#i got the message loud and clear from my own mother if my sister is just gonna keep telling me that everytime we talk and not also try to

[wordsarefakeokay]

The universe told me to stop and reflect. The universe told me "don't escape the safe place you've built, learn to see it as home again. Reinforce the barricades and the borders, define your home, name your boundaries. Define what is safe for you and cut what is not. Be okay with your decision and while you do that learn to walk again"

My hands are my voice. I'm finding my peace in the writing. These thumbs have written more essays and fairy tales than on this here heaven and earth Horatio....or at least at a computer. There's no end to the strength and dexterity of my thumbs on my phone. Instead of telling trolls on that inconsequential app Twitter off I spend my time playing with words like preschool blocks and building castles out of cardboard. I am a kid again putting the voice to the thoughts I was too scared to express, to scared to share. I was blinded by the idea of happily ever after and that once the girl gets her prince or resolves her issues, that's supposed to be the end of the story. Aren't you happy now you have a man? Aren't you happy now you had one meaningful conversation with your mom, isn't it all water under the bridge by now?

Now I can say no one breakthrough is not a solution. It's an epiphany and how you respond afterwards is your truth. Will you wake up and try better, wake up and try at all, or will you think that the epiphany is enough and that therapy is a quick fix solution. Will you try at all or stay the same. Will you be there or will you be present, aware, active, engaging. Will you just sit in the room and think that's enough or will you try. Your response tells us everything.

So I sit here in my princess and the pea bed of mattresses and it's soft and home and clean and safe. I still watch fairy tales but now I look at all the characters and think about who's storyline has helped me grow the most in that hour and a half. Who's growth is going to help me with my own and now I find that it changes day to day. I am the hero of my own story and sometimes that means I'm the side character for someone else because my relationship with them matters to me, they matter to me but also by listening to my dear ones woes I can reflect on my own. The advice I give them also helps me. And I practice this when I'm watching a movie. It's not just observing cinematic experience in a moment, it's learning how the story unfolds based on how the director sees it and understanding the use and importance of dialogue. Only the best shows make it hard to choose which storyline applies that day because everyone and everything about the story is working in perfect harmony. And everytime I am different, unique, feeling a singular train of thought that day and the movie, the story takes me somewhere else. They still come with a sick beat and melody to match so some things stay the same. It is me who is different and wiser now. And that is okay. That is called growth.

So that is why it must be that the universe said "nah honey take a chill pill" and zapped me with the fortune of a few broken foot bones and some joint fractures for measure. When they bury me in the ground my right foot will look different from my left. Those bones don't look the way they do when I started this trainwreck rollercoaster called life. So I stay comfy and I wait and I wait. I manage pain and I wait and I wait. I see my doctor take the medication eat food and I eat the right food and I wait. And wait. And wait until my doctor says otherwise. I'm healing, and mending skeletal framework and rewiring my muscles. And everytime I get a little closer to having a normal life again I go right back to bed before waking up to try again. Can't you see that I'm trying?

So you're not welcome here. Your presence isn't safe. You aren't a safe space for me anymore and looking back on it I don't really think you were. I don't know how you clearly must be for other people. You are a volcano ready to erupt at a kids science fair at the earliest sign of Pepsi on Mentos. You are a fire hydrant who's lug nut did not get properly tightened on it's last task. You are a hallowed antique store that is precious to your small community that I'm terrified to enter because I'm not worthy. Because the person behind the counter is analyzing my every move my every breath and tallying every close call or smudged foot print I leave. They're preparing to sanitize every surface, polish every piece, freaking sage your safe zone from the enemy that apparently was me all along. I was walking on eggshells in your safe space, even when you opened it up to me. I was holding my breath Incase I breathed funny and triggered something in you. I was recounting verbal chess moves to see where everything went wrong. And at the end of the day I learned

We are not good for each other. We are not safe for each other. Your china shop is at your exact specifications and new elements are not welcome in your life. And that's your problem because you missed out on knowing me. You missed out on really knowing me. You saw what you could gather in a year and you told me I wasn't good enough. You told me the four deadly words to anyone's soul: you're not good enough. You asked me to change and never wondered what I needed from you if we were gonna stay in each other's lives. Stay as family. Be a family. Family makes room in the shops for you to visit. I wanted to look at your antiques and doodads and any memory you ever wanted to share that was neat or painful or funny or raw. Any memory that told me about you. Your antique shop was in black and white while I was there and all I wanted to do was know what colors went where. I wanted to know who you were in all the funny or scary or weird or nice microcosms about you. What makes you a person and can I be good in your life like I thought you would be in mine.

I guess we answered that question the day I broke my foot. It was the day you tried to fix things. It was the day you broke my heart. The kind of break you've been through before but you thought was behind you. The hurt that reminds you of your mom, the mom who's better over there out of my own book store.

And the worst part is that I know if I told you this you'd tell me that the antique china shop I described is actually a mom and pop OG game stop before game stop became popular. Itd be the hit place with the kids in the district or the kids in the group home or the kids in the after school DARE program rode their bikes and scooters and skateboards to while laughing at lessons and thinking about drugs and how the things "you're too young to mess with" are actually something you can get at the guy from the 711 on the way to the mom and pop store. You'd tell me that the antiques found in here we're the treasures of your youth, that the retro pieces of my time were the norm in yours. That every day nostalgia for you was an era away that I can appreciate like a fine wine. We are different and I was trying to understand what was in your store. I was trying to understand why this mom and pop shop stayed at this block with this community and supported this family and these kids. Why is this a safe place for others and not a safe space for me. I was trying to understand. Do you hear that? I was trying. to. understand. And you let me explore for a little bit I think I sneezed or laughed with you about something or maybe it was a comment or my body language or my attitude but I also could have just breathed wrong and you put up hazards saying "this place isn't safe with my little sister anymore" with everyone in your life on alert to figure out how to keep a sniper rifle trained on me. And from that first offense, every little mistake I made got worse, there was no end to punishments or tough fam conversations. I left a job because of that kind of treatment why are you surprised I blocked you? Why did you make your hurt my problem at the end of everything when I told you it was over and that I was done. Why are you like this? I hope you answer that question later for yourself one day so I'll say it again for spiciness. Why. are. you. like. this? Why can't you change?

The worst part about it is I know how you'll respond to all this and it goes a little something like this: you'd respond in a way that would make it about you just so you could have the last say and end this on a note where your hurt is my problem (again) and you would end it in a way that would prompt me to respond. You talk to hurt and be right so you can sleep at night and I talk to heal and grow. We're different. And when things go bad, things are worse before the bull breaks the retro shop.

The bull was you all along. Please know that before we talk again.

[bangtanfanfiction]

cold → myg (M)

Not proof read. 

♢ Pairing: Yoongi x Female!Reader → Hogwarts AU

♢ Word count: 16.6k (Idk how this happened okay)

♢ Genre: Angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, arranged marriage, slight slowburn, smut 

⌲ Description: Min Yoongi - The 7th year Slytherin student notorious for his cold and indifferent personality, and not to mention his anti-social tendencies. What was it about him that made you so curious?  - Warnings: swearing, some finger action

Hogwarts au masterlist

AN: Whenever I write Hogwarts AU’s I like to include characters that already exist in that world instead of coming up with a lot of OC’s. So you’ll be meeting with a few familiar faces ;)

‘Y/N’ in my story is more of her own character rather than an insert - I’ve tried to keep detailed description down to a minimum, but in some cases it was unavoidable. So sorry for those who find that annoying.

“Miss Y/N...”

“Miss Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N!”

Your eyes flew open at the raised voice next to your ear, heart thumping for some unknown reason as the familiar sight of the dark ceiling came back into focus. Sighing, you relaxed back into your mattress before lazily addressing the voice.

“What is it, Tudey?” You muttered tiredly while the small house elf beside your bed played with her hands nervously.

“Mistress told Tudey to wake Miss up. The Hogwarts train leaves in two hours and Miss cannot afford to be late,” Her squeaky, uncertain voice relayed the message urgently, ears twitching nervously at the sight of irritation on your features. 

Although feeling slightly bad for scaring Tudey for just doing her job, it wasn't enough for you to bother clearing away your irritation. The house elf had known you since birth, and being a naturally nervous creature there wasn’t much you could do.

Resisting another sigh, you just nodded, waving her off as the sound of a loud crack was heard before silence took over again.

You remained in your position for a few moments in your overly large bed, eyes closed and craving more sleep, a black and burgundy comforter tightly wrapped around your body. 

The bedroom was cold, as always. The kind of cold that wasn’t exactly terrible, but enough to make you somehow uncomfortable at certain moments - such as waking up in the middle of the night. The air never failed to draw goosebumps on your skin whenever you woke. 

But you had gotten so used to the feeling that it barely bothered you anymore.

Stretching one last time, you got out of bed and went towards your wardrobe placed in the corner of the room. You didn’t waste a lot of time finding clothes and simply chose the first outfit that you managed to put together, consisting of a black long-sleeved turtleneck with a tight button skirt. You finished the look with some laced-up boots and a classy white blazer to make it a bit more sophisticated. 

Sitting down in front of your vanity table you saw your still half asleep face looking back at you. With a shudder, you grabbed your wand and gave it a wave - the glamor spell doing a quick change to meet the day.

Downstairs, the sound of pots clanging echoed from the large kitchen as you passed it along with the forms of several house elves walking around getting food ready for your family.

Inside the spacious dining room, your parents were already sitting on each end of the table. Both nursing their own cups of tea while reading the Daily Prophet. 

The same thick, tense silence for no reason greeted you.

Your younger brother, who was starting his first year, sat on the left of your mother and your older sister by two years on the right. Choosing the chair to your father’s left, you sat down silently before acknowledging them.

“Morning mother, father,” You nodded at each of them and felt your mother’s scrutinizing look directed at you - which you tried to ignore. It had become a habit at this point. 

“Seeing how you decided to arrive late today, I expect you are ready to pass Hogwarts this year with only the highest marks,” your father’s voice spoke up next to you as you sent him a thin-lipped smile.

“Of course, father.”

He looked at you for a few more seconds before moving on to address your older sister next to you, silently eating her breakfast with her back ram straight. The only one in the room who wasn’t hesitant about openly showing their emotions was your brother. And not even your uptight, pureblood parents could blame him for it. It was his first year at Hogwarts after all, any eleven-year-olds would have been excited at the thought.

Inwardly sighing, you couldn’t help but think how you weren’t lucky enough to be born into a normal, magical family - not even as a muggleborn at that. 

Your luck was as rotten as the trails of crimes belonging to the majority of the sacred Twenty-Eight families still existing to this day. 

Your mother was sitting silently in her seat, too occupied with the news to ask you any questions. Daphne Greengrass had aged well ever since her Hogwarts days, aging slowly and elegantly, not that different compared to your aunt Astoria. They had the same head of dark brown hair and eyes, traits that you had inherited. But unlike her paleness, yours was much more tan, a clear mix of both your parents.

Your father, Blaise Zabini, was an infamous name for all the wizards and witches who lived during the Second Wizarding War, although he had done his best to remain under the radar since then. 

 His affiliation with the Malfoys and several rumors about having been a past death eater were still whispered in the streets whenever any of you walked past. You never had the courage to ask either him or your mother about that. They were dark times, and you were only lucky to be born when the Dark Lord wasn’t trying to take over the world. 

When both of your parents had first married, it wasn’t because of love. More like convenience. It was no well-kept secret that your grandmother from your father’s side was a wealthy woman with her past six deceased husbands. The Greengrass family was one of the prestigious pureblood families still living - so it just made sense to unite the two bloodlines. But your surname would still remain as Greengrass with the influence behind the name soaring above your father’s. 

Even as the years passed, your parents were both adamant about not changing their views when it came to blood status. Their pride and arrogance worth more than anything. Which caused you and your two siblings to be raised in a traditional pureblood Slytherin household. 

Draco Malfoy himself had even changed for the better after his house arrest for being involved with the Dark Lord.

However, the only one who actually agreed with their views was your older sister. She lived to please them. Their praises make her feel better about her achievements.

Blood status didn’t matter to you. Why would you care if they were muggleborn or pure? You’d rather rely on your judgment of character to do the work. You had little patience for cowards. Neither were you the biggest admirer of the timid and silent, nor the rowdy and arrogant. 

Some would say you weren’t the most liked pupil around Hogwarts. Both you and your sister had been sorted into Slytherin on the first day, making nearly everyone, except for your brother, a snake.

After you had finished eating enough breakfast to call yourself full, your father stood up from his seat while looking at his wristwatch.

“Time to go or else you’ll miss the train.”

Everyone stood nearly as one and made their way towards the large double front doors in dark mahogany. Your parents both put on their luxurious robes when your father waved his wand and muttered a spell as two trunks came floating down the stairs. He shrunk them and put them in his pocket before opening the door for everyone to step out of besides your sister. 

She had an early shift at the ministry for her work and wasn't able to come. Not that it bothered you. You never had a good relationship with each other and she proved that by sneering at you, her judgemental eyes raking down your ‘muggle’ looking clothes.

“Try not to disgrace our family name this year, Y/N,” she said as if trying to embarrass you in front of your parents. 

You weren’t the one who had been caught snogging in a broom cupboard during your last year. 

You simply rolled your eyes at her. “I’d say the same thing to you.”

Your father offered you his arm, which you accepted while your mother held tightly to your brother’s hand. Taking a deep breath, you felt the familiar nauseous feeling of being squeezed through a tiny tube when your feet landed back on solid ground. To your annoyance, you stumbled, but your father held tightly to your arm to hinder you from falling completely to the ground. 

It was actions like these that made you feel confused towards the man who was your dad. He played the part well in front of others, taking you and your siblings to the trains each year as well as picking you up during the holidays. Yet his words and expressions were always laced with the monotone coldness you had grown up with. 

Straightening your clothes, you resisted the sad sigh before turning to the familiar, heartwarming sight before you. 

The red magnificent train sent a feeling of safety through you as allowed a small smile. This would be your last year taking it. Your father had already taken out the trunks and turned them back to their original size before turning to you.

“Remember what I told you. We expect nothing less than Outstanding on all your subjects this year,” he reminded sternly as if it was the only thing he could discuss when talking to you. 

Never your wellbeing - just your grades and performance in class.

With that, all the feelings of confusion evaporated quickly from your mind. 

“Yes father, I remember,” you forced yourself to hold the smile at him. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” 

His eyes narrowed at your last sentence but remained silent for your family’s sake. Blaise Zabini was never one for public displays, affection or otherwise. 

“And dress more appropriately next time, Y/N,” Your mother huffed as she glared at where your legs were showing. You wisely chose to hold your tongue at that, knowing nothing good would come out of you smart-mouthing your own mother as well. 

Thankfully it was at that moment the Malfoy family decided to make an appearance, led by Draco himself. He greeted both of your parents and ruffled your little brother’s hair while giving your shoulder a gentle pat. You smiled back at him and his wife, Astoria, giving both of them hugs before discreetly moving toward where their son was standing. 

Scorpius was the same age as you, also starting his seventh year. Not to mention the fact that you were cousins. As you got closer, the gleaming sign of prefect in his hand caught your attention.

“Is that a Prefect sign, Malfoy?” You couldn’t help but ask in amusement as you stood next to him, elbow nudging his. 

His head snapped to the side at your voice, having obviously been lost in thought and giving you an annoyed look. “Jealous, Greengrass?”

“Hah!” You chuckled. “As if. I’d rather not run around the halls after foolish first years.”

“Your brother is a first-year,” Scorpius pointed out.

“Exactly,” You smirked in reply as he shook his head. “Why do you have that anyway?”

“The previous Prefect bailed out apparently, so they needed a new one,” Shrugging, you noticed his eyes glancing around discreetly again. 

“Is that even possible?” 

“Don’t ask me, at least I am one,” Scorpius leered in jest as you scoffed, retaliating smoothly.

“How’s your little girlfriend?”

His silver-blue eyes widened as he slapped a hand over your mouth quickly and you winced at the sudden force. He looked at both of your parents who were far too busy talking about other things.

“Not so loud!” He hissed, bending down to glare.

You pried his hand off you in irritation, before raising your eyebrows at him. “They don’t know?”

“I haven’t told them yet,” Scorpius muttered.

“How can you not tell them you’re dating a Potter?” you asked in disbelief but made sure to keep your voice down. “The whole bloody school knows.”

He gave you a look. “My father would disown me.” How daft of him to even think that, you wanted to cackle. Draco Malfoy disowning his only child? As fucking if. 

“You actually think that?”

“Wouldn’t yours?”

“Well of course he would. He’s my father. But uncle Draco is different, you know that. And your mum just happens to be the nicer sister out of our mothers.”

Scorpius gnawed at his lower lip, guilt obvious at your words. He was well aware of your relationship with his aunt and uncle, and no part of him had planned to make it sound like he wasn't aware of it.

“I’ll tell them. At Christmas.”

Your nose twitched at his cowardice but didn’t bother trying to persuade him anymore. It was his business, after all, cousins or not. You weren’t a meddler. 

“Alright you three, it’s about time for you to get on the train,” Draco then spoke up with a soft tug of his lips as he turned to face your little group - your little brother having been silent and only gawking at the train throughout all the exchanged conversations.

“Yep, see you later Dad, Mum,” Scorpius was quick to place a kiss on Astoria’s cheek and give his father a one-armed hug before vanishing through the crowd and towards the train, trunk in hand.

You could only gape at how quickly he had left you alone at the mercy of your whole family.

Not that Draco and Astoria were the problem. You loved them honestly. But it was a different story when it came to interacting with them in public besides your own parents and what was appropriate in their opinion.

You were never allowed to show a big variety of emotions growing up. Always having to stand tall and unbothered, not let anyone see your weaknesses.

“Are you ready for your last year, sweetheart?” Astoria walked up to you, dainty hands cupping the sides of your face and looking you over with sparkling, nearly black eyes that showed none of the same dead, emptiness her sister did.

And you felt a pinch of sadness inside of you never having been called that from your own mum.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” You managed to breathe out, a hint of genuine nerves shining through your hard facade. 

Your aunt and uncle were one of the few you allowed yourself to relax around. And they knew it as well.

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Draco assured you gently before turning back to face your father, voice hardening only the slightest, almost in warning. Not that it helped. “Won’t she?”

In contrast to the Malfoys' bright voices, your father's was low and indifferent. “Yes, of course. We expect only the best.”

“Oh come on Blaise,” Draco clapped the back of his best friend, features losing the good-natured look and replaced with a slightly tense smile. “Hogwarts isn’t all about studying.”

If you could, you would have hugged the life out of your uncle for trying his best to make this moment into something more comforting for you. As futile as it was.

“Well you better go Y/N, or else you’ll miss the train,” your mother then spoke up, nothing near the loving tone your aunt had used. "Make sure your brother finds his way around."

“I’ll take my leave then.” Taking a hold of your brother’s smaller hand you lead him towards the train, trunks in hand. Him waving at your family as you got on and the door closed behind you.

You turned around to peer down at him expectantly. “You’ll find your way around right?”

“Yes,” he huffed at you. “I’m not a kid.”

Your lips tugged up, but you kept them at bay. “Of course you’re not.” You ruffled his hair before making your way down the tight crowded hallways of the train.

It seemed like most compartments had already been filled with people, and you tsked in annoyance. Nearing the end of the train one compartment caught your attention with only a single person in it. You couldn’t see who it was, but for now, you could care less. 

Sliding open the door, you leaned against it.

“Do you mind?”

The boy had a head of black hair and looked up as you quickly recognized him.

“Not at all,” Yoongi replied, before turning back to the notebook in his hands.

Not offering any words, you only shook your head in bemusement at his usual behavior.

After making sure your trunk was safely placed above your seat, you sat down closest to the window which also happened to be across from Yoongi. You didn’t bother to say anything to acknowledge him as you crossed your legs and looked out at the scenery passing by.

The only sound in the compartment besides you two breathing was the sound of his pen scribbling on the notebook on his lap in concentration. You couldn’t help but glance over in curiosity a few times - not that you managed to see what he was writing from your seat. What you didn’t understand was why he wasn’t seated with his usual group of friends around school. They were quite well known around Hogwarts for their apparently attractive looks and powerful family backgrounds.

The perfect young bachelors.

You weren’t the only one coming from a prestigious Slytherin family after all. 

From what you had heard, Yoongi’s family were all pureblood as well, all having gone to Slytherin as he did now. They were one of the most influential Wizarding families in East Asia, being related to the Parks - who were on top of the chain. His parents hadn’t necessarily been death eaters, but it was quite clear which side they stood on during both of the wars yet still managed to leave unscathed. They had moved from Britain and back to South Korea after the fall of Voldemort but then returned when Yoongi had been born. 

Or so you had heard from the sources of gossip. 

Despite being in the same house, you had barely interacted with the guy. It was quickly known during your first year that he was quite the loner. Refusing to open up and befriend anyone except for that close group of his. The only one you knew personally from them was Jimin Park - his cousin. Another Slytherin in the year below you, his personality being strangely kind and sweet for a snake that you could never wrap your head around.

