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dino-cattivo · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 under the cut

~1990~

It started a routine between them. With Hob having no real job and only going out at night for burglary, they did the training in the afternoon. Every day at 3 pm, Georgie would stand in front of his door waiting excitedly to be trained. And it wasn’t going as horrible as Hob thought. Sure, the first weeks were spent getting at least some muscles on the kid's lanky frame, but when it came to technique, the kid excelled. He quickly grasped whatever Hob wanted to teach him and was good when it came to accepting corrections in his stance.

And he stayed. Preparing a meal for Hob in thanks for the training and sitting down to eat together. It should bother Hob, how Georgie was carving out a space in Hob’s life, but he found it comforting. Ever since he had saved the boy, he hadn’t been lonely. Had no time for it with how busy he was.

No, he couldn’t regret stepping in back then nor agreeing to teach Georgie. But when the kid wanted to come with him late in the evening, he felt close to it. He didn’t want him to follow Hob’s path and become tainted. But it was getting harder and harder with Georgie insisting. A good handful of jobs were stopped by Hob noticing he was being followed and turning back to drag Georgie home by the collar of his shirt. But it was only a question of time before Hob would be too late to catch the kid.

He thought about giving it up. Taking this as the final push needed to return to the right path again. It would have worked. Only Georgie had other plans.

When Georgie asked him to meet up away from Hob’s house, Hob didn’t think much of it. It happened. Sometimes the kid just needed a break, a friendly face he could complain to while grabbing lunch. Maybe it should worry Hob that his only friend and lunch partner wasn’t even legal yet, and they were mistaken for father and son more often than not, because of their age gap. But then, compared to Hob, everyone was an infant. So he just shrugged and followed the invitation, letting Georgie pay for the meal and humming along as the kid ranted.

Only this time the address was not a coffee shop the kid wanted to check out or a high-end restaurant he wanted to try. No, they were by the docks, and Hob would have thought it was a mistake and turned back if it wasn’t for Georgie waving him over with a big smile on his face. Behind him stood a handful of people, all mean-looking and dangerous. Hob tensed, ready to take them on and defend Georgie if he had to.

“Hob, there you are. I’m glad you could make it. “

Hob stepped closer, eyeing the people warily, leaning in close and whispering to Georgie. “What is going on?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they are family and here to help me with a little project. Could be very profitable for you as well if you are up for it.”

“And what would you have me do,” with the people standing around it couldn’t be good and Hob would rather like to knew what he was getting into. Or if he had to grab Georgie and make a run for it before he got involved in something bad.

“Nothing to worry about. I just need you to crack some locks for me, and the guys will do the rest. I wouldn’t make you do something that is against your principles, you are a gentleman, after all.”

He knows, was all Hob could think. Since when? Had everything just been a ruse to get to him? He couldn’t ask, not now with everyone looking at him.

Still, despite being put on the spot like this, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not if Georgie stayed. He cursed his soft heart.

“Okay, I’m in. What is the plan?”

The plan was apparently to sneak into one of the warehouses and steal a shipment that had arrived this morning. Nothing to odd. Only the shipment had been valuable enough to be put into an enforced room. And there were guards, standing at the door with rifles. Hob tried to stop Georgie as this was way too dangerous, but before he could, the man Georgie had brought stepped up.

Hob dropped to the ground, pulling Georgie with him as the first shot fell, and Hob had to forcefully push down flashes of his time on the battlefield that tried to emerge. There was a reason why he never used a gun and stuck to knifes. There was no real firefight, as the guards had been taken by surprise and were dead before they could do anything.

Getting back on his feet, he saw the holes littering the bodies and the steadily growing puddle of blood on the floor. Hob had seen worse in his time. But the sign of the boy next to him not even looking twice but just stepping over the blood and stopping next to the door looking expectantly at Hob twisted something in Hob’s stomach.

No kid should be so indifferent to death.

A hand on his back and he was pushed forward by one of the man, having to suppress his instincts to spin and completely destroy them. Something Georgie must notice.

“Joe. Hands off or do you want to have your ass handed to you,” the man, Joe, grumbled but stepped back, and even the others gave Hob a wide breath. Wise choice. They might have guns and outnumbered him, but Hob wouldn’t die even if you shot him in the head, and if he wanted to, he could be a terrifying enemy to face.

The blood slouched under his feet as he crouched down and looked at the lock. Nothing too complicated for him, but he could see why others might struggle to get it open. And with how strong everything looked, trying to force it open would take way too long.

“So what’s this? Pocket money not enough for you anymore?” Hob asked Georgie, ignoring the men bristling behind him. Interesting. They were loyal and protective.

“It’s family business.” Fuck. No wonder he hadn’t reacted to people being shot. If he grew up in an environment like this. How had Hob missed it? There had to have been some signs. Some red flags he should have spotted. But till today he had been completely clueless, thinking Georgie was a sweet although a bit strange boy.

His suspicion that all of this had been a big farce to recruit him grew. What other reason would Georgie have to spend time with him. They weren’t close in age or had similar interests. It couldn’t be for Hob’s teaching, as there would have been other options in the crime family. People that would have taught way more advanced moves to kill rather than Hob’s basic self-defense. And Hob was also not a nice person to be around, at least not the last years, he was cynical and rude. No, there was nothing to gain from it beside his thievery skills.

FUCK!

Another relationship that was falling apart before Hob’s eyes. Not because of something he did, but because he was foolish enough to open his heart again. By now, he should have learned his lesson. But over and over he got involved and had to pay the price. But this would be the last time.

The lock clicked and people started whispering in excitement as Hob pushed open the door. He didn’t step in. He didn’t care to what he had just become an accomplish, his heart too bitter and broken. Not even Georgie looking at him excitedly and pulling his arm got him moving. No, nothing could be worth what he had just lost today. He turned and left, leaving red footprints behind himself.

~*~

Hah, alcohol, his only friend that would never disappoint him. Especially since the quality had improved greatly ever since he had taken his first sip of ale when he was 12. The second glass of whiskey numbed the pain, and he started to feel good. Humming softly, he started to plan. He couldn’t stay here, not with people knowing this address. And if he continued to do his break-ins, people would put two and two together. But with his stranger no longer caring and his last connection to the city now served, there was nothing stopping him from moving somewhere else.

Maybe somewhere south, like Spain or Greece, where it was warm. Plus, he hadn’t really been there in a while, and it would be worth checking out what had changed. He wanted to go swimming again and London’s weather really was not up for that.

He was in the middle of packing, deciding what to take and what he would give to the homeless, when there was a knock on his door. Instantly the knot in his stomach was back as there was only one person that would knock. He grabbed his favorite knife and slipped it in the back of his waistband. You never knew, with him rejecting them and just walking out, maybe they were now here to silence him, so he didn’t tell the cops. Better to be safe and armed if a fight should break out.

But listening, it didn’t sound like there were a bunch of guys waiting outside, trying to be quiet. You could always hear them, no matter what they tried.

He threw open the door, coming face to face with Georgie standing there looking shocked at Hob, fist still raised to bang against the door. The kid had come alone.

“Hob,” Georgie called out in relief, stepping closer, but Hob stepped back and held the kid back with a hand on his chest. The confused and heartbroken look on Georgie’s face would have moved Hob once. Now it just steeled his resolved. He wouldn’t be manipulated anymore.

“What do you want?”

“You were gone so soon, and I was worried. Plus, you didn’t even stay to get your share.”

“Keep it,” Hob didn’t want whatever it was. He had his own ways to make money. Georgie looked past him and at the bags, his eyes widening.

“Your leaving.” Hob had nothing to say to that. “Why?” He sounded so desperate. He should go into acting. No need to kill to make a fortune.

“Nothing keeping me here.”

“What about me,” Hob just laughed a harsh and bitter sound and pushed Georgie back when he tried to go in for a hug.

“Spear us the theatrics. I figured it out, no need to continue acting. And hey, you got me to pull off a job for you, that's better than nothing. But let's end things here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said stop pretending!” Hob’s fist hit the wall with a bang, making Georgie flinch back. Good, he should be afraid. Should run and leave Hob to lick his wounds in peace and not rub it in.

The tears still surprised him, as he had never before seen Georgie cry, not even when they meet each other for the first time. Hob hated him for it, as now he looked even more like Robyn had when being in distress and needing his father.

“I really don’t know what this is about,” Georgie barely got out as he gasped for air between sobs. “Is it because I dragged you there without warning? I’m sorry. I was wrong!”

Well, yes, but also no. Hob would have really appreciated some warning before, but that was not why he was so angry. But if he wanted, Hob would spell it out for him.

“You know who I am. How long did it take for you to come up with the idea to befriend me to get my service for your family?.”

“What? No. I didn’t. Hob, I didn’t know when we meet. I would never do something like that to you. You know I would never do something like that to you.”

“I thought I did. After today? Not so much. So answer me. What other reason would you have to hang around?”

“That's,” he was clearly uncomfortable trying to come up with an answer. Looks like Hob had hit the mark. He didn’t feel happy about it. Georgie’s next words were so quiet, Hob had to strain himself to understand them. “You are the closest thing to a father I have.”

What?

Hob just froze, standing there trying to make sense of the words. No, it couldn’t be. Who would want someone like Hob as a father. No one, that’s who.

“But your family. Your clan. Your real father.”

Georgie let out a bitter laugh. “Oh please, he is running a criminal organization. How much time do you think he has to spend with his son? I’m lucky if I get to see him at least once a week during meetings. The rest? They just think following me will get them in daddies good grace. They don’t really care about me.” He looked at Hob with big eyes. “Not like you do.”

This time, Hob didn’t stop him when Georgie stepped forward and threw his arms around his middle. Looking down at the dark hair, he couldn’t stop himself as his arms closed around the boy’s shaking frame.

He seemed so fragile in Hob’s arm. In need of protection.

Hob just held him until the tears stopped, not really knowing what to say, not understanding how he could give comfort when his words were responsible for the tears.

Guiding Georgie into the kitchen and sitting him down on a chair, Hob turned and set up the kettle for some tea. It helped him calm down a bit and when he sat down opposite of Georgie his thoughts were much clearer.

“But why drag me to the heist? If you just wanted my company, there was no reason to do so.”

“I couldn’t watch you waste your talent. Pulling all the small stuff. Look at this place.” He gestured around. And okay, it wasn’t that pretty or big, but it was enough for Hob, plus it enabled him to put some stuff back into his emergency funds. “You deserve so much more. You just need the opportunity to take it.”

“So what? You were just giving me the opportunity to get rich?”

Georgie nodded and grabbed a bag from his coat pocket, laying it on the table between them. Hob eyes it suspiciously, but opened it. Out fell stones… only he knew this kind of stones. Gems. Valuable ones. It had been some time since he had dealt with valuables like this, but he would assume they were worth at least as much as he made in a month robbing people. And all it had taken was picking a door.

“I can’t accept this.”

“What why?”

“I just opened a door. It is way too much.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to get in there before someone noticed us without you. This is your fair share.”

But Hob just shook his head and pushed the bag back over the table. No he couldn’t take it.

“I’m sorry, I know you mean well, but I just can’t accept this. It is way too much. You keep it.”

Georgie was reluctant as he stored the bag in his coat. The silent between them was awkward. The air had been cleaned, but they didn’t know how to interact anymore. The easy friendship was gone. Hob already missed it.

“What now?” Wasn’t that the big question? Hob couldn’t leave, not knowing he was the boy's only emotional support. Not while he wanted to rib the head of the gang members and especially Georgie’s father for not caring about the boy. But besides that, he didn’t know.

He doubted they could go back to how things were before. Not without Hob worrying every second about what dangerous stuff Georgie was getting into to impress his blood father. And he doubted Georgie would simply accept him going back to breaking and entering, at least not without demanding to come with him.

“I don’t know,” he sounded tired. He was tired. Exhausted even. The anger had burned him out, and now all that was left was an empty husk. Without a conflict to fuel him and confronted with hard decisions, he just wanted to lay down and never get up again.

“Do you want to,” he stopped himself. No, it was too much. Cross so many lines. This was not Robyn. Not his actual son, no matter how much both of them were projecting.

“Yes.” His gaze snapped up to Georgie’s determined look.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask.”

“It is you who is asking. That’s all I need to know.”

Fuck this. Hob got up and pulled Georgie with him towards the bedroom, giving him one of his own nightshirts. It dropped off the boy's small shoulders. Under the covers, holding the boy close, Hob felt like he was finally able to breathe again for the first time since he saw Georgie stand there with the guys.

No, he was not Robyn. But he could be someone else, just as important to Hob as Robyn had been. After all, there was no reason why Hob should not have two sons he loved equally.

~*~

Things changed after that, not in a bad way. It was just different. Hob was helping Georgie do things for the family. Since it was only a small operation, nothing as big as the heist they had pulled, and no one got killed. They collect protection money, beat people up that couldn’t pay, and did some blackmail. All stuff Hob can justify because it wasn’t so different from the things he had been doing on his own. Just a lot more profitable.

He would have been fine if things stayed this way. But running around with the bosses kid got people's attention. He could always tell if someone was part of the family by the way they looked at them when they passed. And in a way he could understand their worry, someone not part of the family yet spending so much time with a seventeen-year-old boy raised some red flags. He didn’t mind the stars, he could handle them for Georgie and since he didn’t want to get any more involved in the family than he was right now, he didn’t care what people thought.

Only Joe, the guy from the heist, hadn’t gotten the memo and was waiting for him when he walked home late at night.

What was it with people waiting with knifes in dark alleyways for him? Was it something with Hob? Or maybe it was just that most alleyways were dark since the streetlights were broken and no one bothered to replace them in this side of town. They rather put the money in the better neighborhoods.

So he was standing there looking at Joe with a raised eyebrow, not giving the man the satisfaction of reacting to his intimidating display.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Joe spat. Man, was Hob like him when he had robbed people? If yes, he was lucky people had been scary enough to follow his orders and not just laughed at him.

“Walking home. What are you doing here?”

Joe spluttered, clearly taken off balance.

“You know what I mean!”

“No I don’t.” Okay, messing with the guy was kinda fun. Hob suddenly didn’t mind so much he was late for his sofa and the book he had picked up yesterday morning. This was more entertaining.

“The kid! Why are you hanging with him? You think you can be part of the family? Sleep your way in there.” That was just cross. Hob was way too old, plus it was Georgie, he would never.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be part pf this shit. Way to small. If I joined someone, it would at least be the Traveris. They own half the city and bring in the real big bugs.”

Joe, went red in anger at the mention of their rival family. Well, rival was a loose word for it. The Baldwin family was way too small, they Traveris didn’t give a shit about them. It was only thanks to Georgie Hob even knew this family even existed. Joe, having finally lost his patience, stomped forward to attack.

Hob would like to say it was an intense fight, him barely avoiding the blade. But in truth it was over in seconds with Joe laying on the ground unconscious and Hob inspecting the knife. It wasn’t a very good knife. So Hob gave it back, laying it on the ground next to Joe, and continued his way home, stopping by the butcher on his way to get a nice steak for dinner. After this, he deserved a nice meal for holding back.

After that, whenever Joe saw them he looked like he swallowed a lemon, but he greeted Hob. Which was nice. Hob hadn’t wanted to make friends, but he couldn’t stop smiling whenever he needled Joe. Which broke some reserves and other members of the family started talking to Hob. Nothing big, just some small talk, but once he noticed it was too late. Hob was now firmly in acquaintance with half of the family. Which wouldn��t be so bad if they hadn’t started inviting him to stuff. Because suddenly it wasn’t ‘Hey Georgie wanna come grab a beer after this’ but, ‘hey you two, come join us at the pub, drinks on me’ and finally ‘Hob, good to see you man, wanna go get smashed?’.

And Hob at some point didn’t want to refuse. He wasn’t lonely anymore thanks to Georgie, but there were just some things you couldn’t talk about with a young boy. And the guys reminded him of the friends he had when he first saw his stranger. Vulgar, a bit touched in the head, but nice to hang out with.

So Hob went drinking with them, chatting about women and sex and laughing more than he had since his and Edwards relationship had started falling apart. Things were good.

They had no expectations for him. They knew he did small stuff with Georgie, but they never tried to talk him into something more. Him having an eye on the kid and making sure he was okay, was good enough for them. Which was why he tagged along when some guys went to smash up a store after a few drinks. And it was fun. And after that it became just something Hob did when Georgie was busy. Hang out with the grunt workers and pull some stuff.

It was no surprise when at some point someone said, ‘I’m glad to have my family here with me’ and Hob was just included in it. And in return Hob was glad that after so long drifting he had finally found a place where he belonged, where he could be happy.

Stepping in and helping Georgie had been the best decision he had made. So what if it was a crime family? It was his and they made him happy. That was all that mattered.

Nothing should have shaken that. And Hob thought nothing would when he went to scare the owner of a restaurant to pay back the money he owned to Hob’s family. The job itself was fine. He didn’t even have to do much. Just walk in all imposing, kicking over some chairs and pushing some glasses to the ground and the owner came running, apologizing and promising he would have the money by the end of the week.

Hob had no trouble granting that request. Fear was good, but what many people didn’t get in the business was that it was better to wait a few days for payout rather than smash the shop, destroying any sort of income and never getting the money back at all.

So yeah, Hob felt pretty accomplished as he turned to leave until he saw a familiar face in the crowd of scared customers ducking their heads.

Shit.

Maybe his retreat was not at all imposing as he hastily made his way out of the shop, praying he hadn’t been recognized.

“Hob!” No such luck. He sped up, taking big strides away from the place, but could hear Edward running after him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Wait!” Hell no! Going into an alley in hopes of shaking Edward there was the wrong choice, as the lack of pedestrians to make their way through enabled Edward to catch up with Hob. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he spun, twisting the offended limb and pushing Edward against the wall until he let out a pained yelp.

“Hob. It’s me.”

“I know.”

“Then let me go, you idiot.”

Curses. Despite everything Hob did, stepping back and getting some distance between them. Edward turned, rubbing his shoulder, and looked Hob up and down.

“You look good, healthy. I’m glad you are doing alright. I was worried about you when I didn’t hear anything from you for a while.”

Hob snorted at that. Sure he was, afraid his charity project was gone and causing trouble. After all, it was not as if he had reached out to Hob. No Hob would be stupid if he cared for the fool.

“Whatever,” staying here was no good. He should go back to his life and forget all about this. But Edward stepped in his way, blocking his path.

“But what was that about just now? You are collecting protection money? Why?”

“Why do you think? It’s my job.”

“No, that is not right. You are not a criminal, Hob!”

It made him laugh. If only Edward knew what he had done, how many he had killed over the centuries. Then he would not speak like this.

“You are a good person. Please, come with me. We can make it right. You don’t have to work for them. I will protect you from whoever makes you do this.”

“THEY ARE MY FAMILY,” Hob was angry. How dare he came back into Hobs live and criticized his choices when he hadn’t been there, when Hob felt like he would break from how empty his chest was.

“They are using you!” Hob’s fist hit the other's face, sending him to the ground. He was following down not far behind, holding Edward down and continuing punching until he could hear a rib crack. Only then did he get back up, breathing heavy and looking down at his best friend bloody and broken.

Hob should feel horrified he did this. Should fall to his knees and apologize. He just turned and threw a ‘stay out of my life’ over his shoulder before leaving.

He made his choice, knew who he was, who he had always been since he slit his first throat with 14. There was no merit in pretending he was someone else. No matter what he tried, he would never be a good person. He could act and fool the people around himself, but he would always know the truth.

He stayed even closer to Georgie, wanting the reassurance and love while he fought with his inner turmoil. Georgie called him dad. Everything was right again. He was where he was supposed to be.

~*~

It was a normal day with him following around Georgie making sure the kid was alright when things fell apart. They hadn’t heard them coming.

The two of them had just been walking down main street chatting over with restaurant they should visit this evening and how Georgie was getting along with his new teacher. And then they had jumped out of the alley, getting the drop on them. Hob had been wrangled to the ground and no matter how much he struggled, scratched and bite he was not getting up as he had to watch Georgie being dragged away.

There was something hot in his stomach, and he looked down at the knife sticking out of it in shock. He barely felt any pain with the adrenalin running high.

“Tell your boss he should have stayed out of our territory.”

