  aren’t  with  such  affairs  meanwhile  I  find  compromise.  If  you  want  to  stay  around,  to  remain  with  me,  I  want  it  by  a  willing  choice.  Where  you  know  what  to  expect.  When  there  was  no  sudden  disappointment  to  come.  Time  is  infinite  for  me.  I’ll  always  be  next  to  your  side,  even  inside  moments  when  I  cannnot  be  seen.  I’ll  always  be  here.  I’m  always  here  with  you.    ❞  There  was  another  moment  of  silence.    ❝  That  other  business  endeavors  is  more  vast  as  you  can  imagine.  I’m  a  shadow  making  trembling  the  history  underground,  this  is  true.  However,  it’s  more  than  it.  Someday,  it  would  sense  to  you.  Someday,  all  these  men  in  black  coming  from  the  underground  will  resonate  differently.    ❞  There  was  some  victory  sound  coming  out  of  his  lips.

[houseofdabs]

fic idea: lester and jonesy scramble to get ingredients and find the recipe for the cake momma always used to bake the twins on their birthday. they are inept.

THIS IS SO CUTE AAA !!

warnings: slight mentions of abuse ---------------------------------------

Lester knew how his older siblings didn't really care for birthdays --at least not Bo-- it was kind of a sensitive topic as most familial holidays were for the Sinclair siblings, seeing as they lacked the proper warmth that their parents should have offered. The only semblance of affection was bestowed onto Vincent, being as he was their mother's favorite, and in turn, their father's as well. When holidays came their parents did attempt to share the sentiment with their two other kids, but it was stark in comparison to what Vincent received; it was like they were dogs receiving scraps while the real family sat at the table and enjoyed their meal. Thinking about it made Lester upset and he didn't like to dwell on it too much, he was determined to pick up the slack from his parents and reinstate the feel good emotions that holidays should have brought.

Now how was the question, and a damn good one at that. It wasn't that Lester wasn't good at planning things, he was quite good, in fact former partners always boasted about how thoughtful he was when it came to things like this. But this time was different. Sure he loved the ones that used to be in his life, but these were his brothers who he knew might not react positively to it, he didn't want to dig up any bad memories. And yeah, people liked parties and having things given to them, but when you grow up expecting that same loving hand to strike you, it's hard to cherish the good when you know terrible is right around the corner. It hurt Lester that his brother's couldn't appreciate even the smallest things, and it made him hate his parents for making it that way, but he would never mention it to the other two.

That's when he remembered his mom's old recipe book, she was a horrible mother but a damn good baker, and if he was right he'd be able to find that one caramel cake recipe she always made for his siblings on their birthday. He'd set out to get the ingredients, they were on a budget but Lester had set aside some money to get the good stuff, anything for his brothers. All he needed was some company.

Jonesy.

Pup at his feet and directions in hand, Lester sought to set everything out, he had borrowed some cook ware from the house but he'd bring it back when he was done, maybe not clean but returned. He was confident as he measured out the ingredients but with each step he followed his faith wavered. "Y'know girl, this'sa LOT harder than I had reckoned." Lester looked down as Jonesy who just stared up at him with her head tilted.

Determined, Lester continued on whisking and adding and folding till his arms were sore, his mama made it look so easy. He was so caught up in his stumbling over the batter he completely forgot about the beast that would be the icing, and just like with the batter he shook off any concerns, how hard could it be?

He set the ingredients in the pan to melt and went back to pouring the batter in the cake pan before setting it in the heated oven. Directing his attention back to the icing, he noticed it had melted all together and he checked the instructions for what to do next. "Okay girly, it says-- TWO HOURS?" His eyes bulged as he stared down at the paper, he hadn't remembered it taking that long and he didn't have the time to wait.

"Okay y'know what we're g'na do? Not that," Lester set the paper down and turned the eye up to a higher degree, "if it's hotter it'll cook faster, now ain't I smart?" He chuckled as Jonesy barked a response. "You said it sister."

Lester watched as the contents of the pot bubble as it turned a caramel color, stirring it occasionally. He decided to put on some records to help pass the time as he waited for the cake to bake. "S'too quiet," He muttered and cranked the knob to his old boombox as the voice of Merle Haggard flowed from the speakers and into the small kitchen, "there, thas better." He looked at Jonesy before patting his chest, and invitation for her to jump up and dance with him. He held the dog's paws as he swayed and sang along.