Not to say you were a social butterfly. 

People stayed away from Yoongi because they knew he wasn’t interested. They stayed away from you because they were afraid. 

Some would think that smiling was an unfamiliar concept to you. It was always blank, or when it wasn’t, it was a glare of judgment. The only ones exempted from it were Scorpius or your other friend, Albus Potter. The two boys having been attached by the hip since first year, before adopting a pity looking eleven-year-old you into their circle. 

You’d say your bark was often worse than your bite unless people really gave you a reason to have a taste. 

You wouldn’t want to disappoint them after all. 

Taking another good look at the boy - or man -  sitting across from you. You noted that he had impressively changed quite a bit over the summer. 

He was no longer as thin and lanky as before. His face seemed to have sculpted a bit more, making it look more defined. His hair which was shockingly white-blonde before was back to black and covered his forehead in a deliberate looking mess. Wearing what looked like slacks and a dress shirt, the first three buttons unbuttoned, showcasing the pale skin underneath. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The glint of metal told about the belt he wore around his hips. He wore a pair of luxurious leather dress shoes, not a single scrape on them, and shining to perfection. 

Not that you even expected something remotely cheaper looking from a pureblood.

“If all you’re going to do is stare you might as well talk,” His surprisingly deep voice, contrary to his slighter figure suddenly spoke, raising his head to lift a brow at you.

You simply smirked, not the slightest bothered at being caught. “I didn’t take you for someone to talk.”

“I’m not,” he agreed. “But I usually don’t share compartments either.”

“What happened to your friends?” You questioned, leaning back against the cushioned bench. “Trouble in paradise?”

You saw his lips tug up at your jest before smoothing out again. “More like too much paradise. Everyone needs privacy once in a while.”

You acknowledged his answer with a nod and turned to look back out the window.

“Where’s Malfoy? Expected to see him attached on your hip.”

“Probably busy snogging his girlfriend,” You replied casually.

“Ah,” Yoongi realized. “The Potter girl, isn't it? Or was it Weasley? I always mix up that family.”

“Potter,” You confirmed in amusement. “The youngest if I’m not wrong - sweet Hufflepuff girl, but quite the firecracker.”

“Who would have known; A Potter and Malfoy ending up together,” a snigger was on his lips as he spoke the words.

You returned it. “A snake and a badger. Let’s hope it’ll last.” 

“Badgers are the ones known to consume snakes, you know. Perhaps Malfoy is the one who should watch his back.”

Thinking back on the first meeting between you and the youngest Potter girl, you couldn’t help but find his analogy ironically fitting. A firecracker might even be too gentle of a description when it came to the redhead, but you could see yourself getting along with her in the time to come.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Hm,” He simply hummed in reply before his eyes flickered back to the notebook on his lap, your eyes following him the entire time. You should be ashamed for staring as you did, honestly. He scribbled something down before speaking up again.

“Something on your mind, Greengrass?”

“Just intrigued.”

Yoongi arched his brow in a silent question.

“For being labeled as the loner you are, you’re awfully talkative.”

“Just because I prefer my own company doesn’t mean that I’m anti-social,” He countered calmly.

You couldn’t help but agree with his answer. “Touché.”

You settled back into your seat and leaned your head back with a small inaudible sigh. You never were a fan of the long trip it took to get to Hogwarts. Your body despised being stuck in one place for too long. It always got too uncomfortable and sleep wasn’t even something you considered. 

There was a slight chill in the compartments that brushed against your exposed legs as you unconsciously tried to tighten the blazer around you to keep the goosebumps at bay. Maybe it wasn’t that clever to wear a skirt on the long ride back to school. 

The feeling of some heavy fabric being suddenly placed over your lap made your eyes snap open in surprise. Yoongi was sitting back in his seat and you looked down to see a black leather jacket covering your previously cold legs.

You opened your mouth to say something, but seeing the way he didn’t even spare you a glance and returned to writing in his book, you decided to remain silent. Adjusting the jacket a bit, you closed your eyes again. 

But what you didn’t notice in your relaxed state was the way Yoongi would glance up at you from time to time. 

+ 

It was nearly completely dark outside the next time you opened your eyes. The compartment was empty beside yourself when the door slid open and you met the familiar green eyes of your best friend.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Albus Potter stated as he leaned against the doorway with crossed arms. His black hair was disheveled on top of his head as always. This time you allowed yourself to smile genuinely with no fear of judgment.

“Sorry,” You muttered and shook your head. “I lost track of time.”

He took another glance at you before questioning. “Did you sleep?”

“I guess so,” You shrugged in reply, though you were put off at the revelation. You had simply closed your eyes to rest them like always but managed to lull yourself to sleep. 

“Well, you better get changed,” Albus clicked his tongue and glanced down at the golden watch on his wrist that he received for his 17th birthday just a month previously. “We’re nearly there and you’re probably the last one still lounging around.”

“Alright, alright,” You waved him off sounding annoyed, but a part of you had missed his punctual nagging and welcomed the familiarity of it.

Albus stepped inside the compartment as you stood up, just to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into a hug, that you wholeheartedly accepted. A near sigh of relief coming from you.

You had missed the comfort of your best friend being stuck inside the cold manor of your family for half of the summer. 

“I missed you,” Albus must have known how bad you’ve had it, or Scorpius had filled him in, that nosy fool. 

“I missed you too.”

With a peck against your cheek, he stepped back outside and shut the door with the blinds falling down to conceal you from prying eyes. 

That was when you noticed the jacket laying by your feet. Picking it up you simply stared at it for a few seconds before shaking your head.

You managed to change quickly by summoning your uniform and replacing them in the trunk. Straightening out the plain gray skirt and tucking your white blouse in the waistband. Finishing with the stockings and putting on your shoes, you felt the train lurching to a stop and saw the station outside the windows. 

Tucking your wand in your pocket and draping the leather jacket over your shoulders, you stepped outside the compartment to see Scorpius had joined Albus in waiting for you.

“So sleeping beauty has finally joined us,” Your cousin smirked at you.

“Oh shut up, I wasn’t the one running off to snog my girlfriend and leaving my cousin for the sharks,” Was your retort, seeing the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Shut it both of you,” Albus groaned. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

With a girlish giggle, you only let yourself make around your closest friends, you looped your arms through both of theirs before starting to pull them towards the exit. The three of you managed to push through the excited first years and towards the carriages.

The younger students automatically moved out of the way seeing three upper years waltzing up. You had seen a glimpse of your younger brother, but he quickly vanished within the crowd after being led towards the boats.

When the carriages finally came to a stop, Albus helped you step down before making your way inside the familiar stone structure.

A visible smile of comfort was drawn on all three as you looked around the castle.

“Can’t believe it’s our last year,” Scorpius spoke on the way toward the Great Hall.

“It’s surreal,” Albus agreed. “I’m gonna miss Hogwarts.”

Me too, you couldn’t help but think back but decided to keep your thoughts to yourself. 

The only positive thing about leaving the magical school was the fact that you could finally move out for yourself. There was no need to live in the suffocating manor of your parents anymore now that you were seventeen and nearly graduated.

The Great Hall was in an excited buzz for the start of the term. People from all houses were racing across the room to greet friends after the long break. The three of you made your way over to the table covered in mostly green and silver before sitting down at the complete end, closest to the doors. It was where the graduating students usually sat, with the first years closest to the front. 

You couldn’t help but try to look around in curiosity in search of one certain snake in your year, but it was hard to find someone in the masses of the crowd with such a neutral hair color like black.

“Is that a new jacket?” Albus questioned you as he noticed the leather draped over your shoulder.

“Uh no, borrowed it from a...friend,” you hesitated at the words and he noticed it quickly.

“Really?”

“No, not really.” 

“Who gave it to you?” He continued to probe.

“You know Yoongii?” You turned your head to look at him seated beside you.

“It’s his jacket?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I was cold and he leant it to me.”

“I never took him for someone who cared,” Scorpius added in the conversation. He sat on the other side of the table, facing the two of you. 

“Neither did I, but I was apparently wrong.”

“Wonder why he gave up the Prefect position,” Albus mused as you frowned. 

“Wait - he was the previous Prefect?” You asked in surprise. “Since when?”

Both of your best friends gave you exaggerated looks. 

“What do you mean since when, since he was chosen in fifth year, what else,” your cousin snorted. 

Out of nowhere, a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulder so suddenly that you couldn’t help but jump and let out a curse, knocking your knee against the underside of the table - your heart racing frantically inside your chest.

Laughter broke out from your friends as you whipped around to glare at the culprit that scared you. 

“Bloody hell Parkinson, get a life will you!” You snapped, fond irritation coating your words at the guy guffawing behind you.

Liam Parkinson, the only son of the newly divorced Pansy Parkinson, was laughing. He had the same light brown hair as his mother with her dark eyes. With about a head taller than yourself, the guy waltzed around Hogwarts boasting his lean and muscular build that came from being a beater towards any girls who would fall for his tricks. 

“Come on now, love. No need to be so uptight,” With a smirk, he slid into the bench next to you.

“How was summer, mate?” Scorpius asked him through his own snickering, propping an elbow up on the table, chin against his hand lazily. 

“Dreadful,” Liam replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Mum’s been moping every single day. Don’t even know why. It’s not like my father was dad of the year either.”

“Sorry to hear,” Albus grimaced at those words, having grown well-known of the drama that apparently followed pureblood Slytherins everywhere they went. 

“Yeah, I wish my parents would get a divorce,” Your blunt words were no surprise for anyone. “Can’t handle having the two of them in the same room.”

“She mostly spent summer with us anyways,” Your cousin added.

“Thank Merlin for the Malfoys.”

Before they could continue, the grand doors to the Great Hall opened up, hushing all conversations in the room. A long line of first years started to stumble inside, looking around in amazement. You caught your brother’s eye as you sent him a quick wink in encouragement.

But after seven years of the same thing, the sorting went by dreadfully slow for your taste as you tried to hide your chuckles from the foolish things your friends were whispering about. When you heard your brother’s name being called, you perked up to see him nervously step up to the stool before the hat was placed on his head. There was only a 10-second wait when his house was called out.

“Ravenclaw!”

You didn’t hold back your applause as you cheered for him like the table clad in blue and bronze.

“Hey, who would have thought? First Greengrass not be sorted into Slytherin,” Liam commented as he threw an arm casually around your shoulder.

“He’s not the first one,” You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Just the only one currently alive.”

“You think your parents will be okay with it?” Albus asked you.

You nodded. “It’s better than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. I think they expected it.”

The sorting flew by after that along with the speech of Headmistress McGonagall who wished everyone back to Hogwarts to do their best, along with addressing the new Head boy and Girl. Who happened to be Albus and a girl from Hufflepuff you had never heard of before. 

It was when dinner began that people rose up from their assigned house tables and sat with their friends instead. It was such a usual occurrence now that no one even reacted. The Great Hall went from going color-coordinated to a sea of green, blue, red, and yellow all mixed together. 

You were just glancing over your shoulder when you caught the familiar face of Yoongi sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table with his usual group. That reminded you of the leather jacket now draped across your lap. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told your friends, standing up and making your way over.

The seven boys weren’t one of the silent groups, that was for sure. And you noticed how they seemed to differ in years as well, not only houses. But they quickly saw you coming in their direction as they looked on in curiosity.

You ignored all of them as you took hold of the jacket and addressed the owner. “You forgot this.”

Yoongi simply stared up at you for a second before accepting the clothing you held out. “It seemed like you needed it more than me.”

“What a gentleman." You allowed yourself the smallest hint of a half smirk. “But you might not be so lucky to have it returned next time.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you. “Next time?”

“Don’t be a stranger, Min,” was all you said before turning around and sitting back down with your friends, who all looked at you strangely.

They had never seen you go out of your way to get to know someone. Even if that someone was in the same year and house. 

“What was that all about?” Liam questioned you.

You took a sip of your pumpkin juice. “I think I just made a new friend.”

+

The semester was kicking your arse only two months in. Flooding you with homework and preparations for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, your professors turned merciless to make sure everyone was prepared. 

With prideful parents like yours, they only expected the best. You had two acceptable choices in their book. It was either becoming a Ministry official or the Department of Mysteries. 

You never were fond of the second choice, and the thought of becoming an Unspeakable didn’t sit well with you. Not after everything you had read about what happened there during the war. Becoming a ministry official seemed the logical choice, your attention being on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where Harry Potter himself was the head and had changed tremendously in the years since his appointment, having become one of the most praised departments in the British Magical community. 

However, with Hermione Granger as the current Minister of Magic, there wasn’t much of the Ministry to be talked badly about with how much effort the past war heroes have done to make sure everything was going in a positive direction. 

Too bad they couldn’t change your family too.

Putting down the quill in your hand, you glared at the stack of books by your side and several pieces of parchments being filled to the brim. Your body ached from sitting for too long, and the air in the library was starting to feel suffocating to you.

“That doesn’t look pleasant,” a voice suddenly commented at the sight of the table you sat on.

You weren’t even surprised anymore to hear that voice near you.

Yoongi and you had developed a strange sort of friendship ever since the compartments.

It wasn’t one where the two of you spent time together to hang out. But rather silent companionship, where words were spoken freely without fear of insults or hurt feelings. You were both too damn stubborn for that. 

You never sought out for each other’s company. Simply conversing whenever you cross paths. And it happened more often than you would have imagined.

“Never said it was,” You mumbled without turning around and stretching your stiff fingers.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Yoongi asked over your shoulder.

You could sense the way he was scanning your writing and what you were working on.

Taking a look at the watch on your wrist you shrugged. “Since 12.”

“On a Sunday of all things?” there was amusement with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Glancing up at him you arched an eyebrow. “So Mr. Antisocial has never studied on a Sunday before?”

“Believe it or not, I do have a life you know,” Was his reply while walking around the table and taking a seat on the chair opposite of you.

“I find that hard to believe,” you leaned forward with a leer as he narrowed his eyes at you good-naturedly.

“How unfortunate for me,” he drawled.

You snorted unattractively, before leaning back in your chair with a stretch of your arms. “What brings you to the library on a weekend then?”

“I’m bored,” Yoongi replied. “And Namjoon was getting too intellectual for my taste.”

“Namjoon?” You pondered over the name. “The Ravenclaw prefect in our year?”

“The very same.”

“Well if I don’t remember wrong, he is one of the top three students.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that his rants are annoying. Jeongguk isn’t like that,” he pointed out.

“Ah yes, I remember him,” You chuckled. “Cute kid. Though he ran off when he bumped into me once.”

“Must have been your charming smile,” Yoongi taunted with a sarcastic smirk as you sneered at him in irritation. “Perhaps stop glaring at everyone you see?”

“I did not glare at him, thank you very much,” You sniffed in a dismissive manner. “I hardly did anything before he squeaked out an apology and ran as if a Hungarian Horntail was after him.”

“And there you have Jeongguk for you,” he smiled in amusement at the picture of the fifth-year Ravenclaw running off at the sight of you. “Maybe you should stop being so intimidating.”

You stared blankly at him. “Says you.”

“I’m pretty certain people don’t run away from me in fear.”

“Fear makes people respect you,” You replied as you gathered all your parchments in a neat pile to take back with you to the common room.

“I’m sure that’s what Voldemort thought as well,” he mused.

“Whatever,” Scoffing, you stood up with an almost sassy quality to the way you propped your hips out to the side staring down at him. “You don’t see me planning to take over the Wizarding World now, do you? Too much of a hazard.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, half smirk on his lips. “How would I know? You could be conspiring up a plan as we speak.”

“Funny,” A blank statement coming from you. “Well you’re starting to annoy me, so I’m leaving.”

With those words, you turned around with your things and walked away. 

“You’re welcome!” he called after you. 

Walking out of the library you headed towards the dungeons People from other houses might find the lower levels of the castle uncomfortable and a hint creepy. But you found comfort in the dim lights and darkened hallways. After going through them every day for the past seven years, you do get used to it. 

But the cool air reminded you too much of your home with your parents which sent unwanted shivers across your skin. 

With a mutter of the password in front of the entrance, it swung open allowing you inside. It was mostly empty, seeing how it was Sunday after all. And most people were probably still hanging around at Hogsmeade before classes started again in the morning. 

But a particular figure lounging on the black leather couch in front of the fire caught your attention. You walked over and plopped down on the couch beside him as you put your things on the table in front of you. He didn’t even acknowledge your existence as you looked at him. 

“What’s with the face?” You asked. 

Liam Parkinson let out a dramatic sigh as he leaned further back on the couch, looking positively devastated.

Or at least he tried to. You knew the guy far too well to know when he was playing it up. 

“I’m being dumped by my two best friends...” he muttered miserably. 

“What did they do?” You questioned while your lips twitched. 

“Hanging out with their girlfriends is what.” He was actually sulking, dear Merlin. “Leaving me all alone.”

“Wait, I thought Albus and that Jordan girl broke up before summer?” You said confused. 

“They did,” Liam agreed. “But apparently they contacted each other again during the break and are trying to ‘figure things out’.” He said in question marks. “Whatever that bloody means.”

You noticed how bitter those words sounded as you suppressed a laugh.  

“Awe, come on now Parkinson,” you cooed teasingly and threw an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll tell Albus of your heartbreak.”

He glared. “You’re a cunt, you know that?”

“I’ve heard worse,” You shrugged nonchalantly. 

“You know, I haven’t snogged anyone in over six months,” Liam told you like it was the most scandalous event to exist. 

“I’m sorry to hear that?”

“Yeah, so am I!” he nodded his head vigorously. 

“What, no French girls that caught your attention?” Referring to his trip to France with his family during the summer break.

“None...” he grumbled, before suddenly perking up again. Suddenly his face was uncomfortably close to yours as you stared at him weirdly. 

“Snog me, Y/N.”

You simply scoffed as you put a finger on his forehead and pushed him away. 

“I’m not gonna snog you, Parkinson.” 

“Why not?” Liam whined out. 

“I don’t go around kissing friends.”

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” He pointed out as you arched an eyebrow. 

“Not when it comes to your intimate needs.”

“Is this because of Min?” 

You paused for a moment. “What about him?”

“I mean you have been spending awfully a lot of time with him,” Liam pointed out. 

“It’s not like I seek him out.” It wasn’t your fault the castle was awfully small these days. “We just happen to cross paths a lot. We’re in the same house and year.”

“Still,” Your friend shrugged. “Why now? You’ve had six years to talk to him.”

You only shook your head in a dismissive way and didn’t bother to reply. 

The truth was that you didn’t have an answer for him. 

You wondered yourself; Why now?

+

The Great Hall was pretty vacant on a Wednesday afternoon. Many still in their last class for the day, while others were lucky enough to have a free period before dinner and chose to spend the time outside before winter drew closer. 

Yoongi was counted as one of the lucky ones as he sat by the long table, his friends of the same age sitting on either side of him.

Namjoon was busy scribbling down notes from a Transfiguration book, his black-rimmed glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, while Hoseok was staring out into space, absently making a napkin float in the air with his wand. They only missed Seokjin from the same year who was a Gryffindor, but he was too busy with Quidditch practice to be with them.

The boys had three other friends in their close-knit group. But they were younger than them, so classes were scheduled differently.

Yoongi himself wasn’t doing much as he sat there silently reading a book he didn’t even remember the plot of. He must have spaced off some time ago as he read the same sentence over and over again.

A screech pulled him out of his daydreaming, and he looked up to see a familiar black owl swooping towards him. The bird elegantly settled itself on the table in front of him with a letter in its beak.

Taking it, Yoongi gave an affectionate scratch on top of his head. “Thanks, Hades.”

With another sharp squeak, the owl opened its wings and flew back out.

Yoongi looked down at the envelope and let out a sigh as he recognized the rich and thick parchment.

“Another one?” Hoseok’s voice asked him sympathetically.

“Yeah,” the Slytherin only said while he ripped open the dark purple wax seal.

Yoongi.

Your father and I trust that your studies are going well. Keep a reminder that this is your last chance for the highest grades if you have ever cared about your future. We will be visiting your cousin for Christmas - she is getting married to a very high standing officer within the Ministry of East Asia. You should learn something from her. 

Nevertheless, you’ll have to remain at Hogwarts this year. And do not think I have forgotten about your childish decision to drop the Prefect position without consulting us. You will go through with this marriage, which will only benefit our family. So stop being selfish and think of our family for once. 

Do try to keep your distance from those of lesser positions, my dear. We wouldn’t want to taint this arrangement anymore than necessary.

Mother. 

His eyes scanned over the elegant writing of his mother, for each sentence his jaw tightened in annoyance and frustration. The letter was finished with the familiar seal of his family. As if it was some kind of formal greeting instead of just a message to her son.

After finishing it, he threw it on the table as Hoseok reached out for the parchment to see for himself. 

“Is she still going on about that engagement?” Namjoon then spoke up, attention never pulled away from his scribbling. 

“Seems like I have no choice anymore,” Yoongi grumbled out his reply with dark eyes. 