“If he makes it that long,” the man who the knife had originally belonged to laughed as he bumped shoulders with his friend. Both smiling as they turned to leave with their other two accomplished to follow the one who had dragged Georgie away.

They didn’t pay any attention to Hob. He was no danger hand, only slowing the blood coming out of his gut and slowly dying on the floor. They had no reason to be wary, to look back.

His own knife slid into the shoulder of one of the men, Hob had missed his neck. Using the hilt and pulling himself upright got another scream from the guy. Hob just pushed forward, throwing himself at the next enemy and using his own knife to stab him. It wasn't as effective as he had hoped, as he was weak. By now everyone had noticed he was still alive and not slowly dying on the ground. Which meant that everyone had it out for him now. Not that Hob cared, he even welcomed it. Seeing as the people came to him meant he didn't have to run after them, something he would have had a hard time doing in his current state.

He was at a clear disadvantage and if he was normal he would have been quickly finished off. But he had experience not only in fighting but also in working through the pain, ignoring his body screaming at him and just continue pushing onwards, knowing he would heal when everything was over. Something these guys had no experience in.

The one Hob had gotten in the shoulder was hanging back, clutching it in obvious pain. The other one was also trying his best not to aggravate his wound any further. Hob in comparison didn't even duck the next attack, but let the knife hit his chest until it was stopped by bones. He just pushed forward, even if he could hear the scrapping of it against his bones. He wouldn't be stopped that easily.

Pulling out the knife from his stomach with a terrible squealing sound and spraying blood everywhere, he stabbed the man in front of him in the neck, seeing his shock as the life drained out of him. But Hob was not done. Not by a long shot. The moment they realized their mistake, and tried to run, two people were dead, one had a terrible cut in his leg unable to get far, and the last one was begging for their life. Hob had no such mercy.

Strolling over towards where the final survivor was dragging himself over the ground trying to get away, Hob stepped on his leg, making the man scream in pain.

“Where have you taken him.”

“Please. God. I'm sorry. Please,” how annoying. Hob increased pressure on the other's wound.

“That was not what I asked.”

“The old slaughterhouse. They have taken him to the old slaughterhouse! Please don't kill me.”

Hob leaned down, looking into the man’s tear filled eyes, and smiled. “Okay.” Relieve, and then Hob's knife slashed over his throat, ending his life. He had to sit there, waiting. It drove him mad. But he couldn't get up. With the adrenalin of the battle washing away, he didn't have the strength to force his body to obey. Not until at least some wounds had started knitting back together. He just repeated a mantra, ‘he will be okay, I will be there in time, I will save him’.

He still pushed his body way too soon to move again, desperate to make sure Georgie was okay. Stumbling through the streets, he left drips of blood on the ground. But he didn’t care, not when he finally saw the building in front of him. Perhaps it was stupid to just jump in, maybe he should have thought this through, called the rest of the family for help. Or sneaked in through the back, but he just went through the front door. But what could they do? Shoot him?

Well they did. Multiple times even. He just didn’t let that stop him as he just marched towards them, broke their neck or slit their throat once he was close enough. It was the stuff nightmares were made of, and he caught a man dropping his rifle and drawing a cross on his own chest while praying to be saved from the devil. It didn’t stop Hob from ramming his knife in his neck and twisting.

At some point, Hob lost count of how many he had killed. It was just a blur of pain, step, pain, step, snap, step, pain, slash.

Then there was a door. Heavy and wooden, leading to the previous office of the building. Hob just stood there blinking the blood away, threatening to run into his eyes, dumbfounded why he had stopped here.

It took a man tackling him from the side and screaming ‘I wound let you get to him’ for Hob to remember. He must have taken a bullet to the head. It always left his thoughts jumbled for a while until the tissue had knit itself together. But there was no itching. A clean shot through, no projectile left inside, making things heal wrong and driving him mad until he pulled it out.

He straightened himself out as best as he could. Next was pulling on the coat of his last victim now cooling in front of the door and throwing it on in hope to hide the worst of the bullet holes. Some of them started itching already. Going in like this was too much of a risk. Too easy for people to figure out who or what he was. But he didn’t care. Not as long as he didn’t know Georgie was still alive.

Pushing open the door, his heart skipped a beat… or perhaps it just started beating again now that it didn’t have a hole anymore. Georgie was sitting there slumped over in a chair held up only by some robe wrapped around his small frame.

No. Hob was too late. Once more, what he loved most had slipped through his fingers.

He fell to his knees in front of him, reaching out with shaking fingers and touching the kid's face. It was still warm. A warm breath tickled his skin. Georgie was still alive.

A heavy sob left him as Georgie blinked open his eyes, disorientated, but Hob didn’t care. He was still here. Hob hadn’t fucked this one up yet.

“Hob,” the words were slurred and Hob reached up trying to check Georgie’s head for any wounds but stopped when he just smeared blood in his hair. “Hob. A yu kay? “

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?”

“Blood?”

“It’s not mine. I’m good. Better than good now that I’m with you. How are you feeling?”

“Head hurt.” Hob hummed in understanding, cutting the robe with one hand and pulling the boy into his lap, wanting to have him close, despite all the blood.

That was how the rest of the family found them storming in, panicking. They had gotten word Georgie had been kidnapped and had started searching immediately, only to find everyone slaughtered, fearing the worst. Seeing them sitting on the ground didn’t ease their worry, as Hob was covered in red and had gotten quite a bit on Georgie. Most of it properly Hob’s, not that one could tell with all his wounds having closed up for now.

Georgie himself was fine as well, beside some bruising and a bump on the side of his head. A good night's sleep, and he would be fine, but mentally would be a completely different story.

Which brought up the question of what exactly had happened. Why both of them were covered in blood and what had happened to everyone guarding the place.

Something, Georgie couldn’t answer since he was passed out for most of his transport and then stayed in the room until the screams began. Which meant everyone turned to Hob for answers, but he didn’t know what to say, how to explain, his brain still a bit sluggish. He just pulled Georgie closer and got to his feet, stumbling to the door, needing to get somewhere safe. Someone tried to step up and help him by taking Georgie from him, but Hob bared his teeth in a primal gesture of possessiveness.

He allowed the strong arm around his waist helping him keep him steady, though. And the hands helping him in the backseat of a car. Georgie didn’t once complain, despite Hob stumbling and blood flaking between them. He just saw Hob needed him close and obliged.

Stepping inside the headquarters sent out another wave of panic, everyone assumed they were injured.

“Enough!” The voice of the family head, Leonard, rung out, settling everyone down. “Don’t you feel ashamed acting like this?” eyes wandered to the ground, embarrassed by the word. Hob took a deep breath, as he no longer was bombarded with questions he didn’t know how to answer.

Walking towards them, Leonard held out his arms, demanding Georgie was handed to him. Hob wanted to say no, to deny, to fight. He was more of a father to the boy than the man before him. Leonard had chosen the family, he was a great leader, but Hob had chosen Georgie.

But in the end he couldn’t, not with Georgie reaching out to his dad. And there was also the part of Hob that wanted to submit to the clear authority figure. In his life, he had aspired to be a leader many times, thinking he would be happy having what so many aspired to be. And he had managed, after all he had nothing but time. But no matter how much power he had and how many bowed to him, he had never been happy. There was always this itch, in the back of his mind, to turn around and look for someone.

For what he never knew. Advise? Approval? Whatever it was, he only ever got it when he could give up some responsibility and just follow orders. It was why his stranger's disapproval had always stung so bad, and why he always felt so elevated when he seemed to approve. Because no matter how powerful Hob got, he would have never outdone his stranger. Which was why loosing him had ripped such a big hole in his heart.

He had tried to fill the role with Edward, the man looking imposing enough during their first meeting. But once they had become good friends, he had changed his behavior towards Hob and became soft. Which did nothing to steady Hob and compared with their other issues things fell apart.

“Are you injured, boy” It took a moment of awkwardly staring over the bosses shoulder until Hob realized the statement was towards him and not Georgie. Which was no surprise since Hob was no boy. In fact, he was much, much older than Leonard. A fact which he nearly pointed out before biting his tongue. He really hoped he could rest soon, so his brain could completely recover, and he didn’t accidentally expose his immortality because he couldn’t hold his tongue.

Although it wasn’t too much of a problem as when he opened his mouth to say he was fine only jumble came out. Either because of the part of his brain responsible for language still being damaged or because his vocal cords hadn’t fully recovered after a lucky shot hit his neck. In the end, he could just shake his head.

“Alright. Go take a shower, you stink.”

Hob just nodded, walking numbly in the direction of his room. He still had his apartment and stayed there most often, but the family had insistent he still got his own room next to Georgie’s. Seeing himself in the bathroom mirror, he was shocked. He knew theoretically he was off bad, but he was red from head to toe, not a single spot left untouched. He also had this vacant look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t really there.

He left the clothes in a pile on the floor to throw away before someone could discover all the holes in them. The moment the warm water hit his skin, he let out a deep breath, tension draining out of him, and he sacked against the wall. Eyes closet, he just let the water wash over him, centering himself.

He had killed again. His one taboo and he had broken it. Multiple times, in very brutal ways. And the worse part was he didn’t fell bad about it. Thought they had it coming after taking Georgie. What did it say about him that in this day and age he could still kill a man in cold blood and not feel anything?

Suddenly he felt dirty. Scrubbing on his skin and watching the pink water go down the drain did nothing to stop the feeling, even when the soap was gone and his skin a puffy red, revealing the healing scars.

Looking in the mirror, he hated the man that looked back at him.

His whole chest itched, metal stuck under his skin, but he had no time to take the bullets out and let things re-heal right. Not before someone came looking for him. And it was less than he deserved after what he had done. He could handle a bit of an itch.

With a set of clean clothes on, he pulled the door closed behind himself, knowing no one would step inside without his permission.

Not exactly knowing what to do and what was expected of him now, he made his way through the house towards the main hall hoping to find Georgie having to check the boy was alright. His instinct to go to the dinning hall had been right as he was there sitting next to his father in clean clothes and an empty plate in front of him. Hob must have taken much more time in the shower than he had thought, but time always got a bit fuzzy after dealing with death. Or at last his equivalent of it.

“Ahh, there you are. I was starting to think I had to send someone to check if you were alright.”

“Sorry,” the words were soft and the pronunciation still a bit off, but it was way better than before. His long shower must have been enough time to start healing whatever had caused the issue.

“Sit down,” Leonard pointed at the empty seat at his side and Hob just dropped down not even caring he was too far down the family hierarchy to sit there. He just hummed as someone placed a bowl of soup in front of him and started eating. Regenerating always made him hungry and went much better with energy to spare. Which was why his sting with homelessness was such trouble. He couldn’t heal because he lacked energy, but he couldn’t get any food because he had to hide from anyone with the wounds no normal person would survive.

Only after he sat down the spoon next to an empty bowl did people expect him to join the conversation.

“Georgie told us what he remembered. Even if it wasn’t much. I would like to hear your description of events.”

Hob took a sip from his glass. Grape juice, not wine.

“Walking. We were walking. To the restaurant,” yeah, he was still working on the speaking thing. He knew what he wanted to say, thought what he wanted to say and how, but when he opened his mouth it was just a mess. But if they didn’t want to wait till to tomorrow, they would have to deal with it.

“They jumped. From an alley. Pushed me down. I fought. Georgie was taken. I won. Got location, went over there.”

Leonard didn’t comment, and his icy gaze stopped anyone else from doing so, as Hob told the events as best he could, playing with his glass and avoiding eye contact. It was suspicious for a talkative man like Hob to be this way. He hoped they just thought it was trauma or a head injury he was hiding.

“The guards. They blocked the way.” Hob stopped there, not able to bring himself to admitting what he had done.

“What happened to the guard,” Leonard’s voice was soft, but Hob just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s alright. No one will judge, nothing bad will happen. I just want to know.”

To Hob, this logic made absolute sense. If he said nothing would happen, then there was no reason not to believe him.

“I stabbed them,” it felt like an admission. Hob made himself small, ducking his heat, hating the overwhelming emotions he was experiencing right now. His chest itched, and his fingers twitched as he stopped himself from scratching.

“All of them?”

Hob just nodded, miserable. Yes, all of them. Even those he didn’t have to. The ones too afraid to shot, the ones dropping their weapon and begging, the ones who ran. He just killed all of them.

“Amazing,” there were pure wonder in the word leaving Georgie’s mouth and Hob looked at him confused.

They should be shocked, wary, perhaps even angry, not amazed. But to his surprise, looking around, he did find not what he expected. They all thought him killing a bunch of people was great. Joe even nodded at him in respect.

“It seems I have misjudged you when we first meet. You are much more suited for this family than I thought,” Leonard’s praise made his chest feel warm, and he couldn’t help the soft smile at the words. He did a good job.

He was feeling so good, he didn’t even catch the calculating look on Leonard’s face, taking it for approval.

“Would you be willing to put your talent to use in the future for the family.” That made him think. First to figure out the meaning behind the words and then to figure out himself. Would he kill for the family? A loaded question. Before today, he would have said no without hesitation. But now. He didn’t feel bad for killing them. And the family liked him for it. Plus, they had deserved it.

“Bad people. No children. No women.”

Leonard nodded heavily as if he was in serious negotiation and not with a man barely able to string together more than two words.

“Yes, that should be achievable. After all, we are not ones going after uninvolved parties. We have standards. But there are a lot of people out there that will try to hurt us. They are not good people, right?” He looked at Hob expectantly and after some delay Hob gave a tentative nod.

“You would just be protecting us. Would that be alright?”

He fought things over. He really did, after all, it was a big step. And Leonard was patiently waiting for him, despite Hob taking quite some time. It would make him a bad person if he killed, no matter how evil the other party was. But he was already too far gone, so what was another number to add to his count now? And he would help the family and make sure they were alright. Make sure Georgie wouldn’t be taken again.

Hob nodded and cheers broke out around the table. He smiled. Afterward conversation flew easily, but Hob didn’t take part in it, making sense of the words too much effort. He was tired, his eyes dropping as his body demanded he finally reset and let himself heal. A soft touch to his shoulder pulled him out of his daze.

Rubbing his eyes revealed the colorful blob next to him to be Georgie, looking at Hob expectantly. Hob made a questioning hum, turning back into the surrounding voices.

“I said you should go to bed and rest.”

That seemed like a good idea. Hob got up, his uncoordinated movement nearly making his chair fall, and a strong arm reached out and steadied him as he tilted to the side. Following the arm, he looked at Leonard who smiled despite Hob nearly falling on him and gestured to the door.

Georgie was at his side helping Hob as they made their way through the building slowly since unlike his father, Georgie couldn’t catch Hob should he fall. Stopping in front of his room, Hob was confused at Georgie keeping hold on his hand, stopping him from going in. How should he rest if he couldn’t get to his bed?

“Could you stay with me tonight?” Georgie’s voice was soft and timid. Hob knew there was a reason why he shouldn’t do it beside the itching in his chest. He couldn’t remember it. And cuddling the kid, knowing his son was safe… he needed it.

So he followed him to his room, falling in bed together and just clinging to each other making sure this was real, they were both alive. Hob drifted of to sleep in peace as his healing kicked into overdrive the itching intensified as the tissue tried to knit together and bounded with the metal.

Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name.

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt.

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared.

“Fսck.”

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him.

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace.

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him.

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth.

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own.

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance.

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it.

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone.

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone.

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done.

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked.

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them.

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch.

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived.

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself.

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room.

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end.

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee.

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day.

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life.

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart.

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them.

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned.

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob.

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight.

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head.

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this.

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value.

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out.

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his.

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job.

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet.

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face.

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed.

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this.

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it.

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises.

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon.

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately.

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist.

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know.

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep.

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it.

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery.

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully.

“So what so you want kid?”

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

“The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

23 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 4 years ago

Text

All Mine.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (damn)

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy Barber has been through a lot. After getting a divorce from his ex-wife, he moves into the house next to the Y/L/Ns. And he has his eyes on Y/N since day one. Little does he know, Y/N likes him too and things get interesting one night.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Before you ask, no, I haven't watched Defending Jacob yet because I do not have the attention span to watch an entire series. So yeah, this has no spoilers. Also, I'm asexual so don't @ me for the smut please and thank you. Enjoy!

---

"Good morning, Mr Barber!"

He looked up from his phone and saw his neighbor smiling at him. He grinned back at her, his mood immediately lightening. "Hi, Y/N! How many times have I told you, call me Andy," he chided gently, keeping his phone away. "Okay, okay, just feels a little weird, ya know? Anyway, what are you doing here? You almost never take the bus," Y/N chuckled.

He flashed her another grin, his boyish side automatically coming out. It always happened when she was near. Y/N Y/L/N was Andy Barber's cute neighbor, but the only thing is, she was way, way younger than he was, her parents were just a couple of years older than him. Despite the huge age-gap, Y/N had won his heart. And he didn't mind in the slightest.

"My car broke down yesterday, it's at the auto repair shop. I got no other vehicle," he shrugged. Y/N nodded just as she saw her bus approaching. "Are you getting on this one?" she asked him and he squinted. "Nah, not this one. Are you?" She verbally confirmed a yes and turned to look at him fully. "I'll see you later, Mr Barber, bye!" With that, she waved at him and stepped into the bus.

"Andy!" he mouthed when she sat near the window seat, giggling. "Andy," she repeated, winking at him just as the bus turned around the corner. A laugh involuntarily escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, what am I gonna do with you, angel? Inside the bus, Y/N had to keep herself from fidgeting, too overstimulated after her conversation with the handsome lawyer.

She had had a crush on him ever since he had moved in next-door. Her parents had immediately invited the lone man to dinner and he had, thankfully, accepted. They had a lot of fun; Andy was a proper gentleman, well-spoken, intelligent and extremely handsome. Y/N got a crush on him on the first day itself. She knew about the things his family had been through, and the thought crushed her.

Can't even imagine, your own child, guilty of murder?

Andy and his ex-wife, Laurie had divorced immediately after their son's trial. It was all months ago, though, Andy was doing much better now. He had Y/N, after all. In his thoughts only, but that would suffice. Because he knew, she'd never fall for him. Why would she? He was much older than her, a divorced man, with a son who got convicted for murder.

But Y/N didn't care about any of those things. She liked the Andy who was her awesome, good looking and smart neighbor. That's all that mattered to her. But then came another problem, Y/N's parents. Would they be okay with her going out with him? Of course not! Y/N sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus; oh God, what ever was she gonna do?

Andy had ruined all men for her.

---

"Come in!"

Looking up, a surprised gasp left the mouths of both; the person inside the office and the person at the door. "Y/N?" Andy blurted out. "Mr Barber?" Y/N blinked as well. "Andy," he corrected incessantly and she waved her arm in dismissal. "Wow, I, uh… I didn't realize— you don't have a name plate outside—" He motioned to the chair in front of him and she sat.

"What happened, darling?"

Y/N unconsciously shivered at the nickname. She loved it when he called her that. "I don't know, my colleague sent me here, she was busy… gave me the address and said there was a file she needed…" Y/N spoke unsurely. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his figure; he had taken off the trenchcoat he was wearing in the morning, leaving him in a tight, white shirt, black trousers and a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Y/N concluded that he looked insanely gorgeous. "Does your colleague happen to be Mrs Renoir? She told me she was coming to get the file." She smiled and nodded at him. "Yes, Mrs Renoir, that's her." Andy smiled back and took out a file from his drawer. "Here you go."

She accepted the file, stowing it away in her bag. "I'll see you!" She moved to get up but Andy tutted, checking his watch. "Why don't you stay, Y/N? It's getting late, we can go home together," he spoke, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. She froze for a moment. "Um, it's fine, I can—" He was shaking his head. "Y/N, if something happens to you, I'll not be able to forgive myself."

What's going on? "Mr Barber—" "Andy." "What do you mean?" He got up from his chair and moved to the couch that was in the room. She sat next to him. "You never stay out this late, Y/N, your parents told me you're usually at home by 8:30. It's almost midnight, and I can't let you venture into the city all alone at this hour. Do you know the dangers that lurk at night?"

Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest. Indeed, this was new to her; and before even meeting with him, she had been scared of roaming the city alone at night. "I don't," she muttered truthfully, looking up when Andy placed his hand on her thigh. "It's okay. You can stay, I just need to go over a few more things and then we can go home, hm?" Y/N grinned and nodded.

