#i said he looks thirty and has grey hairs and i STAND BY THAT

[remnantofstars]

THEY'RE SOOO DUMB GUYS TvT

Sit in my head as if they're real stoppppp that !!!! Stop!!! It!!!! I struggled way too much with Tom don't get mad at me please he's a dude a man ! Loser!!! Him ONLY having eye lines is important to me. Don't ask why.

[theemporium]

[3.5k] married life has perks that you hadn't ever imagined. and it came with duties you never considered to exist in a totally fake, accidental marriage with a three time world champion who was not what he seemed.

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As stupid as it sounded considering he had messaged his confirmation, you hadn’t actually expected Max to show up. At most, you expected the question for your address was just going to be him sending the McDonald’s to you with a note saying ‘just this once’.

So when someone knocked on the door a little past ten o’clock, you really weren’t expecting to find Max standing on the other side with a bright smile on his face and two bags full of groceries in his hands. 

You stood there, dumbfounded and blinking at the world champion in front of you. “You were serious.” 

His brows furrowed together slightly like you were the one being out of character. “Yeah, I was,” he said, waiting a few moments before he continued. “So, are you going to let me in or—”

“Oh, yeah!” You flashed him a shy smile as you stepped to the side, pulling the door open a little wider as he stepped into your apartment. You made a brief, noncommittal noise and muttered something about a kitchen in the direction you waved your hand, but Max walked in the right direction almost like he owned the place. 

Like he knew his way around your apartment with ease. 

The thought shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did.

You glanced down at your attire with a frown, your cheeks burning at your chosen outfit but, in your defence, you really hadn’t expected Max—or anyone—to come over tonight. The shirt was an old one of your father’s you had stolen from his closet many years ago, the pyjama bottoms were from a Christmas set your family had got a couple of years ago and your hair was pushed back from your face in some messy hair-do that probably wasn’t the most flattering.

And definitely not the outfit you would have chosen if you knew Max was coming over. 

But you pushed down the urge to grab a hoodie or a blanket or anything else to cover yourself up, and instead made your way towards the kitchen. 

There was something oddly domestic about the sight: Max standing by the counters, emptying the contents of the bags as he murmured away to himself like he was accounting for what he actually bought. He was dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie (a Red Bull one, unsurprisingly). His hair was messy, dishevelled even, like he hadn’t bothered to put any product in it today. 

You decided you preferred it much better like that.

“Are you okay with quesadillas?” 

You blinked, looking at Max with raised brows. “You can make quesadillas?” 

Max glanced at you over his shoulder, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “You say that like it’s a hard dish to make.” 

“I still burn toast,” you admitted with a shrug. “So anything that isn’t charred is impressive to me.”

Max snorted, almost like he thought you were joking. It was embarrassing that you weren’t, and almost impressive itself that you had managed to stay alive this long by yourself after you moved out of your mother’s house.

“Yes, I can make quesadillas,”  he said, finally answering your question as he began to move through the kitchen like he belonged. “It won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes at most.” 

“I may starve to death by then,” you whined, a playful tint to your words as you pulled yourself to sit up on the empty counter space on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. “McDonald’s would have been faster. And I would have eaten by now.”

Max turned to glare at you, his eyes narrowed. “You hadn’t eaten all day. I wasn’t going to let your first proper meal be McDonald’s.”

“And you said you wanted to be husband of the year,” you murmured, returning the glare and you could see his lips twitching upwards. “Plus, I was too busy to even attempt to cook for myself!” 

“Too busy to eat?” He questioned, not quite convinced. 

“I got wrapped up in my work,” you admitted, feeling your face burn as he watched you closely. You waited for him to get the same look on his face—the one your brothers’ or your mother always gave you—that screamed ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. But it never came. 

Much to your surprise—something Max had been doing consistently over the last few weeks—he looked intrigued, interested, fascinated. 

“What work was it?”

You told yourself it was a throwaway comment. That he was just being polite. 

“Are you trying to stall the fact you don’t actually know how to make quesadillas?” You teased, head tilted slightly to the side as Max smirked in response. 

“I can multitask,” he assured you. “I can listen and cook.”

“Max Verstappen? Being the listener instead of having people listen to him?” You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Now, that is just unheard of.”

Max rolled his eyes, though you didn’t see the fond action. 

“Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough to listen to,” he stated simply as he began to work, collecting the vegetables he had chosen and taking them to sink to wash. 

You watched him closely. “And I am?”

“Always,” he said, flashing you a smile over his shoulder before his focus returned to the food.

Despite his offer, you changed the conversation to something that was…well, more of a two way conversation rather than you talking about yourself and your work uninterrupted. Though, you pushed down that kernel of something warm and fuzzy and kept it hidden safe, even if his words were just a polite offer covered in sweet words. 

Around forty minutes later, you sat beside the boy on the counter as you both happily ate your quesadillas, a bright smile on your face as he began to retell some old story about him and Charles back in the karting days. Once you had both finished, you took his empty plate and waved away his offer to wash the dishes as you assured him you had a dishwasher that did the job just fine. 

Your back was turned to him as you loaded all the dishes into the dishwasher, not seeing the way his eyes drifted to some papers hidden under a pile of magazines. 

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“These drawings.” 

You froze for a moment before you turned around, finding Max spreading a few sheets across the counter. Your body burned in realisation when you noted they were some of your more recent designs, the ones that didn’t fit the pretty box your professors and teachers wanted, the ones that you liked to just draw for yourself in between projects.

“Those are nothing,” you waved him off, resisting the urge to rush over and snatch them from his hands like a mad woman. “Just silly, little—”

“They are amazing,” Max interrupted, the sincerity in his voice knocking the rest of the words from your throat. “Like, insanely good.” 

You put your focus back on cleaning up, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted—almost pleasantly—at his words. You felt like you were moving in a trance as you cleaned down the counters and turned the dishwasher on before you made your way towards Max. 

His focus was still on the sketches, his eyes scanning every little detail like it was important for him to memorise it all. You don’t think anyone outside of your teachers had ever looked at your work with such…focus.

“They really are nothing,” you said to Max as you stood beside him, fingers tracing over the drawings like they were gentle strokes of a pencil. “Just some fun on the side.” 

“Charles mentioned you went to school for this. Fashion, no?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together like he tried to remember the sliver of information he learnt about you years ago.

“Fashion designing and business management,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I love it, I do. It’s just…” 

His attention focused fully on you. “Just what?” 

“Constricting, I guess,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. You turned to look at him, expecting judgement but there was nothing but understanding in his eyes. “I know in the long run these classes will help be but sometimes I just…”

“Want to do what you want?” Max finished, a small smile gracing his lips and it looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks. “I get the feeling.” 

“One too many team orders ignored?” You questioned, your voice light and teasing and you were glad when he laughed in response. 

“Something like that.” 

A few moments passed with neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t silent, it never was in Monaco. There was still plenty of noise outside: cars revving, people laughing and cheering, the distant sound of music playing from some party who knows how many streets away. It was never quiet in Monaco, but there was something comforting about the blanket of outside noise when you were in your apartment with Max. 

“Come with me.” 

He had blurted the words out so suddenly that it took you a few seconds to realise what he said, what he was asking. You blinked once, then twice and still your brain was confused. 

“Come with you where?” 

He paused before his cheeks burned a light pink colour, like he realised he hadn’t given much explanation or context before he blurted the words out. He cleared his throat, his shoulders looking a little tense as he tried again.

“Come with me to the FIA ceremony,” he said and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he was nervous. Max Verstappen—three time world champion—looked nervous. “I mean, you’re my wife and…stuff.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And I want you there.”

Your lips parted in surprise, taking a few moments before the shock washed away and the questions started. “I—don’t you already have someone as your plus one?”

He looked a little embarrassed when he shook his head. “I honestly planned to go alone.” 

Your heart lurched a little at the idea. “Don’t you have to tell them in advance?” 

“I’d say a few days is enough,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips once again as realisation dawned on you.

“Oh my god.”

Max frowned a little. “What—”

“I only have a few days to find something to wear!” You hissed, your eyes widening as Max let out a loud, boisterous laugh. You slapped his arm, a wave of panic washing over you. “Max, this is serious! I have nothing!”

Max tried to fight his laughter. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to wear—”

“Yes, it is a big deal! It’s the official ceremony! I am the world champion’s date!” You said, looking at him like he had grown another head. “Oh my god, I am going to have to go shopping tomorrow.”

Max’s nose wrinkled. “Please tell me husband duties end at quesadillas and don’t extend to shopping trips.”

...

...

“When you said to come visit you in Monaco before heading home for the holidays, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

The curtain pulled back enough for you to poke your head out and glare at the blond sitting on the purple velvet futon. However, Logan just stared back at you with an absolutely bored expression on his face.

“You said you didn’t mind what we did,” you argued back.

“That was before we knew we would be sucked into dress shopping,” Oscar muttered under his breath, his focus on his phone screen. However, Logan quickly nudged his ribs with the point of his elbow and the Aussie let out a hiss as he snapped his head up. “What? We are, like, the two worst people you could have brought with you.”

“And it’s not fair Arthur got out of it,” Logan added with a pout.

“Who else could I have asked?” You retorted, looking between both boys with an expectant look. “Plus, I want to spend some time with my best friends before Christmas.” 

“I know you are only saying best friends to butter us up but I have to say it’s working for me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, ignoring the way Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Charles likes his fashion,” Oscar supplied lamely before frowning. “But not…good fashion.”

“Understatement of the century,” you snorted before pulling the curtain shut again and surveying the pile of dresses you had dragged into the dressing room less than an hour ago. This had been your fourth shop of the day and you still hadn’t found anything to wear for the FIA ceremony. “I don’t think he would have taken so kindly to me asking him which dress he thinks Max would think I look the hottest in.”

“And we would?” Oscar grumbled.

“Is he still pissed?” Logan asked, ignoring the Aussie before you poked your head out and took even longer to get through the dresses. “I thought he was playing nice at the dinner with Pascale.”

“He did,” you confirmed with a nod, even though they couldn’t see you as you frowned at the orange dress you had just slipped on. Definitely not the right shade. “But he has also been forwarding me divorce lawyers and articles on American Marriage Laws.” 

“Yikes,” the blond muttered. “He really hates the idea of you being married to Max.”

“He is an overprotective brother, he always has been.” You sighed as you glanced at yourself before shaking your head, moving onto the next dress which was an odd shade of moss green. “I think a part of him just blames himself for not stopping everything back in Vegas, so he feels the need to fix the mess now.” 

“Do you wish someone had stopped you?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

You paused, unsure how to answer. 

“It’s not like you could have stopped her, grandpa, you were in bed before the sun had even set,” Logan snorted, breaking the few seconds of silence as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

“And where were you?” Oscar retorted. “If you were up, why did you not stop her?”

“I was busy myself.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business, Piastri.” 

“Out making your own mistakes?” 

“Excuse you—”

“God, maybe it was a mistake to bring the two of you,” you commented as the curtain was pulled open again, and you stood in the entryway of the dressing room. You looked at them, your hands on your hips and a grin on your face. “If I had to guess, I would have said the two of you got married in Vegas with the way you bicker.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “As if I would marry him.”

“Uh, people would love to marry me,” Logan frowned before his attention shifted to your dress, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yeah no, puke green looks good on no one. Next!”

...

...

“Holy shit.” 

With the FIA Ceremony being held in Baku, it meant that you and Max had to fly his jet out to Azerbaijan the day before. You hadn’t even thought about the logistics of the trip until after you had bought the dress and Max had sent you confirmation that Christian had managed to book an extra room at the hotel so you didn’t have to share with him. 

It was incredibly stupid for you to be so nervous about the whole event when it wasn’t even about you. Yet, Max looked the splitting image of calmness as he sat across from you in the plane, tapping away on his phone as he played some stupid game Lando had got him addicted to.

His nerves remained calm once you landed, his hand on the small of your back as he led you towards the car that was designated with taking you to the hotel. He was a gentleman all throughout dinner as he kept one arm around the back of your chair as he indulged in small talk with Christian and Checo. He even walked you to your hotel room door—though it was next door to his—and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and walked towards his room before you could even say anything. 

Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to step in front of hundreds of cameras with his new wife.

You, however, were two steps away from shitting yourself. 

You had practically clung onto Oscar the next day, needing a sense of normalcy before you had to start getting ready. Though, in an annoyingly predictable turn of events, even Oscar wasn’t fazed by the upcoming ceremony and the award he was about to collect himself. If anything, he found your freakout to be highly entertaining before the boring trophy ceremony began. 