He heard a scoff to his side and glanced over at his Hufflepuff friend. “And she never forgets to remind you to keep away from mudbloods and blood traitors, I see,” he did air quotations as he said the terms, not even the slightest bothered even if he knew a part of it was directed to him. 

“You know my mother’s obsession with blood purity,” Yoongi could only shake his head in shame at that. 

“Do you know who the family is?” Namjoon cut in, changing the subject. 

“Of the bride? No idea. They haven’t even told me who they’re considering. Knowing them it’s probably some pureblood snob from a powerful family.”

“They can’t actually force you, can they?” Hoseok asked in disbelief. “I mean it’s your life!”

“If only it was that easy, mate,” He sighed, now suddenly feeling the weight of the whole situation resting on his shoulders. 

“Why, you’re already seventeen. There’s nothing they can do,” the Hufflepuff countered fiercely.

“Technically they can’t,” Namjoon said, closing his book gently, back straightening, and both knew he was about to come with another intellectual fact of his. “But you also have to remember that without contact with his family, Yoongi wouldn’t have anything to live on. His Gringotts account is connected to his family name. So if he were to just drop it all and run away, it would be futile.”

“He has us!” Hoseok argued. “It’s not like we would let our friend roam around without money.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” Yoongi then snapped, before taking a deep breath. “As much as I despise my blood, I’m not going to spit on my pride and borrow money from any of you.”

“Then what are you going to do?” His friend asked with a look. “You’re not just going to let them ship you off to some unknown girl?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the girl that’s coming to him. If we account for the misogynistic traits of pureblood families.” Namjoon decided to correct, as both of the men present rolled their eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi admitted. “But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it's that I’m not getting married anytime soon.”

“Is that why you dropped out of the prefect position?” Hoseok asked, finally bringing up the subject their whole group had been curious about ever since the term started. “Because of the arrangement?”

“Just a last attempt at trying to persuade my mother. Didn’t exactly work,” Yoongi scoffed, remembering back to his last desperate attempt to try and change his parent's mind. 

When he had first gotten Prefect in his fifth year, Yoongi could admit that he had been quite proud. He was raised to become a great leader and at that time was still under the influence of his parents' larger-than-life ambitions for him. Luckily it wasn’t like that anymore and he was his own person now. Though a person is still chained to his family name. 

“Since when did you and Greengrass get close?” Namjoon suddenly asked. “My girl says she’s quite scary.”

“Your girl?” Hoseok repeated amused, leaning forward in interest. “You mean the girl you met in the library? I thought that was just a one-time thing. How does she even know Greengrass?”

The Ravenclaw shrugged, though there was a visible blush slowly spreading on his cheeks. “We just started to hang out and things changed. Besides, she's a Slytherin as well.”

“The girl who dyed my hair pink?” Yoongi deadpanned as both of his friends snorted at the reminder. 

“I thought you quite liked the look,” Hoseok smirked mischievously. 

“I was just too lazy to change it.'' The older male defended himself, even though he had spent the rest of the semester wearing the shocking color. “And we’re just talking, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Hoseok and Namjoon exchanged glances without the knowledge of their other friend. 

“What if she’s the one you’re arranged to marry?” Namjoon joked. 

“Hah! That would be something,” Hoseok laughed before high-fiving him. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the antics of friends. “You’re both insane.”

Yet a part of him whispered almost tauntingly, but what if?

He brushed it away quickly. 

+

Staring up at the black iron gates that separated you from your house caused you to heave out a tired sigh. The feeling of the impending doom somehow wouldn’t go away. 

You had been called up to the headmistress’ office on a whim while you were on your way to the Great Hall for some dinner. Apparently, there had been an urgent message coming from your mother demanding your presence back at the manor for the evening. 

Knowing your mother, you knew she was probably just being overdramatic about something that didn’t have to do with you but still wanted to have you there for just one reason; they were having guests over and wanted to give the overall false image of a happy and complete family. 

The entire idea of having to play pretend with your parents and obnoxious sister made you want to spend the night in Azkaban instead because your youngest brother had not been called him. 

Taking out your wand, you waved it in front of you as the protective shield identified you as one of the residents before flickering away for a moment to allow you access. The metal gates ground open as you made your way down the path to your house.

After stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you remained silent for a couple of seconds, trying to detect the sounds of chattering coming from the dining room - but there were none. 

Sighing again, you realized you had unfortunately managed to arrive before the guests had. 

“Y/N is that you?”

Before you had the chance to even think about escaping, your mother suddenly came from the direction of the library as she spotted you.

“Merlin, how slow can you be with a portkey at your disposal?” She shook her head before grabbing your shoulders and pushing you into the direction of the living room, her nails digging uncomfortably into your skin. 

“No one told me anything,” You defended yourself before shaking off her hold and walking the rest of the distance yourself. 

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re late and have no time to change and make yourself presentable,” she scowled in reply.

The only people in the living room were your father and sister, both looking presentable and clean - like a pureblood family should look. You stood out from your family’s pristine and overpriced robes being dressed in your Hogwarts uniform. 

You felt your father scan you from head to toe with his chilling and disapproving gaze as you avoided looking at him. You also noticed how your sister just wasn’t looking presentable. She had dressed up more than usual, adorning a velvet emerald green dress that flared out from her waist and to her knees, the sleeves stopping at her elbows with a sweetheart neckline. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Who are we waiting for?” You dared to question your family in the room. 

Your mother rolled her eyes as if expecting you to know the answer already and guilt-tripping you for not being more involved in family affairs. 

“Your sister’s fiance and his family are coming for a visit, how could you forget?” She tsked. 

Ah, the so-called arranged marriage that you had heard about for the past couple of months. You didn’t know about the family or the guy, but they were obviously wealthy enough for your parents to look their best. 

And how were you supposed to know that it was today?

“Then why am I here? I’m not the one getting married,” You responded slightly annoyed. 

“Y/N, stop being rude and behave yourself!” Your father snapped in reply as you flinched back. “I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. No foolish remarks, understood?”

With a clench of your fists, you nodded mutely, not offering any words in fear of your anger showing and making him even more pissy. Your sister simply scoffed before smoothing her hands down the fabric of her dress with an excited glint in her eyes. 

“Mother, do you think he’ll like me?” She asked with the voice of an innocent girl as you resisted the urge to show your irritation. 

“Of course he will, darling!” Your mother cooed, patting down her hair gently. “Any man would be a fool not to like you.”

“We’ll see about that,” You muttered to yourself as your sibling heard and sent you a fleeting glare while you smirked in reply. 

It was at that moment that the flames of your fireplace rose up high and turned green as your family all waited for the guests. The first one to step out was a man. He was smaller than your father in his height and had a bit of a belly prodding out. His hair was black and slicked back and his looks were East Asian. Korean at the looks of things. 

A woman came out next. Small and petite, but with a stern gaze that calculated if you were worthy to be in her presence or not. They were both dressed in expensive clothes, with sparkling pearls adorning the neck of the woman, and a golden watch on the wrist of the man. 

“Dong Wook, Yoon Hee! So good to see you two again!” Your mother went forward to greet both of them enthusiastically, your father following her lead, though a lot more subdued and only offering polite handshakes. You were pretty certain your mother had butchered their names though, holding back a snort. 

“Ah yes, it has been quite a while,” the woman, Yoon Hee, replied calmly with a stiff smile. She reminded you of a statue.

“We are looking forward to this union as much as you are,” The man spoke up, a slight accent in his voice. 

“Of course - where is your son?” Blaise Zabini asked the other couple. 

As you waited uninterested for the supposed husband to arrive, you didn’t offer to introduce yourself and instead kept silent in the background. 

“He was just behind u - oh here he comes.”

Simply being curious by nature, you came a bit closer to the huddling group to get a good look at the guy your sister was to marry. 

It wasn’t someone you expected to see. 

+

He was frozen. 

Not only that, but he was completely speechless as well. 

Min Yoongi was frozen and speechless. And it wasn’t often that someone managed to render him to that state.

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he stepped out of the flames. 

A posh-looking family dressed in their finest robes ready to impress his family? That’s exactly what he got. But the addition of you standing next to them in your Hogwarts uniform definitely caught him off guard for a moment.

But it was just that. A single moment.

He couldn’t let his parents see his slip-up.

But he wanted to laugh. Not only laugh but actually cackle at the fucking irony after his conversation with his friends in the Great Hall. A small bloody world, indeed. 

And by the look of things, it wasn’t you who was assigned as his bride-to-be. Rather your sister, who looked far too excited for his taste.

Yoongi remained silent as he stayed behind his parents, still easily seen because of his superior height in comparison to them. He simply offered a polite nod and tense smile to the three Greengrass family members, who seemed determined to keep the pleasant conversation flowing between them and his parents. 

But he couldn’t help his gaze from straying to where you stood. Several times actually.

It was obvious you were the odd one out. Not just because of your clothing. The distance you kept was fairly obvious, and your facial expressions told him that you’d rather be anywhere else right now. 

The next time he glanced at you again, he was fairly embarrassed to see you already looking at him.

You were arching your eyebrow up in an expression that obviously asked: “Thought I didn’t notice?”

“Yoongi, why don’t you let your fiancé give you a tour of the house and get to know each other?” His mother suggested, sounding pleasantly polite, but her eyes that stared at him told him he had no other choice. 

“Of course, you two go on then,” Mrs. Greengrass agreed and ushered her eldest daughter to his side. 

Just as he was about to follow her out of the room, he heard your voice speak up in the most polite tone he had ever experienced from you. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I took my leave then, mother?”

Yoongi only managed to catch a glimpse of the expression on your parent's faces, but it wasn't good. 

“Why don’t you join them?” His father suddenly spoke up. “Y/N was it?”

You nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Manners,” he nodded approvingly. “We’re to be family, after all, you should join them.”

Your eyes flickered to where he stood and the clear reluctance in them made him have to smother his chuckle into a small cough. 

“But they’re to be married, shouldn’t the two of them spend the time together?” Your mother argued back, voice strained and trying to remain courteous. 

Yoongi’s mother shrugged. “Like my husband said, we are to be family after all. And they’ll have more than enough time to get to know each other during their marriage.” The finality in her words was obvious as Mrs. Greengrass simply nodded. 

He saw you nodding at his parents with a strained smile before making your way over to where he stood with your sister, her hands already holding onto his arm impatiently. 

When the three of you got out of the dining hall and out of hearing range of the adults, his fiancé - which he still didn’t know the name of - was quick to speak up. 

“Couldn’t you just have remained silent, Y/N?” She spoke to you in annoyance as you sent her a sarcastic smile. 

“I couldn’t exactly say no either, Isla ” you retorted from the other side of him. 

Ah, so that was her name. 

“You did that on purpose didn’t you?” Isla, now glared. 

You never let lost the, frankly, malicious expression. “Oh yes, because third wheeling on you and your fiancé’s awkward first meeting was my ultimate goal.”

“That’s a bit offensive, how would you know if I’m awkward” Yoongi finally spoke up after arriving, sniggering like a five-year-old at the look you sent him. 

“It’s not offensive if it’s true,” You replied with a careless shrug. “And I do know you. You might think you’re a smooth talker, but this screams awkwardness.”

“Aren’t you being a bit too cocky right now?” He arched an eyebrow. “We are to be family, after all, sister.”

Your face scrunched up at the word as you punched him in the arm. “That’s disgusting, don’t call me that.”

Yoongi had stumbled slightly to the side, letting out a short laugh at your expression. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

Both of you stopped and turned to look at Isla, who was looking somewhat confused and angry at the same time. 

“What?” You asked her. 

“You two know each other?”

“Isn’t that quite obvious?” Yoongi drawled in reply, looking at her blankly.

“We’re in the same house and year, how do you expect us not to know each other?” You felt the need to clarify for your sister. 

“Why do you always have to ruin things for me, Y/N?” Isla sneered. 

“News flash, darling,” You returned it. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.” 

Rather than replying, Isla simply huffed, grabbing his arm again and pulling him along rather forcefully as Yoongi simply let her. Not a single part of him had been interested or engaged in today’s meeting. But with your presence at his back, following them leisurely, he couldn’t help but be slightly more present with how things would turn out. 

Yoongi hardly paid attention every time Isla spoke and pointed out something of the Greengrass Manor as they walked through the dark, cold halls. He hummed here and there to keep up the pretense of giving a shit, and he knew you knew it as well with your scoffs and snorts now and then as your sister thought she was saying something interesting. They must have walked through a part where your bedroom was located, because he noticed your presence behind him suddenly ducking into a door to Isla’s ignorance, and he took his chance.

“Do you mind pointing me towards the bathroom?” Yoongi kept his voice neutral, and she was more than happy to. “I’ll meet you downstairs with the others, this might take a while.” This time he sugarcoated a bit of a charming smile to convince her to leave, and it worked. 

He waited a few seconds before coming back out and saw the hall empty, making his way towards the door you had slipped into, noticing how it was a smidge open. With a simple push of his hand, it opened with a quiet creak and he took in the spacious space curiously. Decorated after your taste in shades of dark burgundy and browns, a contrast to the rest of the house. But the chilly air remained. 

“Find anything you like?” 

His eyes snapped to your form lounging on a reading nook right by the large windows seeing out into the vast estate gardens, it being pitch black outside. You were leaning against a heap of pillows, a blanket loosely pulled over your bare legs in the uniform. 

“You snuck away, so I was worried.”

“Worried, or curious?” 

Yoongi offered a half-hearted tug of his lips. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” You glanced at him again, taking in his form leaning against the doorway casually. “You can come in, you know.”

“Didn’t want to risk getting hexed, is all.”

“If I wanted to hex you, I would have done it in the compartment.”

“Fair enough.”

Walking inside the room leisurely, he couldn’t help but feel like you were offering him a glimpse of your true self. It was decorated in a way to try and chase away the coldness of the house and your family itself, with colours that reminded him of Gryffindors rather than that of a snake in the dungeons. 

You shifted slightly, and he took the silent invitation to sit down beside you on the wide, pillowed window seat, a few inches of space between you. 

“So? Marriage, huh.”

“Still in talks,” Yoongi mused mysteriously. 

“You obviously don’t want to.”

“Hm, was it my expression that gave it away?” You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic remark, kicking a foot against his thigh. He simply chuckled. 

“Were you even aware?”

“Sure, been for a while. But I never knew who.”

“What’s your verdict?”

His brown eyes met yours, almost with a sparkle in the dim lighting of your room. “That I’m not the only one with family issues.”

You both shared a laugh at the truth of that. 

“That’s to put it lightly.”

“How about you? No prospects set up in your future?”

“Merlin, no.” You scoffed, an almost ironic chuckle following. “My parents would never offer me up to anyone. I’m too…risky. Stubborn and prideful too. They’ve given up on my romantic life and only care about the career aspect of it.”

“I wish that was me.” Yoongi shifted closer, his thigh touching your stocking-covered feet, shoes already on the hardwood floor. 

As if testing the waters of your strange friendship with him, you stretched your legs lightly only to rest them across his lap, and he turned an amused gaze towards you at the action but didn’t push them off. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Your voice was teasing as he shook his head. 

“You want a foot massage at that too, Greengrass?”

“If you’re offering-” Your words cut off in a slight squeal as his fingers tickled the underside of it. “Stop it!”

Luckily he did, but not before grinning mischievously, instead resting his hands on your calves surprisingly relaxed. This was the closest the two of you had ever been in the last two months since the train, a strange yet not-so-abnormal development. 

“We should probably get back down before they start looking.”

Yoongi hummed, agreeing to your statement. “We should.” Yet he didn’t bother moving.

Looking up from your lap you were surprised to him already staring at you. Or observing might be the better word, because there was no hiding the curiosity shining in those, frankly, hypnotizing brown eyes. 

Licking your dry lips, his eyes flickered down to the motion as you clicked your tongue almost smugly. “Anything interesting to see?”

Your body stiffened unexpectedly at the warmth of his surprisingly large hands curling around your calves, his lean body leaning forward with a small, suspicious smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to seduce me, Greengrass.”

Flicking up a brow, you kept your nonchalant attitude. “And if I was?”

“That would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it?” He kept his voice low, lower than his natural voice which was already deep enough to sometimes grate against your skin. “I’m to be your future brother-in-law after all.”

“Thought you weren’t interested in marriage?” You couldn’t help but goat him further, straightening in your lounged position against the pillows that drifted you further towards him. 

“Would still cause a scandal.”

“I don’t peg you for someone who gives a shit,” Your blunt words were rewarded with a huff of his low laugh as you swallowed. Were you nervous? 

“Well, now you’re just tempting me,” Yoongi’s dark eyes were dangerously intense, looking you over as if you wore something much more interesting than the rumpled Hogwarts uniform. 

“Tempting you?” You repeated, not managing to keep your laughter at bay, lips slightly pulling back and revealing your teeth in a small grin. “Didn’t know I was someone able to tempt you.”

His surprise this time seemed to be genuine. “Are you serious?”

Your arms crossed almost defensively. “What?”

“You don’t think guys are interested in you?”

“I didn’t say that,” You replied calmly. “Even so, they hardly make the effort to let me know they’re interested.”

“I told you, it’s the evil smirk and glare you always waltz around with.”

You kicked his leg again in retaliation, as Yoongi laughed, managing to grab a hold of it and tug you forward surprisingly quickly for his lazy demeanor, your thighs now resting sideways on his lap. 

“You are a menace,” You muttered, no real ire in the words, gaze flickering back up to his. 

He was thinking about something, or considering it. That much was obvious to your keen eyes, but you weren’t sure of the specifics. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?” He sounded a bit too relaxed, however. 

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something,” You pointed out almost a little bit too obnoxiously. It didn’t seem to bother him. 

His tongue dragged along the inside of his lower lip as he gave himself just a couple seconds to debate saying what immediately came to mind. 

“I’m thinking of kissing you.” 

Your breath caught, throat seemingly drying up at the bold admission. Your widened eyes taking him in and expecting a joke to follow the words. But he remained scarily serious, lips never twitching up into a smile, only taking in your reaction carefully.

Bloody hell, he was being serious.

As if opening some secret door in your mind, your eyes really took him in this time around. Starting from his immaculate black clothes to his hands and ending at his face, his surprisingly soft-looking lips capturing your attention. 

“That’s…certainly interesting,” You croaked, not managing anything else.

Those mesmerizing pink lips pulled up into the hint of a smirk, feeling much closer than before. “Is it?”

“Scandalous, actually,” You whispered nearly dazed, before managing to look into his eyes again. 

Shit, he was close. Suddenly comprehending the warmth of his hands placed on your thighs above your skirt, the blanket having somehow slipped to the floor and his face only inches away from your own. 

“Very scandalous,” Yoongi hummed, a low sound that you enjoyed more than you cared to admit. “But tempting, no?”

He was getting closer, only a whisper of a breath away from yourself. His breath was fresh, probably having brushed his teeth before arriving with the smell of his spicy, yet tantalizing cologne tickling your nose. 

“They could kill us for this.” There was no secret who they were, with both of your families still waiting downstairs, oblivious to the thoughts both of you were having in the privacy of your room.

"Your best friend is Albus Potter. I'm sure he can convince his father to spare us from the wrath of our uptight parents."

His joke hardly helped.

Your attention was suddenly reminded of the still open door, but before you could say anything it gently flicked shut with a wave of Yoongi’s wand and a murmur of a spell, which you recognized as a silencing spell as well as a detection one just in case.

“Are you afraid?” His whisper ghosted over your skin, the familiar hint of your defiance returning to his satisfaction, scoffing and giving a look of ‘Really?’

He continued, aware of his selfish desires as his goading continued, but not caring enough about the consequences to stop. “What’s stopping you then?”

You took a deep breath as if trying to calm yourself. But the moment you opened your eyes again, Yoongi knew you had decided as a brow flicked up in expectation. 

“Is it ladies first in this situation then?”

With a grin he hardly noticed on himself, Yoongi surged forward with a hand cupping your cheek as he pulled your lips against his firmly, a breath whooshing out of your nose at the action. There was no hesitation on his part as he pulled one of your legs over his hips and switching your positions so you straddled him. 

Your hands traveled up his nape and curled into the strands of his hair as your mouth opened to return the intense kiss. His tongue licked into your own, as he let out a sigh of relief almost, your heart thundering inside your ribcage, wanting to be closer to him, as you did just that. 

Bodies flush against each other you returned his kiss enthusiastically. Feeling his hands slipping underneath the untucked shirt, your breath hitched. 

Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder what other sounds he could get you make. Your fingers combed their way into the back of his hair, carding through the soft strands of it as he gripped at your hips. One hand dragged heavily up your spine, guiding you to arch further forward and against him.

A protest lay ready on your lips as you felt him pull back, only to turn into a soft moan as his lips traveled down your jaw and the sensitive skin of your neck, head tilting to the side to give him more access. 

Actually, you wanted him to continue his kisses exactly there, finger tightened and trying to hold him there in light demand, as Yoongi chuckled against you, teeth nipping gently in response. 