Andy lifted his hand off her thigh and went back to his desk. He began scribbling something on a paper, which Y/N realized was a form. After admiring him for a few minutes, she took out her phone and scrolled through her messages. She had already texted her mom about staying out late, and her mother had complained until Y/N told her she was out for business, not fun.

As time passed, Y/N's shoulders sagged. Her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. "Andy," she whined in a sleepy stupor and his head shot up, "Are you done? I wanna go home!" His dark eyes softened instantly and he chuckled. She looked cute when she was sleepy. "Just a moment, darling, I'm almost finished." Y/N simply groaned and threw her head back against the couch.

"All done."

Y/N opened her eyes and saw Andy fixing his appearance, before shrugging on the coat. Then he turned to her, offering her his hand with a smile. She took it and heaved herself up, stumbling a little but Andy was there to hold her up. Effortlessly wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her out of his office, switching off the lights and locking the door.

Both of them walked out of the building and Andy got Y/N seated in the passenger seat of his car. "I thought your car was at the auto repair shop?" Y/N remembered. She felt his chuckle next to her ear as he reached over and fastened her seatbelt and then his own. "Went to get it in the afternoon because I realized buses aren't for me." She giggled and leaned back against the seat.

"Why don't you try and fall asleep? I'll wake you up," he whispered, his heart swelling in his chest when she nodded meekly. "Goodnight, Mr Barber." He still corrected her, "Andy." Truth be told, Y/N didn't want to call him Andy because that would only make her feelings worse. If she called him Mr Barber… that was a constant reminder that he was a man much older, a successful lawyer, and just her neighbor.

Nothing else.

"Such a sweet doll." Ever since he heard her whining his name in his office, his mind had clouded over with lust. She sounded so fucking beautiful when she said his name. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to claim her on his couch. He had controlled himself easily, he knew he had to wait till he had her consent. Which he thought he'd probably never get.

---

"Thank you so much, Andy!"

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N is great company and I admit, the house does get a little lonely at times," Andy chuckled as Y/N's mother beamed at him. Y/N was looking down at her feet, clutching the handles of her travel bags. She was going to move in with Andy for a few weeks, since her room was getting renovated. There was no other place in the house.

When Andy heard that, he had instantly offered that she move in with him for the time-being. And Y/N's parents were, surprisingly, ecstatic at the idea. "She can move into the guest bedroom," he had spoken at the time. That's how she ended up here; now following Andy into his house as she yelled her goodbyes to her parents. "Welcome! It isn't much, I hope you like it still."

Y/N looked around in awe. The place was well-kept, the colour theme for almost everything was either beige or brown. It all looked very modern and cool. "Are you kidding? This is awesome!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Let me show you to your room." Both of them walked up the stairs and stopped at the first door. Andy opened the door and another gasp left her lips.

"Wow," she whispered automatically and Andy smiled to himself. "I take it that you like it," he drawled, closing the door behind them as they walked into the room. Y/N kept her luggage on the bed and sat down, swinging her legs. "Thanks for all this, Mr Barber, it's appreciated." He scoffed. "Andy," he rectified, "And it was not a problem at all, Y/N, you're my friend."

A chill ran down her spine. His friend? He considered her to be a friend? "A friend, huh, I'm… I'm honored," she chuckled and he grinned. "I'll leave you be now, get comfortable." He waved at her and left the room, going downstairs to get a glass of water for himself. Y/N spent the rest of the day at her place, only returning at nighttime after dinner.

That's how it went for a week. She'd be at her job most days, would have dinner with her parents at night and then would finally walk into Andy's house to get some sleep. She liked the routine, and so did he. When she wasn't at her job, she'd spend the day in the living room of her own, or rather, her parents' house. Only, something changed a week later.

Andy was running late that day. As he drove home, at nearly 1:30 am, he was sure that he was going to be greeted by a quiet and empty house, Y/N already asleep in her room. She always fell asleep before 11:30, he didn't know how she did it. After parking his car in his garage, he walked into the sitting room only to see Y/N sitting in front of the television. She looked up and swtiched it off when he walked in.

"Mr Barber, hi." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Darling, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, sitting next to her. The dried tear stains on her cheeks made it clear that she had been crying. "I'm fine," she insisted, in vain. Andy gently cupped her cheeks, running his fingers over the stains. "You've been crying, honey, tell me what happened. I'll make it better," he whispered and Y/N melted against him.

"Um, can I… can I please… can I hug you?"

Without another word, Andy pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around her middle. She snuggled into his side. "I just had a bad dream," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest. His arm rose and he delicately cradled her head, massaging her hair with his fingers. Y/N whimpered at the soothing sensation and Andy's heart raced.

"I'm here now, sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I'll protect you, come what may," he uttered softly, almost in a daze. Something inside Y/N stirred deeply when he said those words. She pulled away slightly and he looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. Y/N blushed under his intense stare. "I, um… can I… kiss you?" Her question made Andy's heart beat faster.

Consent? Check.

Gently grabbing her jaw, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into his lap. Y/N kissed back just as fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Andy asked huskily upon pulling away. "How long?" Y/N squeaked. "Ever since I first saw you. You won my heart right there, Y/N, right at that dinner. The moment I saw you, I knew that you had ruined all women for me."

"Same. I mean, I— not women, obviously, I'm not attracted to other women— men, but—" Andy chuckled and kissed her again, cutting off her rambling. "God, I need to feel you, love, why don't we go upstairs?" It turned out to be a rhetorical question as he immediately stood up, easily carrying Y/N up the stairs. Y/N wrapped her legs around his torso.

He placed her down on his bed, in his bedroom and settled between her legs, hungrily kissing down her body. He used his tongue to stimulate her first, pulling orgasm after orgasm after her. She had never had these many orgasms in one night and that wasn't lost on Andy. "No one has ever made you feel this good, right, darling? Only I can do it this good." Y/N whined loudly when his tongue circled her bud.

"Bet those nasty boys your age have never made you feel this way. Worshipped. You're mine, Y/N, only mine. Say it." Y/N was too overwhelmed to respond, only a pathetic "yours" leaving her lips as she came again. For the… third? No, fourth time? She definitely lost count. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Andy moaned as he emerged from between her thighs, his jaw and chin covered in her juices.

He had eaten her out so well, like her a hungry man offered a meal after a long starvation. Like she was his last meal. Y/N blushed at the sight of him, covering her face with her hands. Andy easily shoved the hands aside, leaning in to kiss her. "All mine. Beautiful. Mine, only mine," he grunted possessively and Y/N gasped when she felt something poking her thigh. She looked down and saw him. He was giant.

"It's too big," she blurted out and Andy chuckled, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You'll be okay." Grabbing the base of his shaft, he slowly pushed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N winced at the burn on her hips but when he bottomed out inside her, all the pain was replaced by pleasure. "Fuck, so fucking tight," Andy helplessly groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Please, please move." Andy complied, thrusting into her at a slow pace at first but when he was certain she was able to handle it, he sped up. Y/N moaned right into his ear as he nibbled on her neck, leaving behind dark, red marks. Now everyone will know she's taken. The moan fueled his libido and he sped up more, growling deep in his chest.

Y/N's eyes flew open at the animalistic sound and she gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she moved like a rag doll against him and his powerful thrusts. "Scream my name, darling, tell everyone who's making you feel so good. Tell everyone you belong to me and me only. You're mine, all mine. I'm never letting you go," he snarled as he neared his release. "Andy," Y/N screamed shamelessly.

"That's it, doll. Months, for months I've tried to get you to say my name. Is that why you've been avoiding it? Can't help but imagine being under me and moaning my name every time you heard it?" he groaned brusquely and Y/N jerked, her orgasm hitting her unexpectedly. "Yes," she whimpered at his previous comment but Andy couldn't speak. Holy shit, she just squirted all over my bed.

His taut abdomen, his shaft, his thighs and his bed were all drenched. Y/N was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, convulsing as she reeled in from the first-time experience. "Shit, baby, do you see this? You just squirted all over me," Andy laughed breathlessly, leaning over to press his lips to hers. Y/N cocked an eye open as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"I what?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

Andy entered her core with one swift motion, shutting her up. "That was fucking hot, doll, do it again," he urged and resumed his fast pace. Y/N cried out tiredly, her eyes landing on the clock in the corner of the room. It's been an hour?! How much energy does this man have? "Andy, I'm—" He was already close to his release and when she took his name, he was done. He pulled out of her and spilled his seed all over her chest and face, groaning loudly.

Then he spit on his fingers and brought them to her bud, furiously rubbing until she squirted again, right on his face. "Oh my God," Andy groaned, licking up and swallowing all her juices. "Andy, I'm tired…" She couldn't even lift a finger, that's how spent she was.

Andy was a sight. All wet, from top to bottom, covered in her juices, he looked like he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. "Okay, baby girl, get some sleep. I'll take care of you." And he did, he gently cleaned her up as she dozed off, and carried her to her room. He then hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself up, put on some boxers and went to Y/N's room as well.

The bed in his room was… well, let's just say it was done for. He was going to be throwing the mattress out the next day, he knew that. When he walked into her room, his heart melted at the sight of her deep asleep, still naked, curled up on her side. He shut the door behind him and walked towards the bed, easily sliding in next to her. He pulled the covers on top of them and pulled Y/N into his arms, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, angel. So sweet, only mine."

---

A/N: This is the first time I've posted smut and a non-marvel fic 😳 I know it's probably not that good but thanks for reading anyway! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female reader #andrew barber #andy barber smut #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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supernovanim · 4 years ago

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Strike, Dear Mistress, and Cure His Heart

I was lying in bed yesterday morning, when I realised I would like to tie Dylan O’Brien up. So i wrote this, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry. It’s just one shortish fic as I don’t know how you’d continue it - there is no plot to speak of, it’s very self indulgent. I wrote it very quickly, although I did have to go back and rewrite some bits in case I ended up breaking his arms (I can’t be the only one that hates physically impossible smut). Let me know if you like it.

Title comes from Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground, which is itself based on the book by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I’d highly recommend both the song and the book.

Summary: Dylan is bad so you decide to punish him

Pairing: Female Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: References to alcohol and drinking, Swearing, light BDSM (bondage and hitting), Sub/Dom dynamic, Smut, unprotected sex (use protection!), orgasm denial, might be some British spellings

Word count: 3,554

Taglist: @hernameisnoellex3

You woke in the dark to a crashing sound coming from the hallway and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes. You reached across and turned on the light before you heard it again. There it was, unmistakably the sound of someone stumbling around outside the bedroom door.

Sitting up in your large warm bed you looked over at the space next to you. Empty. Which meant…ah yes, you thought, as the bedroom door crashed open and your boyfriend Dylan tripped across the threshold.

“Sssh” he slurred, putting his finger across his lips “You’ll wake Y/N. She doesn’t…doesn’t like it when I’m drunk”

“It’s not the drunkenness Dylan” you sighed sleepily “You can have as much fun with your friends as you like” you watched as he tried to remove one of his shoes without sitting down, resulting in him hopping awkwardly on one leg “I just don’t know why you always have to wake me up when you get back”

“It’s no��no fun if you’re not there” he finally crashed awkwardly onto the side of the bed and tore off his shoes “gotta wake you up to have fun” his socks followed swiftly afterwards and he removed his shirt in one surprisingly co-ordinated movement, then ruined it by tipping over sideways.

You admired the way his movements had messed up his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. You also couldn’t help but look at his lean chest and the smattering of moles across his now bare skin.

He caught you looking and leered knowingly, crawling towards you across the covers wearing only his jeans. “There’s my best girl. Missed you” he bent his head towards you and kissed you softly on the lips, his denim clad thighs bracketing you on the bed. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by him tasting of beer, whiskey and cigarettes.

“Ew Dylan” you squeaked “you taste like an ashtray”

His caramel-coloured eyes widened, and he looked hurt “Sorry, I’ll go...go brush them” he yawned, but instead lay back with his head on the pillow next to you. “Just…just going to have a small rest first” and with that he closed his eyes and passed out, leaving you to remove his jeans and go back to sleep.

***

The next morning Dylan took ages to emerge from the bedroom. In fact, it was pretty much the afternoon when he did, and then he spent a while having a slow shower, getting food and groaning softly to himself every so often.

This meant he didn’t notice how angry you were for a worryingly long time. You weren’t sulking, you didn’t sulk, you just stayed on your laptop out of his way and didn’t talk to him. When he bent to kiss you, you moved your head, so it landed on your cheek, and responded to his apology with a non-committal “hmm”

“Baby, baby I’m sorry” he said, the aftereffects of the drinking and smoking adding a gravelly tone to his voice. “It won’t happen again”

“But you always say that, and it always does happen again” you practically growled, letting your anger colour your voice.

“It won’t, I swear” he pleaded “let me make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want? You mean that?” you spoke thoughtfully, a few ideas running through your head.

“Anything” he put his hand over his heart and looked at you, sincerity filling his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but he’d always been an excellent actor.

“You’d do anything I say, without question?” you asked

“Anything” he repeated, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. He licked his lips as he stood in front of you though, so you knew he was interested.

You stood and slowly walked around him, contemplating your options. You’d never showed Dylan your dominant side so far in your short but intense relationship, happy for him to take the reins. But now, now seemed a good opportunity to let some of your kinks show, see how he took it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go” you let your voice drop an octave and leant towards his ear “you’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’m going to punish you. Hard” you saw him gulp. “Do you know what the traffic light system is?” you asked

“Y-yes” he stuttered

“Tell me then” you asked thoughtfully. If he’d done this before it was going to be easier than you thought to get him to comply.

“Green means everything is good. Orange means slow down, discuss things. Red is stop straight away” he answered

“Good boy. Have you tried this before?” you asked, curious

“N-no. Just read some stuff, watched some things” he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed

“You happy with it?” you questioned, mentally crossing your fingers for luck

“Fuck yes” he let out with a gasp, so you moved to stand directly behind him, pressing yourself against his back

“That’s the correct answer” you spoke into his ear “anything you don’t want me to do?”

“Um…no marks that can’t be covered by a shirt, I’ve got that thing I’m filming next week”

“Sure” you said, shrugging, “wouldn’t want any of your co-stars knowing what a naughty boy you’ve been”

He swallowed thickly, his throat moving “apart from that I’m all in. You can even get a little rough. That would be…that would be hot” you see him shiver in anticipation.

“Excellent” you practically purred. Then your tone changed, becoming sharp and demanding “I want you to strip completely. Then I want you to kneel on the floor right here, with your hands behind your head”

Speedily Dylan stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to one side. He hopped on one leg to remove his shoes, reminding you of last night.

“Wait” you said firmly, and he stopped, both shoes off but still wearing his jeans. You moved round him to go sit on the sofa. “Ok you can keep going, but slower”

He looked at you and slowly popped the button on his jeans. “Good boy” you smiled, and he smirked back as he lowered the zipper. You’d always liked this view, watching as he pushed the denim down and off. Then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his grey boxer briefs and you unconsciously licked your lips and crossed your legs. Your eyes followed the trail of hair leading down as he slowly removed them, revealing his far from inadequate cock.

You watched admiringly as he tossed aside the briefs and knelt as you’d asked, hands behind his head showing off his biceps.

“Nice” you complimented “what a good boy you are”

You noticed his pupils widen at that, and his dick twitched, starting to harden. Interesting.

“Now stay there, don’t move an inch while I go get ready” you ordered

“Yes” he said quietly

“Oh, and from now on you’ll address me only as Mistress” you added

“Yes mistress” he replied obediently. Oh, this was going to be fun, you thought.

Quickly you returned to the bedroom and stripped, changing into your black satin lingerie set. It was one of Dylan’s favourites. Then you put on your highest black stilettos, the soft suede ones that you only wore if you knew you didn’t have to do much walking. They were unbelievably sexy but made you slightly taller than Dylan which always felt strange. Not today though, today feeling more powerful was the point.

Then you crossed to the closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a small cardboard box. You removed some items from inside, placing them on the bedside table. A couple of silk scarves, a soft leather flogger, and your favourite item – a length of black rope. It was deceptively strong but coated in something to make it comfortable. After all you didn’t want Dylan arriving on set with rope burns. That would take some explaining. You thought for a moment before taking it out of the bedroom with you.

Dylan was exactly as you’d left him, kneeling in front of the sofa, hands placed on the back of his head. You walked slowly in front of him, listening to the sharp tap of your heels on the polished floor and letting your hips sway seductively. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before you turned to face him.

“God” he groaned “you look incredible”

“Did I say you could talk?” you snapped, the smirk on your face in contrast to your sharp tone

“N-no. Sorry…mistress” he responded quickly

“I’ll have to punish you for that” you said, eyes narrowing. At that his eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip, biting back another noise.

You stepped slowly towards him “hands held out in front” you commanded, smiling to yourself as he quickly complied. You stood in front of him, not being able to stop yourself running a hand through his hair. He started turning his head into it, but you quickly removed your hand - “eyes forwards”

His head snapped up “yes mistress. Sorry”

You bent in front of him and wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying each one tightly but leaving a length in between. You made sure the knots were secure but could be undone quickly if needed. “Colour?” you checked

“Green. Definitely green” he replied.

“Good boy” you praised, and tugged on the rope to lift him to his feet “I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Yes mistress” he complied, following as you pulled him along by the rope.

When you got to the bedroom you led him over to the bed and made him lie on his back, hooking the rope between his hands over the bedpost so he couldn’t move. You made sure the pillows propped his head up and took some of the pressure off his wrists.

“Comfy?”

“Not entirely, but still green. So green” he grinned up at you.

“Good. Going to blindfold you now” you said, picking up one of the silk scarves and moving towards his head.

Dylan pouted “but…wanna see you. You look so good; you have no idea”

“Did I ask for your permission Dylan?” you questioned. He shook his head. “You’re just making this worse for yourself. If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you see me later. Let’s try that again - I’m going to blindfold you now.”

“Yes mistress” he replied sulkily

“Better. Still think you need to learn your place though – we’ll work on that” you said sharply as you placed the scarf over his eyes and tied it at the back, taking the opportunity to give his hair a swift tug while you did so.

Now Dylan could no longer see you, you stood back and admired the view. He looked delectable, his arms stretched over his head, his pale skin with a flush starting on his chest, his impressive cock half hard between his legs. You wanted to touch him, to lick a path between all his moles and get him moaning. Oh wait, you could totally do that.

You moved onto the bed to straddle him, first kissing a path across his stubbled jawline and rubbing your nose across his cheek before pressing your mouth to his. You licked into him, deepening the kiss and tangling a hand in his hair to tip his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. As you bit gently at the tendon of his shoulder, he bucked his hips up and you felt him fully hard against you.

“No – no moving” you admonished, pushing him down with your hips and being rewarded with a pained moan from Dylan. “And try not to make too much noise or I’ll need to gag you”

At that Dylan made a strangled sound, biting it off before it could fully leave his lips. You shut off any protests by returning your mouth to his and enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Soon it wasn’t enough, and you started licking down his body, interspersing broad stripes with your tongue with small nips and bites. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue lave over them, then tweaked them with your fingers causing Dylan to buck his hips again. To stop his movements, you placed both hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress firmly, turning your attention to his cock.

This was the easy bit – blow jobs always got Dylan worked up. You breathed over his cock, hearing him hold his breath in return. Slowly you licked from the base to the head, collecting the drops of pre cum that had collected and savouring them on your tongue. As you took the head into your mouth and wrapped your hand around the base Dylan started moaning

“Fuck yes, yes baby. So good, so good to me”

“Sssh” you stopped touching him to admonish “no talking”

You returned your attention to your actions, taking him towards the back of your throat and working past your instinctive gag reflex by breathing through your nose. You bobbed your head for a while, enjoying the heaviness of him on your tongue. You reached down with your other hand and cupped his balls loosely. And as you twisted your tongue over the sensitive spot below the head you felt Dylan tense up and his balls tighten.

“Oh god right there yes, so good gonna – gonna” he moaned above you

So, you stopped. You removed yourself completely from him and climbed off the bed. Dylan let out a frustrated huff.

“N-no! Why did you stop?” he pleaded, breathless.

“I told you to be quiet. You’re not being very good. Only good boys get to come” you stated simply.