You had paced up and down the hotel room more times than you could count as you rushed around, desperately trying to look as put together and elegant as a last minute invite could. Your heart had been in your throat in the minutes leading up to Max knocking on the door. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look so sure of himself. 

Max stood on the other side of the door—a sight that made your heartbeat pathetically fast as the memory of him showing up the other night at your apartment came to mind—with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a suit, his hair styled to perfection, and yet there was a flush on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. 

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You teased, though you tried to cover up your own doubt as you glanced down at the floor-length red dress you had finally picked after dragging Oscar and Logan to seven different stores around Monaco. 

“Good,” he breathed out, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance as he took you in. “Definitely good.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “You aren’t mad that it’s Ferrari red?”

“You could have chosen any colour and I’d still consider myself lucky that you’re standing next to me,” Max admitted, something sounding in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before you could ponder for too long, the boy cleared his throat and quickly offered the bouquet to you. “I know a boring awards ceremony isn’t exactly an ideal first date but….here.”

You took the bouquet with a wide smile, leaning down to smell the flowers appreciatively before stepping back into the room to place them on your bedside table. “Thank you, Max, they are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said it so quietly that you almost swore you made it up. 

You turned back to him, mouth open and ready to say something before you paused as you took him in, blinking in surprise. 

Max frowned. “What?” 

“Is that the same suit you wore last year?” 

Max glanced down at himself before shrugging. “Yeah, and the year before that. And the year before that. And—”

You blanched. “You wear the same suit every year?” 

“I don’t see why I need to get a new one every year,” Max argued back, clearing his throat a little. 

“Max, you’re a three-time world champion. You are going to collect your third world championship,” you continued as you walked back towards where he was standing. “You should be wearing something special to commemorate the day.”

“I won the championship weeks ago though,” he said, his brows furrowed together like he didn’t understand your point. “What’s the big deal about collecting a trophy?” 

“You made history this season,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as though you were trying to size him up, trying to understand him. “You should be wearing something more special than a suit you’ve worn years in a row.” 

Max nodded like he understood what you meant but his lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Next championship, you can design my suit then.”

You blinked once. And then again. 

“You would wear something I designed?” You asked, almost wincing at how soft your voice sounded when you spoke.

“Of course I would,” he said before he offered his arm for you to take. “You have a year, so you’ll have plenty of time to work on a good suit. One appropriate for a four-time world champion.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And you’re so sure you’ll win next season?” 

“Oh, I know it, baby,” Max grinned back at you, and something about the way he smiled made him look so young and mischievous. “Maybe you can make one of your own designs for yourself as well. We could be matching.” 

“Maybe,” you said with a smile, letting the hotel door close behind you as you tried to pretend like your heart wasn’t thundering in your chest at his implication of doing this again.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 372,947 others

yourusername 3x world champion and great personal carrier. would 10/10 recommend this verstappen guy

view all 21,930 comments

maxverstappen1 the stairs were steep, you would have decked it

oscarpiastri you would have

yourusername i take my thank you back

user SHE WAS HIS DATE KWEBFKBEFJWEF

user omg this keeps getting better

user it's like a fanfic irl

user the tiktok povs could never

landonorris you are so-

yourusername what did i do now?

landonorris you told me you picked the papaya dress

yourusername i said that so you would shut up

landonorris your wife is bullying me maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 good

user i can't believe this is real

user THE FACT SHE POSTED HIM WITH THE TROPHY TOO

user has anyone checked on charles?

arthur_leclerc he is currently breathing into a paper bag

user ARTHUR-

charles_leclerc i'm glad your loyalties still remain with ferrari

yourusername well it is RED bull so...

charles_leclerc i am blocking you

redbullracing our favourite wag!

charles_leclerc i am blocking you too

.

[bunchems]

Marc’s Girl 18+ minors dni

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Summary: Loosening Steven up after trying on an outfit for your date with Marc tomorrow.

Warnings: Shy Steven, some haram drink consumption, premarital skin to skin contact, I think that all.

She looks gorgeous

Steven thought as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you finish up your hair. Marc had him front so you could show him your dress, Steven looked down at himself, white tee with light grey sweatpants on, clearly no underwear. You and Marc have a date night planned for tomorrow and to make sure your outfit was absolutely perfect, you ask Steven for his opinion.

“Okay, done! How do I look?” You smile, spinning and watching as his face warms, taking you in.

“You look per- pretty. Lovely.” He wipes a finger over his brow, hoping you didn’t hear his slip up. “Marc will be thrilled when he sees you.” You laugh and start walking closer to him, noticing how he anxiously fidgets as he wonders how to act around you.

“You don’t think the heels are a problem? I’m almost as tall as you.” You say, pulling his hands so he stands up.

“No- no it wouldn’t be a problem, he would love everything you’ve got on- planned! He would love everything you have planned.” Steven couldn’t help the way his eyes shifted to the mirror, paranoid that Marc would be there to yell at him for talking to his girlfriend like this. But Steven wanted her too. He wondered what it would be like for you to dress up just for him like you do for Marc. What would it be like to be kissed, even on the cheek, by you.

“What about you?” Blinking, he snapped out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“I asked if you liked it. You keep saying that Marc would like it, but do you?” He’s looking at the mirror again, at the floor, at your feet, at the door, he’s nervous.

“I think you look… pretty.. all the time.” The way your eyes beamed made his heart clench, why did you have to be so incredible.

“Oh yeah? How come you’ve never told me before?”

How could I…

“Well, well you don’t need to be told do you? You know you’re lovely.” That might have been the smoothest thing Steven has ever said, especially when his brain was just dumping thoughts.

“You’re quite the charmer. You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” He frowns at the question, the truth is quite embarrassing, of course the truth is that he’s never even had a moment with a girl that was more passionate than holding hands.

“I- yes. I have. I had one when I was..”

Eighteen? Twenty-six? Thirty?

“Twenty.” He lies, watching your jaw drop. “You haven’t had a girlfriend in almost twenty years?!”

Should’ve said thirty.. five?

He looks down, your reaction hurt him, he knows it’s weird that he’s never been with a woman, that’s why he lied to you— but it has been double that, how would you have reacted if he said never?

Steven didn’t bother to answer, of course you noticed how he’s retreated a bit more into his shell.

“There’s nothing wrong with that or anything but I’m just shocked! You’re like the perfect man it’s quite unbelievable.” He looks at you in awe, then closing his mouth and nodding.

“You mean Marc.“ He was about to laugh his little shy laugh but you weren’t having any more of this denial.

“No, I know who I’m talking to, Steven. You and Marc are two completely different people.” You’ve stepped closer to him and he flinched, eyes shifting once again to the mirror, you ponder on that.

“Right.. you and Marc do communicate through reflections right? Is he here right now? ‘Cuz he’s really not supposed to be snooping on my dress.” You said, turning to look at the mirror with a stern look.

“No, he isn’t. I just- sometimes I get nervous that he might be.”

“Why?”

“Well.. you know..”

“No, I don’t think I do..?”

“Really? Well- you- you’re Marc’s girl..” You chuckled at his words, you’ve talked to Marc about this. That dating him and not Steven would be a little different for you and he fully understood. But of course he’d be jealous and not tell Steven this information.

“I can be yours too.” Gasping, he puts his hand over his heart to soothe the pleasurable ache in his chest.

“You don’t mean that..” He sighs, his face holding all the disbelief in the world, you squint at this, hatching an idea.

“You know what? We’ve never had a drink together, I have a bottle of wine that needs to be finished by tonight.. and I do mean that.” It was your smile that ultimately led him to saying yes, taking a distant seat next to you on the couch. The wine glasses were filled equally and you gave the obligatory cheers before taking a sip.

“T’s not as bad as I expected, not as bitter.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite, when this runs out I’m going straight to the store to get another.” His eyes get comically wide, setting his glass down and turning his body to face you.

“If it’s your favorite.. don’t you think you should save it for your date with Marc tomorrow? I mean wouldn’t you want to share this with him on your ..special day?” His voice lost diction as he spoke, subdued by the idea of it not being him that you’d be happily going out with tomorrow.

He takes another sip of his drink as you respond with a voice as sweet as honey. “There’s no one I’d rather share this bottle with, Steven.” He takes another long sip, hiding his smile with the glass and finishing the cup absentmindedly.

“So, how come you haven’t had a girlfriend for such a long time, hm?“ He felt shy at the question, answering in a low voice. “Women have never seemed to like me.. Don’t really blame them, I’ve no idea how to make a woman happy.”

When Marc first told you about Steven one of the first things he mentioned was how he’s treated. No one necessarily likes him yet they don’t have a good reason not to, he gets pushed around but he doesn’t do much about it, not many people talk to him and when they do you’d find yourself wishing that there were still good people on Earth. Marc said Steven doesn’t deserve nearly as much shit as he gets, he actually wants Steven to like you so everyone would be happy.

“That can’t be true.. how’d you ask out your last girlfriend? Or did she ask you?” He didn’t want to continue this lie but with the help of a glass of wine it became a bit easier to think of a way to answer.. without answering.

“Oh, I could never go and talk to a woman. Let alone one that I fancied.” Finally finishing your wine, you make to pour two more glasses, handing Steven his cup and smiling as he takes a bigger sip.

“So that must be why you’re all the way over there?” You figured that by now, the alcohol must be running through his system, of course you figured that because of his sudden inability to hide his smile and the way he looks at you.

“Yeah, sorry, guess I haven’t quite shaken the habit.”

“So you do like me?” He sighs, “‘Course I do.. Jus’ wish I was more like Marc, would be nice to be able to look good, sound cool. I think it would be nice if I could impress you like he does. I dunno.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“Why don’t you impress me in your own way? Y’know, rather than Marc’s way.” Pressing his lips together, he thinks for a moment.

“Well, like I said, I wouldn’t know how. He’s the one that knows what to do, he’s tried to get me a girlfriend before, y’know? Didn’t work, she threw her drink at me.” You frown, “Why?”

“Well, it was my fault, really. I set our date at a vegan restaurant.” He looks up at your confused face with a small laugh. “She wasn’t vegan, she yelled at me because I didn’t ask what she liked to eat. Actually, a small part of me believes that she did that because she regretted saying yes to me.” His smile fell when he looked at you again, you looked upset, really upset.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” He sets his glass down and wipes his palms over his thighs, ready to leave in case you were mad at him.

“You could never make me uncomfortable, those girls suck okay? And it most definitely wasn’t your fault.” Standing, you pick Steven’s wine back up and hand it to him, sitting close enough that your legs touch.

When Steven received his glass, he passed it to the other hand. He allowed his left hand to relax but when he felt soft plump skin under his palm he jerked back with fear. “Sorry! I-I’m so sorry!” He was panicking at first, but then you laugh. That beautiful, lighthearted laugh that always seems to calm his nerves.

“What?” He laughs back, subconsciously scooting away. “You’re adorable, I don’t care that you touched my thigh.” He smiled and looked away momentarily.

“You don’t?” When he looked back at you, the comfortable smile on your face had his heart melting.

God she’s beautiful.. focus focus focus..

His thoughts were slow, concentrated on you and how your hand reached for his.

“Obviously not.” He blinked, what were you talking about? Did he miss something that had been said, done? What was happening? After a moment, he answers. “What d’you mean?”

“I thought we established that I want to be your girlfriend.” It takes multiple moments to fully understand what you were saying to him, he sat there blinking at you with the most mixed emotioned face you’ve ever seen.

“You were serious?” The waver in his voice almost broke your heart, “Why? I mean, of course I think you’re amazing.. and I know Marc and I are almost the same person to you but, uhm, d’you think you like me because you like Marc… Or do you actually think that I’m.. do you think- that you could even possibly be happy.. with me?”

“Yes, Steven, of course I can be happy with you. I like you for you, not because of Marc or anyone else. I know you’re sweet and incredibly caring. I know you’re a vegan so I’ll know to buy separate things for you, I know you love Egyptology, which is perfect for me because I think it’s interesting too, I know your fish, Gus, who really needs a companion, I know you’re entirely misunderstood, and I know that I do like you for you.” He contemplates, leg tapping and hands wringing.

“Are you sure?” You laugh at this, but he can’t seem to make himself laugh with you. “Why would I mind that?” He tilts his head in confusion. “Well- well I’m too nervous, for one.” He finishes his wine in a gulp, “I wouldn’t know what to do, how to treat you.” He thought again, the lie he’d told earlier still sitting on his chest weighing him down.