"♫ A workin' man can't get nowhere today ♫"

He grinned and stepped with the dog, "Ain't that right Jonesy girl!" Jonesy barked and Lester howled, encouraging her to make more noise. He was having such a good time with his dance partner that he forgot about the now burning icing on the stove. "Shoot!" Lester hissed and raced to stir the liquid and take it off the eye. It was a dark brown and Lester only hoped that it wasn't too bad cause he had used everything he bought and he didn't have enough to remake it. He could only hope that he didn't also mess up the cake.

Equipped with a butter knife, Lester opened the oven and stuck it in the middle of the cake before pulling it out, something he'd seen his mom do, except he didn't know what to look for. He noticed how the top was cooked and it was squishy when he pressed into it, so he pulled it out. Soon the cake was covered in the dark caramel icing and he swore at himself for lacking his mother's artistic ability, wanting to decorate the cake but deciding that he didn't want to mess it up further. He let the cake cool as he gathered everything in his truck, making sure to remember his brothers' presents.

He had gotten Bo a portable jump starter, something he had seen someone use when he was stuck on the side of the road. Lester knew the battery on Bo's truck had seen better days and he for sure didn't want his older brother stuck somewhere. And for Vincent he knew he had to get him this old brush carrier he had seen while he was browsing some antique shop, he even managed to sweet talk the lady up front to hold it for him till he could afford it. The holder was sturdy and made out of leather that had softened from years of use, on the back had flowers and leaves carved into it, nothing too 'pretty' but something artsy that he knew his brother would like. He had also snagged some whiskey while out shopping, hoping that it would help with the nerves of them all.

Once everything was packed in his truck, Jonesy included, he set off to Ambrose, careful to not hit any bumps and disturb the dessert that sat between him and the animal. He said a silent prayer as he crept towards the washed out road, hoping that no one was at Ambrose besides his brothers, that'd be a real thorn in his side and would surely ruin his plan. As he drove through the town he breathed out a sigh of relief as he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, even better that Bo was too busy in his garage to pay any attention to him as he drove by and up to the house.

Lester was careful with taking everything in, not wanting to make too much commotion in case Vincent was up in the house and not in his workshop. Finally everything was set in the kitchen, he even cleaned up a little, more in compensation for taking and making a mess of the dishes but he wanted it to look a little nicer. He was giddy and he didn't know what to do next, did he get Bo or Vincent first? He really hoped they would like it, he would understand if they didn't, but he really did want today to be good for them. He decided to put on some music to drown out the silence the house held, it always unsettled him how quiet it could get.

Soon Lester was accompanied by the sound of Johnny Cash's 'Big River' and the house felt less vacant, he knew his brother's liked different types of music but they never grew out of their taste of the old country tapes his parents had. For a second he wondered if maybe the music might throw everything off, remind them too much of ma and pa, but he pushed the thought down when he remembered how well Bo and music paired after a few drinks.

After he decided everything was ready, Lester headed off to the House of Wax first, seeing as Vincent would listen to him if he asked him to wait in the living room whereas Bo would demand to know what's going on. Jonesy pranced alongside him, her collar jingling softly as she bounced with each step. "Hey girl, you excited?" He asked as they stopped outside the House of Wax before leaning down to pet her head. Jonesy barked and her tail wagged as she basked in the affection Lester was giving her.

The two were in and out quick, Lester telling Vincent to wait for him in the living room and leaving before his brother could respond. It had been easy but he knew getting Bo to come without question would be harder. As he and Jonesy walked to the gas station he went over in his head how would ask Bo without giving away too much, did they even know it was their birthdays? Lester stopped in his tracks.

Did they even know it was their birthdays?

Surely they had to, if they did they hadn't said anything about it. It made him sad when he thought about how it meant nothing to them, but to him it was the biggest day ever, it was the day two of the most important people came to be, two people he loved so much it hurt. He'd be damned if he let his parents continue to torment his brothers from the grave, to hell with them, Lester and his brothers were better without them and he'd show them.

With new found confidence he marched to the garage where his older brother was, head ducked under a hood of some car doing god knows what. Without looking up Bo called to him, "Hand me that wrench will'ya?" He extended his hand and waited for Lester to drop the metal tool in his hand before continuing to tinker with the vehicle. After a few beats Bo addressed him again, "Wha'cha want? M'busy."

Lester wrung the hem of his shirt in his hands as his mind scrambled to find what to say, finally settling on "I need ya up at th'house, got sumn to show ya." He turned on his heel and made his way back to the family home, ignoring Bo's demands for an answer. "I guess you'll have t'come and find out I s'pose!" He hollered back at his brother.

Upon entering the house Lester saw Vincent sitting on the couch, waiting like he expected him to be. Not too long after Lester came in Bo followed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at both of his brothers. "Kay what? Th'hell you drag me up here for? Wha'cha gotta show me?"