“I’m sorry mistress. Please, please let me come”

“Nope” you said, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop of your lips “you’ll have to be good first. Now, I think we can put your mouth to better use, don’t you?”

Dylan made a sound that was half pained, half hopeful. A kind of questioning whine. Quickly you removed your bra and panties, leaving you just in your black suede stilettos. You climbed back onto the bed and moved up, so your knees were at his chest. You dug your sharp heels slightly into his sides, just to remind him they were there. Placing a hand on the headboard for leverage, you moved so your core was in front of his face.

“Lick” you instructed “and make it good, you’ve got to make it up to me”

“Yes mistress” he said obediently, already moving his face forwards and feeling you out with his tongue. Quickly he started to lap over your clit, sending electric signals down your spine.

“See” you groaned “you can be a good boy”

He groaned in return, clearly enjoying this. You let go of the headboard and moved higher, placing your hands flat on the wall so you could manoeuvre yourself over his face more. You buried his lips in your core, gasping as his tongue prodded up into your entrance before returning to your clit and moving in small circles. You moved a hand to your breasts, pinching hard at the nipples to increase the feeling. Slowly but surely you felt your release start building from your toes upwards.

“C-colour?” you rasped, worried you might be suffocating him below you

“Green…green…green” came the muffled reply, and it was the vibrations from his words that finally sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out. “Fuck yes. There, there!”. He kept licking you through your orgasm until you felt over sensitive and moved away from him.

You moved back down the bed on slightly shaky knees and looked at Dylan. He looked almost as fucked as you felt, his face slick with your juices and his cock leaking pre cum onto his stomach. The scarf blindfold still sat over his eyes and the blush that had started on his chest now extended to his throat. A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he panted.

“Very good” you praised him “I knew you could be a good boy really. Eating me up so well”

At your words he twisted slightly on the bed, his cock looking harder if that was even possible.

“Do you like that Dylan? Do you like hearing what a good boy you are?” you asked

He seemed to struggle with words for a moment, and then replied his voice cracking “Yes, yes I like that mistress. Want to be a good boy for you”

“Of course you do. Good boys get to come. But not yet, right now I think you should be punished a bit more until you know your place. Then if you’re very good and quiet and don’t move, I’ll ride you until you come” you promised

“Yes mistress” he capitulated quickly

You nodded in satisfaction even though he couldn’t see you and got off the bed to walk to the bedside table. There you picked up the soft black leather flogger – made up of many strips of leather with a handle it resembled a small whip but could be used in a number of different ways.

First you ran it over Dylan’s face letting him smell the leather. Then you moved it downwards, letting the tips fall over the planes of his chest like a brush. The blush on his throat moved up to his face, and you saw him bite off a sound.

“Good, that’s really good Dylan” you said softly, continuing your ministrations with the flogger. You teased it down his chest and the trail of hair there, ending up brushing over his balls and cock softly. At that he couldn’t help it, his hips bucked off the bed desperate to get more contact on his hard leaking length.

“Oh no, what did I say about moving?” you admonished “I can see I’ll have to punish you more harshly. Colour?”

“Green. Still green, goddamn you” he replied

“There’s no call for that” you said and brought the flogger down sharply on his stomach letting the leather snap. He gasped at the feeling but managed not to make any other sound or move.

“I’m going to do that five more times” you stated, “and you’re going to count for me, ok?”

“Y-yes mistress” he said shakily

You moved the flogger down to his inner thighs so he could feel it there, and then snapped it against his pale skin again.

“One” he dutifully counted

The second hit landed on his other thigh, and you alternated back and forth each time. The skin reddened until you knew it was overly sensitive. When he got to a gasped out five, you bent over and sucked right over the reddened skin, leaving a darker mark that would remind him of the feeling for days.

“Well done” you praised “that was excellent. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you Dylan?”

“Yes mistress. Please, please” he didn’t seem able to get any more words out. His cock looked painfully hard now, and he gasped against the pillows. You decided he’d probably had enough punishment and could be put out of his misery.

You returned to straddle him on the bed. Still soaking wet from before, you easily took his whole length as you lowered yourself onto him in one movement. You felt your walls flex around him and you braced your hands against his chest as you started riding him. Slowly at first, then faster as you heard his breathing quicken. You reached down to circle your clit with your fingers, determined to come before him.

“Hold on Dylan, just be a good boy for a bit longer and don’t come until I say so”

“Please mistress. No more. I c-can’t” he pleaded; his voice wrecked

“You can, I know you can. Hold on” you increased the pressure on your clit and felt yourself tense up. Below you Dylan bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. As you felt your release wash over you you clenched around him, and you took pity on him

“Ok, go on – come for me Dylan” you whispered into his ear

His hips bucked up into you at that, and you reached up and removed the blindfold. It seemed that the sight of you finally did it, and he came with a scream, his body arching against the wrist restraints. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up as you rode out the last waves of your own orgasm.

You reached up and quickly untied the knots securing the rope, removing it and examining his wrists for any damage. Luckily there was nothing permanent, and you tossed the rope away, letting him slip out of you and moving to cuddle against his side. You licked a bead of sweat from one of his nipples and he twitched sensitively.

“So” you asked, “will you be waking me up drunk anymore?”

“Baby, if we get to do that again I’ll give up smoking and drinking completely” he growled, voice low “that was incredible”

“That’s the correct answer” you smiled back… “what a very, very good boy you are”

THE END

#dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien smut

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starlessea · 4 years ago

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Ultimate Guide To Writing Second Person POV

Y/N, You, and Everything in Between

Hey everyone, here’s another post for my writing tips series - this time focusing on how to write in second person.

As a lot of fanfics are written in this POV, you’re probably already familiar with seeing ‘You’ or ‘Y/N’ to describe the reader. But, I wanted to give a few tips on how to construct this type of character - keeping it accessible, whilst not making it too vague/general either.

1) The Reader Insert

One of the most common tropes in fanfiction is to use ‘Y/N’ in place of a character name. It is literally an abbreviation for ‘your name,’ and therefore allows the reader to insert themselves into the fic.

There’s a lot of debate surrounding the use of ‘Y/N.’ Personally, I think it’s fine, and I find it quite unfair when a lot of people show undeserved bias towards it. There is, by no means, any correlation between the standard of writing and whether or not an author uses ‘Y/N.’ It is just personal preference!

However, you must ensure the following things if you are going to use it:

Be consistent in capitalisation - it’s a pet peeve to see it rendered as ‘Y/n,’ ‘Y/N,’ and ‘y/n’ all in a single fic. Pick one and stick to it.

Don’t overuse it - something about the dash really sticks out like a sore thumb. I try to use it for emphasis mainly, like if someone is talking to the character in an emotional moment. But don’t forget that you can use VARIATION, too. Such as:

He called your name.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, and repeated your name.

“I’ve called your name three times now.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, over the sound of the engine.

If you’re writing a multi-chapter fic, keep in mind that although ‘Y/N’ is meant to refer to a general name, it shouldn’t always refer to a general character! What I mean by this is, nobody wants to read a long fanfiction where the main character lacks any distinguishable features, personality traits, or development.

Just because your pronouns and naming system is vague doesn’t mean your character should be! You need to give them distinguishable characteristics - even if it’s as simple as them liking music, having a specific family background, having certain speech patterns.

As much as we might be tempted to write as inclusively as we can, it is unrealistic to have a ‘one-size-fits-all character in EVERY scenario.’ One of the main points of criticism against ‘Y/N’ is that they lack DEPTH.

Another thing to note is that there are chrome extensions like InteracticeFics - where you can enter your name at the start of a fanfic and it’ll automatically replace ‘Y/N’ with it. You may have seen those little boxes on certain Tumblr posts that allow you to do this!

2) The Impersonal ‘You’

This is just a phrase I’ve coined to describe fics that replace ‘Y/N’ exclusively with ‘you.’ I almost visualise it as a sort of hierarchy of depth, or a sliding scale that goes from Y/N > Impersonal You > Personal You > OC.

What I mean by this is, if we think of an OC, they are often a fully fleshed out character. They’ll have a full name, age, appearance, background, likes/dislikes etc. Whereas, with Y/N and the Impersonal You, we can often get away with glossing over these things - or generalising them (but not TOO much, remember).

The Impersonal You is for those who don’t like the visual look of ‘Y/N.’ It is more traditional, and I find that it takes away from the reading experience less. However, there are still pitfalls with this form:

There is a lack of variation - unlike the previous example, here you can’t switch between ‘Y/N’ and ‘you.’ Often, you’ll find that your fics become completely littered with the word, since it describes both the PERSON (the pronoun, replacing he/she/they) and the NAME. So you may find yourself left with something like this:

You finished tying your shoes and look up at the man, already looking at you. “Are you done?” He asked. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated your name to get your attention.

In that passage alone there was 8 instances of ‘you/your.’ In terms of correctness, there is nothing wrong with it. However, it leaves much to be desired stylistically.

You need to be aware of this if you’re writing in this form, and maybe carry out this visual exercise of ‘you’ spotting and counting to check. Instead, try to experiment with adverbs and playing around with syntax order. We could write something like this:

Tying your shoelaces, you looked up at the man to see that he was already looking at you. “Ya done yet?” He asked. “I’ve been callin’ for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated himself to get your attention.

3) The Personal ‘You’

This form is the bridge between the Impersonal You and an OC. It is used to describe someone who is almost an original character, whilst still keeping them relatable. I like this example especially, since it allows for a lot of variation and style.

One of the fics I’m writing, for instance, is about a teacher. Therefore, although I use ‘you’ the majority of the time, I’m also granted the extra variety of ‘Teach.’ A lot of my other characters use that nickname to refer to her. So it’s a good idea to have some distinguishable features that can be used as identifiers - like a certain profession for example.

I’ve also read another fic about a doctor, where everyone calls her ‘Doc,’ and another one where the character is identified by the name of the gang she belongs to. So, it doesn’t always have to be a job - it can be hobbies, interests, an embarrassing secret, a pet name etc.

Here are a few examples:

“Hey, Sunshine.” He greeted, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Get over here, Teach!” She called, and you quickly ran over to hear people muttering your name.

“Well if it isn’t that biker chick I’ve heard so much about.”

“I want to get to know you better, Doc.” He said, and you started by telling him your name. “That’s pretty” He replied, trying it out for himself as he struggled to pronounce it.

4) General Points

Nicknames

As we’ve just gone through, nicknames, pet names, or little identifiers can be a great way to gain some variation - and give an insight into your character’s background. Even if you’re writing in the ‘Y/N’ form, you can use general ones like ‘sweetheart’ etc. to show the relationships between your characters.

Abbreviated Names

With these nicknames, or professions, try out the long forms but also abbreviate them for variation:

Doctor > Doc

Teacher > Teach

And have different characters say them in different ways, or use different ones to address your main character. For example, you might want to emphasise different accents.

Darling > Darlin’

A Nameless Character

It might even be fun to take a meta approach, where your character is consciously aware that they don’t have a name. I read an interesting fic where the reader ironically belonged to a group called ‘nameless’ - and that’s what people called her by.

Or, you could have a character with amnesia - and watch as other people give them an array of nicknames throughout your story.

That’s it for now! I hope you found this part helpful. Send me a message if there’s any other topics you want covered.

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jewish-privilege · 4 years ago

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(...)

I was a 12 years old when I was attacked by a mob of children and called "Christ killer" — the same age Jesus was, according to the Gospel of Luke, when he lingered in the Temple of Jerusalem and impressed the elders with his intellect — so this issue is undeniably personal. That wasn't the first or last time I was bullied for being Jewish, but it was the only time I nearly died because of it: Those kids held my head underwater, chanting, "Drown the Jew!"

This incident sprang back to mind this month as Republicans tried to figure out what to do about Greene, a particularly obnoxious Christian right-winger who has suggested that a "space laser" affiliated with Jewish banking families caused the 2018 Camp Fire in California, expressed sympathy for the anti-Semitic QAnon fantasies, promoted a video that claimed Jews are trying to destroy Europe, posed for a picture with a Ku Klux Klan leader and liked a tweet linking Israel to the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

(...)

None of this is surprising for anyone who is familiar with the history of American anti-Semitism. Greene is not an aberration, some inexplicable pimple of hatred that blemishes the American right's otherwise Jew-friendly visage. The American right has long had an anti-Semitism problem, and she's just the latest symptom.

This history of hatred "tells us much more about the anti-Semite than it tells us about Jews," Dr. Jonathan Sarna, a professor of American Jewish history at Brandeis University, told Salon. After citing an Israeli historian who refers to anti-Semitism as a "cultural code," Sarna explained that beliefs that vilify Jews as malevolent plotters who secretly control the world have a long history in American political life. "These ideas, which I think many on the left frankly had thought were done and over with, we suddenly see them full blown," he said

Before the 19th century, Sarna explained Jews were stereotypically depicted as being cursed: They were "wandering Jews" for their supposed role in killing Jesus Christ. In the modern era, however, the stereotype emerged that Jews secretly controlled the world and were responsible for everything that a given anti-Semite might regard as sinister. During the Civil War, Gen. Ulysses S. Grant blamed the Jews for cotton smuggling and expelled the entire Jewish community from areas he controlled in Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi. When the populist movement arose to address agrarian economic concerns in the 1890s, Jewish bankers like the Rothschilds were a frequent target among ideological leaders like William Hope "Coin" Harvey.

(...)

There's a direct line between those conspiratorial fantasies ideas from previous decades and the anti-Semitic attacks of the 21st century. "Conspiratorial thinking, by its nature, argues that everything is connected," Sarna explained. "There are no coincidences and it eschews complexity. It believes there are simple explanations based on sinister individuals who are manipulating the universe. Unsurprisingly, in a Christian setting, those are Jews."

Those ideas can evolve — Sarna pointed out that the QAnon belief in a giant child abuse ring run by Jews is analogous to the "blood libel," the medieval myth that Jews used the blood of Christian children for rituals — but the underlying assumptions have been consistent. It just so happens that, in the modern right-wing incarnation, Donald Trump's cult-like following believes that "all the enemies of Mr. Trump are now child molesters."

(...)

[Jewish comedian Larry Charles] brought up community organizer and political theorist Saul Alinsky, a favorite target of the right. "He is almost like the devil in a way," Charles observed. "He's like this radical leftist Jew, he fits all the categories. He checks all the boxes."

"Shooting some of these movies, we would see reasonable people who have this blind spot," Charles said. "They have this crazy belief, and there were all different applications and manifestations of it, that the Jews control everything. That is like a mantra amongst a certain segment of the population."

(...)

With the election of Trump in 2016, those ingrained belief systems — which for many years had been kept outside the American political mainstream — became more prominent, and their adherents more emboldened. David Weissman, a military veteran and former conservative Republican who stopped being a self-described "Trump troll" after a 2018 conversation with comedian Sarah Silverman, told Salon about his encounters with anti-Semitism on the right.

Back when he still supported Trump, Weissman recalled, he got into a "little spat" with an alt-right commentator who calls himself Baked Alaska, who was recently arrested after the Jan. 6 Capitol riot. Ultimately they moved past it, Weissman said: "We both realized we were Trump supporters" who believed "Democrats were the bad guys." Once he left MAGA world, however, Weissman said "the anti-Semitism definitely escalated" in interactions with his former allies.

"When I became a Democrat, I was called 'the k-word'" and targeted by "anti-Semitic slurs and tropes," Weissman said. Trump supporters sent "memes of me being Jewish in the oven," and "put my name in parentheses," a common tactic used by the far right to target someone for being Jewish.

(...)

"Anti-Semitism certainly did not start with Marjorie Taylor Greene, nor did it start with Donald Trump, but we have seen an exponential increase in violent anti-Semitic incidents during Donald Trump's presidency," Halie Soifer, CEO of the Jewish Democratic Council of America, told Salon. "That is no doubt related to the fact that he emboldened and aligned himself with white nationalism." She mentioned Trump equating the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville with the peaceful protesters by "commenting that there were very fine people on both sides," refusing to denounce white nationalism and telling the right-wing Proud Boys during one of the campaign debates to "stand back and stand by."

"White nationalism had existed in our country prior to that, and anti-Semitism as an element of it, but white nationalists had never had an ally in the White House until Donald Trump," Soifer said.

(...)

Donald Trump's supposed pro-Israel policies were closely aligned with those of Benjamin Netanyahu, and did nothing to correct for Trump's history of anti-Semitic words and actions. He accused Jewish Democrats of "great disloyalty" toward Israel (feeding into the stereotype that Jews have dual loyalties), removed any specific reference to Jews from a 2017 State Department statement on Holocaust Remembrance Day and has frequently used anti-Semitic dogwhistle terms by opposing "globalists" and describing himself as a "nationalist." When I interviewed Charlotte Pence, the daughter of former Vice President Mike Pence, she talked about her family's love of Israel but refused to answer a question about whether she believes Jews are going to hell — or discuss the creepy messianic theories underpinning the Christian right's support for Israel.

When I asked Larry Charles whether, based on his experiences, there's an opportunity to build bridges with anti-Semites, he was skeptical. "I have not seen a lot of opportunities for bridge building in the situations that I've been in," Charles explained. "The people that I've met through Sacha [Baron Cohen] were very rigid and dogmatic in their prejudices. There was no crossing that gulf with them. There might be tolerance, temporarily. There might be patience, temporarily. But there's no changing that belief."

I hope that Charles is wrong but suspect he is right, which raises the question of how American Jews should react to the Marjorie Taylor Greenes of the world. For want of a better alternative, I think the only solution is to be intolerant toward intolerance. House Democrats were right to strip Greene of her committee assignments, but that is not nearly enough. Social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter need to do more to limit hate speech, even if conservatives cry foul in bad faith (the First Amendment only protects people from government censorship, not consequences from private corporations). Right-wing politicians who attack prominent Jews in ways that can be plausibly construed as anti-Semitic, or by denouncing "globalists," need to lose their funding. People who oppose anti-Semitism must lead boycotts against right-wing media figures who cover for people like Greene, such as Fox News' Sean Hannity.

On a broader level, critics of anti-Semitism must recognize that this form of bigotry is part of America's long history of hate — a history which holds that only white, straight Christian "manly" men have a right to rule — and recognize our responsibility to be allies to African Americans and the Latinx community, Muslims and the LGBT community, women suffering under the patriarchy and the poor struggling to make ends meet. If we limit our empathy merely to other Jews, the implicit message is not that systemic oppression is wrong, but only that we happen to dislike it when our group is targeted. The Jewish tradition at its best instills a moral responsibility to see all the layers of oppression, and align ourselves with its victims.

[Read Matthew Rozsa’s full piece in Salon]

#marjorie taylor greene #antisemitism #american antisemitism

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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 4 years ago

Text

Memento

A/n: Set during OOTF or 5th year but before anything can go down with Umbridge. Everything in just italics is a flashback and everything in bold and italics is a diary entry. Y/n and Draco are both prefects with their own rooms.

With a quick look at your watch, you see it’s almost 8:30. "I have to go and get my potions quiz back, are you going to be alright here?" You asked, looking over at your boyfriend, Draco, who was sitting on your bed.

He looked up from the book he was reading. "Can't you go in the morning?" He pleaded. Draco had been much more clingy of late but you didn’t mind, although when you had to leave you always felt bad.

“Sorry, Snape is being the worst.” You tried to explain, he nodded at you.

“I can get him to stop.” He offered but you shook your head. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight?” He looked tired, hair a bit out of place and a few buttons were undone on his silk pyjama top.

“Of course.” You tell him, stepping closer to your bed and placing a kiss on his forehead. The sneaking between bedrooms was a common thing by now, figuring out how to break the enchantments and the use of a few charms to keep you protected. Plus, was it a violation of the rules if everyone did it?

“It’ll only take a few minutes, I just have to go down to class and pick it up.” You continued to explain as you put your robes on.

“It’s all good,” Draco tells you with a slight smile.

“Hey.” He looked back up at you. “Do you mind getting my matching pyjamas? I think they're in my closet.” There was nothing more you want than to snuggle up with Draco in bed and sleeping in because it was Friday night.

He nodded towards you. “Of course, baby.” There was that sweet smile again that you loved so much

“Bye, love.” You quickly open and close the door before walking off to Snape’s classroom.