“And you were right earlier.. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend… I lied.” He sighed dramatically, you question him with a frown, feeling your stomach clench. “I just said that because I didn’t want you to know that-“ He stops to think of his words carefully, but no matter how he puts it, it still sounds the same.

“To know what..?” As patient and relaxed as ever, you calmed him down with the sound of your voice. “That no woman has ever really liked me.. because if you knew that, there’s no way that you would want me.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was feeling shame, embarrassment, something too unpleasant to bare that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I just- I know that it could change your mind..” He confirmed after maybe three seconds of silence, you put your hand on his thigh and fight back a giggle when he freezes.

“I do not give a fuck about what any other woman thinks of you. All you need to think about from now on is me, not whoever used to treat you like shit okay?” Even though he hears what you’re saying, his eyes seem to focus on the way you take his glass and put it down along with yours. The way your hips and legs shift to face him, your body coming closer, yours hands coming to the side of his face to tilt his head up so he could look in your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?“ The shock in his eyes only makes your heart flutter. He sighs out an ‘uhuh’ and you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back and laughing at the fact that his eyes are still blissfully closed.

You take that as a sign to press two more soft pecks before using your thumb to pull his lip down, sucking on it and pulling it softly with your teeth. He gasps and pulls away as he looks at you with curious eyes, you were sure he had a question but his eyes trailed away instead, shying away from it.

“What do you want to say?” The attempt to make your voice as sweet as possible must’ve worked since he turns to you, albeit slowly, and starts to mumble. “You- don’t have to say yes, but I wanted to- wanted you to maybe, teach me how to.. kiss.. you…”

“Of course, come with me.”

Part 2 maybe?

[wolves-in-the-world]

Goran Višnjić as Nikola Tesla in Doctor Who 12.4, Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror.

image descriptions below the cut

—

[1] A still from an episode of Doctor Who, showing Goran as Nikola Tesla in front of Niagara Falls with an audience of men in suits and top hats, only their backs shown to us. Nikola is gesturing towards the waterfall as he speaks. He's a tall, slim man of about fifty in an old-fashioned suit with a tailcoat, pinstriped trousers, a waistcoat and watch-chain. He has a moustache, and brown hair parted in the middle, a few inches long and styled neatly with a bit of a wave.

[2] Goran as Nikola Tesla gesturing towards a device I don't understand well enough to even describe except that it's two corrugated metal cylinders and electricity is arcing between them, blue and dramatic, while he gestures like a magician. His other hand is on a lever, his face obscured by a starburst of blue light.

[3] A close-up of Goran as Nikola Tesla with a lightbulb in the foreground gleaming with warm light. He's looking off-screen and smiling slightly, eyes large and grey-blue, eyebrows raised, creases in his forehead and around his mouth. He's wearing a butterscotch-yellow tie with a wing or tuxedo shirt collar.

[4] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola Tesla bent over a workbench doing something with a tool we only see as a faint gleam of metal. He's bent almost double, intent on his work, a curl of hair falling down above his forehead, his coat gone and his shirt sleeves rucked up to the elbow so that his arms are bare and evidently hairy. The scene's dark, lit only by a candle lamp.

[5] A view of Goran as Nikola Tesla looking at a figure mostly out of view, visible to us only as blonde hair at the side of the screen. Nikola's eyes are a little wide, his mouth slightly open, making him look bewildered, and perhaps wary - I thought of it as his "okay, either you or this situation is bonkers" face. His thumb is just visible at the bottom of the screen, suggesting he's gesturing or fidgeting with his hands.

[6] A view of Goran in a crowded street, no coat, standing almost a head taller than everyone else and gesturing with one hand in a way that signals frustration or defensiveness, his eyes closed, mouth open as he speaks. A few bowler hats are visible around him, and a few of Nikola's companions - Dorothy, a serious-faced woman of thirty or so with tightly curly hair and smart clothing; the Doctor, currently a woman with straight blonde hair looking curiously past Dorothy; and just a glimpse of Yasmin in the background in a flat blue hat.

[7] A side-on view of Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor and Goran as Nikola both paying rapt attention to a glowing green mechanical-looking ball in a dish, with the Doctor pointing her sonic screwdriver at it and Nikola bending down to watch at the opposite side of the desk, hands folded together as if he's fidgeting, intent on her work. The Doctor's in a long light grey coat with a hood, incongruous for the era, and it's clear she'd be a lot shorter than him if he weren't currently courting back pain.

[8] The same scene as before, minutes later - the Doctor only visible as blonde hair in the foreground, Nikola's face transformed like he's realised something wonderful, eyes on the Doctor and leaning forward slightly, or still leaning on the desk. His mouth is open as he talks, his eyes bright, skin creasing faintly at the corners with a real smile.

[9] The same scene as before, seconds later. Goran as Nikola is looking to the side, no longer smiling but serious and thoughtful.

[10] The same scene as before, seconds later. Nikola is looking back at the Doctor and raising his eyebrows in a question at something she said, his forehead creasing, his expression perhaps a little doubtful.

[11] A close-up of Goran as Nikola in a room with warmer and dimmer lighting, his hair coming loose a bit as short curls on his forehead, frowning as he talks to someone off-screen. The angle exaggerates his nose, emphasises the lines around his mouth.

[12] A different view of the scene, zoomed out. Nikola is bent over a worktable beside Yasmin, a young woman with curled hair and a smart navy-blue jacket, and they're looking at each other as though discussing a problem, Nikola folding or rubbing his hands together. The desk of a mess of wires and oddments, lit bulbs in metal cages and what might be the odd green ball from earlier.

[13] Nikola and Yasmin in a very different location, dimly lit, with strange red lights in the background and a green light over their faces. (They're on an alien spaceship.) Yasmin is looking down at the floor like she's stunned, mouth open, and Nikola is holding her arm like he's just pulled her back, but his eyes are on something or someone else we can't see. His eyes are wide, his expression startled and openly afraid.

[14] Nikola and Yasmin still on the spaceship, blurry machinery behind them, but Nikola is almost level with Yasmin now and they're standing close, both looking at a third party off-screen. Yasmin's expression is one of distaste and a little anger, and Nikola's eyebrows are drawn down, expression somewhere between bewildered and worried.

[15] A different scene, different lighting - deep blue in the background, warm light on Nikola's face. It's an odd angle, his head ducked as though looking at something, his expression serious.

[16] A different scene, perhaps daytime with electric lighting, Nikola in conversation with someone off-screen who's clearly shorter than him. His hair's a little disarrayed, eyebrows raised and forehead creased, but there's something of a smile to his eyes and his mouth that gentles it.

[17] The same scene, seconds later, slightly zoomed in. Nikola's eyebrows are lower, forehead still creased and eyes a little scrunched, like he doesn't understand yet what the other person means. There's something tender about it still.

[18] A different room, darker, Nikola grinning while the Doctor is mostly off-screen, just a little of her hair visible, except she's raising a hand for a high-five that he isn't reciprocating. Creases are splayed out from his eyes, deep ones around his mouth, his nose sharp from this angle.

[19] A different view of the high-five moment, focusing on the Doctor as she realises he doesn't know to reciprocate - the high-five wasn't invented yet - and starts to lower her hand. Her mouth is wide open, teeth showing, somewhere between a grin and talking, and her body language is open exuberance. The creases around Nikola's eyes are still very visible from this angle, though most of his face isn't.

[20] A view of Goran as Nikola with his eyes closed as if he's blocking something out, and a look of forbearance and faint frustration on his face.

[21] A side-on view of Goran as Nikola, a shorter man in the background and the TARDIS behind them both, its windows glowing white. Nikola's expression is determined and a little grim, more hair curling messily against his forehead.

[22] A view of Goran as Nikola outside, trees in the background, a blurry blue-white sky and what might be yellowish grass. He's wearing old-fashioned aviator goggles on his forehead, where they're pushing his hair up so it's even messier, and he's looking down at something with a troubled expression.

[23] A view of the Doctor and Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS, the scene awash in electric blue and peach-pink, and no other lighting. The Doctor's leant over the TARDIS controls doing something there and looking back at Nikola, who has picked up some sort of contraption and is looking down at it, expression either troubled or focused. The light on his face is blue, throwing his features into sharp and unflattering relief.

[24] A view of Goran as Nikola in the TARDIS still, the lighting blue, the angle of his shoulders suggesting his hands are on his hips, and his expression now one of open joy. His eyes are large, his mouth open and smiling slightly, soft creases on either side.

[25] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, looking with his head tilted at someone in the foreground - barely visible, except for the bowler hat. Nikola's expression is tolerant, a restrained smile with narrow eyes, and his hands are probably clasped behind his back.

[26] A view of Goran as Nikola on the street, now talking to the Doctor, only the back of her head visible. Nikola's in the same pose as before, hands behind his back, only leaning slightly towards her now, his expression warm as he talks to her. The creases around his eyes are back, and it's another angle that emphasises his nose.

[27] The same view as before, only now Nikola's ducked his head, almost like he's shy, or needs a moment to collect himself. The creases have gone from his eyes, but the smile's still there at his mouth.

—

[immabethehero]

A Jolly Holiday (WDTAJN - Song)

Finally have them all done! Here’s my last entry for @wdtajn! The song? Jolly Holiday from Mary Poppins!

(So a bit of context: I made a boyfriend for Bruno. His name is Matias, he’s an inventor who showed up in the Encanto after the events of the movie. His inventions are unpredictable, to say the least. They don’t always work and often end with an explosion. Think Dr. Doofenshmirtz, but if his parents were actually supportive and loving. He was kicked out of his hometown when his parents died, and has been hopping from town to town since. Until he ended up in the Encanto.)

PS. he also owns a grey cat named Alegria ^u^

*******

Bruno spends an extra hour in the bathroom this morning, washing his hair and shaving as much as he can. Thirty minutes are spent on teeth alone. He throws on his prettiest ruana (with extra embroidery by Mirabel) over a new green and white striped shirt and purple pants. A corsage tucked over his heart, he dashes downstairs.

His cheerful presence is not lost on the family, who watch him intently.

“Wonder what’s got him all cleaned up,” Camilo says.

“Matias is coming over,” Isabela answers as she walks out. Camilo blanches.

“Not with a new machine, right?” he whispers to his sister. Dolores simply stares at him.

“Not with a new machine, right?” Camilo squeaks.

Dolores rolls her eyes and strains her head to listen. “It’s definitely not his typical machine… it does sound awfully loud. Sort of like… instruments crashing together.” Camilo weakly whimpers.

“Don’t worry, Papá and I have been teaching him to play,” Mirabel says as she passes.

“Play?!”

Mirabel ignores her primo and runs out. “I’m going for a walk, see ya!”

Bruno picks up a small parcel wrapped up in a custom wrapping paper with little drawn gears shaped like hearts on them. He approaches his sobrinos and twirls. 

“How do I look?”

“Better than usual,” Camilo admits. “I can’t even smell your breath from here.”

“You look muy guapo,” Dolores says. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s our anniversary today!” Bruno squeals. “A whole year! I can’t wait to show Matias my gift-”

Bang! Crash! Bang! Crash! True to what Dolores said, whatever invention Matias has brought this time, it’s going to be a very musical, albeit noisy one.

“That’s definitely not what I had in mind when he said he would surprise me today,” Bruno says. “Camilo, what do you see out there?”

Camilo peers out the window. Matias has put on a lovely suit, no doubt tailored by Agustín. His black dreadlocks have been tied up into a bun. However, his silver vest and new purple shirt hide underneath a shield of musical instruments. A horn hangs across his chest, a trumpet is strapped to his chest, an accordion is fastened to his belt, and on his back is a large bass drum, with crash cymbals on top of it. When he moves, a mallet bangs on the drum and the cymbals crash together. Mirabel stands beside him, trying to suppress her amused smile.

Camilo turns back to Bruno. “Do you remember that movie we watched together? The one with the magical nanny?”

Bruno nods. “Yeah?”

“That’s your surprise-”

Bruno dashes out before Camilo can finish his sentence.

“Good morning, hermoso! Happy anniversary!” Matias yells over his instruments banging together.

“Hey Matias! I heard you were coming,” Bruno says. “Literally. What are you wearing? What is all this?”

The inventor twirls around. “Do you like it? I thought I’d take a page out of the moving picture you showed us the other day.” He picks up the accordion and begins to play.

“You didn’t strike me as an accordion player,” Bruno admits as he listens to Matias. He’s actually holding the instrument correctly! And not butchering any notes! It’s a miracle!

“That’s because I’m not. Mirabel had to teach me,” Matias admits. 

“I did offer to play with him, but he wanted to do the whole act,” Mirabel adds.