His mouth returned to yours, intense kisses turning slightly more desperate for you as you shifted, hips rising and aligned with his own before grinding down to chase after the heat that had taken over your body, one place specifically flaring for attention. 

He groaned lightly, body leaning back to give you more access this time around, and you continued the slow roll of your hips, skirt bunching around your waist as his hands left your hips and trailed down the sides of your thighs, the stinging cold of his silver ring following that you hadn’t noticed. 

You felt him hardening quickly beneath your ministrations. But it was affecting you more than him, with only the barrier of your knickers separating your throbbing clit compared to the material of his slacks as well as underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” Yoongi murmured softly, finally finding the strength to pull back from your tempting lips. 

“Don’t you dare stop, Min Yoongi,” You breathed out harshly. 

“Oh yeah? Is that a demand, love?” He had the fucking audacity to smile at you, innocently at that, as if he didn’t know what you were going through, his hands cupping the cheeks of your arse and holding you tightly against him.  

With another pointed grind of your hips, you watched in satisfaction as his eyes nearly rolled back in his head with a grunt before fluttering back open, but only making the want in you even needier, your desperate want for him flaring even more. 

With an almost vicious tug of your fingers in his hair to tilt his head back, he hissed at the pinches of pain as you leaned forward to murmur against his ear. “If you do not make me come before leaving this room, I will hex you into oblivion.”

With a hoarse laugh coming from the back of his throat, Yoongi returned to pressing wet kisses against the side of your neck. “You could have just asked, Greengrass.”

He didn’t give you a warning until you felt one of his hands sneakily slip to the front and pull your knickers to the side as his thumb found your swollen clit embarrassingly quickly. Your breath hitched due to your sensitivity before easing out into a moan as he started circling the nub, your hips twitching and rolling slowly as if following the motion.

“So responsive,” Yoongi hummed in satisfaction, gaze locked onto your expression to watch your response to every move of his fingers. 

You felt him slide them between your cunt, finding your wet entrance as he slowly pushed a single, long finger inside, never stopping his torturous, slow circling. Your hands found the nape of his neck, gripping almost too tight. 

“Fuck, stop teasing me,” You begged, practically draped over his body, sweat coating your skin underneath the white blouse. “Please.”

Grappling around to find his face, you pressed your lips desperately against his, trading slow open-mouthed kisses as he continued his dance against your clit while pushing a second finger inside your squelching cunt. 

Your moans started breaking up, hips quickening and trying to chase that building feeling of completion, but his other hand which gripped your hip tightened, pulling you to a stop. 

“If I had known how wet you get for me I would have fucked you sooner,” It was Yoongi’s turn to exhale harshly, your pleasure seemingly affecting himself as his fingers sped up, pulling a long whine from you as your blunt nails dug into his skin. 

Yoongi didn’t seem to mind. 

He felt it coming, the way your whole body was starting to tense up, your continued whisper begging him not to stop, your thighs nearly caging him in as he listened gladly, face tugging into the crook of your neck as his own arousal was throbbing beneath his clothes. 

The moment his thumb pressed down against your swollen nub, you came with a shuddering moan, your walls clamping down on his fingers and pulsing as your thighs shook. His circling slowed down, helping you through your high until you stilled above him, breathing harshly and wiggling to make him stop. 

Listening to the silent demand, he made sure you were watching him as he pulled his fingers out and lifted them to his mouth, sucking your essence off as your half-hooded gaze followed the movement. 

“Delectable,” Yoongi grinned, watching the addicting way you ducked your head in embarrassment, a new emotion coming from you. 

As if realizing what had just occurred, you nearly jumped off him, but stumbled to the side from being seated so long, his clean hand coming up to balance you as your skirt fell back down to cover you. 

Glancing in the mirror, you were shocked at how thoroughly fucked you look. Hair slightly frizzled, clothes askew, and your skin flushed down to your neck. Yoongi couldn’t look more satisfied, leaning back on his hands and taking in your appearance with a quick scourgify charm and cleaning you both up. 

“Stop looking so…smug!” You couldn’t help but huff. 

“Can’t help it,” He grinned again, an expression he offered you much more freely now. “I asked for a kiss but you gave me something much more, love.”

“You started it.” Was your mature reply. 

“And I don’t regret it.”

“Bloody hell!” You cursed, suddenly reminded where the two of you were, and spun around to look at the clock. Fifteen minutes. 

“We need to go.”

For once he nodded in agreement. “You go first. Find some excuse that I’m in the library or something and I’ll be there soon enough.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? Why are you not coming?”

As if talking to a child, you followed his pointed gaze towards his lap at the bulging evidence as your mouth parted in realization, a cough scratching against your throat. 

“Right, that’s…my fault. But you are not jacking off in my room!”

Yoongi simply laughed. “I’m not gonna jack off, Greengrass. I only need a few minutes to calm down. Go ahead, alright.”

With another suspicious glance, you relented. 

“Fine.” 

Walking briskly out of your bedroom after making sure everything looked alright, a part of didn’t deny the urge to run away from the bizarre situation that just happened between you two. 

So much that you nearly begged your parents to let you go back to Hogwarts for the evening, in the middle of their tea time before dinner. They let you, luckily. And with a tense goodbye to the Min’s, you rushed out of the dark manor as if fire was licking at your heels, vanishing with the portkey outside the iron gates.

+ 

Min Yoongi was avoiding you. 

An irritating discovery that made the anger in you boil over. 

A strange moment occurred in the common room one night as you stepped inside between Scorpius and Albus to see the man sitting in the leather armchair by the fireplace, only to stand up and leave the moment he caught your eye with a flat expression. 

Obviously, you had expected him to seek you out after your quick retreat from the manor, but that was simply due to the fact you didn’t feel like being in a room of your family after having been finger fucked to oblivion by the one person they wanted as a son-in-law for your sister. 

So you had waited, tensely at that, for days for him to find you. Days went by until you managed to see the first sight of in in the Great Hall with his usual friends. But he had ignored you, or simply not paid attention. 

The second time had been in the halls of your classes, with him coming from the opposite way. But he had been engrossed in a conversation with his Gryffindor friend to the point you were unsure if he had even noticed you. 

It wasn’t until the third time in the common room that you knew for sure the bastard was avoiding you. And you had no bloody clue why, because you weren’t the one to initiate the kiss and cross the line the two of you had drawn. 

It was him. So his mess to clear up, and not yours. 

By the second week of no communication besides exchanged glares from your part, and empty looks from him, you’ve had enough. 

You had a free period - lo and behold, so did he. He was sitting in the Great Hall, surrounded by all of his friends, listening silently as they spoke animately around him. 

Everything silenced, however, the moment you stopped behind him, hands on your hips as you stared daggers into him. Yoongi had the nerve to not turn around and face you, despite being aware of you there. 

“Can I help you, Greengrass?” He simply drawled uninterested, igniting the cribbling irritation you were already feeling. 

“We need to talk,” You grinded out, ignoring the obvious looks his friends were exchanging between themselves. 

“About what?”

“You know what!” Was your snap. Ready with another pissed-off retort, he finally heaved heavily before standing up and stepping over the bench. His slightly superior height over yourself added to your anger, as he tilted head in expectation. 

“After you.”

With a glare you lead the way out of the Hall, going until the end of the long hallway and underneath a hidden alcove many didn’t pay attention to. Turning around with arms crossed over your chest, Yoongi leaned back against the stone walls with a bored expression. 

“What the fuck is your problem?”

He didn’t react, only offering you a glance of attention. “Don’t tell me you expected anything?”

“What?”

“It was a bit of fun, Greengrass. Hardly need for a deep conversation after.”

The bloody nerve of him. 

“How dare you!” You spit out, the harshness of those words actually catching his attention. “How fucking dare you. Tricking me, using me for my body and only to avoid me after?”

Guilt flashed in his eyes, of how this situation felt for you as a woman. But it disappeared quickly after, as he steeled himself yet again, features falling flat. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, but that isn’t why I’m avoiding you.”

“Then why?”

“I’m your sister’s fianceé, remember,” He delivered coldly. “If the family knows what we did it will ruin both of our reputations.”

“You know I don’t give a fuck of my reputation!” You shook your head in near dizziness, gesturing between you almost wildly. “I’m trying to fix this friendship.”

“It was a bad idea to begin with. We’re to be family after all. Can’t have us fucking secretly in broom cupboards now, do we?” His crass words somehow managed to make you flinch, the prospective shame of being viewed as the secret sidepiece to your sister’s husband. 

This whiplash of a change in his behavior was slowly drawing your energy. Two weeks ago he had told you there was no marriage if he could stop it, and now he had seemingly already settled into the future role of a pureblood husband. 

Despite only having known each other for nearly three months, you had figured him out fairly quick. He was cold in his interactions with others, and borderline bored. But you had seen him with his friends.

And you.

That gentle smile, teasing quick of his smirk or rare bright grin whenever he truly let himself go without fear of being judged. 

He was a man who cared deeply but hid it beneath an exterior of aloofness and severity due to the demands of his family and expectations of the world. Something the two of you shared, and been able to understand from each other. 

Yoongi was someone who had become dear to you in a short amount of time, even to the surprise of your own friends - who had watched the development in fascination. 

You thought he at least had the decency to feel the same about you. If not a potential lover, then at least a respected friend. 

Brushing his slightly parted black hair back with a hand, he rove another expected gaze over you with a sigh. “If we’re done here-”

“Why do you keep shutting me out?” You spat out in anger, stopping him in his tracks to turn around and walk away. 

His back was tense underneath the black school robe. From your view, you saw how he clenched his teeth to refrain from saying something he would regret. Not that he hadn’t already. Only lucky that you could take a biter fiercer than anyone else. But you didn’t care about filter at the moment. You would be damned if you let him walk away from you without a clear explanation of his change of personality. 

“I said it’s none of your business!” he snapped in return, the first time to raise his voice at you. 

You didn’t bother to hide the scoff coming out of you. “Well, you made it my bloody business the moment you spoke to me!”

Yoongi still didn’t bother to turn around and face you, so you could only see his side profile. Your eyes trailed down to his hands that were tightened into fists by his side. Nails digging into his skin creating marks. His black hair was messier than usual like he’d run his fingers through it too many times during the last hour. 

“Bloody hell, Y/N, just leave me alone,” he whipped around to glare at you coldly, mouth pulled up in a sneer. An expression you had seen many times, but jokingly. Never had it been pointed at you, and you nearly flinched at the viciousness of it. 

You resisted the urge to whip out your wand and curse him into oblivion. With a determined mind, you walked up to him and grabbed his wrist tightly. 

As if trying to squeeze some sense back into him. 

He was void of any emotions. Telling you nothing of what he was feeling, his walls up higher than you had ever seen, reminding you of a fortress to never be shaken. 

“You need to stop pushing me away,” You told him in a hard voice. “Not everyone is out to betray or control you. Fuck, I care about you, okay!”

His eyes flickered down to meet your own, but they still remained blank, making the pit in your stomach grow. 

Yoongi pulled his wrist away from your hold. “Stop caring.”

And then he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the hallways of the castle.

+

Christmas came and went.

Your holidays having been spent completely at the Malfoy Manor to your parent’s chagrin.

But you had remained firm in your choice after hearing the Min’s were coming over again with their son to spend more time together for your sister’s benefit. So you had made sure to stay the bloody hell away. 

Min Yoongi had kept to his words since that faithful argument in the hallways, completely ignoring you and acting like you never talked to each other before. Just like it had been the six first years. 

It annoyed you how much you still thought about that heartless bastard. You had done swimmingly well so far until that stupid day on the train. Six years without a single word towards him, yet he had managed to flip your world upside down as if he had been the missing piece in it all along. 

Scorpius had noticed it. Albus had noticed it. For fuck’s sake, even Liam Parkinson who could be as daft as a troll sometimes, noticed it after the argument. 

“So his excuse was that you couldn’t be friends because he’s engaged to your harpy of a sister?” Albus brought it up again one morning during breakfast, the first week back to Hogwarts after the holidays. 

“Yes.” You sighed wearily, at this point having no energy to care anymore. Even though you knew otherwise. 

“Even after he finger fucked you?” Liam deadpanned beside you, as a unanimous groan went through the rest of your friends. 

“That’s disgusting. I don’t need to hear that about my cousin,” Scorpius grimaced, pushing away his nearly demolished plate of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns. 

“You think I have a magical vagina or something, Parkinson?” You flicked up a brow, but Liam being Liam only leaned in with a saucy wink. 

“I could believe it.”

“Merlin, stop it, please.” Albus looked seemingly green from his seat. “You’re basically my sister, so please stop talking.”

“A sister that you made out with last year,” Scorpius muttered loud enough for the group to hear as Albus blushed red to the tip of his ears.

“W-we were drunk!” He argued with a small glare. “I thought we already agreed to let it go.”

“Don’t worry, Al.” With an innocent batter of your eyes, you joined in on the heckling. “You can admit I was a damn good kisser.”

“Shut up.” Throwing a grape in your direction, you simply caught it with a hand before popping it into your mouth with a teasing grin. 

Slinging an arm over your shoulders, Liam sighed almost sadly. “Why does Al get to kiss you, but I don’t?”

Leaning back on a hand, you stared. “You want to kiss right now?” 

He didn’t expect the reply, startling with slightly wide eyes before they narrowed again, detecting the tug of your lips with a waggling finger. 

“You are one sneaky witch.”

“I know,” Sharing a chuckle, all four of you finished breakfast before heading out for a walk in the cold, but sparkling snow-covered grounds warmly wrapped in your scarves and mittens. 

It was a Sunday; everyone was seemingly dead tired after the first week of classes and sleeping beside your group. It was the last year for everyone, so you blamed it on wanting to spend as much time as possible before leaving the castle that had been your home for the last seven years. 

Just as you were about to wrap your green and silver scarf tightly around your neck as the main doors to the grounds came into view, Liam suddenly stood in your path with a suspicious grin. 

“What?” You eyed him slowly.

“From a scale of 1 to 10, how much would you describe your vindictive vendetta against Min? 

Looking to the side to catch the eyes of both Scorpius and Albus, who were obviously biting back smiles themselves, you frowned. 

“What are you babbling on about?”

“Just answer please.”

“I don’t know, 8.5?” The number came to you randomly but seemed realistic enough to describe your feelings.

Liam nodded seriously as if this was some serious discussion. “8.5, certainly very high. High enough for a drastic plan.”

You were confused. Utterly baffled about what he was talking about, simply staring without words to say. 

Then he smirked, but not the kind that you were used to. The one he used to jokingly flirt and try to drag you into stupid situations. This was the smirk you had seen him use against witches enough of times to see them melting at his feet.

However, your wariness only rose. 

“Just don’t hex me, alright?”

“What are you-”

Before you knew it, he grabbed both ends of your scarf and tugged you against him, lips pressing against yours as your eyes widened in shock. 

He leaned back just enough to mutter cheekily. “Just play along.”

Resisting a roll of your eyes, you listened. Letting them flutter shut as his mitten-covered hands came up to cup your cheeks and draw you into the kiss even further. He never used his tongue, only moving his lips against yours which you returned, hands loosely holding onto his waist until he pulled back.

“Hm,” Liam pursed his lips thoughtfully with a nod. “No lie there. Damn good kisser.”

Despite the bizarreness of it, you laughed. 

“That was ridiculous,” Scorpius shook his head, but there was an amused smile playing at his lips. 

“Explain,” You finally demanded. 

It was Albus who came over, grabbing your chin and turning your gaze in the direction of the doors just in time to see the familiar form of Yoongi disappearing from your views. 

Your mouth parted in realization at what Liam had tried to do. 

“You scheming pieces of shit.” Your voice was proud, however, and the boys knew it as they high-fived before pulling you towards the grounds, all of you cackling like idiots.

“Let’s hope things only go up from here, huh,” Liam pulled you into his side while walking, and with a grin you stayed there the entire trip down to Hogsmeade. 

+

You ran into each other not even three days later.

Literally nearly crashing coming from different directions before rounding a corner and you jumped back at the last second. Yoongi had halted as well, startled eyes cooling down swiftly and taking you in before moving to brush past you. 

“How was Christmas?” 

He paused, to your relief. And even replied. “As usual. Nothing interesting despite the dinner.”

“Did your parents leave for Korea?” You remembered him mentioning it in brief passing and how he was supposed to stay at Hogwarts before shit went down at the manor. 

“They did,” A tense nod. “Right after and I returned to school.”

“Ah, right.” Fuck, this was awkward. And ridiculously tense. “I’ll just-”

“And you?”

You were shocked he even bothered to ask. “Good. It’s always a nice time at the Malfoy’s. My aunt Astoria loves Christmas and makes a big deal out of it.”

“The Malfoys, huh.” Yoongi looked like he had eaten something horrid. “I assume Parkinson was there as well?”

Liam? You frowned in confusion, why would he suddenly mention him? “Yeah, he came over for a bit.”

“I see.”

He was acting odd. More than usual. 

Then it went up to you. The kiss from two days ago, that Yoongi had obviously witnessed in his passing and you didn’t even realize. 

You couldn’t stop the chuckle as his brown eyes zeroed in on the sound with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” You shook your head, but your laugh kept spilling out. 

“You obviously find something amusing, Greengrass.”

“You’re the ones who’s amusing.” For the first time in a while, you smiled at him, only briefly, but enough to loosen the tense expression on him. 

“You’re not making sense.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Min Yoongi.”

He scoffed, cheeks slightly rosy from the winter cold in the halls and skin looking even paler than usual with the white backdrop from outside the large windows. His hair was still black, no new colour this time around, slightly longer in the nape of his neck but not much changed.

“What makes you think I’m jealous?”

“This right now.” You replied simply but decided not to goad him any further. “I guess the engagement is a go?

Yoongi was considering lying, you could see it. The way he didn’t reply right away was enough of a sign. “My parents…haven’t decided if your sister is a good match for me yet.” He admitted slowly. “Due to the dinner during Christmas.”

“Shocking.” You were anything but. 

Your sister might bear the Greengrass and Zabini names, as well as an acceptable desk job at the Ministry, however, she was shallow and childish. Always craving the best, and wanting to appear the best. Traits that people easily looked through within the first few minutes of meeting her, and you doubted the keen eyes of Yoongi’s mother hadn’t seen the same. 

There were negatives to being a pureblood in the presence of other purebloods. It was a competition of judgment and pride. There was never more than trying to see through carefully built walls, being the first one to win. 

And your family, or sister in this matter had clearly lost with impressing the imposing Min family. 

Yoongi was saying they were considering it. But you both knew that was just a polite way of saying they had already decided that Isla Zabini Greengrass was not worth of their name. 

This was also why you assumed he actually gave you time of the day again. There was no impending marriage to your family pinning him down. No way for him to use the excuses he had made to ignore you the past month and a half. 

“You must be happy.”

“It is a relief.” Honesty, wow. Yoongi must really feel bad.

He was tense, ridiculously so, and you almost wanted to torture him a little more. But maybe not today.

“Are you done having your head up your ass now?”

With that single sentence, his shoulders eased. Face falling into a grim line as his head dropped, guilt coating his whole shape and form. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

Your lips twitched, repeating. “I know.”

Yoongi finally looked at you, his eyes were so obviously sad it was almost funny. “You don’t know. I was an asshole to you, just because I was afraid.”

“Out of all people in this castle, I’m the one who might just understand your situation the most.”

This time it was his turn to smile, although ruefully. “I know. I was stupid not to see it.”

“What now then?”

“Friends?”

You laughed, loud and clear, the voice ringing out in the empty corridor leading to the Slytherin common room. It took you a few minutes to calm down enough to not burst into new spurts of laughter. 

Yoongi remained silent through it all, wincing as your eyes met his with aq raise of your brows, seeing through his bullshit as easy as walking through a ghost. 

“Cut your bollocks and tell me the truth.”

He swallowed. 

Yoongi obviously didn’t want to be friends. Who the fuck stays friends after kissing as they had. After where his hands had touched your body. Seen a side of you no one else had. Fuck no, not a single part of him wanted to remain as just friends. 

He wanted you, quite frankly. Craved you at this point. 

But not just your body. 

He wanted everything that you could offer him. Your very soul if you were willing. He was ready to accept it all. 

But he couldn’t voice it out loud, fearing what he had done was enough to damage to the little bond that managed to sprout between you. 

“You need to say it,” You coaxed him firmly. “Or else I’ll walk away.”

Fuck, it was now or never. 

“Can you give me another chance?” Yoongi searched your expression carefully, but you were tricky witch even to him. 

“As friends?” You repeated slowly. 

“No, I don’t want your friendship,” He managed to sound more firm this time around, seeing the way your eyes widened only the tiniest bit. “I want you, Y/N. Just you. No strange friendship tip-toeing around each other. I want you with me.” Yoongi paused almost nervously, before adding in a low voice. “If you’ll have me.”

You bit back the grin wanting to spread across your face, skin flushing with the words he offered you so sincerely you almost teared up.

“What about your marriage?”