Now Draco was left in your room, bored by the book he was reading and uninterested by everything else. He deserted the book on the bed and decided he’d get the pyjamas for you and maybe find something else to do.

Silently, he opened the closet door and looked around for the pyjamas. Just as he was about to reach for his wand and Accio it out when he saw the pink hatbox the pyjamas came in. Or more precisely he brought it in.

As he pulled down the box he noticed it definitely had something in it. He took it over to the bed and slid the lid off the circular box. Much to his surprise, there weren’t pyjamas in it, just a collection of what looked like random things. A few pieces of jewellery, a journal, 3 chocolate frog boxes, a green piece of parchment, two tubes of face paint and some confetti. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him so he picked up the journal, flipping to the first page.

It was a diary entry that took him back to

September 1st, 1st year

The first chocolate frog box.

Dear Diary,

Today was my first day at Hogwarts, I was beyond nervous. Mother and father dropped me off at the platform and the train just looked amazing. I couldn’t help but feel like an annoying first year but I did stand there and gawk at everything. Once I said goodbye to mother and father I got on the train. I’m going to miss them but I’m so excited to go to Hogwarts. On the train, I sat alone before a boy walked in.

Draco knew what was coming next and he smiled at the memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He said his name was Draco Malfoy and he came in with his parents, they probably know mine. It was nice of him to talk to me and we found out that Harry Potter was on the train just before we got to Hogwarts. Honestly, I’m pretty amazed, he’s the chosen one and now I go to school with him.

Draco just rolled his eyes at you fawning over Harry but he kept reading.

Before that, though we were on the train and the honeydukes express came around and I brought a chocolate frog. Draco didn’t know how I could eat something so bland but I really like them. He got Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and one of them was dog food flavoured. It was funny watching him spit it out the window. I’m going to keep this box with memories from my time at Hogwarts so I’m starting with a chocolate frog box.

He stopped reading and looked for the card he assumed would be in the chocolate frog box and it was.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll enjoy it.” Your father said as he placed a kiss on your forehead. The platform was bursting with people, students from 7th year all the way down to 11-year-old you. You could feel the fair throughout your body and your hands had been shaking a little all morning.

Maybe there was a bit of excitement too but you were yet to see anyone your age on the platform which made you more nervous. Although according to your parents there were going to be far fewer kids in your year than any other.

“I should get on, I want to get a good seat.” You told your parents, sort of wanting them to leave so your adventure could begin. They nodded, checking you had all the right bags once more before helping you put your stuff into a compartment and then finally leaving.

There was a part of your heart that hurt as you saw them go but the thought of Hogwarts, which had been your dream since you were 5, was enough to keep you from getting too homesick.

You sat in the train compartment alone while a stream of older students walked by. Then a boy with pale blonde hair slid the door open. “Sorry, I thought this one was free.” He said after he noticed you, looking out the window. He looked about your age but shorter than you so he probably couldn’t have been any older.

“No, it’s okay.” You replied quickly, hoping to make a friend before you get to Hogwarts. “You can sit here too.” You offer, gesturing to the seat opposite you.

He shrugged and walked into the compartment with a bag in his hands before two adults walked in behind him. You assumed they were his mother and father, both with pointed bone structure and the same platinum hair. You felt a little awkward being there so you tried to focus your gaze out the window.

“Are you alright here?” The woman asked, looking at the boy. She was dressed very nicely, in a midi dress with a black cape and you came to the assumption they were a rich family. Her nails were manicured, hair done smartly and she held herself well.

The boy looked back at her. “Yes, mother.” He said, sounding as you felt you sounded when talking to your parents. “You can go now.” Oh yes, he was definitely experiencing the embarrassment you felt with your parents here.

“We should leave, Narcissa.” The man said, obviously addressing the woman or Narcissa. He was dressed well, too, an all-black suit for no reason. But he seemed off, something about him just sounded mean. “Goodbye, son.”

“Bye.” The boy replied before Narcissa could engulf him in a hug. She seemed to be nurturing towards him, much unlike the man.

He looked uncomfortable but let her place a kiss on his head. "See you later, honey. Send me an owl once you’re there.” She said, giving him a final look before walking out of the compartment and out of sight.

“I’m sorry, that was so embarrassing.” He muttered, sinking into the seat next to you but you just shook your head.

“My parents were doing the same thing.” You informed him, trying to make him feel better. “I’m Y/n, by the way.” You tell him, sticking your hand out so he could take it.

He shook it from across the compartment. “Draco Malfoy.” He introduced. Draco must have been rich due to the fact he used his full name.

“Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?” You asked him, still trying to make a friend. That was your first-day goal.

“No.” He snorted a little, almost in disgust. “Father wanted to send me to Europe, said Hogwarts had become a bit second-class with all the muggles and half-bloods but Mother wanted me closer to the family and continue their legacy at Hogwarts.” He explained, staring out the window. You almost could believe how disgusted you were in him, how could an 11-year old think like that? “You’re a muggle?” He almost said in disgust.

“No, pureblood.” You confirm, not feeling comfortable around him anymore. If this was the type of friend you were going to get then it’s not the Hogwarts you had dreamed about.

He looked more satisfied with your answer. “Good.” You were just about to stand up and leave when the train conductor blew the whistle and the train tutted and puffed as it left the station.

“You know, I’ve been excited to come to Hogwarts for 6 years and no stuck-up brat like you is going to change that.” You tell him sternly, having had enough of his attitude.

He looked shocked by your confrontation. “Sorry.” Was all he muttered out, cheeks going red with shock and embarrassment.

“It’s okay, what do you like to do?” You asked, trying to get the conversation started again.

It worked, you and Draco talked about your lives and houses and by the time you heard the trolley outside you felt as though you few a lot about him.

“Anything of the trolley, dears?” The trolley lady asked as she opened the door. You quickly get the money out of your bag.

“One Chocolate Frog, please.” You ask, handing her the correct amount of money before taking it off her hands.

Draco was right behind you. “Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.” He said, handing over some of his own money. You sat back in your seat and once he got his beans he did the same thing.

“A Chocolate Frog? Really?” He asked, looking at you like you had two heads while he opened his box of beans.

You looked at him with the same look and opened the frog before taking a bite of it. “I like them.” You tell him honestly.

“They’re too plain.” He complained again putting one of the beans in his mouth. You watched in anticipation of how his face was going to change with whatever flavour he got. “Watermelon.” He said, sounding pleased with the bean.

You had hoped it would be something gross, maybe as means of karma after his last comment. “I think those beans are gross. My cousin fed me them once and I got earthworm.” Even thinking back to the memory made you want to spit out your chocolate. Draco just laughed out loud at your memory.

“That’s funny. What card did you get?” He asked, pointing to the packet. You pulled the card out and looked at the name on it.

“Salazar Slytherin.” You tell him, turning the card around so he could see it.

His face lit up at that. “That’s like the best one there is.”

You just shrugged at his comment. “I’ve already got it if you want it.” You tell him as you pass the card over to him. He took it.

“Thank you.” There was a little smile on his face as he put the card away somewhere safe. You wouldn’t know until much later but that was the only one he had missing from his collection, and you were the lucky charm who gave it to him.

You sat there together eating your sweets before his face started to change, it went green very fast and he rushed to the window to open it and spit out a bean.

Once he sat down he saw you looking at him with concern. “Dog food.” He explained and your face screwed up.

As Draco thought about that day from his point of view he wished more than anything that he could go back to that moment on the train with you, do it all over again without staring your first conversation in such a negative way.

He flicked over to the next page, missing a entries that seemed to be about day to day life at Hogwarts.

October 31st, 3rd year.

The second chocolate frog box

Dear Diary,

Today was the first trip to Hogsmeade! I was so excited when I woke up, even more, because Draco Malfoy had said he would ‘see me there.’

Draco let out a chuckle at the thought of your writing down his full name and geeking out over how much you liked him. It wasn’t new information to him, you had talked about it late at night in his bed, but he definitely thought it was funny to read 13-year-old you’s diary and here what you were thinking then.

I definitely like him. We all gathered out from and I smiled over at him and when he smiled back I almost died. Once we got to the village you shopped with Pansy and Daphne for a little bit before I snuck away to stand around and look lonely so Draco would see me (great plan, I know)

He had to laugh at that again, it was just beyond funny. Almost like he was reading the script for a very bad, cheesy, romance movie. But for some reason it made something inside him burst with happiness.

But he did see me and he asked me to Honeydukes with him. I know it wasn’t a date but it felt like one.

Draco wished it was a date and he wanted to ask you out but he was far too afraid to say the words so instead, he just asked if you wanted to go to Honeydukes instead.

This was the box from the chocolate frog I got.

“Isn’t this just the most exciting weekend?” Pansy asked immediately once you opened your eyes, you were sort of creeped out by that girl.

As you squinted and sat up she continued to race around the room, getting dressed in the perfect outfit. “You’re insane.” She really did scare you.

“Get dressed, we’re meant to be outside in 2 hours.” The urgency in her didn’t match the time she was talking about.

You checked the clock to see it was only 8. “Seriously, Pans, I could have slept longer.” That girl had kept you up all night talking about today. She just gave you a look and you hauled yourself out of bed. “You’re mental.”

She didn’t even look bothered as she started putting on makeup and doing her hair. Once you’d found an outfit, thought about changing for Draco, put on makeup, thought about Draco, fixed your hair and thought about Draco again Pansy was rushing you out the door, insisting you were going to be late.

You weren’t late. You were a half-hour early so you waited on a bench with Pansy and Daphne and watched the snowfall. Thankfully, you’d grabbed your winter coat.

Finally, McGonagall got there and checked off everyone’s names before you could leave. The whole year was buzzing with excitement but Pansy seemed to be the most excited, by her talking anyway. It was incessant and in your ear.

The village was everything you’d imagined it would be and it looked so much prettier in the snow.

Pansy insisted on seeing almost all of the shops, with you and Daphne in tow. And it was actually quite fun. You were able to buy some new books and a quill you had been wanting.

When she decided to get her hair done you knew that was you time to put your plan in action. “I’ve actually got to go but I’ll see you in the dorms.” You said, quickly walking away while Pansy and Daphne walked off to get in chairs to get their hair done.

“Wait!” Daphne yelled after you but you’d already shut the door with one last look at their surprised faces.

You walked around for a while until you saw Draco standing a little bit away and sit down on a bench to put your plan into action. You continued to wait patiently until you were sure he’d seen you. Then it was only a few minutes wait before he walked over.

“Sitting alone for any reason?” He asked, his voice sounding almost concerned.

You tried for the best mock surprise look you could manage as you looked up at his unfairly attractive blonde hair, almost falling in his eyes. As you’d watched it grow out this year you were convinced it was the best haircut he’d had. By now he was quite a bit taller than you and puberty had hit him like a truck since the end of 2nd year.

You couldn’t help but smile at how attractive he looked. “Not really.” You reply, trying to act calm.

“Pansy and Daphne not taking care of you?” There was that concerned side of him you loved to see.

“They are.” You confirm, trailing off without knowing what else to add. “I just didn’t want to get my hair done.”

He nodded, keeping the same tall stature in front of you. “Don’t, it looks nice the way it is.” His compliments, however inconsistent, always gave you the feeling that he liked you.

“Thanks.” You tell him, thankfully the cold weather was a reasonable explanation for your blush.

There was an awkward moment, just for a second, before Draco spoke again. “Do you want to go to Honeydukes with me?” To start with it sounded a lot like he was asking you out. “I’m going there anyway.” So it wasn’t a date.

“Sure.” You agreed, getting up and walking with him through the snow. His hand was right next to yours but you were too scared to take it in yours. As you walked other students walked past you, a few saying ‘hi’ to Draco.

You’d been past Honeydukes with Pansy and Daphne but inside it was like a vision straight out of your dreams. Draco was also admiring the decor before he walked to the counter and ordered. “A chocolate frog and some Bertie Bott’s beans.” Was all he said before paying.

“You didn’t have to buy me that.” You tell him quickly as he handed it over to you.

He just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I should have asked if they were still your favourite.”

Then you shook your head ending on a “They are, thank you.”

“Should we go back then?” He asked once you were out in the snow again. You nodded again before beginning the short walk back to Hogwarts.

The conversation wasn’t awkward but there was just something missing as you tried to hide your feelings for him.

With the thought of the day Draco wished he’d asked you out, he flipped the page until he found the next diary entry that corresponded to an object.

June 2nd, 3rd year

The green parchment note

Out of curiosity Draco picked up the parchment and looked at it. The rough edges of the green note were obvious to its age and how dear it was to you. While he didn’t remember what was on it at first once he read his own neat handwriting he remembered. This was going to be a fun one to read.

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow is our 3rd-year final exams and if you told me I’d be this happy as I wrote in my diary tonight I would have told you something really good must have happened but what happened today was 100x better than amazing. I was sitting in the library just studying the exam tomorrow, for once not thinking about Draco and then he came in, we passed notes before he asked me to the Quidditch world cup before school next year! I have waited for this for like half a year and now it’s happening!

Draco could sense the excitement jumping through the page and it made him giggle a little bit as he tried to sense how you were feeling.

You sat next to Daphne in the library as you flicked through your potions textbook. If you were honest, it was a bit boring but if you didn’t do well your parents were likely to make you study the whole summer holidays or even get a tutor.

Pansy was supposed to be there but instead, she’d decided to hang out with Theodore instead, in her usual fashion of not caring about much besides boys. Even though her parents were likely to kill her.

“Do you get this?” Daphne asked, pointing to a part of the charms book you actually understood. Charms might have not been your best class but it was definitely Daphne’s worst.

“I’ll explain it but then you’ve got to explain this part of potions.” You offered, sliding over your book as you pointed to a part of the potions work you were beyond confused about.

She nodded and you started talking her through the problem. As you were explaining it you noticed her looking behind you at the door. “What is it?” You ask, her attention switching back to you before you turned around and looked over your shoulder to see Draco and Blaise standing there.

Feeling brave, you smiled at him before giving him a little ‘hi’ wave. And much to your surprise, he nudged Blaise before they both walked over. Next to you, Daphne was freaking out (she was harbouring a not so discreet crush on Blasie)

“Wanna go for a walk?” Blaise asked once he got over, clearly to Daphne and not even acknowledging your presence.

“Hi Blaise, how are you?” You ask sarcastically as Daphne packed up her books, earning a smirk from Draco’s pretty face. “Also, Daph, this?” You ask, motioning to the work in front of you.

Blaise just rolled his eyes at your usual antics and Daphne smiled. “Get Draco to explain it to you.” She shrugged before winking at you while the boys weren’t looking, she knew about your major crush on Draco from all the times you’d told her and all the flirting you’d done in class.

As she picked up her stuff he took her spot at the small library table. You’d only glanced at his face but his whole attitude seemed casual.

Draco didn’t say anything until they walked off. “What are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you looked up at him.

“Trying to study.” You explained shortly.

He just nodded but you were trying to avoid watching him, why didn’t this potions work make sense?

From somewhere he’d acquired a piece of parchment and a quill. You tried to ignore him writing on a piece but once he slid it over to you it was impossible not to.

You read what was written on it ‘what subject?’ in Draco’s neat handwriting.

“Potions.” You reply out loud, sliding the paperback.

As you tried to draw your attention back to your book he wrote on it again. And then slid it over. ‘Write on the parchment!’

‘sorry’ you wrote back before attempting to read a chapter of your book.

When he slid it over again you shot him an annoyed look before reading what he’d written on it. ‘what didn’t you get?’

‘chapter 8 but I think I do now’ you wrote in reply, maybe this would be fun.

He nodded as he read it. ‘I’m sure you do’ was written in reply

Now you were sensing a problem with writing instead of talking, there was no place for tone. Was Draco complimenting you or teasing you? You assumed the latter and came back with ‘We can’t all be Snape’s golden boy’

His reply was not what you were expecting. ‘You could be my golden girl.’ He shot you a wink

But you didn’t show him you were putty in his hands. ‘no thanks, Malfoy.’ You looked away while he read it.

Then the paper was back in front of you. ‘You're cute when you say no.’

You didn’t have a reply to that. All you could do was try to contain your blush, it didn’t work.

Because you still had the parchment Draco wrote something on another piece and slid it over to you. ‘Come to the Quidditch world cup with me before school next year.’

“What?” You asked, concerned about whether or not he was being serious. Usually, he was but his invitation was a surprise.

He didn’t even reply on the paper. “Come to the Quidditch world cup with me.” He was looking very confident in himself and there was something very hot about it.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. “Now can you help me with this?” You asked in frustration, showing him the book.

“I knew you didn’t get it,” Draco told you with a smirk, moving over next to you to and explaining it.

As Draco looked at the note with ‘come to the quidditch world cup with me before school next year’ written on it and it took him right back to the first time he asked you out. Even though he recalled the nerves he had they were nothing compared to going to the Quidditch world cup.

August 18th, summer before 4th year

The face paint

Dear Diary,

Today was the big day! Malfoy seriously should think about where he takes girls on first dates because the Quidditch world cup is a pretty big event

There was a little smile playing on Draco’s lips as he read the diary in your voice, imagining you were speaking it to him. He wondered if you knew at that point that there weren’t any other girls he would be taking out. He wondered if you knew now but he was relatively sure you did.

I was beyond nervous, it took me a week to find an outfit but once I saw Draco I did feel better. We meet where the tents were and the Malfoy tent was amazing. Although meeting Narcissa and Lucius was even scarier than seeing Draco I don’t think it went horribly. The match was amazing and Lucius had the best seats. Ireland won, I kept the tube of face paint Draco and I put on. The day ended a lot differently than it started and I’m writing this from Malfoy Manor, which is also incredible. I’ll write about it more tomorrow because I’m very tired now.

Draco remembered that quidditch game better than any other he’d ever played, although he spent most of the game looking at you rather than the game.

Draco and you had been sending owls to each other through the whole summer before you were due to meet. From what you had eaten for breakfast to how you were feeling about the looming pressure of next year. By the middle of August Draco knew everything there was to know about you.

Occasionally you felt like this was some different person, not even Draco, but as you saw him standing there you were sure that this softer version of Draco was the boy signing his letters ‘D xx’

“Found it alright?” He asked as you walked over, peeking behind him and into the tent he was resting on. Just as he had told you it would be, the tent was black with dark green curtains pulled over the front and a golden snake statue running along the roof.

Since the last time you saw him, he’d only gotten taller and let his hair grow out more. Now it was style slickly with a side part. He had one of his best black suits on and you could see more ring adorning his fingers.

You nodded at him with a slight smile. “Yeah, are we going inside?”

“Come here.” He said with a smile, opening up his arms and taking a step back to you. You close the gap and wrap your arms around him, taking in his cologne you’d only ever smelt from afar. There was something so comforting about being wrapped in his arms. “Missed you.” He added, making you smile.

Although at Hogwarts you weren’t really close with Draco, the letters between you over summer had solidified your relationship. “Missed you too.” You tell him before you pulled away, smiling at him again.

“Wanna come see inside?” He asked and you quickly nodded. He took your hand and pulled back the curtain, walking you in. Inside you could see traditional and expensive-looking furniture, from the black ornate couches in the living room with a fireplace to the dining room chairs and table leading to the enormous kitchen and finally a hallway which you assumed lead to the bedrooms. Every single thing was perfectly in place

Draco watched you as you gazed around. “It’s amazing.” You mutter out, still feeling faint about how Draco was actually holding your hand. His fingers were cold and boney and his rings even colder.

There was a smile thrown in your direction. Before he could say anything else Lucius and Narcissa walked into the room and he immediately dropped your hand and the smile from his face. You watched as his lips drew into a tight line and he looked over at his parents.

“Mother, Father, this is Y/n, my...” There was a little pause. “Friend.” He landed on awkwardly in his introduction.

You attempted to keep the disappointed look off your face as you reached over to shake Lucius’ colder hand and Narcissa’s slightly warmer one. “It’s nice to meet you.” You conversed, trying to be as polite as possible.

It’s not as though there had been a discussion around what your relationship was but it was definitely more than friends.

“The girl on the train,” Narcissa remembered and you nod silently. The same as that day she was dressed to the nines in a beautiful black dress with her hair in a curled updo. There was a slight smirk on her face as she looked at the space between you and Draco.