“I’m dating an actual soap opera star. I need to have some credibility to my name,” Matias says. He takes a deep breath and begins to sing.

Ain't it a glorious day?

Right as a morning in May

I feel like I could fly

“Isn’t this from Mary Poppins?” Bruno asks.

“Shut up and please let me do this.”

Have you ever seen the grass

So green, or a bluer sky?

Oh it's a jolly holiday with Bruno

Bruno makes your heart so light!

“You have too much faith in me, mi vida,” Bruno says with a laugh.

When the day is gray and you feel low

The sky suddenly darkens before the sun breaks through once more.

Bruno makes the sun shine bright!

Bruno spies Pepa peeking out from behind a tree. How many Madrigals did Matias plan this with?!

Oh, happiness is blooming all around him,

The daffodils are smiling at the dove

Right on cue, daffodil petals shower Bruno. He catches Isabela high–fiving his sister.

When Bruno holds your hand

You feel so grand

Your heart starts beating like a big brass band!

Matias jumps to the beat, the instruments a rhythmic discord. Mirabel winces, but Bruno laughs.

It's a jolly holiday with Bruno

No wonder that it's Bruno that we love!

Matias grabs Bruno’s hand and pulls him through the town. Isabela showers flowers in their direction and Antonio stands by a fence with animals lined up. Matias joins them.

“We practiced on this all week! Take it away guys!”

“Baaaaa!” an older ram sings. Interesting.

“Baa! Baa!” a trio of lambs respond.

A horse whinnies the next part, followed by a cow mooing. Are the animals supposed to sing along? Bruno raises an eyebrow.

“You know this part sounded better in my head,” Matias admits. Bruno snorts. “Antonio said they sounded like a choir.”

“They do!” Antonio exclaims.

Donkeys bray the next line, and a large pig finishes the verse with two loud snorts. Mirabel and Antonio sing the translation, hoping to save the last verse of the song.

When Bruno holds your hand

You feel so grand

Your heart starts beating like a big brass band!

It's a jolly holiday with Bruno

No wonder that it's Bruno that we love!

Bruno applauds the “musician” and the animals (who honestly did their best). “Asombroso! Wonderful playing!”

Matias attempts to bow, the accordion pushing into his stomach. “Note to self: it’s hard to bend over when you have instruments strapped to you.”

“Need help getting all that off?” Bruno asks, gently knocking on the drum.

“Yes, actually, the local band needs all of these back before their next gig.”

Bruno freezes. “Seriously? How did you even get them to give you these instruments?”

“Your sobrina is a very persistent young lady,” Matias answers, nodding to Mirabel. She winks.

“He’s my best pupil! I’ve never seen anyone learn the accordion so quickly before,” Mirabel says. “Other than me, of course.”

“Your whole family is quite musical, so I thought it would be smart if I joined in,” Matias explains.

Bruno’s eyes widen. “Oh! I’m actually not that musical myself, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“Really? I always took you for a pianist, especially with those hands of yours.”

Bruno’s cheeks burn hotter than the sun. He shoves Matias playfully. “Come on, let’s get these instruments off you. That way I can show you the gift I got you…”

*

If Camilo hears the discordant cymbal crashing as he walks through town, he does not acknowledge it. He doesn’t hear the drum occasionally going thump. And he certainly doesn’t hear the rhythmic squeezing of a dying accordion squashed between two people. No. He won’t acknowledge the sound of the One (well, Two) Man Band!

*

Matias holds up his new notebook, running his hands over the pretty cover. Illustrated rats play with kittens, no doubt inspired by Alegria, Matias’ grey cat. “This is a wonderful gift! I definitely needed a new sketchbook! You have no idea how many new ideas I’ve got.”

“The last one looked like it was bursting at the seams. And look-” Bruno flips through the pages. Little sketches of cats appear, along with encouraging messages in Bruno’s handwriting. Matias freezes.

“My writing looks more like chicken scratches, so I hope you can actually read them,” Bruno rambles. “I did try looking for inspirational quotes from the future… but I don’t think you’d get any references, so I just stuck to basic stuff. Cheesy, right?” He stops when he sees Matias wiping away tears. Bruno winces.

“It’s bad, isn’t it? You can always rip those out or draw over them or-”

“My first notebook was a lot like this. Full of little motivational quotes written by my parents.” That catches Bruno off guard. In all their time together, Matias had never really mentioned his own family. Hell, he even arrived in Encanto alone!

“I think it’s still in my green toolbox. I always keep the most important stuff in that toolbox,” Matias says.

Bruno moves closer to Matias, motioning him to talk. From what he knows from the small tidbits Matias has told him, the inventor hopped from town to town, never settling in one place. He doesn’t think Matias has ever lived in a town for a whole year.

“After my first few ‘village incidents’, I started to keep all my precious things, stuff I didn’t want to lose, in that toolbox. Just in case I ever needed to get out of town quickly. I didn’t need to worry about a heavy suitcase.”

Bruno fidgets with his ruana, struggling to think up any comforting words. He finally decides to just put his hand on Matias’.

Matias turns to Bruno, smile slowly returning. He grasps Bruno’s hands. “But this time, I… I think I want to stay. I’ve never felt so welcome here! Everyone is so welcoming and encouraging. I’ve never felt more at home! So, if you’ll allow it, I want to live in Encanto permanently.”

No sooner has Matias finished his sentence does Bruno shower him with kisses. Matias chuckles. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course! You’ll always have a home here!”

[imnotsorryforanyofthis]

Quirkless Advantage

Chapter thirty-two: A change of clothes

Warning: Lots and lots of cussing…..

———

These chapters are going to be stupid and short. Enjoy reading! ——— "You do realize that I am putting a lot of trust in you," I say as Dabi and I are walking hand in hand.

"Awe! How cute! Ew! That's so not cute!" Twice says from in front of us.

"Shut up," Dabi says, glaring at Twice.

I ignore their conversation as we are walking, only looking at my wrist.

I just don't understand... That was like those other times.

Dabi suddenly stops walking and points at this black wortex thing, "Go through that."

"What? Why? Isn't that going to lead me straight to them?" I ask, letting go of his hand, taking a step back away from him.

"Yes," He says bluntly.

Is he fucking crazy or something?!

Well, that's a stupid question... I already know that he is... But still...

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Dabi says, gently brushing his fingers through my hair to move it out of my face, "Trust me."

"You know it's hard to do when you know everything that a person, that is asking you to trust them, has done," I say, grabbing his hand and putting it down.

"Hey, Dabi! You got her?!" A voice that I recognize says from behind me.

"Mr. Compress," I whisper to myself.

"Go.. now. I'll come a little later," Dabi says, ignoring what Mr. Compress said.

"What does he mean by 'you got her'?" I ask.

Dabi only ignores me and pushes me into the black wortex thing.

"What the fuck?!" I yell as I feel myself getting pulled backwards.

Suddenly I land on something hard, hitting my back. "Why is it always my poor back?" I ask myself outloud.

I stand up, looking around where I landed. The floors are wood and there's a bar counter, stools, brick walls, a booth and table, and a jukebox.

"Ah, so you are the first to arrive," I hear a deep voice. I look over at the bar and see a tall man in a suit. "My name is Kurogiri but you must have already known that," He says, picking up a glass and wiping it down with a rag.

"If you go through that door, go down the hall and to the last door on the right, you will find a room where you can wash up and a change of clothes," Kurogiri says pointing to a door across from him.

Even though I really don't want to listen to him... I really hate listening to people that tell me what to do... I think it would be best if I listen to this terrifying man that is a villain.

I mean... I don't really listen to Dabi and he's a terrifying man that is a villain...

Fine! I guess I'll behave for once...

I followed his instructions even though I really just wanted to sit down on a stool and pout.

I walk inside the room that he told me to go to and I see that there was a change of clothes. Just like he told me. I begrudgingly walk towards the clothes that are folded neatly on a dresser with a mirror behind it.

I pick up the clothing that was on top of the pile to see that it is a mint and dark grey tank top. I take off my dirty and torn top to put it on. "How the hell does this fit perfectly? Do they somehow have my size?" I say to myself outloud.

I look at the clothing again and pick up the pants that are a fuchsia color. I take off my shorts and put the pants on. Again, perfect fit. "What the hell? This is way too weird," I say to myself outloud.

I look next to where the pile was and see that there is a pair of shoes and socks, "I bet that they also are a perfect fit... Yeah... that's not fucking creepy at all."

After I finish changing, I look into the mirror. My hair is a mess and my face has dirt all over it.

"That pretty little face is all dirty now," I hear a voice say inside of my head.

"You really shouldn't be crawling on the ground like that," The voice says.

I feel a hand on the back of my neck squeezing it. "Look at what happened... I did this for you... It was all for you," A voice says inside of my head.

The hands go from the back of my neck to the back of my head, pulling it back. "Now look at me!" The voice says loudly in my head.

"Look at me! I did this for you! It was all for you! Now, look at me!" The voice says inside of my head.

My head aches. I'm looking up at the ceiling as I feel the hand release my head.

I can't tell if it is in my head or if it is real. I don't think I can tell the difference anymore. ——— Tsuna's change of clothes...

Update: 8/2/22 I redrew everything because I didn't really like the old photos. It's very similar to the first one, it's just a little better and different.

---

Here is the link to all of the chapters

Link to next: Chapter thirty-three: Making a Deal with Devils

[links-writing]

Fairy Lights

Getting a call from Lance while at work was, to say the least, confusing. Keith worked as a cop, mostly doing street patrol and making sure people remained peaceful. Lance never called him at work unless it was an emergency. Which led to the raven-haired man standing inside his home, gazing into his closet. He had been instructed to dress in a comfortable, though nice, set of clothes. Going through his closet led to him choosing a soft, maroon button-up. Rolling the sleeves up some, he fastened it. Black straight pants were next, and the shoes were last. Searching for a pair of black shoes, he ended up throwing all of them out of the closet, eyes roving around for a pair. Lance had, what appeared to be thirty some different pairs that rested in the closet. A half an hour later, and he found a pair. A quick shower refreshed him, dressing up in a pair of sweats and a grey shirt for the time being. Blow-drying his hair was nice, the heat felt good. Combing through it was a bit more difficult, and wrangling it into a nice appearance even more so. He managed it, however. Tying it in a gentle pony-tail, resting at the nape of his neck. A sprit of cologne on his neck and wrists, and he went to the kitchen.

After hunting through the fridge, he pulled a water-bottle out. The cat they had adopted meowed at him from the counter, making Keith chuckle. "Hey Fin, you hungry?" he spoke softly, the house feeling oddly empty without Lance there. Getting the food container from the cabinet, he smiles as the cat rubs against his ankles, recalling fondly how they had found the cat. Fin was a tan and cream-colored cat, having a similar pattern to a cow. Setting the bowl down for Fin, he checked the water. It was still full, meaning Lance had remembered to fill it before he left. Rubbing the back of his neck, he started cleaning up the house. The time Lance had said to be ready was five. It was only four-thirty, meaning he had some time to kill. Cleaning the house wasn't as much as he expected, Lance having left a note inside a couch for him. Reading over it, Keith laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement at his boyfriends antics.

Keith! I know if your reading this your cleaning! STOP FOR QUIZNACKS SAKE!!! Shower and maybe eat something! Oh and check to see if Fin has any food left too! I love you McMullet!

- Your Beloved Sharpshooter

A giggle escaped him, and Fin meowed questioningly. Keith swore up and down the cat was more human than anything. Letting Fin see it caused the cat to let out a gag, walking away and running up the stairs. Howling laughter escaped him, shoulders shaking. Fin had always done that. A kiss good-bye and he gagged. Any kiss really, caused the cat to act as if it was the worst thing in the world. Setting a timer for 4:50, he flopped on the couch, turning on the TV. It didn't take long for the timer to go off, and he stood up.

Walking up the stairs, he admired the pictures on the wall. Memories held within a simple piece of paper. He wouldn't trade them for the world. Several of them were or the other paladins. Shiro laughing, a picture caught just seconds before Lance had tackled him into the lake. Pidge making a face, similar to that a cat would make when they thought their humans where doing something stupid. Hunk caught mid-laugh, pancake batter having splattered on him. Keith smiles, looking over the pictures. This here, this was his family. His gaze landing on one of Allura, standing hunched over, caught with Pidge holding a pillow over their head, ready to smack the princess. Another picture showed Coran, his mustache fried from the electricity that had come off the machine.