Lester motioned for them to follow as he led them to the kitchen, Jonesy racing to be in front of the brothers, evidently more excited than the three men. On arrival Bo asked again what was going on and Lester so badly wished his brother had more patience. "Well..." He had started as he glanced between his brothers and then towards the pan that sat on the kitchen table. "Happy birthday?" Automatically Bo let out and groan and Lester had to move to stop him from leaving.

"You dragged my ass all the way up'ere t'tell me that? I'on got time fer this shit, told'ya I was busy." He stared down at his little brother before watching as his twin inspected the pan, peeling back the foil to reveal a cake, or something resembling a cake-- was it a cake? The fuck Lester bring with him?

Vincent turned back to dig through a drawer, grabbing a cake cutter and some plates from a cabinet. Lester stared at his feet as he shuffled slightly, embarrassed from the rejection. "Might not be good but I made a cake, got y'all sumn too.." His voice was small as he spoke to his brother, avoiding eye contact as he lifted his gaze.

Bo's face fell from anger to neutral as he watched his baby brother fidget, obviously upset from his reaction. "Shit, what th'hell, I reckon I could use a break." He ignored how fast Lester's expression lifted and instead head towards the table where the cake laid, "This car'mel cake?" Bo's eyebrows shot up and Vincent handed him a plate, he was shocked, he didn't know Lester was able to make it. He cut him a nice sized piece with his fork and shoveled it into his mouth.

Okay maybe he got ahead of himself with assuming.

The cake was mealy and the icing was burnt, the fuck did Lester do to this poor cake?

Lester watched as Bo stood there, a bite in his mouth but now chewing. "Well.. i'shure ish a cake" Bo muttered from behind the ruined dessert, trying to not hurt his brother's feelings too bad.

"Oh." Lester felt his shoulders slump and he held back a sigh, he had really really wanted the cake to be decent, "Y'ain't gotta eat it f'is bad.." He mumbled and watched as Vincent chewed his bite very slowly. Bo was quick to swallow, spitting it out would be too rude and he didn't think he could handle his little brother being more upset from the gesture. "Tasted like shit," he laughed and raked his plate in the trash before making his way to Lester, "well, it wasn't that bad but.." he paused, "but I sure do 'preciate it.." Before he could give it a second thought, Bo engulfed his little brother in his arms for a short embrace which Lester was quick to reciprocate. After a little Bo pulled away.

"So, what was that 'bout you gettin' us sumn?"

------------------------------

i didnt do much to correct any errors, its super late, hope yall enjoy it

[asterjennifer]

Gif used with premission from @starcrystalrose

I'm not like you

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Ray & Suit Saeran (X Reader)

Category: Angst

Warnings: Self-hatred, edgy aesthetic

Word count: 2476

Author's Note: It's.. hella edgy. I promise it's like, "Tumblr black-white" kind of edgy.

Summary: After apologising to her at the window, Ray and Saeran meet when laying with fever in bed.

Their conversations usually don't end well.

With her, it's slightly different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colorless– Silent– Hurt– Worthless–

"What have you done..."

He stared with icy chills covering his thin body, doing his best to keep his legs pressed against his chest, ignoring how the Magenta colored suit wrinkled and made it look less organized. The tears burned at the corners of his eyes, waiting for a response. Justify what he'd done to her. What he messed up despite her being the only good thing that ever happened in his life. It hurt hellishly, scratching at the walls of his heart whenever he played these pictures in front of his irritated eyes again. No matter how often he'd seen them, they never lost on strength, and with the strength came the pain.

Upset– Tasteless– Painful– Horrible–

"I did what you would've done if you'd been strong enough."

He stated bluntly, not batting an eye at the other's tears that threatened to soon spill over. Too busy staring at the black void underneath his cold body, ignoring the loud headache that's pounding against his skull with impressive speed. Getting the tie to loosen up as it's just suffocating his throat. Not wanting to think about it anymore. Not wanting to remember anything at all, from the moment he'd been born until he would die. He just wanted to leave it all behind and act like it's none of his business, although deep down he's aware. It's all his very own business. Every single memory of it.

Useless– Weak– Small– Wasted–

"I would've never hurt her!! Never in my life!"

He spat back with anger running through his veins, a different kind, one he couldn't sober up from ever again. No, he refused to believe it, the statement, this assumption of being capable to hurt someone his heart’s beating for's a lie. He didn't see it happen on his hands, he never wanted to inflict pain onto a single soul out there, regardless of how cruel they might be. He loved her. He fell in love with her after arriving and accepting him for who he is, even with all his faults and deeds. She continued to stay. She did everything for him, for someone so unworthy. He would've never done it. Never ever.