He waltzed up to you, inches apart as you stumbled back in surprise, the stone wall luckily meeting you for support. His large hands cupped your cheeks lovingly, eyes crinkling up in the corners as he smiled without abandon, sending your heart thumping happily. 

“My parents wanted a Greengrass as a wife.” His thumb brushed over your lower lip as your lips parted, his smile turning into a scheming smirk, muttering against your lips. “Who said they won’t get one?”

You snorted, letting down your guard, hand trailing up his chest and shoulders before wrapping around his neck. “You are one hell of a Slytherin, Min Yoongi.”

And then you kissed him. 

The world and its problems could wait. 

For now, all you wanted was to remain in the arms of the stubborn, prideful man in front of you, kiss him until you both ran out of breath. 

So this has been in the drafts since 2018. Heh. 

[velvetvexations]

My early socialization experience was weird as hell.

My mother wanted a daughter to treat like a doll with all the extremely gendered nonsense that entails - and was also a second wave radfem and former political lesbian, which...yeah she was half all in on the gendered shit, but also half in weird denial about it. My dad...is the one I got my auDHD from, and the result was that he raised me exactly the same way his parents raised him - which was also very gendered, but he didn't notice that. He didn't notice how differently they treated him and his sister. He just noticed what they did right by him and what he wanted to repeat. He taught me how to use tools and rebuild car engines and be handy and outdoorsy; while my mother was giving me the whole "oh sweetie don't get your dress dirty (: oh yes you should be a #girlboss in STEM but fixing a chair is too dangerous for you to do alone why don't you get your dad to help (: are you suuuuure you can lift that 8-pound object???" thing, my dad was teaching me how to operate a forklift and training me with good lifting technique and encouraging me to haul shit twice my size and letting me learn the kinds of lessons that can only be learned by minor injury. Damned near the only thing he WASN'T doing was the whole "man up" schtick, but even THAT I kinda got a detoxified version of; there was a lot of value placed on keeping my complaints in perspective, building my emotional regulation to the...best of my limited ability, and trying to solve problems independently - again, his WHOLE thing was pretty much just "what would I repeat from what my parents did to me? What would I change?" With absolutely no regard paid to "what was different for my sister? What would have been different if I'd been a girl?" Because he straight up didn't notice that shit.

As a result I fundamentally don't care that he can't quite get gendered terms right for me, because whatever, he's always treated me like just a she/her boy anyway.

Meanwhile, like I said, my mother considered herself a feminist, full on tried to force herself to be a lesbian about it in her 20s, and yet she STILL constantly underestimated my physical strength, treated my appearance like it was the most important thing about me, and kept pushing me to sit down and "be polite" - but she usually didn't SAY these things had anything to do with me being a girl, and in many cases probably didn't even realize they were herself. "Girls can do anything boys can do - but also if you fight back against your [also prepubescent, but male] bullies They Will Kill You To Death They Are Stronger You Cannot Win" was a sentiment I got (in much less clear terms) ALL THE TIME from her through elementary school. She was obsessed with my appearance, in that distinct radfemmy "well sure butches are cool but uh by butch you still mean skinny in form-fitting clothes with a pixie cut, right?" kind of way. She would never say I should dress "more ladylike" and would get angry at family members who WOULD say that out loud - she even introduced me to the concept that crossdressing is fine (sometimes) and that trans men exist (in which she made it clear she thought of us as just weird butch women) - but she would get really, really weird and cruel if I wore jeans she considered "unflattering".

And that's just the thing, about why all flavors of radfems are wrong about how "socialization" does and doesn't impact people! She never tied gender to a good half or so of those messages, so even after I started transitioning, they still felt like they were always aimed at me. Meanwhile, I got the same kind of auDHD from my dad that made him never see the gender of his own upbringing, only "things my parents did that I would repeat vs. things they did that I would not" - I only realized just HOW aggressively gendered my mother's behavior was by studying sociology years later.

Terfs are wrong that early socialization is destiny, everyone responds to the same messages the same way, and GNC "men" are treated wonderfully.

T[i]rfs are wrong that we all ONLY ever internalize messages aimed at our ACTUAL genders and trans men can just shake off misogyny because it's not REALLY aimed at us, regardless of whether that claim stays in the realm of "because WE know deep down that something is off when we're being called the wrong thing" or gets all the way into the batshit belief that everyone has ESP for people's essential soul gender and GNC men ARE treated just fine and it's ONLY eggmode trans women who get mistreated (and they all do regardless of how well they do or don't perform masculinity) and trans men are all totally raised as men and never treated misogynistically in the first place because of that soul gender ESP.

And ALL radfems are wrong that there's a rigid, universally applicable set of rules as to what socialization looks like based on your gender - just because there ARE broad patterns that DO need to be acknowledged doesnt erase the fact that from person to person there's a LOT of variance for a LOT of potential reasons, and that ends up meaning that in order to figure out what it means for trans people, you DO have to do a whole individual level examination - including by diving into the whole dysphoria-inducing disaster that is being perceived as the wrong gender and all that comes from it.

Also I sometimes half-jokingly identify as cis-bigender because between the thing with my parents, the fact that when I hit puberty it became apparent that I'm actually intersex, and the fact that I'm pretty sure I'd have been on the femboy-transfem cusp had I been AMAB, over 10 years into transition I finally feel manly enough to go high femme when the mood strikes, and I've finally gotten comfortable calling myself a girl when it's funny, I think that's a very fun label and about as accurate and honest as any single term comes.

I wish I could frame this ask.

[morganalatina21]

Manipulating Death: Chapter Twelve

Series Summary: When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.

a/n: yo yo! (Timmy's voice). I know, I know, it's been a rough couple of months since I last posted something but i was just starting college (i passed in one of the top best in my country so I'm really glad), and now that everything's outta the way I can go back to writing so better get used to receive some news from me baby!

Aaand, Ik this one's a little shorter than usual but i just wanted to announce that im back so... yeah

(Also, english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance lol)

Last Chapter | Masterlist

*********************************************

When summer came and Harry had to go back to Hogwarts and then back to his uncle’s house, Sirius was ready to throw hands.

The remaining marauders grew a very solid anger towards their old headmaster after everything Y/n and Regulus told them about, and were ready to disobey him one more time, however after some long days of talking, they decided to play the game.

If Dumbledore was allowed to lie to them and risk their lives as if they were a bunch of pawns, so could the Order.

So Harry, Hermione and Ron went to Hogwarts to finish their fifth school year, the Potter would write letters to his sister everyday and once every two days they’d talk through the fireplace.

He’d tell her how his day was, how he missed the twins fooling around, how Umbridge was such a pink bitch he could throw up; and Y/n would give small hints about how their search for the Horcruxes was going, and the best way to hex his professor without her knowing.

He avoided referring to her as a sister, and just went with “a very dear friend”, and also never mentioned Dumbledore, just in case he decided to somehow capture Edwiges and read the messages.

But they were so happy being able to talk to each other basically everyday after being almost sixteen years apart.

The boy was happy he, for once, could write home, to someone who was actually interested, some family.

Of course, before, he had Sirius, but the man saw him as a replacement for James, and Harry viewed him the same way; this was different, he didn’t saw Y/n as his mother, neither did her.

But it was pretty clear he was jealous whenever someone else interacted with her.

Like this time when Hermione told him she sent a letter to Y/n to ask about some potions and how she was healing, Harry turned red immediately and wondered why she was so worried if she wasn’t her sister.

Or whenever they were talking through the fireplace and Regulus would be right beside her in the room.

“It’s like” He mumbled, “You guys have your own families and I don’t interfere, let me have mine!”

Speaking about her healing, it took longer than expected, and she hid that from Harry, not wanting the boy to worry over nothing, but Regulus only allowed her to step out of the bedroom when her brother was going back to Petunia’s house.

“Honestly, I do think I will die here.” She confessed one day when he came in with her meal. “But of boredom.”

The day Harry had to go back to his uncle's, he decided to see his sister one last time before spending the entire summer without her.

And everyone got a pretty clear view from Harry's jealousy that day.

Remus left the house to receive the golden trio outside, not knowing an exact hour they'd be there, so it was just Regulus and Sirius downstairs and Y/n in her room.

The kids' presence not being exactly announced when they arrived, both Black Brothers thinking she'd be asleep and didn't wanted to bother the poor girl.

Well, they were wrong.

Because her voice came loud and clear, not even a little groggy: "Hey Reggie?"

They perked up at that, the man standing up.

"I'm bored, do you wanna come lay with me so I can play with your hair?"

Their eyes widened, staring at the younger Black in pure shock. He nodded his head at them, as in greeting goodbye and started going upstairs.

Mid-way he started running towards her, knowing she'd probably change her mind if he took too long. "Yes!"

Harry was fuming, as red as Ron's hair.

He busted into his sister’s room and finding her messing with Regulus’ curls. The boy shooed him away harshly and dropped his own head on her lap, staring at the Black with a cold glare that made Y/n laugh.

After a couple minutes, they decided to hang out with everyone else, and Harry would never leave his sister, following her around like a shadow and even making Regulus jealous, and it was so comic for his brother.

She told Harry things they couldn't talk about through letters, like the possessor's training that Reggie was responsible for, or how the Horcruxes hunt was going in full details.

"That reminds me, I got something for you." Y/n announced before sprinting upstairs, to which Regulus was really unhappy about. But she then came back a few moments later, with an old and messy hairbrush on one hand. "It was our father's, it's the only thing I have from him and I want you to have it."

"Are you sure?" He reluctantly asked, holding it as if it could break and disappear if he as much breathed on it. But Y/n shook her head yes with a huge smile.

"Consider it an early birthday gift."

The boy felt his eyes watering, sucking in a hiccup and holding the Potter in a tight hug that almost made him cry his eyes out.

Throughout the rest of the year, Harry would look at the hairbrush almost as if he was begging for his dad's guidance. He felt back on his third year, standing by the lake, with Sirius and his own image passing out on the other side, waiting for his dad to come and save the day.

Except that right now, he knew it was basically his own mind giving him advice. The boy was desesperately trying not to get his hopes high that Y/n could bring them back to life.

She sure was powerful, but after her death she appeared to get weaker and weaker by the day.

He'd get letters from Remus or one of the Black brothers saying she was too sick to write, that they'd keep him uptaded on any important news.

But how could Harry stay fucking calm? Deep down, he felt lied to. He had no reason to suspect his godfather or his sistser's godfather, but Merlin there was something wrong.

And he was right.

Because a week after he arrived at the Dursley's, Regulus Black woke up to an empty bed except for himself.

Calling out her name, no answer.

The basement just as empty as the bed.

Sirius and Remus? Clueless.

Kreacher? Obliviated.

Y/n Potter was, once again, missing.

****************************************************

Next Chapter

Taglist: @intoanothermind @moonysupremacy01 @maraudersarelifee @elleraelockwood @darkenwolfie @hopesf @lukewearingbeanies @azuredgalaxies @klazina-couch-potato @goldensunshineshit @kaverichauhan @venomsvl @mrs-billyrussooo @mikadorbs @iavenderh6ze @wizardsgrace @reblog-princess @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @roroswitherose @s-we-e-t-t-ea @ok-boke @warcelia @danyxthirstae01 @b-tchymoon @lovely-maryj @the-sander-fander @regulusblackloverr @coffeeaddictednymph @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @teamspideyman @artemis-the-ace @theprettytragic @loidforgerishotashell @criminalyetminimal @amortyong @qualitywitchchaos @musicconversedance @xcharlottemikaelsonx @esposadomd

[silversword7000]

KAFKA AND THE SMITHS (Plus Bonus Freud!)

Hey!! So I had to read Kafka by David Zane Mairowitz and Robert Crumb as well as Freud For Beginners by Richard Appignanesi and Oscar Zarate for my class and since I understand the world through music, once I got the idea in my head that Kafka would be a Smiths fan I literally could not stop thinking about it till I wrote about it. Anyways so this is a long post (Beware!) and each song I speak about is intended to be listening to whilst reading the paragraph about it, especially with the instrumentals you may miss a few things especially if you haven't heard the songs before!! So this is for my @roboticeroticelectric class but I am posting it here so that I could format it the way it deserves. Have fun delving into my Smithsanity!

“The Judgement” and “Shakespeare’s Sister”

Shakespeare’s Sister is the song that represents “The Judgement” to me. It represents the relationship between Georg and his father. “Young bones groan and the rocks below say ‘throw your skinny body down son’” is the perfect picture of his father’s own condemnation of Georg and his engagement. This line represents suicidal thoughts to me. The main character of the song is exhausted and the thought of ending it all pops in their head like an intrusive thought. Then the song moves into “But I’m going to meet the one I love” which represents Georg and his fiancee. This is where the song moves in a different direction than Kafka’s writing. The next line is “so please don’t stand in my way”, the character in the song is defiant in a way that Georg is too under his father’s thumb to be. That attitude is reflected in the line “No mama let me go!” where the singer is being held back by a parental figure. Though the controlling figure in Shakespeare’s Sister is a mother, this line still highlights Georg’s inner feelings towards his father. He knows that he is trapped by him and he is too afraid to break away from him so at the end of The Judgement he ends up throwing his skinny body down into the water and drowning himself at his father’s command in the way that the character in Shakespeare’s Sister ends by still being trapped by their mother. It is notable to mention the instrumentals in “Shakespeare’s Sister” as well. They evoke a western style which, juxtaposed against the more serious lyrics, creates a humorous feeling of discord that sounds like a musical representation of the mix of the serious and the absurd t of Kafka’s writing. 

Kafka and his relationship to self and “Unlovable”

Unlovable to me is hugely representative of Kafka’s self-hatred. “I know I’m unlovable, you don’t have to tell me” This is literally so Kafka!!! I think deep down, somewhere Kafka might believe that he can be loved because of Milena but even then, the thought of real human companionship still utterly terrified him to the point that he kept making excuses not to see her. “I know I’m unlovable, you don’t have to tell me. Message received loud and clear, loud and clear.” Those lines feel like Kafka’s relationship with his father to me. His father constantly yells at him about frivolous things and Kafka is still completely in his control. His father communicates to him that he is “unlovable” by being a failure of a son and Kafka internalizes this and never shakes it. The line “And if I seem a little strange, well that’s because I am.” reflects to me the way that the world sees Kafka. Nobody truly understands him but himself. He knows what he is but he is often seen as a strange man. The instrumentals in Unlovable bring to mind Kafka walking around alone on the dark, empty streets of Prague. Ambling around with no real direction, still trapped by the city like he is trapped by his father. The instrumentals sound very singular to me, as if reflecting how the singer is alone in the vast expanse of the world. However, the song that is representative of Kafka and Prague is “William, It Was Really Nothing”

Prague, relationships, and “William, It Was Really Nothing”

“The rain falls hard on a humdrum town, this town has dragged you down.” How is that not Prague to Kafka? For most of his life he is condemned by Prague and he knows it all too well. Still, however, he is unable to leave it, it’s a part of him. The instrumentals and the vocals give a positive feel to one of the more lyrically depressing songs of the Smiths. It creates an incredible contrast that to me, evokes the same striking feeling of Kafka’s absurd pieces of writing. The instrumentals feel like the large city of Prague but the lyrics are the way that Prague has Kafka trapped. “Oh, no, and everybody’s got to live their life and God knows I’ve got to live mine, God knows I’ve got to live mine.” This line brings to mind him, and all of the other people forced to work unfulfilling jobs in bureaucracies that make no sense. It parallels the fruitlessness of “The Trial” and how none of the authorities' rules are ever explained. K has to resign himself to his life  of sitting and waiting for permission to enter the door. Speaking of frivolities, in “William, It Was Really Nothing” a girl asks another character “Would you like to marry me, and if you’d like you can buy the ring” and then the singer responds with “She doesn’t care about anything.”  This is Felice to Kafka. She does not care that he enjoyed his watch running fast, she just goes right ahead and “fixes it” for him. She does not understand Kafka and he in turn, feels haunted by her but also feels powerless to escape his engagement to her. He’s trapped by her “siren claws” and she most likely does not even understand how she torments him. “William, William it was really nothing, it was your life.” That is how the autobiography Kafka feels to me. Kafka probably thought of his own life as nothing, but here we are, a hundred years after his death, still analyzing his works and picking apart the life that he lived. 

Freud and “Barbarism Begins At Home”

(There was no Meat Is Murder blinkie)

“Barbarism Begins At Home” conveys Freud’s theory regarding children being denied one (or more) of the stages of psycho-sexual development. The song opens with “Unruly boys who will not grow up must be taken in hand, unruly girls who will not settle down they must be taken in hand” which mirrors the parents taking disciplinary action against the child’s innate desire towards sexual discovery. This leads to the lines, “a crack on the head is what you get for not asking, and a crack on the head is what you get for asking” which exemplifies how to the child, being denied a tool that helps them discover the world does not make any sense and that leads them to repressing their impulses which can cause them to have seemingly irrational fears or fixations. The song’s title, “Barbarism Begins At Home” parallels Freud’s idea of the Oedipus complex, where the issues arise from a deep hatred or desire for the child’s own parents. 

[enkisstories]

Rose and Armitage took the submerged holodisc to the academy commons, where they found the tools needed to clean it. According to the logo on it, the disc had been submerged in the pond ever since the time of the empire. At best that had been forty years, at worst sixty.

Slowly the holo loaded...

Hologram: "I am Captain Maratelle Pencroft of the Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic. Those who view this will know me under a different name, of course. It is you I'm recording this holo for, not some faceless future generation historian. Therefore I'm going to program this message to react to certain keyphrases, accusations and questions you probably want to toss at me now. Shoot!"

Rose: "The name rings a bell... distantly."

Armitage: "Maratelle Hux was my fathers wife. We were told she got left behind during the chaos when Arkanis got attacked by the rebels, that's why I had always pictured her as a helpless housewife. Now it looks like she defected, and everyone covered that up."

Rose: "I guess... if she'd been an evil stepmom, you'd remember her. So she was more on the neglectful side?"

Armitage: "Looks like it. I wonder... It may be worth a shot..."

Armitage: "Armitage Hux. Parentage."

Maratelle: "Keyphrase recognized. Begin playback."

Maratelle: "Armitage... I know of you. Can't say I know you, because of a dirty trick the empire played on both of us. For the longest time I was under the impression that you were the result of an affair of my husband's from shortly before I married him. I want to think that I'll get a chance to make up for me having avoided you for five years and that we are watching this together. But what are the chances?

In any case, if you asked this particular question, you must already have suspected that Brenny is not your father. Your birth mother is a technician, very young, but very talented. She's in charge of the acdemy's droids. One day a boy her own age came to the academy looking for work. His name was Dathan, he was distressed, maybe on the run from the law. Him and your mother fell in love, or maybe it was only natural that a kitchen scullion and a repair girl of the same generation would dally around, in any case their relationship resulted in your birth. Soon afterwards Dathan ran away, and my husband started pretending that he was your sire. I cannot imagine why Brendol would cover for this perfect stranger, especially since at times it put a lot of strain on our marriage. Maybe some day we'll learn."

When no more questions got asked in the following silence, the hologram booted down. A name stood in the room: Dathan. To Maratelle is had been just two meaningless syllables, but Rose and Armitage had heard it before. A Dathan who had reason to not stay in the same place for too long, who would have been of the correct age in 4 or 5 ABY and who carried Palpatine's blood...

Eventually Rose cleared her throat and spoke up.

Rose: "Lies upon lies upon half-truths and vital information withheld. That's how Palpatine kept his power over people. Pryde... Maratelle... Brendol... and you. But that's going to end! By my hand and yours and by..."

Armitage: "Can we maybe not speak it out loud?"

Rose: "...your sister's. What's so bad about Rey being your little sis? She's great!"

Armitage: "Because that makes Kylo Ren my brother in law!"

---

Note: I toyed with this idea for a different fic, but decided to use it here when the Reaper's Rewards event started. It's not a headcanon that would remain constant between all my stories.

[theamazingmaddyas]

The Dark Prophecy rants (part 2): Georgina and Apollo

As stated prior, I had read the Dark Prophecy before, back in 2017 when it was released, and every year I would get the new book and convince myself that it would confirm or deny whether Georgina was actually Apollo's bio daughter, and every year I'd get dissappointed. It got to the point that I went to the virtual Tower of Nero tour back in 2020 and my book was backordered so I hadn't read it yet, but gaslight myself into believing that TON would state it so hard that I decided not to ask Rick Riordan though I really really wanted to. (Yes, I did scream out loud a week later when I read it and the ONLY SCENE WAS GEORGIE ASKING ABOUT HER DOLL AND APOLLO LOST IT)

Somehow, gaslighting myself runs deep because I gaslit myself that I just misremembered The Dark Prophecy and Georgie's parentage would be in the book. Which is why I waited until I finished to make this post, even though I think I knew deep down Georgie's godly parentage was not confirmed. Spoiler alert, it was not. In fact, Trophonius specifically said he wouldn't tell Apollo so he suffered and I screamed. Uhg! I think I suffered more than Apollo!