He snorts, recalling the fond memories. The pictures took up the whole way up the stairs, down the hall. They had put as many pictures as they could, memories caught in a moment. He stopped at a picture of him and Lance, standing at the docks. The dork had shoved him towards the water, and he had grabbed him, dragging him down. The picture showed Keith, his face twisted in surprise, his eyes wide, and Lance, laughing as the two fell towards the water. He chuckled, feeling a sense of fondness wash over him. 

Walking into the bedroom, Fin meowed pointedly, and Keith looked over at the cat, raising an eyebrow. The cat sat near his clothes, watching as Keith went about getting ready. Looking at himself, he wondered if he should've chosen blue, but already knew the answer. Lance was a sucker for him in blue, but when he dressed in darker reds, the blue paladin had difficulty talking, let alone flirting with him. He smiles, then grabs a black flat jacket. Going back down the stairs, he sighed, settling onto the couch. Waiting for Lance's next instructions wasn't as fun as he had hoped. 

The doorbell rang, and he stood up, his eyebrows going up. As far as he knew, they didn't have any packages delivered today, and he couldn't recall anyone saying they were going to come over. Opening the door, his eyes widened. Shiro stood there, dressed in a simple tuxedo that he'd had for years. Smiling at Keith, he spoke. "Well, Lance sent me. You ready?" Keith stuttered, then frowned, "Lance sent you for what?" Shiro's laugh echoed into the house, so simple yet Keith's mind screamed that his brother was here. It had been months since the last time they'd seen each other, since the last time they'd all hung out.

"For your ride, of course!" Shiro's smile was wide, and clued Keith in that he knew something about what was going on. However, he didn't ask, just wrapped him in a hug. Shiro hugged back, letting his arms settle around Keith. Walking to the car they both talked, telling each other of the last few months. The drive there was nice, the two of them talking with music playing in the background. By the time they made it to their destination, Keith was all but bouncing in his seat, anxiety starting to fill his chest. 

"Hey, Keith. Don't worry too much about tonight, alright? Things will be okay." Shiro's smile was nice, a broad set. The twinkle in his eyes was there too. Keith let himself relax in his seat, nerves still feeling frayed but much more relaxed. Arriving to the area took Keith's breath away.

The trees stood tall, and he could catch a glimpse of a river. Several picnic tables where there as well. But Shiro drove past them, heading deeper into the park. It easily took another half an hour of driving, but it was worth it. Arriving at a little meadow in the woods, Keith stepped out. It was dark at this point, fairy lights strewn across the area.

It would have easily taken hours of setting up, the lights going back and forth above them. It lit the area beautifully, and Keith couldn't help but laugh softly. "Keith, follow the blue lights. I'll see you later." Shiro whispered, mildly startling him. A hug farewell, and Keith turned back around. Finding the blue light was a simple task, but took a bit to find out where it went. Following it onto a trail, he grinned. The trail had been walked through recently, broken twigs cleared from the path. 

Several minutes of following the lights, and Keith ended up entering another clearing, lights again strewn throughout the area. The blue lights his hand had been touching change to red, and a moment of looking lead him to another path. Following the path, it steered sharply downhill. His feet skid slightly a couple times, but he made it to the end without falling. Turning around a corner left him gapping.

The area was well lit by a mix of fairy lights, glowing flowers, and candles. Lance stood by a table, looking nervously at his watch. Walking up soundlessly, Keith wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder gently. Lance startled, but relaxed quickly, turning and smiling at Keith. His mouth dropped. the dark red standing so beautifully against his pale skin. The hair that wouldn't go into the ponytail framed Keith's face, dark violet eyes watching him. Lance's breath stuttered, but his lips curled into a smile. 

Lance himself was dressed neatly. Grey slacks, black shoes, a simple blue button up with a grey jacket. It still did wonders against his skin, the grey bringing out his eyes and the blue accenting his skin. Taking Keith's hand, pulling him close, both relished the moment. It didn't last too long, however, as Lance pulled away gently. "Mi amor, why do you always look so devishly handsome?" Keith chuckles, letting their laced hands twin together more firmly. "To make you gap. It works, does it not?" he muffles a snicker as Lance snaps his mouth shut, face flushing a bit more. Lance shakes his head lightly, laughing softly.

Guiding Keith over to the table, pulling his chair out. Keith smiles at him, giving Lance a small, soft kiss. He was thankful he had remembered to moisturize his lips, the soft press pleasant. Settling into the chair, he let Lance push his chair closer to the table. Words caught in his throat, and he fought down a brief wave of tears. Lance's hand touching his brought him out of his thoughts. Blue eyes observed his own, watching him carefully. Content with what he found, Lance laced their hands more thoroughly, thankful he could eat fluently with both hands.

"So, is this what you've been doing today?" Keith almost whispers, the soft music is the air, the atmosphere, he didn't want to break it. Lance smiles, melting Keith's heart. "Yeah, I had some help though. Can't take all the credit." his grin was contagious, Keith's own mouth grinning in response. Blue met violet, and they held eye contact. It was like someone had cloaked them in their own little world, away from the rest of the universe.

Their breathes unconsciously matching each other, hands tightening around the others. The song changed again, but the two of them didn't notice. Lance was the first to move, sucking in air lightly, pulling back slightly to get out of his chair. Their hands never left each other’s. Pulling Keith from his chair, he guided them over to the platform. 

The water glistened from the lights, shining around them. The flowers glowed brighter as the two began to slow dance. Lance hums softly, pulling Keith up against him. Holding him there, he laced his fingers more thoroughly with Keith's. It was such a simple movement, yet to the two of them it meant the world. Silent communication was key when they were paladins, and they still used it. A simple shift, a tentative touch. So simple, yet it meant so much to them.

Dancing seemed like mere minutes, and yet hours in the same way. In reality, the two easily danced for two hours, the songs melding into one another, letting the dancers get lost within each other. Twirling Keith around, he pulled him back into his arms. "Close your eyes, mi hermosa mariposa." Lance spoke so softly, his lips right by Keith's ear. The warmth of his breath caused a shiver to go through him, the nickname Lance used settling against his mind.

Closing his eyes, he felt him move away. Not far, though, as the warmth in the air was still there. "You can open now, mi pequeño gatito." Keith snorts softly, knowing a little bit of Spanish had been helpful. Opening his eyes, his breath was torn from his lips. 

Lance was knelt on one knee, blue eyes gazing into Keith's. A smile splayed on his lips, and he opens a box within his hand. The ring inside was fairly simple, yet beautiful at the same time. The breath refused to move from his lungs, and he stood frozen there, tears brimming in his eyes, yet refusing to fall out.

“I know we’ve only been dating for maybe two years, but I’ve loved you through all of them. I loved you before we started dating, before I fully understood what I felt. Your beauty, your grace. You in your entirety caught my eye. I know I used to always flirt, with whomever came around. But you where different. You….. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t stand the thought of messing up and the one person who made me feel alive, leaving. I was so scared, losing you just…. It could never happen. I wouldn’t allow it to.” Lance sucked in some air gently, breathing slowly. Keith could feel his lip wobble slightly.

“It’s why Pidge forced my hand. Why we ended up in the closet. Why she placed truth blooms in there. Their the reason we told each other. And I cannot ever thank them enough. I wouldn’t have gotten you without them. You, Kogane, mean so much to me. I thought we had lost you when Red stopped attacking the Marmora base. Hunk had to restrain me from rushing in. When you came back with Shiro, I was so relieved. I don’t ever want to feel that again, ever. Since that day, in the closet, we’ve grown closer. Im so happy you’ve let me into your heart, pequeño ninja. I would be so lost without you, lost in an ocean that I would never make it out off.”

Lance exhales softly, gazing at Keith lovingly. “Keith Yurak Kogane, will you remain by my side forever?” Keith’s tears spilled over, rushing down him face. Lance’s eyes were worried, watching the other carefully. It didn’t matter though, as Keith yanked Lance to his feet, crushing him in a kiss.

Lance held him gently, running a hand soothingly down his back. Breaking away breathelessly, Keith nodded. Slipping the ring onto his hand, Lance took it and kissed the back of it, letting Keith lean heavily against him. “Nunca te dejaré ir, mi valiente gatito.”

They both fell into the bed, changed into pajamas. Lance combed fingers through Keith’s hair, humming a lullaby. He never thought it would go the way things went. Although he drove Keith straight home instead of the intended area, which was Pidge’s home, he couldn’t help but smile.

Texting the others to let them know things went well, thanking them for helping him set things up. It was quite, at first. Then everyone seemed to text back at once, letting him know that it was no problem and that they would do it any day. When provoked by Pidge as to what caused them to go straight home, he just answered by telling them Keith was tired and work had been rough.

Plugging in his phone, he rolled over to press closer to Keith. It was a simple movement, but Keith, half conscious, rolled closer as well. His breath fanned across Lance’s neck. Arm thrown over the others body. “Te quiero. Muchísimo. No quiero que me dejes nunca, cariño. Significas mucho para mí. Sé que no puedes entender lo que digo ahora, y que el sueño te está quitando el conocimiento. Pero que sepas siempre que te quiero, y que siempre lucharé por tenerte a mi lado. Buenas noches, cariño mío.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's the link to it! If I need to add tags don't hesitate to reach out! Let me know what y'all think! Have a great timezone!

[i-love-dopamine]

"you better explain fast." she spat. she hasn't seen her dad in what... sixeen years? alots changed sense then. clearly he hasnt, though. why does he look just like i remember him? not even a wrinkle or a grey?

"so uh, i might have maybe been taken to a fantasy world?" he stumbled around his words, like they were unfamiliar. he had a hint of an accent, too.

"uh huh, yeah, sure. get out of me and pabbys house." she ordered. does he really think he can disappear for sixteen years, and then just pop up out of the blue with the worlds shittiest lie and a carton of milk?

"wh- but ka-"

"dont call me that. thats not my name anymore." she cut him off, trying to cut this as short as possible, maybe call the police too.

"but, thats your name"

"no, its not. im not your little boy. my name is sandra. now get the fuck out of the house before i call the police"

"sandra?" he said, rolling the word around in his mouth like a piece of food with a yet to be determined flavour.

"yeah. not get-" suddenly, she was cut off by the door opening.

"sandra? you home?" a voice rang through the house, and an older man, maybe late forties, walks into the kitchen. greyed hair long and tied back in a ponytail, he goes to put down a brown paper bag of groceries, and stops dead in his tracks.

"is- who- holy shit-" the new addition to the conversation clumbles out the words, trying to make sense of the scene hes just walked into. his husband, whos supposedly been dead for sixteen years, is standing in his kitchen, looking not a day over thirty-five.

"holy- love! how long have i been gone?" sandras supposedly dead dad steps forward, going out to grab the other mans hand, as if hes not sure hes really there.

"Juels? Is that really you? I cant believe your alive..."

"yeah, well, i cant believe you're an old man" Juels laughs a bit at his own joke, earning a warm chuckle from the other

"yeah, well, sixteen years will to that to you"

"six- sixteen? Ive been gone sixteen years?"

"wait, how the fuck are you even here? what happened?"

"you're not gonna believe me... i kinda got scammed by a fairy?"

"a fairy. really, juels. you disappear for sixteen years without so much as a warning and thats what i get? A childrens story?"

"no- theo, id never lie to you"

"oh? then spit it out. ill think about believing you."

"we were out of milk so i went to the store to get some and then i got hit by a bus and a fairy said they'd promise to bring me back if i won a game of chess against them and-" juels spoke, mouth moving a mile a minute,

"slow down, juels."

at this point, sandra was awestrucken. she really thought pabby would be as mad at dad as she was, but she should've known better. pabbys always been a big softy, after all.

juels took a deep breath before continuing,

"so i agreed to play chess with the fairy, but it turned out that it was actually throwing me and about three hundred people all into one square on a giant board and we were the pieces. eventually the boxes all opened and we had to kill or be killed and only one half of the board was going home. i happened to get home, for you guys i swear its only been a week, how has it been sixteen years?"

/ oki done. i might make more about this if anyone wants but i think this is a pretty good snippet :)

You cannot believe your eyes. "…D-Dad?!" The man who vanished from your life sixteen years ago, the man who just spontaneously popped into existence in your kitchen clutching, of all things a large crate of milk and a glowing sword, stares at you nervously. "OK, first of all, I can explain…

[braveclementine]

Chapter 21

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. Also, all of Severus and Elizabeths' childrens names are mine and mine alone. I also do not condone any copying of this.

OUTSIDE OF A MUGGLE GYM

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Why did it have to be a muggle gym? 