Lucius remained next to her, hands now clasped behind his back. He had on a suit similar to Draco but more elaborate. Unlike Narcissa’s almost happy face Lucius’ was drawn into a straight frown almost looking mad. He hadn’t even said a word yet.

“I’m going to show Y/n around,” Draco told them, breaking the awkward silence. His voice was much softer and less authoritative around his parents you’d noticed. Narcissa nodded as she moved to the kitchen and Draco began walking out of the room, you following.

“Draco,” Lucius murmured in his usual low voice, making Draco back and look at him. “We’ll leave in a half-hour.” He instructed in a strict tone making Draco nod to him. In the presence of Lucius, you felt utter fear.

Draco showed you down the hallway, pointing out various sets of curtains that lead to different bedrooms, bathrooms and a study.

“And this is my room.” He told you proudly as he pulled the green velvet curtains open and let you in. It was sort of how you imagined his bedroom at the Manor to be like, from the description he’d sent in his letters.

As you looked from the dark mahogany 4 post bed to the chair in the corner, similar to those in the living room Draco sat down on the bed.

“This whole place is incredible.” You told him, looking over your shoulder at him as you looked at the intricate patterns on the tent walls in between rooms.

Draco just laughed at you. “Wait till you see the Manor if you’re impressed by this.” In all honesty, you couldn’t wait to see the Manor.

"So.” You uttered, taking a seat next to Draco awkwardly.

“So.” He replied.

“What was all that stuff about-”

“I’m sorry about-”

You both went to talk at the same time, making it even more awkward. And a blush appearing on both of your cheeks.

Draco jumped in quickly. “You go first.”

“What are we?” You ask, trying to avoid making eye contact with him by staring at your lap.

“I was going to say that I’m sorry about calling you, my friend.” He chuckled dryly. It comforted you that he was concerned about how you were feeling. “I just don’t talk to my parents a lot about my personal life so they don’t really know about any of my friends or the girls I like-”

“Girls?” You interrupt with a giggle once Draco’s cheeks had heated up again.

He rolled his eyes at you before clarifying. “A girl. Basically what I’m saying is I’m sorry I didn’t tell them we weren’t just friends.” It was fun to watch him all flustered.

“It’s okay, Draco. I just didn’t know if you felt the same way.” You tell him shyly.

“I do.” He hurried out, looking you in the eyes. “You’re really great and getting to write to you this summer has been the best thing.” He told you truthfully.

“So we’re like dating?” You asked just to clarify.

He nodded shyly, an odd side of Draco you didn’t often get to see. “Yeah, dating.” There was something really sweet about how he sounded so happy.

“Oh, look what I brought.” You tell him as you look through your bag. A second later you pulled out two tubes containing green and white face paint. Draco looked a little confused but he was still grinning. “For Ireland.” You explained.

Draco nodded. “Okay, you do mine and I’ll do yours.” He instructed as he brushed his hair off his face. You got to work, using your finger to swipe the paint over his smooth, pale skin and sharp cheekbones. You could sense him staring at you but you kept your eyes on your finger. Despite his expensive, intoxicating cologne, you were able to keep your hand even and breathing steady.

Once you were finished you grabbed the mirror on his dresser to show him your work. He looked from the mirror to your face with a wide grin. “Looks good.” He confirmed before he took the tubes from your hands and opened the cap.

He took your face in one hand, his thumb along the left side of your jaw and his forefinger running along the right side. Gently, he put his finger on your cheekbone as he applied the facepaint.

“Here, look.” He told you, showing you what he’d done to your face. Surprisingly, it was actually very good. “I’ve got to show you something in the living room, too.” He said as he got up and put his hand in yours to take you back out to the lounge.

Draco remembered the game far less than he remembered hanging out with you before the game and then after.

Next, he picked up the last chocolate frog box. Before flipping through the journal again to find the corresponding entry

September 1st, 4th year

The third chocolate frog

Dear Diary,

Today was the first day of 4th year. I am have been beyond excited for this year to start since the Quidditch World Cup now that Draco and I are officially dating. I was a little bit nervous to be around Draco and all of our friends but it was alright in the end, after a copious amount of teasing. z

Draco let out a little chuckle at his memory of announcing your relationship to your friends before reading onwards.

I just have a feeling that this year is going to be really great for Draco and I as well as our whole friend group.

Now Draco thought about all the good memories he had of last year, everything from hanging out in the common room to sneaking around in between classes.

But anyway, on the train Draco had a chocolate frog already waiting for me, I’m not sure how because you can usually only get them on the train to Hogwarts but I really do appreciate it. Just like first year, I kept the box.

Draco still remembered how he got the chocolate frog, he’d gotten his owl to go flying to Hogsmeade to get it before he got on the train.

Over summer break you hadn’t told Pansy or Daphne what had happened between you and Draco but now that you were standing at platform 9 and 3/4 without your parents for the first time since you felt very excited to be getting on the train but a little nervous to tell your friend group.

“Y/n!” Pansy yelled as she engulfed you in a hug. It was very obvious to tell she had a new perfume and she’d changed her makeup look.

“Hey, Pans. I’ve missed you so much.” You told her with a smile as she released you.

She nodded. “I’ve missed you too. Are you ready to board?” She asked looking to your bags.

“Yeah, we’ve got to get the right seats for when the boys get here.” You told her, walking over to the train.

You took your seats on the 3rd carriage, where you’ve sat for the last couple of years and waiting for Draco. And the rest of your friends.

Daphne came in first, hugging both you and Pansy before dropping her stuff and starting to tell you all about her holiday.

“And then I went shopping in these muggle shops and got this,” Daphne said, already pulling dresses out of her trunk to show you. At the moment she was holding up a plaid dress with a collared neck. It was labelled with Burberry and very cute. “Muggle money is so weird.” She continued, shoving the dress back in her trunk.

“I’m going to borrow that dress, Daph.” You told her, laughing at her usual messy antics.

Pansy nodded in agreement with you. “Me too.”

Daphne scowled at both of you quickly. “Don’t either of you dare keep it or rip it.” She mentioned.

“I would like to say I’ve never ripped or stolen something of yours, Daph.” You tell her, mock hurt written all over your face.

She just frowned at you before her frown turned into a smirk. “Yeah but maybe something will happen now with Draco, you know the boy you’ve been in love with for almost a year.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing and giggling a little at the news they didn’t know. “Uh well, Draco and I are actually dating.” You tell them. Immediately both of their faces dropped with surprise before they started doing their high pitched screams.

“Are you serious?” Daphne asked, to which you nodded. By now they were both jumping around, screaming.

“Just don’t tell him you know yet.” You told them, trying to shush them.

Suddenly the compartment door slid open and in walked Draco and Blaise, both carrying their bags in hand.

“What is all this noise for?” Draco asked, dropping his bag and putting his hands to his ear as soon as he walked in as he shifted his eyes to meet yours. You just shrug your shoulders at him and smile at him shyly.

Both the girls quietened down, taking a seat on the opposite side of the compartment, Pansy next to the window like you and Daphne next to her. Blaise rolled his eyes at them and sat next to Daphne, leaving Draco to sit next to you.

Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on you and Draco, unfairly not Daphne and Blaise who were also sitting close.

“So, Y/n, how was your summer?” Blaise asked, causing Daphne and Pansy to start giggling. Blaise’s eyes shifted to them but Draco’s to you.

You nodded. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” Draco asked quietly, causing you to glare at him to shut up. You’d already let it slip to the girls, the last thing you wanted was for Blaise to find out as well.

Suddenly the door slid open again and Theo walked in. “What’s up?” He asked as he strolled in, bags in hand before taking a seat next to Draco.

Everyone’s attention was now of you and Draco, thankfully as an array of ‘not much’ rang through the compartment. As nice as it was being just with Draco, all of your friends in the same room again was a great feeling.

“And look at you two being cute together,” Theo said, ruffling Draco’s hair. His action made Draco pull his head away from Theo, ending up on your shoulder.

Draco let his head rest there for a second before punching Theo in the arm. Theo didn’t retaliate, instead, he slid as far as he could towards the compartment door.

Everyone continued to talk, happy to all be together again and catch up. While everyone else continued chatting about what this year would hold, Draco turned to you and pulled something out of his bag.

“I’ve got this for you.” He told you, handing you a chocolate frog. A soft smile fell across your face.

You reached out and held his hand for a second. “You’re too sweet.” You told him as you took it out of his hand.

“And you’re too pretty.” He smiled back, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Just for a second, it felt like it was only you and Draco in the room, in the world even.

Until Pansy noticed. “Awww.” She cooed, turning everyone's attention to you and Draco, who was closer to you than any of them had ever seen him. You jerked your head away from him and turned to look at her.

Both you and Draco glared at her while everyone else ‘ooo’ed and ‘awwed.

“Shut up.” You scowl at them, a blush rising into your cheeks.

“Why don’t the two of you just tell us what’s going on?” Blaise asked causing Draco to kick his foot.

“Yeah, Y/n, tell us.” Daphne teased, winking at you. All you could do was scowl at her.

Next to you Draco also looked like he was going to snap. “Alright shut up.” Now everyone was looking at him and you were a little worried as he grabbed your hand. “Y/n and I are dating and now that I’ve told you you can all be quiet.”

Everyone, including you, looked at him with your mouths wide open in shock at what he had said.

“Y/n told us,” Daphne stated, before putting her hands over her mouth. Draco’s eyes shifted to you and his mouth dropped open.

“Draco told me,” Blaise said and you mimicked Draco’s expression to you.

Finally, you found something to say to him. “Well it doesn’t matter now, does it?” To which he nodded.

“Least now we can do this.” He added, picking your hand up off the seat to hold it.

Draco remembered feeling utterly fearless that day, knowing that you were with him just made him feel invincible that day. And he still hadn’t forgotten that feeling all these days after.

He picked up some diamond earnings, twirling them in his fingers before remembering how they looked in your ear that night.

11th December, 4th year

The earrings.

Dear Diary,

Preparations for the yule ball are finally underway. McGonagall announced it on Thursday after class. We’re not meant to be thinking about it until classes have finished but Pansy has already shown me the dress catalogues and told me which ones are nicest. The most important thing that happened was Draco being the world best boyfriend and asking me to the ball. Somehow he’s found me the perfect earrings that I am so excited to wear.

“Do you want to come on a walk with me?” Draco asked from the doorway of your room, drawing you're attention up from the floor of your dorm when Pansy had laid out hundreds of magazine cutouts of dresses. “What is going on in here?” He changed his tone, frowning at the mess.

Pansy just rolled her eyes at you leaving her. “Planning for the yule ball, Mr Malfoy.” She told him with a huff at his attitude.

“Don’t call me that, Parkinson.” He grumbled at her before turning his attention back to you, as you grabbed your coat and slipped some boots on. “Are you ready, Y/n?”

You nodded, gently stepping around the pictures and over to Draco. He grabbed your hand in his. “I’ll be back to help you clean up, Pans.” You told her and she nodded.

“Bye, Mrs Malfoy.” Pansy grinned as you shut the door, knowing it annoyed you.

His hand was cold and, as usual, not at all clammy. He stroked his thumb over your forefinger knuckle.

You walked together around the outside of the castle, talking about your classwork until Draco stopped you on the steps to the boathouse. It was a place you often went to together because it was almost always quiet, especially when students were at Hogsmeade.

You sat on a step next to each other. “So, I had something to ask you,” Draco said, trailing off.

“Yeah?” You ask, unsure what he was going to say.

“Obviously the yule ball is coming up and I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go with me.” He looked nervous as he twisted the rings on his fingers. His question wasn’t what you were expecting but it was sweet.

His eyes were stuck on yours as you nodded. “Yeah, yes, of course.” You blurted out before smiling at him. Draco moved his hands, confidently, to your cheekbones before planting his lips on your, just where they felt like they belonged.

The kiss made his heart race as he hoped you couldn’t feel his clammy hands.

Draco remembered his nerves around you that day, from when he saw you at breakfast and he knew what he was going to have to ask. They still hadn’t gone completely away, every time you were around him they seemed to be more.

He flipped a few pages before finding an entry about the most confusing

February 14th, 4th year

The confetti

Dear Diary,

I woke up this morning beyond nervous about today. A few weeks ago we got permission to go to Hogsmeade for Valentines Day and Draco asked me to go with him straight away. He got us a table at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and we had tea and cake. It was nice to sit with him but the end of our day headed in a different direction. I’ll talk about it tomorrow but for now, I’m going to sneak out to Draco’s room.

Surprisingly, the sun streamed through your window on the cold February day. As soon as you came to you were hit with the memory that today wasn’t just any Sunday to sit around by the common room fire, today was Valentines Day.

Pansy was very quickly sitting on your bed once she knew you were awake. “So, should I wear this one?” She motioned to a dress in her right hand. It was black and lacy and for once it was a dress she owned. “Or this one.” She held the dress in her left hand further to your face. That dress was a tight, pink, floral dress that you only knew so well because it belonged in your closet.

“Not this one.” You tell her, snatching the dress from her hand. “I’ve been wanting to wear this for weeks for my date.”

Your date, Draco. The most amazing, attentive boyfriend since the start of school. Since the yule ball, your relationship had gotten so much stronger and you were as close as ever. It was the only thing that made you calm despite Pansy’s craziness.

She huffed and sat down on the foot of your bed. “Fine, I’ll wear the black one.”

“The one out of your own closet?” You laugh at her.

She sulked off to get changed and you finally got up out of bed. Daphne was also dressed for her date today with Blaise. They had been going out for a few weeks longer than you and Draco. Pansy still hadn’t officially started dating Blaise, despite their constant flirting and numerous dates. You half suspected they were going to finally start dating today but knowing both of them, it wasn’t likely.

While you were putting on some makeup and doing your hair Daphne was sitting on the edge of your bed, talking about Blaise.

“Are you ready to go?” Pansy asked, walking back into the room.

“Yup.” You confirm, getting up and walking out of the room with Daphne following. Somehow you didn’t see Draco, Blaise or Theo as you left the common room to the courtyard to get your name checked off on McGonagall’s list.

Pansy was first to go, Theo jogging over to her like a desperate puppy once you were near the courtyard. Daphne and you got your names ticked off the list before waiting for Draco and Blaise. Draco turned up first with Blaise jogging behind him.

Daphne frowned at Blaise. “What are you up to?” She asked.

“Forgot my jacket.” He shrugged it on his shoulder. Draco offered his hand to you and you took it, waving goodbye to Daphne and Blaise before walking off with Draco.

The air was still quite cold and you walked down the hill towards the small village, occasionally seeing other students.

“So, where are we going?” You ask Draco. All he’d told you was to prepare to do something fun.

Draco smirked at you, stroking your knuckle. “Madam Puddifoot’s.” He told you. You nodded although you were a little confused. “They have this Valentine's thing.” He told you.

“Wow, look at you being all romantic.” You tease.

He rolled his eyes at you as you continued walking.

Once you got to Madam Puddifoot’s you sat at your table. The tea shop was beautiful on the inside, the tables were covered with food and tea ready for guests. The windows and walls were decorated with pink and red decorations. It was the perfect place to be celebrating Valentine's day. There were lots of other couples in the room as well.

“Draco, this is perfect.” You told him as you sat across from him. “Thank you.”

He smiled that cute smile that he kept for when he was just around you. “I just wanted to do something sweet for you.”

You and Draco spent a good part of an hour eating, drinking tea and chatting. It felt like there was no one else in the room.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, looking at you with that love-sick look. You nodded, prompting him to continue. He looked worried like he wasn’t going to be able to get out what he wanted to say. “I love you.”

Your mouth opened at what he said. “I love you too.” It was almost too natural for it to not come out that quickly but you immediately understood why he just blurted it out.

And again there was that smile on his face.

Draco thought back to how nervous he was to tell you that. More nervous than he might have ever been. And the relief he felt when you said it back, knowing his feelings were reciprocated.

He went hunting for the next entry and picked up a necklace.

July 19th, summer before 5th year

The Necklace

Dear Diary,

Narcissa gave me a necklace today before the Malfoy summer gala. Draco and I had been setting up the ballroom and when he left to change into his suit (which he looked very attractive in) she gave it to me. It’s an emerald stone with a golden snake wrapped around the top half that leads to the golden chain, probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She told me how it’s been in the Black family for generations and she wanted me to have it because she thinks, hopefully correctly, that Draco and I will marry. Looks like I’m stuck with him for life. I think she’s also worried about Draco but I know he’s going to be okay.

Draco chuckled at the joke before he picked up the necklace from the box which was the one mentioned in the diary. He’d seen it before, around your neck that night.

He still felt a little bad for reading the diary but if it was about him then why not?

You and Draco had spent the day in the ballroom setting it up for the Malfoy’s summer gala. It wasn’t how you usually spent summer days with Draco at the Manor but to help Narcissa from stressing out too much you offered your time to help them.

Narcissa had invited you to stay the whole summer and there weren’t really any rules at the Malfoy’s, you got to hang out with Draco so there wasn’t any place you’d rather be.

“That’s looking lovely, dear,” Narcissa told you from the doorway, looking over at the decorations you had hung by hand. The no-magic rule was stupid. “Also, no one is going to mind if you use magic, might save you a bit of time.” She said with a smile as she walked into the room.

Now that you were looking at her you could see the of-the-shoulder, straight black ball gown she was wearing with her hair in a curled up-do.

Draco chuckled from the table of drinks he had spent his time setting up. “I told her you wouldn’t mind.” He pointed out to Narcissa before you poke your tongue out at him, only continuing his laughter.

“And what about you, Dray, what are you doing?” Narcissa asked, turning her attention to her son with a smile on her face from your playful relationship. You watched as he quickly straightened himself up and presented the table.

He looked pretty impressed with himself. “Didn’t I do well?”

“I don’t know, I think you’re still missing a few things,” Narcissa pointed out, picking up the parchment with ink she had used a quill to write an hour ago.

“It’s not my fault.” He said, flinging his hands into the air. “It’s those stupid house-elves.”

She looked over at him with a pointed look. “Be nice now, I’ll sort it out.” She told him as she walked over and picked up the piece of parchment before calling one of the many house-elves the Malfoy’s had and explained what else she needed.

After the house-elf had scurried off Narcissa was back in the room. “Draco, you go and get dressed.” She instructed him and he nodded. “Your suit is on your bed.” She continued before he nodded once more and walked out of the room.

You were now left with just Narcissa and awkwardly, you reached for a decoration to straighten it. “Did you pick out a dress?” She asked, running her fingers over the mantel. She had left you with 6 different options of dresses she’d recently brought for you.

“Yeah, I went for the dark green one.” You informed her, thinking about the beautiful dark green dress with a lace top. It flared out at the waist into a full ballgown skirt with sparkly sequins that made it shimmer.

Narcissa smiled at that. “I think he’s going to adore you in that.” She commented. “I don’t know if he could anymore though.” Comments like that were something you always appreciated.

“I hope so.” You said, but you knew Draco would love you in anything. “I should probably go and get ready.” You tell her, noticing the time on the clock.

Just as you were about to leave the room she stopped you. “Actually, there was something I wanted to give you.” That made you turn around quickly and face her again. She reached into the bag she had by her side and pulled out what looked like a necklace.

She held it up for you to see and you saw the detailed golden snake wrapped around an emerald gemstone. She could see you admiring it. “It’s an heirloom, it goes back to my 4 times great grandmother.” She explained. “It was always the choice of whoever owned it prior to present it to someone they wanted as part of the family.” That meant more to you than anything, all that time you had spent worrying about Narcissa approval and now you definitely had it.

“It’s stunning.” You mutter out, your eyes still tracing the necklace.

“I want you to have it.” She said, putting it in your hand. “I see what you have with Draco and there is no way that boy’s ever going to let you go. Just please, make sure he’s alright this year at school. I’m worried for him and I know it’s going to get harder.” She sounded desperate and you nodded, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

You take her cold, pale hand in yours to comfort her. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” You assure her.

“Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot.” She said, holding her hands in yours. “Now I want to see that dress on your before Draco, I know it’s going to be perfect.” She told you and you nod before leaving the room to get changed.

You took the stairs up to Draco’s bedroom, past the antique paintings and down the hall until you walk into his bedroom while he was tying his tie in the mirror.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, looking over at you. In his full black suit, he looked irresistible, hair styled on top of his head so neatly.