Frustrated– Torn– Senseless– Scared–

"I had to protect us. I had to.. I had to."

He mumbled back, crossing his arms to dig his nails deeper into the suit and hopefully leaving pain due to the marks it created by the pressure. Carrying it all, twice as much for him as well as the other's incapable of protecting himself. Being strong for two weak souls, that's not easy and not something that's achieved by being a gentle person. He had to be rude, he needed to speak hurtful words straight into every face that could've hurt them, which hers happened to be one of those. But she, he could recall the cries and tears that she let him see, he could tell what he'd done to her. What he'd done to himself as well. It's not easy. It isn't.

Concerned– Guilty– Sad– Alone–

"Not from her! Not from her, you idiot!! She.. not doing it to her.."

He grabbed the white hair with both fists, trying to numb down the shoot of elixir  that tried to poison his head for the countless time. He didn't want the other to be that way again, to put her through such a nightmare a second time to leave scars on her bright body and soul. After biting down onto his lip to prevent a pathetic sob from filling the void, he could detect the familiar taste of iron on his tongue. Why couldn't he turn back time and redo this all. That's not what he wanted her to find when coming to him, he didn't wish for her to meet this fate. It was his. It was his own as well, it was theirs. Not hers. And yet.. the pain's spilling over onto her regardless.

Defeated– Unsure– Powerless– Lifeless–

"I did what they told us. I just.. I did what had been the only way back then."

He tried to explain, yet the voice died in the back of his throat just as it always did when facing scary situations. He blinked slowly, eyelids heavier than steel and every time he opened them again, they're weighting a tad more. They caused his body to waste more energy. She'd been right, even if he never acknowledged it. It was draining. It was painful. But he didn't know it better, they told him the one thing that sounded plausible. Having him feel ashamed to the bone for doubting the one person that came into his life without leaving scars. Without making him cry. Treating him with compassion and showing him the nice feeling of adoration. Too late, he figured as he hid his eyes behind the white hair.

Lost– Used– Empty– Broken–

"No, not.. h-her.. She.. she will hate-.."

He couldn't finish the sentence, thinking about the possibility alone hurt more than the elexir ever could. If things would've gone his way, she would never hated him, maybe pity his weakness or feel annoyed by his whining, but not despite him for hurting her. He didn't hurt her, it wasn't him. It was the other, the one that's to blame for it all. That couldn't take the pain of facing the truth in order to acknowledge his faults. But he knew them, they're just as big and as many as his. It wasn't fair, nothing ever went his way. He never got a chance to do things how he thought would be the best way possible. Not once he got to speak to you after it happened, and he's certain, he never would again either.

Mourning– Regretted– Dark– Lonely–

"Nothing ever worked out. She's better off without us."

It's hard to stay cold, to stay tall when you see the one person you opened up your heart to start loosing weight. To lose shimmer in their eyes, abandon their hope for a bright future. Acting with fright against you, trying to guide you despite the pain they're put through. She's so good at holding onto him, but he definitely had been the one tearing away with all force. It was his fault. And his alone. Not the other one's, not hers, not theirs. The blame's all on his account and so was the punishment for doing cruel things like these. But even now, when trying to protect, he put the other through pain again. He put himself through pain again as well. He's sure she's better off without him.

Cold– Feared– Hateful– Hopeless–

".... She really is. She.. is better o-off without us. But.. I'm n-not. I am not, I'm really not.."

He cried into his knees, realizing that what she'd put up with wasn't worth the pain at all. She had been so nice before coming in contact with him and the other. So cheerful, so calm when looking up the sky. She lived a stable life, one that's good enough even with the rough edges at times. But then he came in to drag her away and do this to her. All of it just because he's weak. Because he couldn't do anything right, he's a nobody who happened to meet a living sunshine and almost kill the light. He hated himself. So much he wanted to disappear and never come back again, never bother her again. Never ever hurt her again. But he knew he had to, or the other, at least one last time.

Violated– Strange– Abandoned– Unstable–

".... I'm sorry."

Was all he could offer. Was all he'd known for existing back in the younger years at his mother's house. All he'd said to the Savior day in and out when she stared down to him with emotionless eyes. He'd been sorry for so many things, the words would come out automatically whenever he felt like he lost another fight against life. He didn't say it to her once, only last night. But that wasn't enough to fix the problem and the things he'd done to her. A simple word couldn't make up for his deeds, for the words he broke her down with, for the behavior that had her fear for her own life. He was sorry. But it didn't mean anything.