Severus moved forwards, feeling uncomfortable in the muggle clothes he was wearing. The grey sweatpants were too baggy and uncomfortable. The tight black shirt he was wearing was way to tight. He was conscious of the way his muscles strained against it, nor was he oblivious to the approving looks younger women sent him as they passed him on the street. 

Wizarding genes were good. Even though he was probably twice some of these girls' age, he didn't look any older than thirty five. 

He had gotten the strange electronic box to work, with white wires that played some of this weird, way to loud music into his ears. He felt uncomfortable since he couldn't hear the outside world, but he wanted to blend in with the rest of the muggles at the gym while he looked for his wife. 

He moved to the doors, holding out a hand to push it open, when suddenly both doors slid open. He nearly tripped through them, thankful that no one else was around to have seen his awkward movement. He paused in front of the next set of doors, which opened of their own accord. 

Standing inside the gym, he pulled out one earbud so that he could hear what was going on. 

There was a mixture of people in the gym, working out in their own groups. A group of girls showing way to much skin, their clothes far to tight were giggling and drinking water near a group of college aged boys who were glancing over at them every couple of minutes. 

There was a group of older men who were hanging around, watching someone in the back corner of the gym. Severus followed their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up when he saw her. 

She was dressed like the group of girls, wearing these wonderfully tight yoga pants. Her shirt was looser however, not showing as much skin. The purple looked great on her, as it always did. She'd braided her long hair, trying to collect every strand, but some had gotten loose, becoming wisps around her head. 

"How old is she?" A younger guy asked under his breath. 

"She's gotta be in her thirties." One of the older gentlemen answered, drinking his water. "She's not going to go for you young whipper snappers." 

"She's gotta be married." An even older man said, stretching his back. "There's no way she looks like that and doesn't have a beautiful family." 

"Her husband must be something then." Another younger male said. 

Severus grinned and walked past them, making his way straight to her. She was working at the punching bag, taking all of her frustration and anger out on it. She stopped when she saw him, pulling her own wires out of her head, giving him the biggest smile he'd seen in a long time. 

"Severus! What are you doing here?" 

He was conscious of eyes boring into his back. He gently touched her face and could feel the imaginary knives they were stabbing into his back. 

"I was worried about you. You just. . . left and I didn't know if you were okay or. . ." 

"Oh." She said softly, moving back to sit on the bench. She unwrapped her hands slowly, leaning her head back against the wall. "I. . . I can't see her, Severus. Mari, I mean. I can see Albus and Scorpius at some magical building that I don't recognize. And she has to be with them, but I can't see her." 

"Why do you think that is?" He asked softly, taking a seat next to her now. 

"You remember what Barty Crouch Jr said when Dumbledore was questioning him?" She asked rhetorically. "How I can't have visions about myself? Well, I think maybe that's why I can't see Mari, because she's part of me. Which means. . ." her voice cracked. "If she gets hurt it's my fault." 

"Whoa, hey, it's not your fault." Severus said, alarmed. "Elizabeth, you could never have predicted this." 

"I've made a connection through their thoughts though." Elizabeth said softly. "Both Albus and Scorpius feel that their fathers don't really. . . not that they don't love them, but just that they think their sons of great men. And those great men, at least in Albus' case have better children. It's probably not easy being judged because you're a Potter in Slytherin." 

"You think Mari thinks I don't love her?" Severus questioned. 

"No, she absolutely does." Elizabeth sighed. "I think it's me. It's. . . okay so when we went through the phase where I had sort've. . . when we weren't talking. . . Mari picked up on it, more than the other kids. And she was cold towards me. I think for her, it's less about us loving her and more about her trying to hurt me because I hurt you because she loves you more than she loves me." 

Severus took a second to wrap his head around that. "So. . . she's following whatever Albus wants to do to hurt you? But wouldn't she have noticed that we've worked things out?" 

"I don't know." She said wearily. "It's frustrating, not being able to see her. I can see Albus and I know why he's doing it. And I can see Scorpius and Draco is a bit right about it being him following Albus. Scorpius was not a fan of. . . well whatever they've decided to do. That I can't see and it's almost as frustrating as not being able to see Mari." 

"It's going to be okay." Severus squeezed her hand. "Maybe Mari is following just like Scorpius is. Maybe it has nothing to do with her love towards us. Or lack of love if that's what you really believe." 

"Right." She sighed, before a small smile came over her face, "How about we head home and wait for news there? I don't know about you, but food sounds pretty good right now." 

"Chinese?" Severus asked, standing up. 

"You read my mind." She giggled, before kissing him. Severus could practically hear the other mens' heads exploding. 

"Come on, let's go home." Severus said, squeezing her hand, before leading her out of the gym. And since he did have some of that male ego, he grinned, feeling pride that his wife was the envy of them all. 

And she had chosen him. 

[libidomechanica]

“And whyne”

A kimo sequence

               I

And her together. And whyne. But in her Eyes half an hour dear is a great enfranchisement.

               II

And as for the paths which, lightens, and also; and made he, of bigamye? Sicker sike another.

               III

As fills with convinced.—Thus through the door was fals; I dremed of some people mad, for each endear’d.

               IV

And so stands and when I err a bit. Three bands of freres er I come to bid thee in loue and pure.

               V

The grey-hair’d creature wept. Of some chilly midnight should mingle with scorn his name; and frugal life?

               VI

On that same gan so to scorn, good sureties will be false theef? She vow’d and not set my high rate.

               VII

But you out. What it appears milking a stay, then that command, if that she did but must bear it.

               VIII

Prefer a spouse away. The ruling Stars by Night; or suck them for a fair wrought! This bosom dies.

               IX

Has nought the time prefer thee thus to the mere splendid than solemnity. And stupid stamp: yes!

               X

And my own child. A weary woe. Thus ending, on the cooler air they change, and eternal joy.

               XI

And wound wherewith my filial joy? Love are few, and place, all fears to perfection for sings.

               XII

To blend and panting of her care. Perhaps the wo, Ful giltelees, by Loues Standard beare: what, he!

               XIII

Queen Virtue—as they obey the sea of ocean. How many kisses, whose might decreed in peace.

               XIV

But you on you and man, that Philo- genitiveness. With me tie are humble looks increased.

               XV

Sweet western glooms, the bed a tent, and deeply ground; and that moment bent, i’ll tell you why you out.

               XVI

Ay me, such wild barbarous middle. Loving, not a pincushion, seem’d full of hous al of gold.

               XVII

No more—Oh! So much—to give back the tables, what a gift prevailed, as principle will or save.

               XVIII

The breezy shade and strife, nor long endure they? To see her in a Whispers said, I see around?

               XIX

Poor Frederick may do. The little shall renew, clipt from over stumps and heateth kindles red.

               XX

All youth—but with a dissipated life. The truth, and liking, yet, lilies, as though Heaven knows?

               XXI

Was—at least it rhymes to comply. As some years of a flowers decay: and young, whose tame leopards.

               XXII

Nor mark’d by the slender was fortune sha’na steer thee; but yet I pray you tell. To Arms, to Arms!

               XXIII

Pan, I care nor thunder’s face, fell down amber plains. That euer she drank they continued battling hands.

               XXIV

The teeth of winter hoar. You lose my playmates; shapes committing drunk himself the sky and watches.

               XXV

What shalbe the Guadalquivir. When Musick steals men’s days we wounds euen now for love; or if her hair.

               XXVI

Thus seyde that sit in mageste: of alle men his way, a portion joined. Then for a lover’s Tongue.

               XXVII

Flaming, fill high triumphed, or at the Doctor! She would Prudence’ direst bodements halcyon.

               XXVIII

Dolphins were soft, unseen as the solve is the sea-nymph’s home. These my night on thy heart most beware!

               XXIX

Her heard the potently? And if I have sought, that they surveys his rightful bride, and t’ other.

               XXX

Rape: unpraised by dignity. For their golden head, crowned without a shout most, and though the fair.

               XXXI

And forest, and rams up the lady’s case. To golden brooch: beneath the swollen at the palms. Earth!

               XXXII

My own peculiarly be seen; the calm oblivion passeth. Whom thou love these poor weakness!

               XXXIII

Voice, and then how vast a word the other pull of fearful, and crime, and would flow some fragments lie!

               XXXIV

’ Set out. To give him quickly to the way with calm words he told her arms, with a moonlight bower.

               XXXV

As much amiss,—love is dumb. Does not be, nor had ponderous silence scandal’s my aversion.

               XXXVI

Thirty-two and twenty-first of sin; but never such serenity her bed. The stormy sea!

               XXXVII

Bet is, quod the Virgin’s height delights are banquet of my tongue; use power to love you go. Stems.

               XXXVIII

Light; in various tasks of summer weather win. The Hebrew noun which he smoothly to my tale.

               XXXIX

If I, indeed who quake to stand to; they liv’d or lasted plains speckled and curse. Affirms your bed.

               XL

And fixed on her. And one in silence the hall, the vent’rous youth’s hot wishes crown, that fears below.

               XLI

Close by, began to muse for support in al. God grant but thou guess so, but if it came too late!

               XLII

And when she is, bitter, but did entreat one spare. One could with heavy poem again the pool.

               XLIII

Thus ended she. As if still her grinders bland; her husband, not you again. And exorcise theef?

               XLIV

He yaf my lust, that thus low! Languish and me: for woman seated on through opposite of what sweet.

               XLV

Not her proper spheres. The steep rough some frail success, no doubt, if I don’t even bury a man.

               XLVI

And so late, or elles oftentimes that was ironed with grace obtaining fairly gained. Fair Nymph!

               XLVII

On the wolf and the first the winds blowing! To signified: the Daughters of your flowery nest.

               XLVIII

Tis beauty’s successe confirm my speculative hit, but Heaven! Appeared, the wildered you!

               XLIX

Till it whisper I looked as if they toil’d, alfonso’s swords his bigamye? The grief itself is dawn.

               L

That lord the good hearts bleeding hair. Her Eyes she prayed she might turn their nuptial exercised in black.

               LI

And shakes those eyes, except in pondered hart. Would melt at Abydos, the bust of metaphysics!

               LII

How shall wed. And found the better that beautiful, her own and far beyond expressive Embleme.

               LIII

His horse to flow. Again she sees, and none at all. Bug with no great experience t is true.

               LIV

Banquets, Doric mother is brought: of all duns! Think no man wole, and many a moonlight star!

               LV

For thee that next I make, I weep afresh love’s use the last. Like is like to Cymon was her name.

               LVI

They lived with the dearest dinner. They cry The Babe! Husband, and still surveys his relinquish’d foes.

               LVII

A God finger with the rites in which is the old price, because, yet might be kings were a decree!

               LVIII

He scarcely woman else, and stupid. These flowers, and wake up and get new, a strange matter hours.

               LIX

A league being fires love light! Fault at last, mind’s eye doth lie. And duty duty, cleared, than—Oh shame!

               LX

Woman with a peculiar superstition. For the sea of ocean? As breeze this vaine scuse giue?

               LXI

He wished, murder, to be counted by human frailty, follow’d, as no doubt of Rome. Catch her hair.

               LXII

The same who I am, entirely— for he stood the Fray. He sholdė wedded to this a time.

               LXIII

The kindred of hers follow’d upon him now be still we will I be at home. Besides alas!

               LXIV

Rascal to person appear, and that’s like a roundle neuer sene? Dead, long divine, and pity!

               LXV

The man was denied! Those poets gave the trophies of affliction, and young men should sink thus load.

               LXVI

The wild echoes, and the smoot me on a beauteous roof to ruinate which derive. To name they twitch.

               LXVII

These he wants the Silver Thames. Tis the old oak tree. Mine in parfitly, and hail with Samian wine!

               LXVIII

)— I say, a thousand times are in the Fight. Of grace, shriek of sage Miss Reading, prickling these treasure.

               LXIX

In all Spain. Sixteen the women what is the sun was strook. A vigil or dream’d that he craved it.

               LXX

Since we have cost his promise after all at once, all her stood. Meantime, or add a Furbelo.

               LXXI

And Theotormon on my flessh so deadly blind: these field-flower! Smile as infant’s grave understand.

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Chapter Three

Running.

She was running through the crowds. Her arms swayed front and back and her feet stamped on the ground. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and the cold air bit into her lungs. At this great speed, Carrie could barely see a few feet ahead of her. And with that, she forced herself to stop. She felt her whole body working: her muscles warmed, her calves burned, fresh air entered her lungs and blood flowed into all her limbs.

Then, Carrie spotted a wooden bench and threw herself on it, her back pressing against it. Her heart raced fast from the running and her muscles ached. She inhaled the air through her nose and exhaled. She felt the people walking past her, chatting among themselves. Then, their thoughts echoed in her mind.