“Hi.” You reply, walk close to him and place a kiss on his lips, stronger and with more passion than usual. You reached up and wrapped your hands around his neck, using your fingers to play with the hair on the back of his head.

He placed his hand on your waist, tie long forgotten as the kiss deepened and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You continued to make out until you needed to pull away to breath.

Draco looked down at you, confused. “What’s gotten into you?” He questioned, his voice was low and rough and it made your breathing go all out of sync. You felt dizzy with his face so close to yours, his cologne was intoxicating.

“It’s the suit.” You tell him, unlacing your hands and reaching for his tie while he chuckled. He smirked at you as you looked into his dilated pupils, then you pulled your eyes away and started tying his tie, sure that he was watching you.

Once you’ve finished you look back up to see his eyes glancing down your top instead of on your face. “Draco Malfoy, you are trouble.” You say slowly once he’s looked back up to your eyes, still smirking at you.

“Hmm, it’s the top.” He mocks your previous words, moving his hand to the bottom of your shirt and tugging up and over your head.

As he dropped it on the floor beside you you raise your eyebrows at him. “You know we’re not about to have sex just before your annual family gala?”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed before offering. “After?”

“If we’re not both way too tired.” You agreed. “But now I do have to put my dress on so you need to leave.”

He scoffed lightly. “I have seen you naked before, you know?” He said before he walked off to sit on his bed.

“I know but your mother wants to see me in the dress first.” You tell him, going to his closet to look at the right dress.

You didn’t want him to know what dress you were wearing so you just looked at all 6 of them sitting in the closet.

“Can’t I just have a peek?” He asked, looked at you with wide eyes as he slipped his black shoes on.

“No, I promised.” You tell him, sticking to what you told Narcissa. “Now, go.”

He stood up and you watched as he walked closer to you instead of out his door. As he got closer he put his hands on your waist before leaning down into your neck, gently placing kisses around the base of your neck.

You both knew that that was a way to get you hot and flustered. He continued to kiss your neck before starting to suck little marks into your neck.

“Don’t even start that.” You tell him, attempting to step away from him but his grip on your waist was too strong. “I need to get changed so can you, like, leave?”

You could feel him starting to smirk against your neck. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so honest, then I’d be able to see the dress.”

“Oh shut it, Malfoy. Wait for me downstairs?” You offer, he pulled away from you with a huff.

“Fine.” He agreed, walking towards the door while he looked at his watch. “Why are we ready so early anyway?”

“Because we are, haven’t you been doing this for years?” You shot back with a smile. “Plus I have like an hour worth of stuff to do.”

“True.” Draco nodded. “I’m going to find something to eat until you’re finished.” He continued before leaving the room and shutting the door.

Once you were sure he wasn’t coming back you pulled out the dress and began to change before putting on some makeup and doing your hair. When it finally looked perfect and was a little uncomfortable you went in search of Narcissa.

You found her near the top of the staircase. “What do you think?” You ask once she saw you approaching.

She had a sweet smile on her face and she looked happy. “You look lovely, my dear.” She tells you as you do a little spin.

“It’s such a nice dress, I don’t feel as though I’ve thanked you enough.” You appreciated everything Narcissa had done for you, even when things weren’t easy for her.

“Don’t be silly.” She told you kindly. “Now, can I put that necklace on for you?” She asked, taking it out of your hand. You spun around and pulled your hair up so Narcissa could put the necklace on.

It felt cold against your skin but you couldn’t help look down at how gorgeous it was. Once you spun around again you could tell she thought the same. “Now, go downstairs and see him. He’s been waiting for you.” She instructed and you nod before taking a hold of the rail on the spiral staircase and slowly walking down.

It felt like you were just out of a movie as you made it to the bottom of the staircase and looked over at your very attractive, blond-haired boyfriend.

As he saw you his mouth opened a little and he spun around to fully watch you take the few steps over to him.

“You look...” Draco started, still looking stunned. “Gorgeous.” He finally decided after a few seconds. You did a quick spin for him while his eyes were still so focused on you.

“Ready to go?” You ask him, nodding towards the Ballroom door where music was coming out of.

“There’s no one in there, you know? They’re just testing the music.” He tells you, smiling a little bit.

You just shrug. “Well, we can have the first dance then.”

Draco just laughed at how cute you were and took you dancing.

Even though that time had been hard for Draco, as now was, he was eternally grateful for those memories he had when things were just perfect and he could stop thinking about the difficult tasks he sensed.

He continued to read the diary, trying to get feel some more good memories. They felt warm to him, like summertime.

“Draco, what are you reading?” You asked, walking through the door and seeing him sitting there with his book in your hand.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #draco x oc #draco fuckingmalfoy #dracotok #Harry Potter #HarryPotter #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine

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ibijau · 3 years ago

Text

Counterfeit AU pt6 / On AO3

Meng Yao makes himself useful after losing his job, and discovers something unexpected

Names are funny things, Meng Yao thinks as he stares at the sheet of paper in his hand.

Funny things indeed.

After everything that went down in the Hanshi, it's Beastie that saves Meng Yao from himself.

Left to his own devices, he would have either wallowed in misery, or waste time proving to himself that everything that happened wasn't his fault, the way he knows he's done in other lives. But when he comes home after having his past lives thrown into his face and losing a job he loves, Beastie’s mother corners him just as he puts his key into his lock. Her daughter is on school holiday, she explains, and was supposed to be looked after by a friend with children of a similar age. But one of the children came down with something contagious, so the whole plan fell through, and the poor woman now desperately needs help finding someone to look after her daughter.

She’s not asking for Meng Yao to play the babysitter, but he knows so many people, he has so many connections, maybe he could pull a favour somewhere, help her out again.

“I can take care of her for a few days,” Meng Yao offers without thinking. “I’m jobless as of today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“My employer died,” Meng Yao replies, which is close enough to the truth. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang will continue using his Shanzi alias after this, and they’ll never meet again. He might as well be dead. “I don’t plan on looking for a new job right away, so I can babysit for a while, it’s no big deal.”

She tries to insist that he doesn’t need to be doing that, but quickly agrees after some reassurance that Meng Yao doesn’t mind. She looks so relieved she could cry as she says she’ll drop Beastie in the morning. Meng Yao smiles, certain that his mother would be proud of him for doing what’s right.

Having Beastie around is definitely the best choice he could have made. She’s a good kid, but she’s also high energy and needs to be entertained, which means he doesn’t get to think too much about how much he misses Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen.

They watch movies together, as they’ve always done when he picked her up after school. They go for walks to a nearby park, and once to a museum to look at old armours and swords. He buys Beastie a fake sword, though they agree to keep it at his place, since her mother already despairs that she so strongly favours boy’s toys. In fact, Meng Yao ends up just spoiling that little girl, the way he would have loved someone to do for him when he was her age. He even has Nie Huaisang’s console repaired so she can play on it, instead of selling it as he’d intended.

The video games are a big hit with her. She’s particularly in love with the same game Nie Huaisang spent too many hours on, that weird little terraforming thing which Meng Yao can’t see the appeal of. He liked that it made Nie Huaisang happy. He likes that it also makes Beastie happy, and that she’s very careful not to ruin the work previously put into it, focused instead on maintaining it and planting flowers

“It looks like home,” she explains when Meng Yao asks about that, and lifts the console for him to see.

It doesn’t look like a homely place, he thinks, and more like a military fortress right out of a wuxia drama. But Meng Yao doesn’t get to make that remark, because his phone vibrates, demanding his attention. Beastie, sitting crossed legs on some cushion on the floor, goes back to watering virtual flowers, while Meng Yao checks some news from his bank account. A lump sum has been sent to him, a good deal more than his usual salary, coming from an account registered under a name he doesn’t recognise.

It has been a week since he was fired.

Nie Huaisang kept his promise.

It really is over.

Not that Meng Yao really doubted it. Nie Huaisang has many faults but indecision has never been one, though he’s always been good at pretending otherwise. Once his choice is made he toys with expectations but rarely ever changes his mind.

Rarely, of course, isn’t never. Meng Yao, foolishly, hoped to be one of those few exceptions.

Those new zeroes on his bank account feel like a divorce, and he never even got a honeymoon.

That night, Meng Yao allows himself a few hours to wallow in misery, after Beastie went back to her mother. He is only human, and it does feel good to eat take-away in front of a cheesy romance. The film's hero doesn't get the girl, who was dead all along. Meng Yao cries, even though he's seen that movie before.

By morning, he's in control again, and takes Beastie to the park so she can run around in the sun, and scare pigeons with her sword.

Those holidays are all great fun, until Beastie’s mother reminds them that she has homework to do.

Beastie is a clever kid, there’s no doubt about it, but she doesn’t much like doing her homework, least of all when she feels she could be playing. It takes all of Meng Yao’s negotiation skills to get her to even look at her school books, and he almost resorts to bribery to make her pick up a pencil. But she works hard once she starts, and Meng Yao, wanting to encourage her, sits with her at the kitchen table to update his resume. Beastie will go back to class soon, and inactivity just isn’t in his temper.

When Beastie is done with her work, she gets permission to put on whatever movie she likes while Meng Yao checks what she’s done in case it needs correcting.

But when he picks up the sheet of simple maths she’s expected to give her teacher on monday, all Meng Yao sees is her name.

It’s really funny. He knows her name of course, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even her mother took up to calling her Beastie after he nicknamed her that. It just fits her so well, that active little girl who prefers trousers over dresses because they're easier to move in and always wants to play at fighting. She’s a real little monster, and Meng Yao loves her like that. She’s just Beastie.

But according to the homework she’s spent the afternoon on, she’s also Nie Mingjue.

It could just be a coincidence. Names are funny like that, they pop up in unexpected places, they get forgotten and reused. Perhaps in another life, Meng Yao would have just dismissed it as a random incident.

In another life, he wouldn’t have been called Meng Yao.

It’s the first time this happens since that first life they all shared. He’s Meng Yao again, Lan Xichen bears his old name too, and now he’s found a Nie Mingjue, hiding right under his nose. A Nie Mingjue who likes fighting, and claims that her toy sword is actually a sabre, and who always insists a lot on things being fair, even when Meng Yao tries to give her the biggest share of a food she likes.

It can’t be a coincidence.

Meng Yao needs to tell someone.

He needs to tell Nie Huaisang.

He tries, of course, and without surprise his former employer’s number has been terminated. He has the same luck trying to send an email. Nie Huaisang might as well never have existed. Meng Yao feels helpless, torn between tears and laughter. After spending centuries looking for his brother, Nie Huaisang just might have lost his chance due to being so damn dramatic. Serves him right, Meng Yao thinks, still bitter about being discarded so easily, and never getting a chance to see if things might work better in this life.

Bitterness doesn’t last. Meng Yao cares about Nie Huaisang, more than he should if he were a little smarter, and he knows how important finding his brother again would be for him. And if Nie Huaisang can’t be directly contacted, there’s always indirect ways.

It’s not that Meng Yao misses Lan Xichen, he tells himself that night, when Beastie is back with his mother and he starts writing a long text message on his phone. Well, it’s not just that, anyway. He does miss Lan Xichen, sweet and funny and so eager when talking about art. But more importantly, Lan Xichen probably has access to Lan Wangji, who clearly must know how to contact Nie Huaisang.

Texting Lan Xichen is a strategic choice.

The way Meng Yao's heart jumps inside his chest when Lan Xichen immediately replies is… it's strategic too. He's just glad that his plan is working.

How have you been? :)

I could have been worse. I've just realised something and I think it concerns you. I've told you about that kid I babysit, haven't I?

Little Beastie? Is she okay? D:

She's Nie Mingjue.

This time, the answer isn't immediate. Meng Yao stares nervously at his phone, wondering if Lan Xichen thinks he's lying, or planning something. Considering their first life, who could blame him?

But after a few minutes, his phone vibrates again.

Sorry, I dropped my phone and couldn't get it back from under the couch. Are you sure?? (⊙ˍ⊙)

It all fits. You could come meet her if you want. But it's him, I'm sure.

Did you tell Nie Huaisang???

I can't contact him. Are you in touch with Lan Wangji? Maybe he can warn him.

I have his number, I just texted him! I'll keep you updated! It's so wonderful if it's da-ge!! Can I really meet him? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Her*?

I'll send you my address. If you can come tomorrow, she'll be there.

Are you sure? I don't think da-ge would still want me around. (≧﹏ ≦)

Meng Yao gives that question the consideration it deserves. It's not an unfair worry to have, and he'd be wondering the same if he hadn't known Beastie for so long.

I literally killed him, and he killed me. If she had to hate anyone it'd be me, but we get along great. We're no longer the same people we used to be. It's the same for her.

If you're sure, then I'll come! (❁´w`❁)

Meng Yao is very sure indeed.

So Lan Xichen comes.

It's odd to invite someone to his flat. It's a small place, a bit messy, full of trinkets and DVDs that Meng Yao would never admit to owning, not with the image he wants to create. He's always avoided guests. But having Lan Xichen over is as rewarding as it is terrifying. Lan Xichen brought some charming little cakes, as if he's visiting someone important, and he smiles at the sight of a movie poster on the wall, confessing he watched it so often as a teenager that the tape broke one day.

"It's my favourite too!" Beastie exclaims. "Meng-ge has it, you know! Can we watch it now?"

Normally, Meng Yao would point out that it's a little rude to ask that when they have a guest. But he can see that Lan Xichen is nervous and unsure how to act around Nie Mingjue, and maybe a movie will let them all relax.

In the end, they spend a pleasant afternoon, the three of them. Once Lan Xichen stops worrying that the Nie Mingjue of old will appear and shout at him for getting him killed, he starts chatting with Beastie about her favourite movies, what she's learning in school, what she wants to be when she grows up. She's very happy to answer, and very impressed when he explains he's a teacher, even though she's finding it hard to accept that most of his students are fully adult.

And when Beastie is back with her mother, Lan Xichen lingers for a while, tempted by the offer of Meng Yao's favourite takeaway.

“It’s amazing how much like him she is,” Lan Xichen says as they sit on the sofa to wait for the food to arrive. “It’s the first time he reincarnates, you know. At least, Wangji told me they’d never found any trace of him before.”

Guilt shoots through Meng Yao. It’s his fault if Nie Mingjue’s soul was so fractured it took him this long to be reborn. Or at least, it’s the fault of someone he was, once, which is nearly the same, and yet completely different. Meng Yao has learned from living and dying several times, and he’s lucky enough to live in a kinder world than Jin Guangyao did. It helps.

“She’s also different from him, though,” Lan Xichen continues, moving just a little closer, until they��re almost touching.

“We’ll, for starters she’s a kid,” Meng Yao points out, wondering if he should take the other man’s hand. If this had happened before the Hanshi, he would have, but he’s not sure where they stand now.

“It’s not just that. In that first life, I knew da-ge as a child too and he was…” Lan Xichen sighs and makes a vague hand gesture. “He was a lot. Way too serious sometimes. We all were, I suppose, but him most of all. The Nie tended to grow fast, to compensate for dying young. I’m… I’m glad that he gets to properly be a child this time. That she gets to be a child.”

“The world has changed,” Meng Yao says, finding the courage at last to brush his fingers against Lan Xichen’s. “Things aren’t always easy but they’re… easier, I suppose.”

Lan Xichen’s returns that touch, gentle and careful as always. This, too, is easier now than it was back then. It’s not easy, but there’s less pressure to conform, less demands to be good dutiful sons, and just a little more space to be their own people, to make their own choices.

Maybe in their next life they’ll meet again and it’ll be even easier to be like this. But even now, Meng Yao is ready to take the chances that his past self wouldn’t have dared to dream of. He leans toward Lan Xichen, hoping to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupts them and he jumps to his feet to go get their food. The delivery man looks at him a little funny, but makes no comment. If Meng Yao is half as red as Lan Xichen, he deserves those odd looks.

Nothing happens again that night. The moment has passed, and after eating, Lan Xichen has to go home because he has engagements the day after that he can’t cancel.

It's not a date that night, no more than any of their previous encounters were.

It's not a date then, but next time, when Lan Xichen invites him to a restaurant, Meng Yao is informed in no unclear terms that this is, in fact, a date. They go see a movie after, and Meng Yao gets to kiss one of the two most handsome men in the world.

Life is good.

Life is really good, and yet Meng Yao wants more.

In spite of their efforts, Lan Xichen and him can't get in touch with Nie Huaisang to inform him that his brother has finally reincarnated. Even Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are getting worried. From what they told Lan Xichen they haven't had any contact with him since the day they picked him up at the Hanshi.

"They say he's done that before," Lan Xichen tells him. "They think he'll return in a decade or two, maybe a little longer. Time is hard for immortals, they lose track easily."

That's all very well for them, but Meng Yao doesn't have a few decades to waste, and neither does Nie Mingjue. They're not immortals. One bad illness, a reckless driver, just tripping in the stairs, and it's all over until they reincarnate again, and Meng Yao is done with missed chances.

If he can't directly get in touch with Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao can make a few discreet calls to former buyers, and advise them to get their purchase asserted again, just in case. He makes sure to only contact people who bought legitimate artworks of course. He wants to make a wave, not get in trouble. If Meng Yao knows Nie Huaisang even half as well as he thinks he does, then even in hiding Nie Huaisang will be checking what’s happening in the world of art collectors, and he’ll hear about some of his buyers suddenly becoming fearful of fakes.

It’s a little mean perhaps, when Nie Huaisang is so proud of his counterfeits, but kindness has never been Meng Yao’s greatest quality.

Besides, it works.

One afternoon, when Meng Yao is alone at home, checking a job offer that he’s probably going to reject because he deserves better, there’s a knock on the door. Meng Yao considers ignoring it, but some of his elderly neighbours have been coming to ask for help with their phones or whatever new fancy blender their kids got them to make life easier. Usually, five minutes of easy work means free homemade food for his next meal, which is always a great deal.

When he opens the door, there’s a very old man waiting in the corridor alright, but free food is probably out of the question.

“Well, I’m here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Whatever is going on, it’d better be important.”

#xisangyao #xiyao #sangyao #xisang #counterfeit au #lan xichen #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

Text

October 1893

his body slumps against yours the ghost of a whimper can be heard.

“levi ackerman. break my legs if you have it in you, but i’ll only crawl back.” and that's all he needs. your low whisper is all that is required for him to dedicate his heart to you.

devotion.

what it does to the heart is truly despicable.

is it not?

author note :: i promise longer chapters will come soon i’‘m just kinda setting the scene i guess pairing :: knight!levi x princess!reader genre :: everything really, angst... hm words :: 865 words warnings :: nothing i can think of, corset mention again just wanted to warn bc of body image stuff etc

limited honour contents page (check to read in the correct order !!!)

Hands clammy the goosebumps ripple across your wrist to the upper portion of your arms. You feel sea sick, only you are not at sea. You're fixated, attention fully on the crowd of women and men in front of you.

The stinging pain on your cheeks from eight years ago is long forgotten, now but an afterthought. A moment from the past.

Eight long years where you have learnt you never had as much autonomy as you thought you did. Your mind, now mature and older than you could ever imagine it could be. Your lungs now able to withstand the confines of your very own corset.

Everyone dances beautifully in sync with a partner in hand. Looking to your right you see the space is empty, unsurprisingly so is your left. It’s always been this way.

"Princess, your shoulders are hunched.”

Instead of readjusting yourself your shoulders involuntarily spike up at the critique and you turn around swiftly.

Knight Ackerman, one of the Castle’s legends stands before you. From a young age he’s held unexplained skill, his swordsmanship even as a teenager petrifying grown men who were the size of bears.

He's served you since you were both children and notices your exhaustion within in a second. However he doesn't probe you for answers. He rarely does.

"Levi-"

"Knight Ackerman." He corrects fearing your reputation may be tarnished by such casual mannerisms, he's always thought that way about you addressing him without a title.

Rolling your eyes you oblige nonetheless. "Knight Ackerman. I didn't expect for you to be here, you didn't accompany me on the journey." you say gesturing towards the entryway.

"I was still present I assure you." He's disinterested, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any red flags not even bothering to give your face a glance. You begin to wonder what the point of the maids always layering your face in this much makeup was.

It's awkward - well for you at least to be standing still with your Knight by your side. A good twenty minutes passes, as per usual no one has made so much as a move to approach you. None of the men or women have spared you a glance and you're not sure what else there is to do.