And okay, I understand Rick's message being that Georgie has parents; Jo and Emmie. And Jo and Emmie are her real parents. But what 13 yo me (and me now) is most interested in is godly powers. Whether Georgie is Apollo's bio kid or not changes everything about whether or not the allure of the Cave has to do with her godly parentage, and whether or not her visions are the power of prophesy. Because if it is, that has the implications that Georgie could suffer a similar fate to Hal Green if she uses this power.

Over the last 7 years, I've bounced off a lot of theories of Georgie's godly parentage, and so I'm going to share them now. I'm going to split them into 2 categories: Category 1: Georgie is related to Apollo, and Category 2, She's not.

Category 1:

1) Georgie doesn't look like her bio mortal parent, nor is she from Indianapolis originally

Apollo, though I think it pains him to admit this, remembers his children through their mortal parents. He's an absentee father, so he doesn't know much about his kids, but he does know about his partners. We see this in how we first meet all his kids: Will is compared to Naomi, Kayla to Darren, Austin to Latricia, and Trophonius to his own mother. He tries to think of if he was in Indianapolis 8 years earlier, and with whom and falls short. And in Tower of Nero, to my memory (about to gaslight myself for 3 more books that I remembered TON wrong) he never mentions remembering again when he becomes a god. If Agamethus found her somewhere else and brought her to Waystation, it would make sense why Lester wouldn't make the connection. As for why Apollo doesn't mention it when becoming a god again and being the GOD OF KNOWLEDGE HE SHOULD KNOW THESE THINGS NOW I don't know, and it irks my soul.

2) Georgie is the daughter of Apollo's Roman aspect

This theory is my favorite, especially since it makes the most sense with the Roman emperor plotline, and since Apollo's memories seem to be mostly greek, why he wouldn't be able to remember Georgie or her bio mortal parent. It also could explain why Apollo doesn't mention anything in Tower of Nero. Of course, we know very little about how different Apollo's greek and roman aspects are in the series, especially since he's the only god who has the same name, but I'm sure there's some differences.

Category 2:

1) Georgie is a clear-sighted mortal and destined to be an Oracle

This theory of mine relates Georgie to Rachel Dare and May Castellan. In the same way that they were having visions about being the Oracle of Delphi, Georgie was having visions of the Cave. Georgie is Trophonius' little sister in the metaphorical sense, as she is destined to rule an Oracle like he did. Of course, in the case of May, Hades' curse sent her mad, but it is heavily implied that she was supposed to be the Oracle of her generation. It seems to me that each generation has one clear sighted mortal to become the Oracle of Delphi, so it's possible that Georgie is the oracle post-Rachel in this theory. I'm not sure how far apart in age the oracles are meant to be, but it's always a possibility. Or, like the Oracle of Delphi, the Dark Oracle has chosen mortals to take it on, but since Trophonius has been trapped doing it for a millenia or more, those mortals never get the chance to, like May, and go mad. And with the dissolving of the Oracle, Georgie is no longer destined to that awful fate.

2) Georgie's connection to Agamethus is what drives her. She's either a clear sighted mortal, or a demigod of another parentage.

Trophonius, in this theory, views Georgie as a little sister because Agamethus views Georgie as a little sister. Agamethus is the one who found her, so it makes sense that he has some form of kinship to her, and therefore his brother does too. And because Trophonius has taking a liking to her, he's sent her visions. In this theory, Georgie's bio parents could be literally anyone. She could be a demigod, a legacy, or a mortal.

3) Georgie's a legacy of Apollo (Greek or Roman, doesn't make a difference)

To be honest, I wasn't sure which category this fell into, but I chose this one because she's not specifically Apollo's daughter. The sister is metaphorical in this sense too. Legacy's can sometimes inherit powers (as seen in the Zhang family, as well as if one believes Octavian has some prophetic powers) so it would be there that Georgie's interest in the Cave starts. Also, would explain why Apollo doesn't remember her, because she's his kid's kid, or even more generations than that (though if I had to guess, if this theory were true, I'd say no more than great-grandkid)

So, those are my theories! Yes, I think about Georgie way more than I should over the last seven years, but I digress. I just want to know about if she has powers, and what Cabin she'd be at CHB if she went, so I can write cool canon-compliant fics about her!

If you've read my Solangelo fic "Surprise!" on ao3, in Chapter 8, "Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters" you'd notice that I did write Georgie, who's seventeen in that fic, as having clairvoyance, as seen when she knows Lena Valdez (Leo's adopted daughter) is going to come into the garage where her and Harley are fixing Harley's car (he and Georgie are best friends, and no one can change my mind). Obviously, I thought a lot about it beforehand, but decided that I would make her a bio Apollo kid for that fic, though whether she's Greek or Roman is up in the air. Though, even if she were Roman, I do not think she'd join the legion. Jo and Emmie would be very much against that, I think. As for Camp Half-Blood, if she were a demigod, I think they'd be very skeptical, but would let her go for the summer because she'd beg after hearing Leo and Harley's (my hc is that Harley lives in Waystation which is why he's not a year rounder in TSATS, if you want more on this theory, I'll elaborate later.) stories about camp. At least, unlike Camp Jupiter, she wouldn't have to stay year round till her legionare years are up.

In conclusion, Rick Riordan, confirm Georgie's bio parentage, and give her a list of powers and a CHB cabin, and my life is yours. I've been thinking about this nonstop for 7 years, I know Trophonius was trying to hurt Apollo, but he ended up causing me multiple sleepness nights instead.

[novathebabydinosaur]

My mom constantly poked and prodded and joked about if I would take care of her when she got old or if she got Alzheimer’s disease. I never really answered until one night at the dinner table she asked again, and I looked at her and said,” you’ll never know”. Which became a family joke. She’ll never know if she’s taken care of because she won’t remember. Ha ha ha.

The truth is I didn’t want to take care of her. By twelve I already resented that I was taking care of everything around the house. I felt more like a servant than a child. I remember being so upset the day before I was supposed to have surgery and I was so sick and had a fever, and still she was ordering me around and having me do every chore she could think of because I wouldn’t be able to for at least a week after, until I passed out and crumpled to the floor.

I remember hating the sound of my own name as she called for me to do something for her every twenty minutes. I remember my friends feeling sorry for me and trying to help so that she would leave me alone.

I remember my childhood being stolen. I remember birthdays being forbidden. I remember taking care of her and having large gaps between jobs for her. I remember trying to reach out for help and people telling me I had to be patient and be the better person. I remember showing people the bruises from when I didn’t do something right and hearing about how I needed to forgive. I remember having no semblance of a life until I finally had enough and packed up my car and left and didn’t go back.

I remember her begging me to move back in. I remember my dad telling me how much worse she’d gotten. I remember my sister telling me I needed to step up and help with mom because dad couldn’t do it on his own. I remember no one ever told mom I had moved across the country because she couldn’t understand but she wouldn’t stop asking for me.

I remember going to visit and seeing her shriveled up on the nursing room bed. I remember her hands twisted and clenched hard. I remember her foot shaking, hitting the wall. I remember the whining moan she wouldn’t stop making. I remember her mouth was full of something black and sticky. I remember that when dad tried to get her to stop moaning and tried to clear out her mouth she yelled at him to stop or she would smack him. I remember telling her goodbye and she said, “what?” And I explained that I was leaving, that I was telling her goodbye. That was the only thing she said to me, and that was the last time she ever spoke.

I didn’t know she was that bad, everyone told me she was doing pretty good and although she didn’t remember things she still talked, she was still mom. That shriveled pathetic creature was not my mother and did not deserve to live like that.

The next day I went back to the nursing home with my brother who hadn’t seen her in almost a year. I remember he cried. She laid curled up just moaning. Moan after moan after moan. It was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. He played an Elvis song on his phone, trying to get any response from her. He yelled at her nurses that this was violating her living will. That she never wanted to live like that. I held his phone close to her ear and cried as Elvis sang about a god I no longer believed in. Mom just kept moaning.

A week later, back a thousand miles away while I was at work my phone buzzed with a text message. I didn’t have to read it. A wave of peace and happiness washed over me. Later I cried.

I wrote a poem full of lies and read it out loud at the funeral. It made everyone cry. I didn’t feel anything.

She wanted me to take care of her.

I wanted a mother.

We both lost.

[ellievickstar]

His Second Option(Part 2 of 8)

Ship: Eris x reader

Warning: Angst and Fluff towards the end?

Summary: When Azriel visits you at your wedding, would you choose him or the high lord of the Autumn Court?

Read Part 1:

A/N: 2 Posts in a day. Wow.

Months had passed since the Winter’s Solstice. My mind had long forgotten about the dreadful rejection as I focused on plans. First, to kill Beron with Eris, next coronation and wedding plans. Despite Beron’s protest, we added the inner circle to the guest list, Azriel with them.

After Beron’s fall the lady of Autumn had moved between the Day Court and the Autumn court, It was soon revealed that Lucien, Eris’s youngest brother was Helion’s sole heir. For now. Eris was happy for his mother and by extension, so was I.

My sisters visited occasionally, Nesta telling me about how Elain had called off the engagement as soon as she realised how Azriel had broken my heart. Now giving Lucien a chance. Rhysand had spoken to Azriel, but nothing. Azriel regretted nothing giving excuses like: “She’s not soft spoken like Elain” or “she’s just not there”.

At first it hurt to hear the reasons when Feyre showed me the memories but then I remembered the male that was going to be on the Autumn Court’s throne, how he loved me when my mate didn’t. He had proved it multiple times through the months. Whether it was by lying with me after a long day or comforting and letting me sob and cry against him when the feeling got too much, when all I could ask myself was why my own mate could not love me. Wondering if I was good enough for anyone.

I had moved on. Slowly maybe, but I had mended my broken heart and I had made a new one, giving it to the man I was about to marry. Not because of his power but because he had waited for me, maybe months wasn’t long for someone immortal like me but he had waited. As I had cried once the pain hit me, had picked up the pieces for me despite the pain he had experienced watching cry over someone else. He loved me through everything.

Looking in the mirror I jumped as I saw a shadow behind me, it’s hazel eyes gleaming as the male prowled towards me. Sitting up straighter I held his stare as his face hardened. “Azriel,” I greeted, wiling my tone to be icy and cold. “Don’t marry him.” His voice was barely above a whisper, sounding like he was pleading, begging almost, “I made a mistake,” he continued, “Elain realised that she preferred to be with Lucien, her mate and now, please don’t marry Eris,” his face softened. Hearing those words from his mouth, my blood boiled in my veins as I demanded harshly, “Why?” “You know why,” He replied, opening his scarred palms towards me, an offer.

“No,” I rejected, showing his hand away, he shot me a look of pure confusion.

“No. you don’t get to do this to me, Azriel. Not when I spent years loving you, months knowing I am your mate only for you to break my heart! I will not be the female you settle for because you can’t have Elain!” I snapped at him. His face fell as if something had hit him like a ton of bricks. “Y/N/N please I-,” “Don’t call me that,” I hissed, interrupting him as he tried to ask again, dared to try and take a step towards me, “I will say it again, I will not be your second option because you can’t have Elain because she chose someone else. Because if I were to go home with you, what if another female comes along who is better them me. What then? Will you dump me on the side of the road? Pick me up when you need me again? I will never give you another chance,” My tone was firm as I pointed at the door of the room, the message was loud and clear.

Just as Azriel looked as if he wanted to say something again, Feyre, cauldron bless her, came bustling in with Nesta both looking like angels. I had chosen an Autumn themed Wedding (obviously) however, contrasting to the bright red flowers some of the bride’s maids dresses were a lilac colour making Feyre and Nesta look gorgeous. Feyre instantly sent Azriel out before ensuring that I was alright and doing some final checks on my makeup and such. Rhys was at the door trying his best to keep anyone else from getting in after what happened with Azriel. After a few deep breathes, I felt calm again and it was time for the ceremony, my heart fluttered as I finally realised, I was about to marry the love of my life whether or not he was my mate.

As the music began, Feyre walked down the aisle, for once Rhys had finally relented that she wold not wear a crown to the ceremony, Nesta went next and as I finally began walking down the aisle I took down the sight of the small crowd. Eris had invited his mother and his brothers along with Hélion as a thank you for taking care of his mother. Azriel was no where to be seen as I finally spotted Eris and the world slowed. Eris was dressed in a simple two-pieced suit with a red tie. As he spotted me his eyes bleeped with pride. I had adorned a wedding dress with a sweetheart neckline while my bodice was highlighted with a corset that came out into a royal length skirt.

When I finally reached the dias the priestess begun. As it finally reached the vows, Eris was first, “Y/N Arcelia Archeron. Did you know that your middle name means treasure? It is a wonder that I managed to catch you from the vast sea when you honestly could have any male you want. I admire your resilience, you everlasting kindness because as those make you. You, Y/N, are my greatest treasure among all the troves in the Autumn Court. I love you and I promise through everything, always for a thousand years and more. I vow to protect and provide for you for the rest of our immortal lives,”

Tears slipped out of my eyes as I gazed into the eyes of the male I loved. Swallowing, I started my own vows, “Eris Vanserra, I cannot say how much I love you. Words you do me no justice, I love you for your patience, your love for me. Why? I know you waited for me through my pain you loved me through it all. I vow to reign the Autumn Court with you, I will piss you off and annoy you for the rest of eternity because we have that together, to whatever end,” Eris looked like he was about to cry but was trying not to. Emphasis on trying.

The priestess, to her credit, kept her composure as she proceeded to complete the ceremony, “If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Silence. One second, another, and as the priestess was about to speak once more, a voice rang out, clear as day as the owner of the voice stood.

“I object!”

Part 3 is out now!

[hellishchrissy]

imagine fez calling lexi “baby” or like “yeah she’s my girl” I CAN ONLY DREAM

Lexi's fingers were tapping an inconsistent rhythm on the kitchen counter, nervously counting every tap in her mind as she pulled out her phone once again, anxiously waiting for a message to pop up. She could feel her mother's curious yet hazy gaze on her, observing her from the couch that she was cuddled up on. The wine glass in her hand was running dry once again, and after a few silent minutes she got up from the couch, made her way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "So..." Suze pondered out loud, staring into the fridge like she was having trouble locating the wine bottle - as if. "Who's the guy?" Lexi jumped at the words, turning around to see her mother already waiting for her, her expression amused as she set down her glass to pour more wine. Lexi cleared her throat, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of her turtleneck, a smile tugging at her lips. "What?"  "Don't play coy, Lex," her mother teased, winking as she took a sip. "I know that look you have on right now. Your sister has it every week."  Lexi rolled her eyes at the comparison, actively avoiding eye contact with her inebriated mother. There was a knowing spark in the older woman's eyes, like she knew more than she let on - something sharp in the way she smiled on even though she knew her daughter was keeping a secret. And for a moment Lexi felt completely cornered right then and there - until her phone buzzed, alerting her to grab it before her mother could catch a glimpse of the text message splayed across her screen. fez just pulled up Lexi coming  "I gotta go, mom," Lexi exhaled, feeling like she had just been saved by the bell. She grabbed her bag from the counter, throwing it over her shoulder. She pressed a hasty kiss on her mother's warm cheek and flashed a coy smile at her. "I'll be home by 11, promise." And with that, she was gone. Slipping out of the kitchen on soapy heels, rushing through the house to get to the door. And just as she opened it, she heard her mother calling out: "Do I at least get to meet him soon?" The air outside was warm, the air still vibrating with the thunderstorm that had rolled over their town the night before. Lexi pulled her front door shut behind her before daring to look up - her heart jumped in a cartwheel when she did. Fez's car was parked by the curb and he was standing by it, leaning against the passenger's side door with an effortless confidence that somehow made him seem ridiculously attractive. There was a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his ring-clad fingers, a bright smile climbing on his face when his eyes set on Lexi. And for a moment Lexi felt like her heart would jump out, right up her throat and out her mouth. She felt her own legs moving, the driveway moving fast under her steps as she hurried to get rid of the distance between herself and Fez. Fezco's right hand made its way to Lexi's lower back, pulling the girl into a kiss that made her heart leap in all possible directions. Their bodies pressed together for a passing moment as they kissed, and Fezco's voice was rough when he murmured against her lips: "Hey, baby." Fuck, Lexi could almost feel her legs letting out from right underneath her when she heard his voice, his cool breath sending shivers down her spine. They pulled away a few inches, Lexi's face burning red. "Hi." "Yo, I think your mom at the window or sum'," Fez said with a grin, nodding towards the windows facing the front yard. And truly, Lexi's mother was standing at the window, peeking through the half-drawn curtain like she was trying to be subtle - and failing miserably at it.  Lexi rolled her eyes, not even bothering to turn around to confirm Fezco's words. She shook her head with a slightly embarrassed smile. "She's so fucking curious, it's exhausting." "Can't blame her, y'know," Fezco said, his fingers drawing absent-minded patterns onto Lexi's back, making her shiver yet again. He pressed a brief kiss on the girl's mouth, grinning against her lips. "All she know, you could be dating a drug dealer."

"Very funny."

"I'm just playin', Lex." Fez pressed another lingering kiss on her mouth.

[hmmm-shesucks]

Snippets from stories I will never finish writing part one

Stiles stumbled through the trees into a small open clearing, a bottle of cheap wine clamped tightly in his hand as he swayed to phantom music. He sloppily waltzed by himself, spinning in half circles and giggling when he tripped. A twig snapping caught his attention, and he turned to face the opposite end of the clearing, a large, sarcastic smile forming on his lips.

"Oh, look who it is. The husband-to-be!" He stretched his arms wide as he called into the quiet forest air, head tilted back as if he were celebrated.

"Stiles, please." Derek looked tired and exasperated. It both irritated and irked Stiles to see.

"Coming to let his mistress off the hook. Two years down the drain all for some bitch he just met!" He jostled the bottle of wine, spilling it before taking a large gulp. He wiped his chin and almost fell over a jagged stump before catching himself on a tree.

"Stiles, you're being a child." Derek was using that voice he'd used to talk to Stiles in before they'd started dating or whatever. It pissed Stiles off.

"Of course I am! That's all I'll ever be to you, right? Unless you want sex, of course. Then I'm old enough to make my own choices."

"Stiles," Derek's voice was a little more firm now like he was going to get Stiles in trouble. Stiles hated it.

"Did you even tell them? Huh! I know the rules, Derek. I know these arrangements can be void if you've already found someone else! So did you tell them?!"

The silence that followed broke Stiles's heart and fueled his ever-growing rage at the man in front of him.

"I'm so fucking stupid!" Stiles let go of the wine bottle, sending it flying toward the trees, shattering.

"Stiles," Derek now sounded more concerned and panicked. Stiles couldn't believe how good Derek was getting with emotions.

"No! Of course, you didn't tell them. You're too big a fucking coward!"

"Stiles!" Angry this time.

"Stiles! Stiles! Stiles! What Derek? Is that all you can say! After two years of leading me on, letting me believe I meant at least a little bit to you, that's all you have to say!"

"No! I- Stiles, I can't, I don't want-" Derek looked flustered, angry, and utterly exhausted. Stiles probably would have been worried if he'd been sober enough to feel more than one emotion at a time.

"What? What! You don't want what? For them to know about me? That I'm a guy? That I'm your baby sister's age? That you love me? Or, maybe not that last bit because that was a clear fucking lie on your part!"

"I wasn't lying!" Derek shouted.

"Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it!" Stiles couldn't stop his voice from cracking as he started to cry. He hadn't let himself cry over this yet. Crying made it too real. It must be real now.

"Stiles," Derek seemed to want to cry, too. He was always better and holding himself together, though.

"Why did you come here, Derek? If it was to formally end things, then don't bother. I got the message loud and clear! In fact, half of Beacon Hills found out with me when your mother announced it to the ENTIER INNER CIRCLE!" Stiles tried to catch his breath, but it was trapped in the back of his throat. His hands started shaking.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't know she was going to do that. I hadn't even excepted the proposal yet." Derek stupidly thought this bit of information would help calm Stiles down. He was wrong.

"You should have told me when I asked the first time! You lied to me, Derek. You told me she wasn't here for you and that I had nothing to worry about. You fucking lied! About everything!"

"Not everything! Stiles, I meant every word I said to you. I never lied about any of that. I love you. I would never lie about that." Derek tried to move forward, but Stiles quickly stepped back. There was no way he was going to let Derek touch him. He knew he'd give in, and Stiles couldn't do that.

"But. You would never lie about that, but. You did, Derek. You lied. You told me you loved me straight to my face and made me believe it!" Derek reached for him again, but Stiles slapped his hand away, anger burning in his eyes.

"No! Do not touch me! Don't come near me! If you aren't going to say it, fine, I will. This is over! Don't call me, don't text me, don't ask about me! Just leave me the hell alone, Derek!" Stiles was full-on sobbing now, his whole body shaking with their force.

"If you care about me, even a little bit, you will stay away. Forever. Please." Stiles pleaded.

It's silent. Derek stares at Stiles like he's waiting for him to take it back. Stiles doesn't.