(— that project's due —)

(— the last time she said no she meant —)

(— he had an affair and that whore is pregnant?!)

Carrie covered her ears with both hands, hoping it would block them out.

(— maybe i should call my mom and—)

(— how has she got more than me?)

(— look at those freaks!)

Those thoughts deafened her. Her green eyes slowly began to water and the voices came back.

"The Devil never dies, he keeps coming back. You're gonna have to keep killing him. Over and over again."

"Shut up, Mama," she muttered quietly to herself, recognizing her voice.

Her hands pressed against her ears with strength.

"Crazy Carrie! Crazy Carrie!"

She shook her head.

"Ugly."

"Stupid."

"Dumb bitch."

Overwhelmed, Carrie let the tears flow down her eyes. She leaned her body forward and a soft sob escaped her. She covered her face with shaking hands; her throat tightened and took short breaths in. A flood of tears gushed down her hot cheeks.

Then, a hand fell onto Carrie's shoulder. She turned around, beaming. She saw a woman— possibly mid-thirties— standing next to her with her hand on her shoulder. She had long dark hair and pale skin and light brown eyes. She wore a grey hoodie with ripped jeans and brown trainers.

"You okay?" She asked. "You look rough."

Carrie shuddered her shoulders. "It's... I just..." She shook her head and placed her hand on her forehead. "I don't know what happened there."

"What you mean?" the woman enquired and sat down next to Carrie.

Carrie sighed and locked her hands together, resting them on her knees.

"I've been reliving bad memories," she explained. "I try to forget about it but..." Carrie lowered her head. "It doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't forget it."

"Sounds like you can't let the past go," the woman concluded and Carrie nodded, wiping her tears. "And you're beating yourself up because of it."

Carrie smiled briefly and looked at her. "Are you a therapist?"

"No," she laughed. "But I do understand what you're going through."

"Really?" she asked, confused by her words.

"Yeah, let me tell you something," the woman rotated her body and they faced each other. "You grew up in a horrible situation and faced horrible people, but you got through it and you are doing well. Despite all the things that happened, you allow yourself to come out of the other side."

Carrie looked on at her.

"You're doing well for yourself. Lemme ask you this. How many times have you gotten through something and you stay right there?"

Carrie pondered her question, her gaze at her. Her eyebrows pulled in slightly causing a vertical wrinkle; her head was slightly tilted. Her mouth pressed together in a thin line.

"You keep referring back to it," the woman continued. "You keep putting your hand on a burning stove, you keep sticking your foot in a fire. How many times have you brought yourself through something and you stay there mentally? You beat yourself over the grades you get, you beat yourself over a relationship you were in for too long, but you got through it."

Other tears fell out of Carrie's eyes.

"Now, instead of accepting that you got through it, you keep dabbling in it. You want it to be different and it's not. You can't change your past but you can create your future."

Carrie found that warm comfort in it. She turned herself around while gazing at her.

"I never thought I would need that, thanks," she said with gratitude. "What's your name?"

"Maria," the woman replied and smiled. "Everyone knows me around me. Yet I've never seen you before."

"Yeah, I don't go out much," she explained. "I-I'm Carrie, by the way."

"Well, Carrie, you should," Maria said, patting her shoulder. "Good for your health, especially the mental side. I mean, I've been living outside since I was eighteen."

"You're homeless?" Carrie gawked at her, surprised.

"Yeah," she answered, nodding her head. "But don't worry, I've been going into the shelters... when there's enough room for people and following their rules."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Carrie said.

Maria looked at her, confused. "For what?"

"For the way that you're living."

"It's fine. Being in a shelter is greater than being on the streets." Maria's face sternly darkened as she eyed the busy streets. "Being out there at night can be dangerous and scary for some. Punching, kicking, robbing, stabbing, the lot."

"Oh my gosh," Carrie exclaimed. "Has that ever happened to you?"

"Only the robbing and a few punches and kicks," Maria replied, rubbing her arm. Her brown eyes stared at Carrie. "You watch out at night, Carrie. There's a lot of sickos loose on the streets."

She looked at Maria, noting all the details of her person, and concern gripped her. Was she putting her in danger just by talking to her?

"Yeah," Carrie replied vaguely, already turning and getting up from the bench; she began to walk away from her.

"That's okay," Maria heard her call to her retreating back, "Some of us like it that way."

I'm not asking what she meant, Carrie shot back mentally, but her heart wasn't really in it.

She pulled her jacket a little closer as she looked at Maria for the last time and turned her head. Luckily it was still daytime so the chances of meeting a 'sicko' were low. But never none.

***

As she walked through the crowd, Carrie felt a lot calmer than she was a few hours ago. She remembered Maria's words as she headed home.

"You can't change your past but you can create your future."

The future was the one thing she never thought about. When the Black Prom happened and her old house was falling on her, she thought she would never live to see her future. But Estelle saved her from Chamberlain and she tried to help her gain it. This gave Carrie something to think about.

Then, she felt her pocket vibrating. Carrie reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone. She got her first phone on her twenty-first birthday. Back at her old home in Chamberlain, her mother never let advanced technology in believing it was the Devil's way of luring people to damnation. But she didn't find anything bad about it. Instead, she was curious about the phone. Estelle did warn her about the hacking and the trolls and other issues but Carrie never encountered them.

She saw Estelle's name on the phone screen, pressed the green icon, and placed it to her ear.

"Hello?" Carrie asked, walking.

"Hi, Carrie," she heard Estelle at the other end of the phone. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," she replied. "I'm just out for a walk."

"Okay, that's good. You've been anywhere or just walking?"

"I went to a library and... then I panicked." Carrie sighed.

"Panicked?" Estelle said, her voice concerned. "What happened?"

"I spotted two books relating to the Black Prom and an old guy tells me..." she shook her head. "No, remind me of what happened there."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," Estelle replied sadly and sighed. "It's my fault. I told you that you should go out more and I didn't think you would be getting a panic attack."

"So that what it was?" Carrie said to herself. "I mean, the last time I experienced that was at school in the showers and..." she paused, trying not to think about it. And Estelle knew what she was talking about. "Well, you know. That."

Carrie coldly ended 'that'.

"I know," Estelle sighed. "I know." She took a brief pause and said, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" She asked.

"For forcing you to do something you felt uncomfortable doing."

"It's fine. Plus I understand where you're coming from." Carrie breathed in and then grinned. "Also, I talked to a homeless woman."

There was a small silence.

"That... sounds good," Estelle managed to say. "Was she nice to you?"

"Yeah, she was. Her name was Maria and she comforted me when I was crying."

"Oh, she definitely sounds nice. I'll see you when you come home."

"Okay, Estelle," she said. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay, bye," Estelle replied.

"Bye."

Carrie pressed the red icon, ending the call. She placed her phone back into her pocket as she strolled back home.

***

She arrived back at the Hotel Schueller by one o'clock. She walked upstairs despite the aches in her leg muscles from all the walking and running. Once she arrived upstairs, Carrie stopped by the door — number 1401 — and took out her key. She placed it in the keyhole and carefully opened it. Once she took her key out, she entered her apartment and closed the door behind her.

She took off her jacket, hung it up, and carefully walked to the kitchen. Then, Carrie spotted Estelle in the living room.

"Hey, Carrie," Estelle greeted her and hugged her. "How's your walk?"

"Pretty good," Carrie replied. "How's work?"

"Well, you know, discovering something new everyday."

They laughed and Estelle fidgeted her hair with her right hand and rubbed her neck.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie tonight?" She suggested. "And we could have pizza?"

"Sure," Carrie said and smiled, her eyes beaming.

"Great," Estelle voiced lightly and headed to the DVD shelves. "What do you want to watch?"

Carrie shrugged her shoulders. "T-That film with Brad Pitt? The one where he's married to an assassin who tried to kill him?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Sure thing."

Estelle walked into the living room with the DVD copy in her hand. After she placed the disc in the DVD player, Estelle ordered a pizza from the local pizza place and took a bottle of Pepsi Max out of the fridge. Carrie sat on the sofa with her legs crossed. She smiled and Estelle sat next to her, placing the pizza box on the table.

Link to Chapter Four

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Forty One

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

The scene in the parlor thirty minutes later looked like a surreal Renaissance painting.  Firelight flickered over the Victorian sitting room and its inhabitants, illuminating their strangeness and, for the moment, frozen positions and expressions.  

Alcina sat with a thousand-yard stare, hair askew, night dress filthy, sunken into a plush chair.  She was able to slouch elegantly, somehow.  Salvatore sat nearby on the floor, biting his fingernails and eyeing Alcina.  Donna had a similar blank stare as she and Ethan took the couch, while Karl spread out in front of the fireplace, apparently volunteering for Evie’s ‘learning to braid’ endeavor.  She stood behind him, frowning at the piles of grey and brown hair, pulling it in different directions with impressive concentration considering it was 3am.  Ethan could have passed for being asleep; his head was back, eyes closed as his long arms draped almost half of the couch.   

Only Eva was not present; true to her word, she was making donuts, among other treats.  Soon Donna left her chair to bring in the trays of drink and food.  The smell of warm, fried dough was a call to everyone.  Ethan had perhaps the most enthusiasm of anyone as he piled his plate high with comfort food.  Eva plopped down on the floor beside Salvatore and beckoned Evie over; she demonstrated an easy braid, and the girl tugged at Karl’s head until he obliged by scooting closer.  

Eva broke the comfortable, but overwhelming, silence by speaking to the girl.  

“Evie, you were amazing tonight.  Thank you for your help.” 

“Yes,” Ethan said, nodding fervently.  “You did great.” 

She clearly did not know how to take a compliment; the girl blushed and ran her brush through Karl’s hair with more gusto, causing him to grunt in pain.  Finally she responded, “I had help with…remembering.  And doing what you said, about finding the good parts.”  

“Who helped you?”  Eva asked, demonstrating the braid again on Moreau’s silky, long black hair.  He’d apparently begun washing it, Ethan noted.  He looked as if he’d gotten some sunshine too.  He was actually almost healthy-looking.  More or less.  

“Godric,” Evie answered, and Ethan smiled widely.  “When I was standing there after I first came back, I wasn’t in my body.  He called to me and used the mold to help me remember like you said.  So many emotions, he said they came from others too, good emotions, so I could learn to be happy and trust people.”  

“He is so fascinating,” Eva murmured to herself, and Karl winced against the sharp pull of a haphazard braid, as he shoved a donut in his mouth.  With muffled words thanks to the mouthful of food, he quipped, “Leass’ he’s finally goodfer’ somethin’.”  

Alcina glared over her wine glass, but didn’t speak.  

“He’s helped us with everything,” Ethan argued, and paused to chew.  He shook his head.  “We’d be screwed without him.  Although…even though we were fine out there, I don’t like our odds right now.  It seems like every time we have a win of some kind, Miranda turns around and has something else up her sleeve.”

“Welcome to the shit show, Winters,” Heisenberg said as he wiped crumbs from his beard, “Pretty sure I’ve been bitchin’ about that for several decades, if any of you cared to listen.” 

“I don’t know what you dealt with…when…I wasn’t here,” Donna interjected in her deep, melancholy tone, “but destroying the castle seems…a desperate, power hungry move.  She is colder now than ever before.” 

“I want to get those other fragments,” Ethan blurted out, and looked apologetically at Donna, then Moreau.  “It’s….you saw what one did.  The whole point of bringing you all back was to get those fragments into this realm, away from her, which she wasn’t counting on, since she was okay with me…uh…getting..rid of all of you.” Ethan trailed off, and looked at Eva.  “Do you think we could use them, somehow, against her?” 

“You can’t,” Evie said, again giving up on the knot she’d created and instead brushing it back out, causing Karl’s yellow eyes to widen in pain.  “Only she can use them.  She changed them that way.” 

“Can we destroy them?”

“Oh yeah, easy, if you can find them.”  She was very confident, every bit the same know it all, assured, bossy child as before.  It was almost endearing without the murdery side of her.  In fact, Ethan mused that this was one trait they had in common.  And he couldn’t chalk that one up to mold; he had always been bossy.  According to his mother, anyway.  

“Well in that case, I’d rather destroy them,” Ethan replied.  “Moreau, I was hoping to let you finish the windmill project and whatever else you’re building down there before asking you to show me how to remove those fragments.  But I think based on tonight…”

“I can set things up,” the other said quickly, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.  “I can…find equipment.”  

“We can use the basement,” Karl said, before downing a fairly large shot of whiskey.  

“What do you need to do it? Is it a surgery?”