Drowned– Slow– Stupid– Detached–

"It's lost.. All of it. Isn't it..? Aren't we.. unfixable?"

He asked, fear scratching at his bones in a familiar rhythm that showed how deep the wounds already were. Unsure what to do next, what step to take as everyone told him something different, he's scared to take the wrong path again. He's fearing the other would go the bad way as a habit now, to make sure they're safe. But what did he have from it when bringing others to the edge of crumbling? What's there for him after death when pushing and breaking every little good thing he could've had? He's too weak to make the change himself. He's too scared to speak up for his own opinion. Typical.

Pointless– Betrayed– Ignored– Obnoxious–

"We're all of it. She should know.. We are beyond hope, always had been."

He watched the other contract painfully. See the muscles twitch with unbearable tension, the fear of losing it all forever. Hearing the small sobs and hiccups to show he's still alive, he's able to feel the hurt as good as he did. Hiding away in the dark like he'd done whenever the other took the spot instead, crying and numbing whenever something bad happened. And it happened all the time. All these years and he learned nothing from the pain, he never learned a single thing that's making him a better person. He slowly stood up, bones and nerves burning down with cold fire, making him tear up.

Despised– Misunderstood– Overlooked– Unlovable–

"B-But.. Not once! Not once we can.. I.. I don't deserve to.."

He didn't move when the other sat down beside him, just as cold as he was. The same touch that's numb to his own fingertips, not even sure if he's able to actually create pressure or warmth with it. He waited for the other to crush his soul due to the truth again, instead he just pulled him against his body. He couldn't feel anything, only see the suit winkle and the tie almost slipping off by the sudden show of comfort. He didn't expect it, it's quite new for this to happen. They waited, silence all around, only interrupted by brief inhaling. It's not painful now, the touch, not owning aggressive features. It's slow, calm and straight forward. Like he knew wanted the other to be more often.

Hideous– Pathetic– Insignificant– Flawed–

"Can you feel them? The words that float inside our head every time..?"

The light they hide from me–

The pain they pour upon me–

The hope they take from me–

The blame they put on me–

The guilt they weight on me–

"The.. The love that we don't deserve..?"

"No. The wounds we don't deserve, flower boy."

He rubbed the tears away with his wrist, not paying attention to the hot water soaking into the leather covering his fingers. The other sighed quietly, trying to focus on only the breathing sound inside the void to not lose the connection between reality and memory. They never got along in anything. One thought the other's weak. The other found the behavior and way of speaking inappropriate, overly terrifying as well, as he couldn't believe he's capable of being so rude. Yet they knew. They had to get back one more time, at least this one time. They needed to make sure she would get out alive, recover from what had been done to her. Putting an end to the unfair routine of torture, if it's for her sake only.

They didn't care about themselves that much, it's fine if they would stay stuck in this place. Not having the chance to see the outside world and be a better person. People? Become what she always had seen deep in his soul, even thought they're uncertain if it existed in the first place. They're beyond saving, they reached passed that possibility. They're now stuck and always would be. But at least getting her back out, just seeing her go back to her previous life's enough for the both of them. None would get mad if she didn't forgive them, after what they'd done. It's no surprise if she ends up hating them. But they figured that's the best thing they could give her for everything she had to carry in their place.

"You or I?"

The one in dark clothes with stubborn mind asked, waiting for the softer one to answer and make the decision. He should get some backbone from time to time, the other's okay with offering some choices. They thought, he waited for the other. The other waited for his mind to be made up. After a long period of silence, he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Does it matter? It's not changing anything."

It's not the answer he hoped to get. He watched the black shoes shine even without a source of light, not sure how to proceed like that. But they had to wake up soon, do something, anything in their power to make sure she's leaving this place by the end of the day. Before her life could be endangered any further by a person he always thought was a Savior. How foolish to believe that lie. The darker one had an idea, turning his head back to see the other struggle with tears again.

"Both of us, then?"

He watched the other widened his eyes, staring back in unbelief by how absurd that question was. However, the other had been quite serious about it. The weaker flower shook his head without noticing it.

"That's impossible–!"

"No, it's not. They just make us think it is."

Waiting for an answer he trained the patience for the other half. Be kinder to him, push him less over the edge as everyone else did an excellent job of doing so already. Then, a whisper followed, unsure albeit steady.

"We can try.. What if it doesn't work?"

The one dressed in a suit stood up, knees and ankles cracking again to leave him painful for another moment. Offering a hand regardless, holding it out for the first time to the half dressed in a magenta colored coat with blue rose attached to the chest. And he took the hand after a moment of hesitation. They stared at each other, the slightly rougher one then decided to break the rest ice that's making the air thin.