"If that's what you want." It was over. Derek wasn't even fighting him. It shocked him so much he'd even stopped crying.

"It will never be what I want. It's just the only choice you've given me." If Derek was going to hurt him, Stiles would give him the same hurt in return. So this was all Derek's fault.

"Goodbye, Stiles." Derek turned and, within seconds, disappeared into the trees.

Stiles gave it almost a full minute before he collapsed onto the ground. He curled his knees to his chest and subtly rocked himself in a poor attempt to self-soothe. His chest and back ached, and his neck felt tight with the strain of crying. His head felt ready to explode, and he couldn't breathe.

The last thought Stiles had before he passed out against a tree was how pathetic it was to die, crying in the middle of the woods due to heartbreak.

[letarasstuff]

Notice me!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it1

Summary: Teenagers at JJ's daughter's school get attacked. Does she fit the victomology?

Warnings: feeling uncared for

Wordcount: 2.7k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

“Good morning, my lovelies. The good news: The case is local. The bad news: Somebody is attacking teenage girls from the same high school”, Penelope starts the briefing, dressed in a bright pink dress with matching accessories.

“Are they from the same class? Age?” Hotch asks, looking over the file. Upon opening her own, JJ feels like her heart stops. “Negative, the three girls are from different years even. The only connection is the school.” “It’s (Y/N)’s school. She-she is a Junior there. I-Hotch?” Desperately she looks at her boss.

The team’s eyes soften. It’s already difficult with minors involved, but when it gets personal the case is a thousand times harder.

“Call her and tell her we get her to answer a few questions. At this point we can be sure it’s someone from the staff or a student. Time is the essence. Reid and JJ, you get (Y/N). Morgan and Prentiss, you question the first two. Dave and I take the last one and then go to the crime scenes. Garcia, I want you to find out anything about the victims and their families. Check their social media sites and look out for anything that connects them”, the Unit Chiefs orders.

Everybody gets up immediately. JJ has her phone already at hand. The longer it takes her daughter to take the call, the more nervous she gets.

“Mom? Did something happen? You know exactly I’m at school. I don’t wanna get in-” “Honey, Uncle Spence and I come to get you. There is something we have to question you about.” The teenager is silent for a moment. “It’s about the girls that got beaten up, isn’t it?”

Her mother sighs. Of course nothing like that stays quiet for long. “Yes, it is.” JJ doesn’t see the point in lying to her. “Ok. Uhm, can you just question me at school? I really don’t wanna leave, because I have soccer practice after school for the game this evening.”

A little light blinks at that in JJ’s mind. “Isn’t it that important game, where scouts are coming?” (Y/N) begins to smile. Her mother remembers it. Maybe she does pay attention to her. Maybe, just maybe, she pays enough to come and see her. After all she even took a day off for Henry’s recital last time.

“Yes, you said you will come and cheer for me.” JJ’s heart aches. She knows that her oldest often backs down due to her mother’s job. More often than the blonde agent likes to admit she has stood her daughter up to save someone’s life. “I try to be there in time, Honey. I can’t promise you anything, though. Just let us hope we solve this case quickly, ok?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drop. Of course, how could she be this naive to think her mother cares enough to at least try to make it to her probably most important game? “Alright. Text me when you are here or just get me excused at the secretary's office. Bye.”

JJ looks at her phone in puzzlement. The teenager always is understanding of her job and the sacrifices it takes. One night under a lot of tears she confessed to her mother that everytime she is away on a case, she is in the greatest state of worry. Will reported repeatedly that (Y/N) is miserable whenever her mother isn’t at home.

So she told her daughter about the pact she made with her sister. Any time they miss each other, they go out and look at the moon, knowing that they see the same. JJ also admitted that she and Henry are the reason she is even working as a profiler. The agent wants to make the world safer for her kids. A safe space, where they can grow up and go to the park without worrying about Stranger Danger or anything else.

“Is everything ok?” Spencer asks as he sees his best friend frozen on the spot. JJ looks up to him, spotting concern in his eyes. “Yeah, no. I don’t know? It’s just, (Y/N) has an important soccer game tonight with scouts coming and such and I’m not sure if I can get there in time because of the case. She sounded really sad when I told her that. You know, I’m incredibly proud of her for getting this far and she plays really well. Scratch that, she is amazing. Especially knowing (Y/N) is responsible enough to think about college in her junior year makes me swell with pride”, she gushes unknowingly.

Spencer smiles. “I see, she is just like her mother. I’m sure (Y/N) will come around, she loves you so much and knows how difficult our job is.” JJ nods, trying to believe him.

Not long after that the duo enters the secretary’s office, explaining the situation. He immediately notifies the teenager’s teacher and a few minutes later (Y/N) opens the door. “There is an empty classroom we can use, I already asked Mr Boyle. He is such a sweetheart”, she tells her mother and uncle.

“Thank you for consenting to answer our questions. (Y/N), do you know the girls?” Spencer begins after settling down. “I do. One of them, Amy, is on the soccer team with me. We mostly talk about her family. She is in love with her little sister. The other two, Rosa and Gina, are in Freshmen. I tutored Gina briefly until her mother said she doesn’t need it.”

Unfortunately (Y/N) isn’t able to tell more useful information. “Thank you so much, Honey. Have fun at your practice later”, JJ tells her while embracing the teenager. “Yeah, thanks. Do you come home tonight?” Her mother sighs.

“I get it, you don’t know. Ok, I don’t wanna interfere any longer. Maybe you are able to solve the case faster. Stay safe. Love you!” Quickly she picks her bag up and leaves the room.

JJ looks at the genius with a face that says “Do you know what I mean?”

“My lovelies, all three girls don’t have the best connection to their parents. They often complain about the missing approval. Do you think that it’s a kid from their classes?” Garcia informs them as the team gathers back around the round table.

Rossi shakes his head. “The crimes are too organized for a kid. Every girl was drugged, but we don’t know how. Then the UnSub waits for the drug to kick in and takes her to a vacant spot, where the beating occurs. And all of this happens right after classes end. It has to be a staff member, probably a teacher.”

“Yeah, but there is one detail that doesn’t sit right with me”, Derek pipes up, “The connection between the girls is the bad relationship with their parents. It has to be someone, who is reminded by their own dysfunctional family.”

“Garcia, look for someone from the area, his comfort zone shows that he knows remote areas that you don’t find by accident. He has to be from D.C.” Spencer instructs her.

“Okidoki, boy won- Wait, are we looking for a male?” Hotch nods. “We are, the amount of strength used to beat up the girls suggests a male, same with the amount of hatred.”

Emily looks unsure. “This sounds all right, but why is he choosing the girls? What does he relive by hurting them? How does it help him?”

JJ wants to partake in the mindstorming, but a ping from her phone distracts her from saying her thoughts out loud. It’s a text message from (Y/N)

If you find the time in your busy schedule to read this, be informed that Will and Henry won’t come to the game tonight, because Henry has a spontaneous playdate. Don’t worry, he brought me my inhaler to school already.

(Y/N) sighs after sending the text. Is it really too much work for her mother to make room for her? This is probably the most important event in her whole school carriere and she decides that a team of masterminds need her more than her own daughter.

Hurt by the clear ignorance she shoulders her bag and makes her way to the counselor’s office.

“Come in”, a warm voice invites the teenager after her knocking on the door. “Hey, Mr Pembroke. Uhm, I have a class before soccer practice and I wanted to ask you if I can put my bag here? I know I got a locker, but I still got my mom’s birthday present in there and I’m scared I’ll leave it in my classroom and have to run back to get the bag if not another kid already took it away.”

Mr Pembroke looks at her with a smile. “Of course, (Y/N), I don’t mind. Speaking of your mother, will she be there tonight? I really hope so, because you are a star on the field. She’s missing out otherwise.” At the end he winks. He is just that kind of guy. Working with kids makes him desperate for appearing younger than he really is, but that is also part of Keith Pembroke’s charm.

“Unfortunately my whole family isn’t able to come. It is like- I mean I get it, serial killers are dangerous and it’s important and the right thing to chase them down. But do I not deserve some time with my mother?” Mr Pembroke evolved into a moral support over the past school year since he started his job at (Y/N)’s high school.

He always has something noice and wise to say. “You do. Everybody deserves some time with their family and especially with their parents. Why don’t you talk to them after all this is over? I can help you work on what you can say.”

Happily the teenager takes the offer and rushes to her class.

“Guys, I might be onto something”, Spencer rips everybody from their train of thoughts. JJ looks at the watch on her wrist. (Y/N)’s game ends in about five minutes. And she sits here, stumped one the case she stood her up for.

“So we thought about how he chooses his victims. The only connection we found was them having a bad relationship with their parents. But how would the UnSub know? They didn’t share any classes.

“But there always is one person, who knows about the student’s problems. They tell them voluntarily”, he finishes, giving his colleagues the opportunity to answer it themselves.

“The counselor!” Rossi exclaims, wondering how they oversaw the obvious.

Penelope’s keyboard is practically on fire from her fast typing until she nearly shouts: “I got him! Keith Pem-” The rest goes under in the loud ring from JJ’s cellphone. “I’m sorry, but this is… (Y/N)’s school! I-” Hotch nods, giving her permission to take that call.

“Jennifer Jareau?” She can’t wait until she is out of the conference room. Now that they know who the UnSub is, JJ is more on edge than ever. “Uhm, Mrs Jareau, I call about your daughter, (Y/N). She is on her way to the hospital, she collapsed during the soccer game. We suspect an asthma attack, even though she used her inhaler.” The teacher on the phone gives her a few more information before hanging up.

“I-I’m - (Y/N), she is- hospital. Her inhaler.” In that moment she makes all the connections. “Garcia, look for the girl’s medical history. Pembroke exchanged (Y/N)’s inhaler, I’m sure he did. Look for it in the other girls. I have to go, she is at the hospital right now.”

In a way even Derek Morgan would describe it as reckless JJ speeds to the hospital, ready to fight any regulations keeping her from seeing her daughter sooner. “I’m here for (Y/N) Jareau. J-A-R-E-” She tells the woman at the reception breathlessly.

“Oh I got her. She is in room 99. (Y/N) was unconscious for a certain amount of time, but she is slowly regaining her senses. A doctor will meet you there.” Before she even finishes her sentence, the blonde leaves the desk into the direction of the appointed room.

In fact there is a doctor waiting for her, updating the mother on her daughter’s condition. “I advise you to not overwhelm her. Her mind is still foggy and there may be things that don’t make sense right now coming from her. But (Y/N) will make a quick recovery, being good as new in only a matter of days.”

Cautiously she enters the room. The teenager might be awake, but her mind clearly is elsewhere. “Hey, Honey. It’s me, your mom. How are you feeling?” JJ asks softly, taking her daughter’s cold hand into her own gently.

“Oh, hi Mom. I didn’t know you found the time to actually come here. Isn’t there like a bad guy out there waiting for you to slap some handcuffs on him?” Ouch, she doesn’t expect that kind of honesty. But it’s true and JJ knows what (Y/N) is talking about.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Honey, for being seemingly absent from your life. I swear, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. I mean, you play soccer and there might be a scholarship in sigh. And even if you don’t get one, you can do anything and I would still be proud to call you my child.”

(Y/N) turns her head around, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes. The blonde can see all the pain she brought onto her bundle of joy. “Mom, I don’t even enjoy soccer as much as you think. I only do this, because I thought there would be finally something we can bond over. But I clearly didn’t calculate your stupid job in.”

JJ kicks herself for overseeing her daughter this much. She never stopped to acknowledge her oldest child’s accomplishments in front of her team and family. She always told everybody in the BAU what (Y/N) is up to, if they asked or not is not her problem. But in the whole process the agent forgot the most important person, the one who reached all those goals.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry for letting you feel like I don’t want to partake in your life. I- I was just so invested in your life that I didn’t think about you. You don’t have to do anything that I like to get my attention. You can join the school band playing the triangle and I would practically make t-shirts for the whole team sporting your logo.

“Anything you do is enough for me. You don’t need to change yourself to appeal to others, not even me. I’m sorry for letting you down. I love you so much and I hope you can forgive me.”

It seems like (Y/N) needs a few seconds to comprehend her mother’s statements before answering them. “I just need a mom, who is there more often. That would be enough for me. Just once every three games is enough. To let my friends know you care. To let me know you care.” JJ gets tears in her eyes. She promises to be there more often, fully intending to keep that promise.

“Good, now that we have that sorted out I need you to come into bed with me. I feel I could sleep for at least a year because of Mr Pembroke’s really weird tasting substance in my inhaler. Can we just cuddle until I feel like I’m my old self?” JJ smiles while happily laying down next to her daughter, engulfing her in a hug, still being cautious of all the tubes she has going in and out of her.

“I love you so much, Honey Bun”, the blonde murmurs, stroking a few strands out of her daughter’s face. But (Y/N) is too tired to answer. She just nods and cuddles closer to her mother before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, JJ watches over her like a hawk. Not even Will is allowed to come closer to her than two meters (or roughly six and a half feet for Americans), not wanting anyone to disturb her daughter’s peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg/Reader fic (nsfw)

Summary: After a short meeting with Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters barely escapes ending in bloodshed, Heisenberg is keen to show you just how much he appreciates your loyalty towards him. (Warnings includes rough sex, mild knifeplay, vandalism and restraints).

Karl Heisenberg was a selfish man.

He was selfish in almost every aspect of his life, and that selfishness also extended to you and your company. It was uncommon for him to allow you to join him when meeting others on his business outside the factory, with the only exception being your regular meetings with the Duke to acquire much needed parts for his equipment and experimentations.

However, a meeting with the Duke was necessary and the only available slot he had happened to directly follow a meeting Heisenberg had already planned with fellow Lord, Lady Dimitrescu. Due to this, options were limited, and the most sensible course of action was for you to accompany him for the meeting and then for you both to attend business discussions with the Duke within his room in the castle.

Which is how you ended up seated within the grand hall of Castle Dimitrescu with Heisenberg glued by your side as you both faced down the Lady of the castle and her three adopted daughters.

“And why should I listen to you?” Dimitrescu asks, her tone haughty as she ran a hand along the hem of her closest daughters’ dress in a loving manner. Cassandra, if the hair colour was anything to go by. Her lack of attention towards yourself and Heisenberg was intentional, a mark of disrespect, and a flare of irritation ignited within your gut at the pettiness.

“Miranda’s rules, not mine.” Heisenberg shrugged, delivering the message he had been requested to, “If you’ve got a problem then take it up with her. I don’t give a shit.”

Enjoying her mothers’ attentions, Cassandra tilted her head at her sisters as she shared a contemptuous look with them at Heisenberg’s words. Their attitude was just as rotten as their creators and it did nothing to dissuade your anger as Dimitrescu responded.

“Mother Miranda should have known better than to send a child to deliver a message to me. A true Lady should not have to deal with a foolish infant who can barely lay claim to the title of Lord.”

Against your better judgement, you can’t hold back a slight snort as Dimitrescu referred to herself as a true lady. Her hate for Heisenberg was without question and that hatred had long since leaked over to yourself and while Heisenberg was somewhat protected by his status as one of Miranda’s children, you were considered lower than dirt and she had made that opinion quite clear across your shared interactions.

She didn’t like you as you didn’t like her, and that was fine.

“Keep your filthy pet under control,” Dimitrescu snarled fixing you with a pointed glare, her hand flexing almost subconsciously against her white dress, “or I will personally put it down.”

“Is she talking to me?” You ask, glancing sideways at Heisenberg and ignoring Dimitrescu as you cut off her insult, “I’m your pet? While she’s sitting there with three bags of flies she dares to call her daughters?”

A loud chuckle escaped Heisenberg’s chest as low growls from the women ricocheted throughout the room at the brazen derision.

“You DARE insult House Dimitrescu?” Dimitrescu bellowed as she stood to her full height, the looming form admittedly very intimidating, “You dare open your common mouth against us while you sit by the side of scum like him?”

“At least he has a sense of humour,” you hold her furious gaze with a steeled spine, confident that you would be protected from harm, “and isn’t a frigid bitch living in a gifted castle.”

A lot of things happened at once as the daughter closest to your position, Bela, seemingly unable to restrain her anger any longer as her mother was insulted, leapt to her feet and withdrew her scythe from within her robes.

“I’ll bleed you dry!” The rage in her eyes was clear and her sharp blood-stained teeth were on full display as she darted quickly towards the couch you occupied, swerving across a small side-table as she advanced.

She had barely crossed the empty space between you when a pained cry escaped her throat as the scythe in her hand was wrenched free of her grip, finding a new home against her throat as the sharp tip of the blade dipped into the flesh there in warning as it froze her in place. The same went for the scythes which were hidden within the robes of Cassandra and Daniela, the weapons no longer beholden to their mistresses wishes as they bowed to Heisenberg’s influence and power and assumed a betraying position against their necks.

Along the edges of the grand hall, the armoured knights rattled as the very air in the room seemed to expand and contract in anticipation. High above, the metal grating which held the windows in place flexed and shook; a clear warning which dared any of them to move.

“Back the fuck off.” Heisenberg snarled into the room, his voice easily carrying above the feral hissing of the three daughters. Having only moved his head forward slightly, his expression was mostly hidden by his positioning and wide-brimmed hat but from your place at his side you can see the rage that is simmering behind his glasses, “Get control of your bitches before I carve them into a million pieces and leave you to clean up the mess.”

The rage that radiated from Dimitrescu’s form seemed to pulse for a moment as she flexed her long claws before a hint of uncertainty crossed her expression as her eyes darted between her three daughters. Unlike herself, they were more vulnerable to attack and it was no secret that Heisenberg’s life was worth more to Mother Miranda then their own.

There was no doubt within the room that Heisenberg would kill them, consequences be damned, and Dimitrescu could not take the risk, no matter how satisfying the reward.

Sheathing her claws, Dimitrescu straightened her back and faced Heisenberg directly.

“You come into my house, brother, and threaten my daughters with violence.” Her tone was measured, the anger buried beneath cold accusation, “Bela!” She indicated to her still body with a loose hand, “Come sit by my side, daughter. This fool and his plaything are beneath us and not worth the effort it would take to drain them.”

“Yes, mother.” Bela bit out, having no interest in peace but submissive to her mothers’ wishes as always.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as the rattling of the metal within the room subsided and the tension eased off slightly. The three scythes clatter to the ground with dramatic flair as they are released and Heisenberg rises to stand at your side, indicating you to do the same.

“You have your message,” facing Dimitrescu, he inclined the rim of his hat at her with a twisted smirk, “now do as your mother asks and make sure that it’s done in time. This meeting is over.”

Calling his hammer from the floor, it flies into his hand with ease as his free hand comes to rest on your elbow, guiding you towards the stairs in a firm grip.

“See you next week, sister.”

He calls the words over his shoulder, not bothering to spare the lady of the house a glance.

One final insult.

Passing down the stairs of the great hall, a subdued cry of rage followed by hurried footsteps and hushed voices can be heard from the space you recently vacated, and the direction of the disappearing noise suggests that Dimitrescu was retiring to her quarters.

No doubt to complain of the day’s events to her disgusting spawn.

To your side, you can sense a restless energy radiating off Heisenberg as he marches you down the stairs but before you can question him, you find your arm seized in a vice-like grasp as he pulls you into a nearby room which lies opposite the room in which you are due to attend your meeting with the Duke.

Glancing around the room, you take in the space.

It is a small bedroom, mostly consisting of one large four-poster bed which was decked out in the same extravagant nature as the rest of the castle. Overhead, a large skylight made up the centre of the ceiling with its domed shape letting in a vast amount of light while also keeping out the cold. Two sets of drawers and a vanity table make up the rest of the furniture and you turn back to Heisenberg once more to question his actions.

You open your mouth to speak but are immediately cut off by his lips on yours as his hands move to his head to pull free his hat and drop it to the floor atop his freshly discarded hammer. Pulling away for a moment, he does the same with the glasses, dropping them into the same pile before returning to your lips; his mouth insistent against yours as he bites as your lower lip demanding entrance.

“What’s this about?” You ask and a grunt escapes you as he backs you up against the wall, your shoulders connecting with the hard surface roughly as he presses a leg between your thighs.

“It makes me so fucking hard to see you stand up to that bitch,” he grunts, nuzzling his head against your neck as he inhales your smell, “a little warrior, ready to go to war with nothing but your wits.”

“I have you.” You whine back as he bites into the skin of your neck, the force enough to guarantee a mark but not enough to break skin, “I don’t need anything else. You could tear that bitch and her infested little spawn to shreds without breaking a sweat.”

At the praise he presses his body against you and you can feel the hardness against your hip.

Ah.

“So loyal,” he purrs against you, rubbing himself on your hip, “and it doesn’t go unrewarded.”

“We can’t here,” you mutter with great regret even as arousal curls low in your belly, “my biggest fan or her daughters could appear at any time and I’d rather not deal with them while you’re inside me.”