"Could you perhaps tell me how my makeup looks?" Whisper shaky the pit of anxiety in your stomach ripens.

Levi shoots you another bland look, his face doesn’t move an inch for a second until he scowls a little clearly not impressed.

"If you want my sincerity then I must say you look worse than usual."

Exhaling heavily tears bite at the sides of your eyes. That makes sense.

"Is that why no one has approached me?"

"You're the youngest child of the Royal family. What makes you think anyone would approach you? Your sisters are older and more likely to take the throne." His explanation presses you into a corner, you didn't think of it like that. Perhaps you really are overthinking.

"But, you said I look- I don't understand you. I don't understand anyone." You huff quietly to yourself so you aren't overheard by any passersby.

The man next to you sighs.

"For the record, I do not find you unsightly." His clarification is much too late, you’ve already taken his words to heart.

"You still implied it, Knight Ackerman."

"Your Excellency.” He counters. “You misunderstood what I meant. I mean to say you look unhappy, you only ever ask about your makeup when someone or something has concerned you."

"You know I hate when you call me Your Excellency." Moving to playfully shove him with your elbow you miss miserably, nearly flying into the floor. Thankfully you happen to catch yourself even before Levi is able to.

"I know you dislike it." He says rather blankly.

“In my opinion, an annoyed princess is better than an unhappy one.” Just as you’re about to argue back you notice his eyes narrow. They tail someone from across the hall. He doesn’t look tense and when you follow his line of vision to see your Mother, the Queen looking on in disappointment. A sharp sting of pain sears through your chest seeing her turn away bitterly.

"I am unhappy." You confess verifying his suspicions. You selfishly choose to admit it to someone, anyone at all who wishes to listen.

"I can tell." He doesn’t sound particularly gentle or concerned. He listens because he has to probably.

"Of course you can." You snort leaning against the wall behind you uncaring of how unladylike you look.

Not another word is spoken after that but the air isn't uncomfortable nor is it stuffy. Getting the weight off your chest has helped to a degree.

The violin and piano coming from your right flutter through the hall, nimble in nature.

Each of your sisters look stunning in their ball gowns. As always the oldest - Elise, gets the most attention. Her dress, navy and with bronze lining shines bright. The heavy satin suits her.

Centre stage, all eyes are on her and for a moment, a fleeting moment, you find yourself feeling embarrassingly envious.

Perhaps that’s why you were assigned murky green as your official Royal colour.

All you’ve ever been able to do is be green with envy.

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

Text

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter -->

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him.

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing.

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake.

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled.

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly.

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off.

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk.

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge.

If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again.

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents.

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know.

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?”

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about.

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell.

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise.

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap.

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night.

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did.

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it.

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?”

“Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game.

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,”

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter.

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?”

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said.

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

“Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?”

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes.

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were.

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed.

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,”

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner.

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

—

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time.

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying.

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music.

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you.

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes.

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening.

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level, “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?”

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,”

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!”

“Insane,” You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend.

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you.

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail.

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you.

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door.

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well.

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city.

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him.

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him.

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes.

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips.

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards.

“Fucking bitch,” He growled.

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away.

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete.

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective.

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?”

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun.

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again.

“Where’s Peña?” You asked.

“At the bar,”

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease.

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done.

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?”

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over.

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head.

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle.

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut.

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little.

“Don’t be a baby,”

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear.

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly.

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him.

“Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined.

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh.

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed.

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed.

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction.

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet.

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on.

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now.

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes.

You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building.

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did.

You opened it.

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table.

“Fuck,” You swore out loud.

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest.

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared.

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked.

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment.

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly.

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,”

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded.

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it.

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,”

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,”

“You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,”

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Guess not,”

Next Chapter -->

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

tag list: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @wille-zarr @danniburgh @rentheisopod @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick @pedrosmustache @wantingtobekorra @balmasedas @angelsunflxwer @brujademente @kingsmanandqueens @igotissueswithfictionalmen

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papergirllife · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem , @caratzennie , @johnnysuhnflower , @euphoricchannie , @yeollieseo , @jjhmk , @sherzess , @wonderfulkoreanpop

(lmk if you wanna be on the list)

You’ve been seeing Mr Suh, correction, Johnny, his first name, as per requested by Johnny himself.

“Mr Suh makes me feel older than I already am, you make me feel like a teenager all over again, so you have to call me Johnny. Let me relive my days when I was still a college kid.”

You didn’t mind, things aren’t as awkward between the two of you anymore, Johnny’s been spending time with you, although the two of you never established any sort of labelling towards what this relationship is. You and Johnny only hung out and had meals together, trying out different cuisines, watching movies, even going as far as skipping a day at work to go to the amusement park. He even bought you to an arcade when you told him you haven’t had the chance to venture to one since you were in grade school.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one for so long?” Johnny asked when he finished a round of pinball.

“They said it was a waste of time and that I should spend more time studying,” you said, wondering why Johnny would ask that, isn’t it the same for all the kids?

Whenever you mention your confining life to Johnny, he’d have a faraway look in his eyes, jaw locked in silent rebuke, he doesn’t say anything, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He would be quite for almost half an hour before he goes back to regular cheerful Johnny, telling you lame jokes that you would surprisingly find funny.

You didn’t have a phone, since your parents forbid you to have one, the only means of communicating is through your email account on your laptop, and even that you must always bear in mind to delete his mails right after, and take further precaution, you didn’t allow him to initiate the sending.

Johnny wanted to buy you one, but you rejected him promptly, you didn’t want him to spend so much money on you, he already spends lots on taking you out to eat. You gave him the excuse that it was too dangerous, and the consequences of getting caught are severe.

You often questioned your relationship with Johnny, you aren’t dumb, you’ve googled him and saw gossip news portals uploading photos of him and some model going out and about in hotels, but those headlines were months ago, the latest news about him was from his interview with Times magazine.

You never had the guts to ask him, you don’t know what you mean to him. What right do you have to question his whereabouts and what he does? He’ll probably be bored of you after he’s known all of you.

You know you shouldn’t think of Johnny that way, it is mean to assume what he’s thinking, especially how well he’s treating you, but seeing those headlines gives you a sense of insecurity, you keep telling yourself that this won’t last, but the thought of not seeing him again made your hair stand. He’s making you happy, a distraction towards the negativity you face in that house you live in, but for how long?

House. You never called it a home, unless you were telling your boss you were leaving, to prevent anyone from questioning your odd way of describing it. It was never a home to you. To you, a home is a place where you feel happy, safe, and most importantly, loved. The closest you’ve ever felt to having these feelings were your grandma and Joh... No, you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you. What were you thinking?

You pushed those thoughts away as you opened your laptop to double check the files that you’ve typed out for your parent’s next important meeting that was supposed to be taking place first thing tomorrow. But when you went through your folders, the files were nowhere to be seen. It’s then you realised that the notification that keeps urging you to update the laptop was gone, it wasn’t the first time you updated the laptop and found out some files were missing, so you would never update the laptop at such a crucial time.

You took the laptop out to your father who was watching some news on his phone in the dining area to ask him if he had updated the software without alerting you.

“Yes, I did. What about it?” he asked, annoyance on his face due to the sudden disturbance.

“The files are missing because of the update,” you informed him.

“What files?”

“The files for tomorrow’s meeting, they’re missing,” you told him as you mentally prepared yourself for what’s to come.

“What do you mean missing?! I bet it was because you saved it wrongly again! Your retarded brain never works does it?! Do you know how important those files are?! You always work on them late at night blurry eyed, of course you didn’t save them properly! You could’ve worked on them in the morning before work. but no... You want to ‘exercise’! What a waste of time!” You’re not pretty anyways, what are you doing them for huh?!” Your father shouted, his eyes blazing in rage, his fist slamming onto the glass.

While your father was shouting, your mother was checking the laptop as she complains about how clueless you are. It was like your brain couldn’t take the amount of hurtful words piercing into your mind like daggers, you let out a high pitched scream as tears threatened to fall, your hands covering your ears as your eyes were a blur.

When you could see properly again, you could make up words which sounded like ‘how dare you’ from your father, next thing you registered were the fury in his eyes as he advances on you, hand above his head, ready to hit you. You didn’t know what came over you, but the first thing you did was kicking him away. That’s when a full on fight broke out.

You were filled with rage, your mind wasn’t registering what you were doing. You went into a flight or fight stance and started thrashing and kicking as his hands were holding painfully tight on your wrists after you tried punching him.

Your mom urges the both of you not to fight, her voice barely registering in your head as she sits still on the high chair by the kitchen island, not bothered to even try to cease the fight.

When you finally pushed him away, you ran into your room and locked it. Your chest was heaving from the panic attack that just started, you tried your best to calm yourself down, reminding yourself to breathe, it was suffocating, controlling your breathing as more tears made its way out of your eyes.

When it all stopped, your body succumbed into mental exhaustion, passing out on your bed as the tears finally ceased.

You only woke up for dinner last night, and proceeded to sleep again. Yesterday’s events made you feel numb, other than the pain from the bruises on your arms.

There was a big ugly one on your left upper arm, its colour an ugly shade of green and purple. A few other less serious ones scattered around your lower arms. In other words, you look like a wreck.

You wore a jacket to run even though you were sweating from your previous cardio work outs, feeling a little better after the endorphins in your body kicked in. When you got back, you quickly showered and ate a toast. When you asked for your mother’s phone to remind your boss you were going to take the day off, she told you that weren’t needed at the meeting anymore and that she finished everything last night.

“Just call to say that you’ll be going to work,” she said, not even looking in your direction when she handed you her phone.

But when you called to inform your boss, he told you that he had another part time coming in, and that it was too short of a notice. You said thank you and hung up, but said that you’ll be at work on time today before handing it back to your mother.

You really needed to escape for the day.

You opened the laptop and sent an email to Johnny.

I’m free today. Wanna go out?

You sat on your bed staring at the ceiling as you were sure it was going to be a bit before he replied, but just as you closed your eyes, you heard a distant chime from your laptop.

I’m rushing some stuff at the office today. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Can I stay in your office? I really wanna get out of the house.

You sounded like a spoiled kid begging for attention, but you really wanted to see him today.

Sure. But you might get bored :) .

I’m leaving the house now :) .

For a 26 year old businessman, he sure loves to use emoticons.

You got changed into jeans and a jacket, you don’t usually wear one if you were going to a secluded area with Johnny, but you had to hide all the marks from last night. You just noticed that they hurt after you accidentally knocked your wrist against something.

You took the bus to the address Johnny wrote down on your diary, it was after one of your dinners together, and he jokingly said that you could always swing by if you wanted, you didn’t know you were going to actually do that.

The bus station wasn’t too far of a walk from his office, since it was just downtown Seoul where the Korea’s financial hub was located.

As you were nearing the office buildings, you stood out like a sore thumb, given the way you were dressed and your age. The people kept giving you stink eyes and sideway glances.

Suh Capital Partners. That was it.

You walked in the rotating doors, only to be greeted by masses of people walking around with smart pads, files, talking on the phone while the assistants take notes. Johnny didn’t mention his company being this big.

You admired the facade of the lobby, it displayed the latest news on a large monitor while futuristic lights hung from the high ceiling, the walls were a perfect balance of steel and wood with a wall of plants filled the wall behind the reception area.

You realised that the people stopped what they were doing before and started looking at you curiously when one of the nicely dressed women from the reception walked up to you.

“Excuse me, miss. May I ask who are you looking for?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning you from top to toe.

You froze at your spot from how cold she sounded, like she didn’t want you around to ruin the aesthetic of the company. You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to see her anytime soon after this and that if you did make a fool of yourself then so be it.

“I’m looking for Mr Suh,” you told her.

She looked taken aback from your answer, but gave you the ugliest sneer when she recovered.

“Miss, this isn’t a school, you can’t just walk in here and demand to see someone without an appointment. Mr Suh is the head of this company, not someone you can just meet without an agreement from him. Please leave this instance,” she said, her tone high pitched enough to gather everyone’s attention, you swore you heard someone laughing a few feet away.

“But...

“That’s my guest, Ms Park.”

You whipped your head back to see Johnny standing behind you. But instead of his usual warm honey eyes, his eyes were a cold and staring daggers into the woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Suh. I’ll get back to my work now,” the woman bowed apologetically, going as far as doing it numerous times.

“I’m going to need a key card for her, Ms Park. Send it up to me when you’re done,” Johnny said, but his eyes were scanning the crowd, his employees immediately went back to what they were doing, the large lobby void of any sound other than people rushing to the lift lobby to escape the scene.

Johnny placed a hand behind your back and guided you to the lift lobby after most of the people have taken the ride up to their respective floors.

“I’m sorry,” you said after the coast was clear.

Johnny’s intimidating stance broke as confusion takes over his face.

“What are you sorry for?” Johnny asked, he should be the one saying sorry.

“I’m such an embarrassment, coming here in my jeans and jacket with a canvas bag, looking like a kid,” you said, fingers nervously tugging the straps of your old bag.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nothing’s wrong with being young and dressing your age. They’re just grumpy from all the work. Don’t take their words into account, and you look great. Perfection as always,” Johnny said reassuringly, hands placed on your shoulder, the warmth of his palms calming you slightly.

“No....

You buried your face into your hands as he patted your head, you sneakily glanced up to see him smiling at you with a toothy grin. But you quickly regained posture as you saw an elevator door open with many pairs of legs.

Johnny wasn’t going in even though the lift was going up, that’s when people in the lift realised it was him, and quickly came out of the lift, saying sorry and greeting Johnny.

Johnny guided you in after the lift was cleared empty. His staff looking at you curiously, you weren’t used to having so many pairs of eyes on you, their curious eyes burning holes into you.

Johnny could sense your anxiousness from the way you were hiding behind his tall figure as the two of you walked into his office, there weren’t many people at that time, given the fact that only direct reports of his business partners came up to hand in documents.

You only felt yourself loosen up a bit after you took a seat on Johnny’s armchair in his huge office, overlooking Seoul’s skyline and the cars that were buzzing about on the roads. The view made you calm down a bit from the journey coming up here.

You felt the chair dip as Johnny took a seat on its armrest, his hands coming up to give your shoulders a nice massage. Johnny smiled at the way your eyes lit up from his comforting touch as you looked back to smile at him, he felt a warm feeling deep in his belly as he takes in your beautiful features and the warmth of your shoulders on his fingertips. But as he puts more pressure onto your shoulders, you wince slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Did your boss at work make you lift heavy stuff again?” Johnny asked, his hands ceased all movements, fearing that he would hurt you again.

You automatically thought of your fight with your father last night, it might be because of the force exerted from when he had pushed you.

“N-no, I just didn’t sleep well last night. I watched a horror movie and had a nightmare,” you lied, not knowing how he would react if you told him the truth.

“Be careful when watching these movies, Y/N. If you went to work and your boss really made you move heavy things today, then you would’ve strain your muscles,” Johnny said, going back to massaging your shoulders, but this time gently applying pressure on that spot, rubbing it in clockwise circles to ease the pain.

“I’m fine, Johnny. Didn’t you have work to rush? I don’t want to keep you away from important matters. And my shoulders feel much better now,” you said, moving away from his hands even though you could’ve let him do that forever, it felt so comforting, borderline addictive.

“Okay, I’ll tend to your shoulders again later.” Johnny said as he lays his head on top of yours, a gesture that he had came up with whenever he wanted to show affection to you without crossing uncharted territories, your heart sped up whenever he does that.

You were just sitting on the couch reading one of your old books when you looked up and saw Johnny frowning at his laptop, you placed your book down and made your way to Johnny.

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get frown lines when you’ll get older, it’ll spoil your handsome face,” you joked.

Your hands reach out to smooth the creases on his forehead, a smile coming back to Johnny’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your busy hand into his, lightly tracing the area between your thumb and your index finger.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, unbeknownst to you, your lips were unconsciously set in a pout.

“There’s some documents that are supposed to be sent to my office in Chicago, but the English that’s written here isn’t up to standards, I’m worried the staff there won’t understand what the document is stating. I don’t mind correcting it, but I have other things to tend to as well,” Johnny explained to you.

“Can I take a look at it? I had Cambridge classes for 8 years. Guess it’s finally coming in handy. I mean only if you think I’m capable, I don’t want you to think I’m boasting or anything, I just really wanna help...

“Y/N, sweet, I trust you. Just let me get you a laptop,” he said before dialling to his secretary.

Once Johnny sent the files to that laptop, you started correcting some grammatical errors and replaced some terms that weren’t as professional, when Johnny was done with his meeting, you were done with the documents as well.

“Here, take a look. There might be mistakes,” you said after sending him the files back.

“You were reading ‘me before you’, I think you’re fine, Y/N,” Johnny deadpanned.

“Just take a look, just in case,” you pleaded, doe eyes capturing his heart. Nodding, Johnny smiles, doing as you said.

Johnny scanned through the documents, his eyes lighting up brighter after each sentence, a proud smile making way on his face. When he was done, he pulled you close by the waist, and gave you a warm hug, his head nuzzling into your sweater.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I thought I needed to work overtime because of this,” he said, his voice was slightly muffled by the cotton.

“You’re welcome. You can always send me these files when I’m not here, I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” you offered.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Wanna grab lunch? I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Johnny asked after pulling away, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as you hit Johnny’s shoulders lightly for his teasing, a smile creeping up your face.

“No, I’m not...

“Come on, I know this really nice French restaurant around the corner...

“Johnny I have the file you were...

Doyoung stops in his tracks as he sees you and Johnny being so close to each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest,” Doyoung apologises, but his eyes were still wide in disbelief.

“Doyoung. This is Y/N. Y/N, Doyoung is one of my business partners, his dad was my dad’s business partner so now it’s his turn,” Johnny introduces his friend to you, telling you a bit of his background.

You gave Doyoung a tiny bow and soft hello, nerves wrecking up at meeting someone you often see on telly whenever their company has a press conference. You could sense an air of discomfort as Doyoung gives you a questioning look.

“You can just put the files on my desk Doyoung. I’ll take a look at them after my lunch break.”

When the evening rolled in, Johnny had to drive you home before your mom questioned your whereabouts.

“I really enjoyed having you by my side today, Y/N,” Johnny said sincerely after pulling up outside the gated area.

“I should be the one thanking you, I can’t believe those snails cost so much, yet you won’t let me pay you back whenever we have meals together,” you retorted, recalling how your eyes almost flew out of their sockets when you stole a glance at the bill.

“Money is not an issue, Y/N. I told you that many times before,” Johnny reminded you.

“I’ll see you on Saturday?” you asked, changing the subject before he offers to buy you a house or something.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, chuckling at how you diverted his attention.

Johnny unlocked the doors of his car, but right before you pulled onto the handle, Johnny pulled your arm, the place where one of the bigger bruises were located at, making you wince at the unexpected pain.

“Y/N I wanted to ask, wait. Are you in pain? Are you hurt? Did I accidentally hurt you?” Johnny asked his eyes wide in worry.

Before you could protest, Johnny pushed up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the big ugly bruise on your upper arm, and several others that went downwards until your wrist.

You looked up at Johnny, scanning his face that was frozen in shock, eyes not believing what he’s seeing. His fingers gently tracing every bruise, his other hand rotating your arm gently, to see if there’s more.

“Y/N... Who did this to you?” Johnny questioned, but deep down in his gut, he’s sure it’s who he thinks it is.

“No one, Johnny. I just fell down when I woke up,” you said, lying through your teeth, you didn’t want to, but that was your survival instinct whenever someone asks about your parents.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N, it’s them isn’t it? They hit you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny demanded, he questions why you don’t trust him, was he not worthy in your eyes?

“It’s nothing, Johnny. Goodnight,” you said in a breath before turning away.

You quickly got out of his car and ran to your lift lobby, Johnny was following behind you. But before he could step into the premise, you shut the glass door which could only be opened with a security card on him, mouthing the words sorry before you made your way into a lift.

Johnny banged at the door, shouting for you to come back, before the security guards asked him to leave. He could feel a prickle in his heart as he sees the bruises in his head, the image fresh. He felt red hot anger boiling in his heart, he was going to get you out of that horrible place, no matter what it takes.

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