"It will work. For her. We get it right this time, so let's make this happen and give her the happy ending."

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[lol-im-done]

The Avenger & Baron of Sokovia: Part Two

Part One

Hi! Here is part two, I honestly got carried away again and will do a few more parts to this! Enjoy!

Those five years were a deep slumber somewhere in the cosmos but you didn’t dream. You were barely conscious, no concept of the time that had been passing by. When you ‘blipped’ back there was no moment to reunite with Helmut, it took you a few moments to regain consciousness. In the chaos you had been dragged out from your chair by security, crying out for Helmut completely confused by what had happened. Helmut looked like he had seen a ghost, not quite believing he had seen you reappear from thin air. It wasn’t until someone had mentioned it in passing what happened did he actually believe it and it made him crazy that you had slipped out of his reach just like that. In the utter chaos that had been caused by the snap of the Infinity Gauntlet, you remembered the portal opening in front of you on that chaotic street, people screaming and running around you. Through the golden sparks you could see Steve, standing there bloodied and beaten on the battlefield and when he caught your eye you could see the relief spread through his face. Without a second thought you jumped through the portal to join him, hands ready and eyes bright green with power. All you knew is that you had to be by your team's side. You hadn’t been there to fight in Wakanda but you were going to make damn sure you gave it all this time. Even in your civilian clothing you fought with such fervor that a suit of pure telekinetic energy covered your body. Waves of your power brought down hundreds of enemies, and in a split second you had used your abilities to bring Thanos to his knees giving Tony enough time to take the Infinity Stones. That was the last time you saw him alive, barely managing to bid him goodbye.

In the aftermath you found out that Natasha hadn’t made it and you felt like you had fallen into a pit of despair. Regret burned deep in your soul, you should have been there with them, gotten a chance to see one of your oldest friends one last time. What happened next was perhaps the most surprising thing out of all of this.

“He wants to talk to you,” Sam murmured as he passed by you, holding Steve’s shield. Taking a deep breath you made your way over to the old man on the bench.

“Steve?” you asked tentatively. He turned around with a gentle smile.

“(Y/N),” Steve said, tapping the seat next to him. Sitting down next to him, he took your hand into his. What were once the strong calloused hands of a soldier were now signs of old age but they still comforted you.

“I know you retired after Sokovia-,” Steve began.

“Steve I’m sorry for abandoning the team,” you cried out unable to stop yourself, tears gathering in your eyes but he shook his head.

“We understood why you did it (Y/N). Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, all of them understood. What matters is that you were there with us to fight one last time. You’ll be one of the few original Avengers left,” Steve said solemnly. “With that comes responsibility. I know how much Sokovia affected you but you’re stronger than you think. I can’t make you lead what's left of the team, you’re going to find your way in the world but I will ask you one thing,” Steve continued.

“Anything Steve,” you gulped.

“Take care of Bucky. He might not ever forgive me for what I’ve done but I need to make sure he’s taken care of. Look after the others as well. We often lead lonely lives and right now more than ever you all need to support each other. Can you promise to do that to the best of your ability,” Steve finished. His words stunned you but Steve was right.

“Don’t you worry about anything Steve. I promise,” you promised giving him a hug, the familiar scent of his cologne filled your nose. That would be one of the last times you saw him.

Trying to find your place in a world that had moved on without you was proving more difficult than you thought. As a past member of the Avengers, it fell onto your shoulders to try and regain some control, to help and advise alongside Rhodey and Sam mainly. The government had decided to keep a close eye on you as well, you were enhanced and in this new world you had come back to they seemed to not trust you the same way as before. You had even been sucked into Wanda’s Westview anomaly when you had tried to help her out after Tony’s funeral. Through all of this you hadn’t returned to see Helmut, the fact that he was still alive and well in his cell a small reassurance. You had been making plans to see him again, your plane ticket booked for Berlin but your paths would cross sooner than you thought as a knock on your door made you get up from your desk one day.

“Hey,” Sam greeted when you opened the door. Behind him was Bucky who gave you a sheepish smile and wave. He was still a bit nervous around you but you had made it a point to see him as regularly as you could taking your promise to Steve incredibly seriously. You had been the one to make sure he got mandated therapy sessions as part of his pardon.

“Sam! Bucky!” you smiled, ushering them into your apartment. Bucky was a bit surprised when you pulled him into a hug but he accepted it. After feeding them some lunch and catching up you got down to business.

“You need my help don’t you,” you stated, crossing your arms with a small smirk. Sam and Bucky exchanged a look before Bucky scarfed down some more fries.

“I know you put your superhero life behind you (Y/N) but you’re the only one I thought of to help us with this,” Sam explained.