His smirk is almost feral as he pulls free his blade from the inner pocket of his coat; the same blade which never left his person as a final line of defence against possible attack. Running the blade along the hem of your shirt, you suck in a soft breath and meet his eyes, seeing your arousal reflected in his own. He had tried to get you to learn to use one for your own defence but any attempts at training barely got underway before they were lost to more carnal pursuits.

Extending his hand with a flourish, the blade sliced through the air with great force, arcing upwards as it reached its target and smashed through the skylight. The shattering of the glass was loud and you instinctively duck to avoid any of the shards as they litter the canopy of the bed and fall to the floor.

“The fly-bitches can’t stand the cold.” He explains away the act of petty vandalism, shielding your body from the glass with his own as his hand summons his knife back within his grasp, “Now, where were we…”

His hands grip at your wrists, pinning them above your head as his knife works independently at his will; the sharp blade running along the buttons of your shirt with surgical precision as it slices them off, the small buttons bouncing along the floor as they fall free to expose more of your body.

A shiver rattles through your body, a result of both the low temperature of the room as the winter winds enter through the fresh hole in the ceiling and the anticipation of events as you watch his knife slowly remove your barriers. A soft creaking from a nearby lamp holder catches your attention and you jump in surprise as the metal features flies free of the wall, coming to imbed itself around your wrists as he releases them, pinning you into place against the wall.

His knife drops to the ground as his free hands come to rest on your shirt, spreading the fabric open to fully expose your chest and his mouth is immediately drawn to your nipple as he worries the sensitive nub there between his teeth gently. It ignites a warmth in your chest that draws a low moan from your throat as you push out to meet him, encouraging him as your other nipple is rolled between his fingers to the same effect.

“Just one quick fuck,” he grunts against your chest, his hands fumbling at his slacks as he frees himself, his cock twitching in the chilled air of the room, “and then we’ll continue with our business.”

You pant as his hands grip at your slacks, carelessly thrown on before you left, and he pulls them free of you, slipping them down past your knees and allowing them to fall to the floor carelessly as he exposes your clear arousal to his sight.

Lining himself up against your entrance, he pushes in with one swift thrust and the torrid mixture of pain and pleasure rips the breath from you as you clench around him, unable to do much else. The friction is almost too much as he sets a quick pace within you, the burn spurring you on to snap your hips back to meet him as he supports your weight, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist as he sheathes himself within you.

Wriggling against him as he pins you to the wall, you almost feel as though he is trying to fuck you through the stone and the rough growling of his throat as he does so is almost hypnotic as you whine and moan around him. Your fingers grip at their restraints as they are held in place by his power and your heels dig in to the soft of his back as you encourage him on.

As you cry out your pleasure, a rough hand comes to sit over your mouth as it muffles the cries. His fingers taste of oil and metal as your tongue meets them and the familiarity of it is pleasant as you moan around his hand. His cock stretches you as always and the brutal pace seems to be hitting every nerve inside of you as arousal curls your toes and tightens within your gut.

A grunt of surprise escapes you as he lifts you free of the wall, hurling you around with ease and dropping you on the bed as he continues to rut within you. It’s almost animalistic and you can do little but wrap your legs around his hips and meet every punishing thrust as your fingers dig into the flesh of his back.

Even as you whine below him, your orgasm still manages to catch you off guard as the tight band of tension within your gut snaps as your thighs tighten around him and your feet press against his spine, sheathing him within you as you clench around him and milk him for everything he’s worth. You can feel your mess but you ignore it as you focus on finishing him but he’s not far behind and, with a savage growl, you feel his cock jerk and the warmth of his release as it burns through you.

“So fucking loyal,” he snarls against your neck while his cock continues to twitch within you, each word punctuated by a lazy thrust as his pace slows, “so willing and warm and for nothing. Just for me and no one else. Mine.”

The final word is little more than a growl and, sensing that the words didn’t require an answer, you give a low grunt of acknowledgement as you release your grip of his back and allow yourself to relax into the sheets.

The bed is soft against your back as you continue to writhe against him, ignoring the mess that you’ve just made as you both enjoy the other. The chill of the room is offset by the heat of his body as he remains atop you and you focus on the strange duality as you try to steady your heaving chest.

Finally slipping free of you, Heisenberg pauses before pulling his slacks back up to wipe the mess from his cock off on to the soft bedding; leaving a noticeable stain against the expensive fabric with a satisfied smirk as he tucked himself back in.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the immature display, you focus on righting yourself even as your knees lock into place to keep you steady. Your hand dips to the floor to grasp at your underwear and slacks and you pull them on quickly, ignoring the mess which you both made as you cover it with fabric.

Your eyes settle on your poor discarded shirt.

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?” You ask, indicating the slashed-up fabric with an open palm. In the cold air, your nipples were peaked and walking about shirtless in the middle of winter was not an appealing thought.

His laughter is open and genuine as he considers his actions, “Oops, maybe should have thought about that. If you weren’t such a fucking tease then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Remaining silent, you stare him down.

“Fine,” he grunts as he shuffles his shoulders out of his coat, “wear this.” He tosses the coat in your direction and you grasp it between your fingers, the fabric still warm as it clung on to his body heat.

Slipping your arms within the coat, the first thought to grab you is that it smells like him; that is, it smells like copper and oil with a hint of spice that you are never quite able to place. The second thought is that it is very heavy against your shoulders and you straighten up fully to balance it correctly as you easily close it over your exposed chest.

As you go to leave the room, his presence fills the space behind you and you can feel him pressed against your back.

“I think I like you in my clothes.” You can feel his grin against your neck, “It makes it clear who you belong to and it makes me want to fuck you again right here and now.”

“Business before pleasure.” You purr, tightening the coat around you as you move through the doorway as you guide him to your meeting, “We can negotiate terms later.”

As fun as it would be, you had both kept the Duke waiting too long and you would rather not be around when Lady Dimitrescu discovered her vandalised ceiling and come-stained bedding.

Fic also available on AO3 @ DittyWrites

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[rogue-durin-16]

THE RIGHT MOMENT

Summary: Y/n and George had been crushing on each other for too long, but neither of them said anything. They both were waiting for the right moment to do it, but with a war upon them, was there really such thing as 'the right moment'?

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

George Weasley: ———

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, blood, implicit beating

A/N: (dis bish long lmao) Idk what is this, I just wanted to do something for George. Bill and Fleur's wedding came to my mind and I was like, ok but what happened after the death eaters arrived? And this came out, so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I wasn't expecting to see her.

I had heard my mother mention her name whilst talking about the Order, and I knew she had befriended Fleur at the Triwizard Tournament, but seeing her apparate in our yard was... Well, surprising.

"Son, snap out of it!" My father called me out and I corrected my wand movement; I had almost messed up the canopy, and I blamed the way her dress and hair flew with the wind as she approached our home's entrance.

Fred walked to me the moment we had secured everything, glancing at the house before questioning, "am I delirious or that was Y/n?" with a knowing grin and an intent eyebrow wiggle.

As if taking a cue, we saw the girl coming out, now with a borrowed jacket on, making a beeline to us. "I'm... Pretty sure it's her." I replied, giving the girl a smile when she waved. "Morning, lady."

"Morning, gentlemen." Fred then turned around and stepped to her in order to give her a hug. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Indeed." I agreed, following my brother's lead and hugging Y/n; her arms were quick to wrap around my neck and shoulders and squeeze me tight; I would have sworn she let out a relieved sigh. "Fleur invited you?"

"Your mom, actually." Her reply left me puzzled. "I heard your night was... Eventful." She pointed at the bandages covering my ear with a worried look. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than last night." I replied, scratching the back of my neck.

"You sure, Georgie?" It was then that I remembered we weren't alone. "Last night he was feeling Saint-like." Y/n frowned in confusion. "Because he's holey." Fred pointed at his ear just like I had done the night before and I could feel my cheeks burning. "Get it?"

"Oh, no! it's sooo bad!" She laughed at the joke and a smile tugged the corners of my lips. "I think that's the lamest joke you've cracked." She pointed out.

"I know! I told him."

"Okay, I was bleeding out." I defended myself. "I think I'm allowed to crack a lame joke."

"Dunno, George, it was really bad." I threw my head back with a groan at Y/n's teasing. She waved at Fred, who said something about having things to do inside, and when my eyes landed on him over Y/n's shoulder, he mouthed a clear 'go for it'. "Tonks told me about Mad-Eye." She spoke again in a more serious note.

"You said it," the smile vanishing from my face. "Last night was eventful."

"When your mother told me you got hurt, I just... I got really scared." Her anxious words took me aback. "I went straight into the house to see you." The wind made her hair flow again, and I had to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from tucking that bloody strand that kept getting in her face back behind her ear. "I was so happy you were out preparing stuff and not in there, unconscious in a bed."

"Well, I'm very happy to see you." I replied, my eyes digging into hers to make sure she knew how much I meant that. "Missed tons that smile of yours."

"I missed your lame jokes." I rolled my eyes at her response. Right after, she stepped forward and gently pulled me down; one of her hands holding onto my forearm, steadying her, while the other one cupped one of my cheeks so she could press a kiss to the other. "See you." And with that, she was off to greet the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do it."

"She's talking with Luna."

"Excuses." I puffed tired at Fred's reproach before taking a sip of my drink. "C'mon, you got absolutely nothing to lose."

"My dignity?"

"She fancies you!" I shook my head no. "How many times are you gonna have the opportunity to dance with her, Georgie? Stop being a twit."

"Not yet."

"Oi, have you seen Y/n?" Ron approached us, taking a seat by my side.

"It's the only thing he's seen." I pinched the bridge of my nose, unable to deny what my twin had just said. "Just do it." I groaned. "Okay, I'll do it."

"No!" I jumped up and tugged Fred down in the process. "Alright, I'll go."

READER'S P. O. V.

"Yeah, I was about to—"

I involuntarily let out a squeal when a hand tickled my side. "Hello, ladies." I spun my head to see George behind me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I have this dance?"

Luna replied before I could. "You see, I was wondering how much time it'd take you to ask her." I turned as red as a beetroot; my only comfort was that the towering ginger's face was the colour of his hair. "I think I'm odd man out." She waved us goodbye and headed to see Harry.

"I reckon Luna is way too observant." He spoke, tugging my hand.

"Were you ogling me, Weasley?"

"Maybe." He came to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor and pulled me close. "Couldn't take my eyes off you." He confessed quietly.

As we swayed, I let my forehead land on his chest, savouring what I dreaded would be one of the last precious moments before everything went down.

"George?" He hummed, raising his brows as a prompt for me to talk. I took a deep breath and told myself that what I was going to say mattered little compared to whatever was looming over us. "I've been wanting to tell you this, but I just... Didn't find the right time." Our faces were mere inches away. "But I don't think I'll ever find the right time at this point so—"

I jolted, holding onto George, when a blue volute plunged into the tent; a Patronus.

It was not until Shacklebolt message was ending that I realized George's arms were around me, pulling me flush against his chest.

Both our hearts were hammering violently, and I was sure he could feel mine as clearly as I felt his.

When the Patronus vanished, panic began to spread. I noticed how my own breathing picked up. "Y/n." This time it was George the one calling my name; his whisper sounded so clear compared to everyone else's screams and cries. "If I don't say this out loud, I'll combust—"

"Y/N! GET DOWN!" Tonks's shouts snapped us out of it. We obeyed just in time to see a red hex flying over us, being stopped by Tonks herself.

George and I grabbed our wands and pulled each other back to our feet before joining the Order.

"FREDDIE!"

"LUNA!"

We parted ways, George making his way to reach his twin while I ran to a moderately tipsy Luna, who seemed to be struggling to find her father.

As soon as I made sure she was out of the picture, I jogged to help the twins, casting protection spells against two death eaters.

"STUPEFY!" I managed to take out the one attacking George, and he was quick to stun the one duelling his brother.

"Leave!" George tugged my hand, attempting to get me out of the canopy, his brother quickly rushing to their little sister.

"I'm not leaving!"

"Y/n—" I moved him out of the way to shield us from another hex. "Please— Flipendo!!" I saw another death eater flying away from us. "Shit!" George's hand gripped mine for dear life, making me back off with him to get back in when he realized it was too late for me to leave.

Soon enough it was just the Weasleys, Fleur and her family, Tonks, Lupin and me inside the tent, all back-to-back, surrounded by death eaters.

Corban Yaxley stepped out. "My apologies to disrupt the celebrations." he offered a fake apology to the newlyweds which was equally disgusting and scary. "Let's try by fair means." I knew my knuckles had gone white, given the strength with which I was gripping George's hand. "Where is Harry Potter?" He knew no one would speak. "Aight, by foul it'll be."

I looked around and I saw Molly and Arthur shielding Ginny; Bill and Fleur held onto each other; Lupin and Tonks pulled Fleur's sister and parents behind them; Fred gave a quick look at his twin before moving closer to us.

"Take them inside and register the house."

Soon we were being pushed into the Burrow, a bunch of death eaters before us ready to put all upside down.

We stayed quiet meanwhile, leaving out an occasional 'don't touch that' or a 'there's no need to break that' from Molly and Arthur.

"I reckon you won't find Harry in my grandma's glass cabinet, smart arse." We all turned to Fred, his mother giving him a pleading look.

"Maybe he's between the plates, Freddie," George jumped in, attempting to draw the attention off his brother. "You'll want to check the cutlery too, in case he's now a teaspoon." He suggested to Yaxley with a challenging look.

The death eater tilted his head to the side, as if he had noticed something worth of interest in George. "What happened to you?"

Everyone went livid.

"I fell downstairs." George replied through gritted teeth. His tone was full of what could be easily passed as anger, but by the way his hand was shaking, I reckoned it was fear.

Yaxley seemed to think for a second before turning to two of his mates. "Start with him, then the twin and we'll move on to—"

Before I knew what I was doing, my wand was out and hexing one of the guys that had tried to remove George from us.

"Take their BLOODY WANDS!" Yaxley stalked to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me away. "We'll start with you, miss."

"No! Wait, she doesn't know anything!" George tried in vain to persuade them, pushing through the death eaters in an attempt to get to me. I looked at him and shook my head no, already psyching myself up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were rather quick, and not half as bad as I thought they would be. I was thrown back into the living room with only a shiner and the promise of bruised wrists.

It was enough for George to jump up; not to check on me, though, but to do something as stupid as my impulsive hexing.

"Okay, crippled," three death eaters grabbed him before he could do anything and dragged to the bathroom they had gotten me in. "your turn."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He looked bad.

Molly was about to throw hands when we saw George leaving the bathroom; a cut on the cheek, a bloody nose, a black eye and by the way he flinched while walking, probably an injured rib.

But the worst was the red pooling the bandage around his head, and the way he was struggling to keep his hand off it.

"C'mon, blabber." It wasn't surprising when Fred willingly approached Yaxley and punched him strong enough to throw him down. "You know-” He got up, motioning at his minions so they would get Fred in. “that just made it worse."

I spared Molly an enquiring look, to which she replied with a nod; in an instant, I was gently pulling George to the settee. "Let me see..." I pursed my lips, tilting his head to the side so I could check his wound. A sigh left my lips, suddenly realizing I couldn't really take off the bandage in front of them. "Can you sit it up?" I whispered only for him to hear.

He nodded, his hand travelling up to mine, which rested on his cheek, to give it a reassuring squeeze. I didn't think twice about how wrong the timing was before leaning in and placing a kiss on his lips.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My body moved forward by itself when she pulled back, attempting to chase her lips. I managed to stop myself when I remembered we were surrounded by death eaters and my family was right behind Y/n.

She then gave me a small smile and moved to grab a fresh towel from the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of my family's looks before she came back, ready to clean the blood on my face.

She aided Fred along with my mom; he bore the burnt along with me.

The sun was rising when Yaxley decided to leave. My father rushed to send a Patronus to the trio, and everyone felt a bit of relief and finally scattered through the Burrow. Ginny claimed she would take care of Fred, and she took my twin to our room.

"Now, let's check that." Y/n spoke, standing up so she could remove the damp bandage. "What happened?"

"He threw a punch and—" I hissed when the bandage left my ear, earning a concerned ‘sorry’ from Y/n. "The wound opened. It began to bleed, and they decided to stop." She only nodded, grabbing again the towel, now mildly red due to the blood it had cleaned. "That kiss was too short." I didn't even know how I managed to let that out.

She stopped, her eyes going up and down my body before inquiring, "want another one?"

"Please." She didn't need anything else for her soft lips to return to mines. This time it was one hell of a kiss, but my mouth chased them again when Y/n pulled away, only that this time her lips did return to mines for another short kiss. "Should I ask you on a date?"

"I doubt we'll be able to go on a proper date." We both chuckled; as sad as it sounded, it was true. "You can make me a coffee after I fix this, though."

"Gladly." I replied, my thumb caressing her cheek before bringing her to my lips one more time.

"FINALLY!" We both jumped at Fred's yelling. "It was about fucking time, really."

"Do you wanna get beaten up again?" Y/n harmlessly shoved my shoulder, hiding a laugh. "I just realized," I signalled my black eye and then hers. "We're matching."

"What a lovely way to match, is it not?" She replied, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “Come,” she caressed my cheek before carefully pulling me up. “I saw clean bandages over the sink.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Y/l/n,” her eyes travelled to my brother. “don’t you snog my brother in the lavatory where we just got beaten up.”

“Piss off, Fred.” She responded indifferent, pulling me with her into the bathroom, leaving the door completely open; she probably feared my mother would burst it open at the possibility of us doing inappropriate things in there.

“Yeah, piss off.” I agreed, siting down on the toilet so she could clean the wound. “She can snog me wherever she wants.” I added, muffling a laugh when Y/n cursed us both under her breath. “I’m sorry, love.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” I confessed with an amused grin.

“Why do I even fancy you?” She questioned, faking disappointment in herself.

“I’m very handsome?” I casually suggested, tilting my head for her to wrap the bandage without much difficulty. 

“Must be.” She agreed, leaning on to peck my lips. “Now where’s that coffee, sir?”

I got up, leading Y/n to the kitchen and instantly preparing the coffee pot. “It’s gonna be the best coffee you’ll ever taste.” I stated, as if it was a scientifical fact.

“Confident, are we?” she laughed, sitting on the counter besides me.

“Well, my four-year-long crush just kissed me.” I confessed. “So yeah, very.”

“Fred’s right.” I hummed, looking at her with an eyebrow raised as I handed her the coffee. “It was about fucking time.” We smiled at each other, way too widely for two people who had just gotten roughed up. We stayed next to one another in silence, looking through the window; I found the customary landscape particularly beautiful. 

[cultofpersxnality]

The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.

It was incredible how much a quote could define a single man’s life. If there was something CM Punk tried to keep private, that was the state of his family. And the keyword was tried, since everything that happened between him and the rest of his blood relatives was public knowledge. What was unknown to the rest of the world was right in front of him, on his phone: a text message from his brother. Yeah, his brother Mike, also known as CM Venom. That ring name was so accurate, because that person was nothing but toxic to him. Suddenly, Phil’s mind began to travel back in time: early 2000, the two of them were a Tag Team, the Chick Magnets. Two young and naive boys from Chicago, ready to step into the wrestling world and conquer it, together. Until... that together revealed itself to be nothing but an illusion. Mike decided to steal money from the company they were working for. Needless to say, that act full of cowardice destroyed the relationship between the two brothers. The last words Phil said to Mike were something along the lines of ‘I don’t wanna see your stupid ass face ever again for the rest of my life‘. And now, 20+ years later, the former AEW World Champion was still dealing with the emotional pain that story caused him; to put it bluntly, reading that message brought back bad memories. How was it possible though? Many years had passed, the Second City Saint moved forward into the life he had always dreamed, so why? Why did he want to scream in nothing but pure rage against the display? The more he read those texts, the faster his heart was beating. Hey It’s me, Mike I see you’ve been going through a lot lately Can we talk? The only family member Phil loved with all his heart was his little sister. His father? He was dead to him. His mother? He got a restraining order against her a few years ago. His brother? The biggest piece of garbage in this world. Family... such a beautiful concept to a normal person, but such a shitty concept to him. Punk’s arm was shaking, his body language didn’t lie: he was nervous, to say the least. Many doubts were invading his mind, should he answer? Did that guy really deserve it? Phil tried to consider every single option in the shortest possible amount of time, but that only ended up confusing him even more. Until he couldn’t take it anymore, all the negative emotions were taking over, they were bursting out all of a sudden. The Chicagoan let out a scream, it was full of rage, anger, bitterness, but also lot of sadness was into the mix. Phil wasn’t thinking straight in this moment, and that absence of control became clear as day when he thre the phone against the wall, using all the strenght he had in his body. The impact between the phone and the wall made a loud noise and managed to create a crack on the screen, a very visible one. Phil acted out of instinct, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of regret on his face, and what he said later was a clear indicator of his decision. “Go to hell.” Was this story going to become public because of that piece of shit of his brother? If not, was Phil going to share this with someone? Perhaps someone he trusted with his own life? Even he didn’t know: the only thing he was sure of is that he needed to regain his composure.