“Where to?” you asked.

“Berlin. We have to talk to Helmut Zemo. You remember him right?” Bucky asked. At his words your heart stopped, eyes going wide. They wanted to talk to Helmut?

“(Y/N)?” Sam asked, eyebrows crinkled in worry. Memories of Helmut flooded your mind for a few seconds.

“Yeah I remember him,” you whispered, holding a hand to your chest to steady your heartbeat.

“Wait, you visited him a few times right?” Sam asked, remembering what Steve had told him years ago.

“Well- um more than a few times,” you shrugged, turning away to hide your blush.

“Care to explain?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Let me pack and I’ll explain on the way there,” you sighed. Sam nodded and got up to help you, Bucky staying at the table staring at the framed picture of you and Steve, his heart clenching in nostalgia.

“Why can’t I go in with you?” you frowned, feeling increasingly agitated. Bucky sighed and pulled you aside for a second in the white hallway.

“Don’t tell Sam but you’ll have your chance to see him after this I promise,” Bucky whispered. Pressing your lips tightly together you nodded slowly, understanding his words.

“Everything good?” Sam asked.

“All good,” you murmured as Bucky followed the guard down the long hallway into the maze of the prison. It had been so long since you had been here but everything was familiar to you, you could probably find your way to Helmut’s cell blindfolded. It took every ounce of willpower not to go in running after Bucky to see Helmut. Sam watched as you chewed on your lip, foot tapping in anxiousness.

“Why do you call him Helmut?” Sam suddenly asked. You turned to face him in a surprised manner.

“Because that’s his name?” you tilted your head, confused by his question.

“We all call him Zemo but you call him Helmut. It's more personal,” Sam stated.

“Like I explained on the plane....we got close. Like friends after all that time I came to visit him. It stemmed from Sokovia really but I got to understand him and he understood me too,” you whispered, emotion filling your voice. Sam decided not to press it but he was still confused on why you had decided to get so close to the man who had divided the team so horribly. You asked yourself that same question but as time went on with Helmut you could tell he was seeing things from a new perspective. He had even planned on asking Steve to meet him when he was no longer on the run, to talk and ask for forgiveness. Suddenly the door at the end of the hall opened and Bucky walked calmly back to you and Sam.

“C’mon I have somewhere for us to check out,” Bucky said, leading you all out. It felt nice to feel the breeze and walk around like a tourist again, your arm tucked under Bucky’s. He had changed a lot since you had first met him, feeling comfortable enough around you to accept physical affection. It was like having a brother, much like Sam, two brothers you had to keep an eye on at all times you thought with a smile. Finally you reached a large garage filled with darkness.

“Careful,” you warned Sam, pulling him back before he smacked his face into a metal anvil. You used your powers like a candle to illuminate the area until Bucky found the light switch.

“Why are we here?” you asked Bucky who gave you a knowing look. Is this what he meant earlier, about seeing Helmut soon? Your heart sped up a bit as you looked around ignoring Sam and Bucky’s bickering.

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam asked incredulously.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky countered.

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars,” Sam snapped.

“And we also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose,” Bucky replied.

“Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense,” Sam shook his head.

“Offense. Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code. Anyways if what (Y/N) said is right then he’s not as crazy as he once was,” Bucky tried to reason. Suddenly there was movement by the garage doors and you felt the air leave your lungs. The moment he walked in you wasted no time in running towards him, ignoring Sam’s protests as you crashed into Helmut’s open arms. Tears gathered in your eyes as you held him like he was a life raft in an ocean working to drown you. You hadn’t realized you had started crying until Helmut was softly comforting you, stroking your hair. Finally you pulled back, Helmut’s arms still encircling your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried but Helmut shook his head, wiping the tears from your red cheeks.

“Don’t apologize miláčik. None of that matters now,” Helmut smiled, through his own tears feeling a relief so strong it almost made him fall to his knees. Sam and Bucky were stunned at what they were witnessing, they knew you had history with Zemo but never knew the reality of your relationship. To be honest you didn’t know what your relationship was but there was a connection, there was something and you could see it in his eyes. But there was no time for words, Sam had made it clear you had to leave now. Every moment from that garage to the moment you were up in the air in Helmut’s private jet, you were attached to his side like a magnet. Helmut had been so touch starved, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never touch your smooth skin while he was incarcerated but now having you with him, he didn’t want you far from him. It was clear how protective you were of him as well, when Bucky had lunged at Helmut with his metal arm, a wall of green energy erupted between them making Bucky bounce back and fall into his seat.

“Enough,” you snapped, giving each of them a stern look before relaxing. “Helmut please refrain from pushing their buttons. We are here for one thing and we have to work together. Please for me,” you asked. Helmut sighed but nodded, muttering an apology to Bucky. With a satisfied smile you reached across and held Helmut’s hand, feeling him relax into your touch. You couldn’t stop smiling and it made Sam a bit nervous, seeing you so happy around a criminal like Zemo. Soon the conversation turned a bit more serious.

“You must have really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America's Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals,” Helmut began.

“Watch your step, Zemo,” Sam warned.

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?” Helmut went on in his tangent.

“(Y/N)’s enhanced. Why don’t you hate her?” Sam asked sarcastically. Zemo’s eyes hardened, eyes flickering over to you as you waited for his response.

“In the time I spent speaking with her my views have shifted. I no longer see things as so black and white. There is a grey area in these matters, nuance,” Zemo admitted. You couldn’t help but smile slightly at that, he had changed.

“There are threats, people who regardless of super serum or mutant abilities are up to no good. If this has to do with HYDRA we have to end it,” you said. That seemed to shut the door to that conversation, Bucky nodding at your words. Before Madripoor you all made a stop to rest in Hong Kong. Helmut had gotten a reservation at a luxurious hotel for the night but none of that mattered to you all you wanted was time to speak with him properly and a hot shower. As you waited alongside Bucky and Sam in the lobby wondering what the sleeping arrangements would be, heat rushed to your cheeks when you heard Helmut get the room keys for only two rooms and his intention became clear when he took your hand into his in the elevator. Bucky looking at your intertwined hands a bit like a brother would seeing his sister with her new boyfriend. The elevators opened and before you could walk off with Helmut to your room at the end of the hall, Sam grabbed your arm gently.

“Wait you’re sharing a room with him?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, still not trusting Helmut.

“Of course I am,” you replied with a questioning tilt of your head.

“She’ll be fine Sam,” Bucky murmured, opening the door to their room so Sam could follow him in. Sam pursed his lips but nodded as you gave Bucky a grateful smile.

“Goodnight Bucky. If you need anything you just shoot me a text,” you waved. The door closed behind them, Helmut quiet at your side as he led you to your shared room.

“A text?” Helmut asked casually as you entered the grand room. Walking over to the bed you sat down, relishing in the feeling of the bed.

“Yes. Bucky experiences nightmares from time to time as one would having experienced the trauma he’s been through. I always make sure I’m there in case he needs to talk to someone,” you explained, reclining on the comfortable pillows.

“Why?” Helmut asked, as he took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Because he’s my friend. I also promised Steve to look after him, to look after all of them,” you murmured.

“Is that why you didn’t come back?” Helmut whispered. Slowly you kicked off your boots before you curled up into the pillows, facing Helmut.

“I wanted to but after fighting against Thanos I had to catch up on the past five years. I got stuck in Wanda’s alternate world, I had to try and make my own way with the government breathing down my neck,” you began. Helmut nodded in understanding, he couldn’t blame you. “If Steve were still here or Nat or Tony they would have led us all through it but the rest of us had to figure it out,” you sighed. Helmut curled up on the bed as well as he reached across to stroke your cheek. Looking into his handsome face you felt warmth fill your body, those warm brown eyes you missed so much.

“That day that I disappeared I wanted to explain something to you,” you said a bit nervously. Helmut kept his hand on your cheek in a reassuring manner. “I know I should hate you the way that you hated us after Sokovia but after spending time with you I found myself doing quite the opposite,” you admitted. Helmut stayed silent allowing you to continue, his eyes full of emotion.

“I’ve fallen in love with you Helmut. When I came back after all those years I was scared you never felt the same in the first place or that you weren’t ready to feel the same-,” you began to ramble but were cut off by Helmut rushing forward to capture your lips into a heated kiss. After years of waiting and hoping to have you in his arms Helmut couldn’t wait another second to feel your soft lips against his. Breaking for air he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed with overwhelming emotions.

“Watching you disappear in front of my eyes with no way of stopping it, was one of the worst pains of my life. I’ve lost my family already once before and I didn’t think I was going to survive that and after five years of waiting, thinking of nothing but you, I didn’t think I was going to survive that either,” Helmut admitted sadly. “Those months after Sokovia I was already falling in love with you before I was consumed with vengeance. I love you miláčik,” Helmut finished. It was your turn to kiss him which quickly turned into clothes coming off, breathless whispers of love and cries of pleasure filling the room. As you cuddled into his bare chest you pushed away any anxiety riddled thoughts of him returning to prison and simply appreciated having the man you loved in your arms.

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