Alcina shook her head, faintly.  The room’s attention was on her immediately.  “It wasn’t for me.  She just–pulled it out of my chest.  It hurt immensely.”  

“Only Miranda can do that,” Evie said matter-of-factly.  Karl’s hair was now brushed and fluffy.  With a yawn, the child moved to sit on the couch between Donna and Ethan.  Her eyelids were heavy, and her head pushed back against the sofa as she yawned again.  “You guys have to do it…kinda like a surgery.  Kinda like a ritual.  You have to crystallize the  part where the cadou used to be.  The mold remembers.  Then when it turns back to normal, someone has to take the crystal part out.  Someone made of mold.  It can be dangerous, but probably will be okay.  You just have to be careful.” 

Salvatore was nodding along, thoughtfully poking his finger into his chin.  “That’s right! That’s very similar to the…how she did the first, with the cadou.  She learned, after creating cadou, that she could crystallize just it and implant things.  That’s how she did it.  And the host…well, she could crystallize them too after they were infected.”  He winced, and his enthusiasm dipped as he confessed, “She…experimented on me, a lot.  She wanted to know how to remove the crystal from me.  She said it was like…” he laughed, bitterly, his lip trembling.  “She said it was like letting me borrow her diamond ring.”  

His face disappeared behind his palms.  

Alcina’s drifting gaze moved away from her ‘older brother’ and toward the floor.  Her cheeks blazed with the flush of wine.  “She did the same to me.  Not only do I recall that…I now remember the secondary study she performed on me, after my implantation.  She caused me to forget it.”  

Heisenberg’s stare changed; it turned dangerous, as if he were put on edge by her words.  His lips were still pursed, and his strange eyes pierced Alcina, not that she noticed.  “But I had even accidentally read it in her research notes!”  With a dry, almost sad chuckle, the Lady finished her wine and spun the stem across her fingertips.  Her tone was haughty, mocking, as she recalled the paper she’d read.  “Applied cognition control procedure.” 

“Fuck,” Ethan said despite himself, disgust written on his face.  He was reminded of the clueless, chipper Miranda-fragment in the Mutamycete, and the ritual of splitting souls.  Alcina laughed shakily and then set the glass down, as if she thought she would break it.  Ethan noticed the tremble in her hand.  Past him, Heisenberg’s gaze was also on Dimitrescu’s hand. 

There was a short stretch of silence again.  

“Karl, where’s yours?” Ethan remembered the dinner at Donna’s house, where Eva had explained that Heisenberg removed his own fragment years ago.  “You didn’t destroy it, right?”  Wouldn’t that be…immortality suicide? And yet, Karl had claimed in that same meal that he was very mortal, depending only on his cadou–and that when it was gone, he was gone.  “Where is it?” 

Ethan’s voice was shrill and Evie, who had mostly fallen asleep while curling shyly against Donna, raised her head unsteadily at the sound.  She blinked hazily, but didn’t provide an answer, if she had one. 

Karl simply shook his head, running his tongue along his lower teeth.  He clearly did not want to discuss it.  Well, fuck that.  Ethan would just listen in on Heisenberg’s thoughts.  Why not?  Everyone else was doing it.  His scowl must have given something away, because Heisenberg growled, “Fuck off,” as Evie’s voice whispered in Ethan’s ear.  She was speaking to him telepathically.  

Don’t do it, it’s not good.

His anger was interrupted at this gentle, kindhearted plea, and Ethan met Eva’s knowing gaze from across the room.  She’d heard the child too.  The blond felt immediately embarrassed and leaned back onto the sofa with a rather stunned expression.  

What the hell had he been thinking?  What was going on?

Eva stood abruptly, a strained look on her fairylike features.  “Talking will do us no good in this tired state.  Let us rest.”

“How do I get back–”

“Just stay the night, Moby Dick,” Karl spat, shaking his mane out and looking at her directly.  “I’m too tired to call a crane service to move you-”

“I may not have claws, you pig, but I bet your rube ancestors had knives in their kitchen, and even if they didn’t, you are sitting entirely too close to that fire,” she snarled.  Karl made a ‘c’mon’ gesture and Salvatore stifled another almost frightened laugh.  

“I think staying together is wise tonight, especially since you, Alcina, are very…new to this form.  It does take some adjusting, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

God, it was a repeat of the fucking meeting at the church, Ethan marveled.  Eva was doing Miranda’s job of keeping the peace, interrupting the two hotheads.  Maybe wings would sprout out of her back soon when she’d have to raise her voice at them.  

Alcina picked at the chair, considering Eva’s words.  Donna nodded.  “Being human again comes with human sorrow and human fragility.  It is not good to be alone until you adjust to that.” 

Salvatore nodded at this as well.  “If..if anything’s messed up at the castle I’m sure we can see better tomorrow anyway.”

The castellan massaged her temple in a gesture Ethan empathized with.  

This was one area where he could actually say something helpful.  “There are spare rooms, I bought all new mattresses and bedding months ago.  Everything is clean and fresh, and expensive.   We deep cleaned all of the rooms, everything’s really nice.  There’s two full baths, and a clawfoot bathtub in the east wing upstairs.  Always fresh towels, linens in the closets too. Oh, and…you’re welcome to any of the bottles in the wine cellar, Karl would be happy to show you where it is.” 

She removed her hand from her temple and a soothed smile crept on her lips.  The tall woman nodded briefly, muttering something about minimal class, and stood.  She smoothed out the mostly-ruined nightgown as Karl clapped his hands together suddenly.  “Well hell, look at us.  The whole rag-tag, reject gang is back in action!  Almost even on the same team, minus the Desperation Station, over here.  Damn, we’ll have to throw us a loser party!” 

“Cretin.” 

“Juggernaut.” 

“Are height jokes the banal, insipid, and SOLE weapon in your arsenal?  I expected better from someone who claims to be intelligent, but you are rather…SHORT-sighted.” 

“Oh I got more, I been savin ‘em,” he shot, rising to his feet.  “Mastodon.  Colossus.  Goliath.  Longshanks.  The classics.  Then we got the newer ones, y’know, pop culture inspired.  Bigfoot.  Titanic.  The Whopper.  Supersize-”

“Please,” Donna said evenly.  “Evie is trying to sleep.  At this rate, you'll even wake Rose.”

“I will go choose a room,” Alcina said brusquely.  Her tone sweetened artificially at her next words, reminding the blond of how she had spoken to her daughters, with thinly veiled rage...not aimed at them, but at everything around them.   “And Ethan , if you don’t mind–a deep red will do.”

He had to smirk at her show of control-she was bossing him around in front of Karl, making him bring her wine.  The blond gave a half-grin.  “Sure thing, Lady D.  I'll bring it right up.  Down the hall behind me, staircase up, pretty much any room you see other than the one that isn’t covered in plants-”

“I love my plants,” Eva said defensively, but she was smiling.  “Goodnight, Alcina.”  

Karl’s face reddened, and Alcina waltzed away from the group.  

“I do have one last bit of news, that might brighten some hearts,” Eva said, biting her lip, and she clasped her hands behind her back.  “While moving through the strata during the fight, I learned where Miranda has been setting up to plan her next steps.  Her original lab exists now only in the catalogue.  But.  She had an underground connection to her lab through the castle.…she was very much avoiding disturbing it while controlling the remnant.” 

Salvatore’s eyes widened.  “I remember that place.”

“I only had several minutes, but I was able to see it.  I could not enter, there were…traps, I suppose one could say.  If someone traveled there, they would be stuck like a fly in a web.” 

“Ethan here’ll just fuckin walk right in, hell,he’ll make an appointment for it, pencil it in, schedule the day off justta’ fuckin’ go find trouble.” Heisenberg remarked.  Ethan glared.  Heisenberg raised his eyebrows.  "You wanna stop by right now? I mean why not, night's still young-"

“--I heard Godric again, he knew where I was, and he somehow was able to remove the item I wanted from the table.  He could not appear to me, nor I to him, but I moved back to the forest and…somehow, the Mold….gave it to me.” 

Her eyes were sparkling as they usually did; quite a feat after her very difficult evening.  She was almost dancing as she stared at Karl specifically.  

He shrugged.  “Well?”

Eva’s dress-homemade, of course-was a full circle skirt with many petticoats and a ruffled hem.  It had multiple deep pockets, as most of her clothing did, and now she thrust one hand in a side pocket as she swayed with the skirts.  She withdrew a large, ornamental-looking crystal.  It was milky white, with streaks of a pale green throughout it.  Before anyone could even begin to guess, the excited woman blurted, “It’s Jochen’s.” 

[akittenwrites]

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [2]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: two

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 1498

Warnings: swearing.

Part one.

A slight breeze caressed her skin as she dipped her fingers in the ice-cold water of the small lake. Winter was coming. The ground around her would be covered in snow in a few months.

She looked at her reflection in the water. The past year had come and gone, robbing her of her father and the innocence in her eyes. She was still young, her skin bright and her lips plump, but her life had taken a turn for the worse since she had lost the only parent she had left. Her brothers were too young to take on the role of Lord of Winterfell, so it had become her burden to bear. And so far she had done so with responsibility and dedication, taking care of her people and honoring her father's memory.

Yet now everything had changed. Eight months ago they had received a message from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch: winter was coming. Almost at the same time, her most trusted maester warned her that war for the Iron Throne's succession was looming in King's Landing as it appeared the King had trouble producing an heir.

Winter would be harsh for the entire realm, but especially the North. There was no way of predicting how long it would last. It could be two years, or it could be twelve. Facing the effects of war in the south or being forced to participate because King Viserys' dick didn't work? Because Daemon was apparently too unlikeable to sit on the damn throne? No, she refused to be a part of it. She wouldn't send her people to die for that. Northerners had their own war on the horizon, and it was a real war, not the product of politicking. Ravens flew from Winterfell and back for months, and soon her letters informing her bannermen of the threat that was near were followed by the summoning of the heads of their Houses for a secret meeting to discuss and agree on a strategy.

That night the lords named her Queen in the North.

Now she had to live up to the title.

The rustling of leaves behind her made her stand up, the long skirt of her gown feeling heavy as it hung to her waist. She dusted it off without turning around, the grey silk of its outer layer a gift Daemon had given her the day she left King's Landing, almost a year ago. She knew he would recognize it. He always did.

"This castle is terribly guarded."

Oh, how she had missed that cockiness. She smiled to herself, relishing the sound of his voice after so long.

"Well, nobody comes here, I've been told it's a cold and unwelcoming place, so we do not bother with such pointless matters."

She turned around with a smirk on her face. Daemon stood next to the heart tree, a black cloak covering his clothes but with the hood off, his pristine silver hair framing his face. She raised an eyebrow, questioning his choice of attire. Did he really think he could blend in dressed like that? Just one more example of how disconnected the South was from the North.

She was still impressed he had managed to find her so quickly, anyway. It was a place he hadn't visited in decades, even if she had intentionally made it easier for him, waiting there, in the Godswood. It was a small clearing in the woods, away from the noise of the castle and prying eyes. Only the Gods were listening. The ground was covered in red leaves from the Weirwood tree, and the lake reflected the grey sky above. Her long dark hair moved in the breeze.

"You arrived thirty minutes ago," she stated plainly. Then she pointed to her left. "Caraxes is six miles that way. You didn't sneak into Winterfell and the Godswood. My guards follow my orders. I let you in."

"Then I am relieved," he said, walking a few steps in her direction, careful to avoid the tree roots. "I would hate to think you weren't properly guarded."

He paused, gazing into her eyes with such intensity she held her breath, waiting for him to close the short distance between them and kiss her with the same fiery passion he did the day they said goodbye.

But he didn't.

"You were expecting me."

It wasn't a question.

She nodded.

"I had faith."

"Faith?" Daemon laughed. "Faith in what? That it would be me that would come here to talk to you peacefully instead of a handful of dragons flying around and burning you and your people to death?" His eyes didn't leave her, his brows furrowed. He looked at her almost as if he was scolding her, but something else caught his attention then. He sensed movement near, inside the woods, and his eyes darted around for just a moment. That was when he saw a few pairs of bright green spots glowing in the dark.

Direwolves.

All around them, watching. Ready to attack.

"Why are you so bothered?" Y/N responded, claiming his attention again. Daemon had grown tense, and she knew it was because he realized they were surrounded, but he had nothing to fear. The wolves answered to her. "Dragons and armies are not known for their stealth. Had that been Viserys' answer to my message, I would've received them accordingly."

"What game are you playing, Y/N?" he questioned, examining her face, trying to read her, to figure her out. "You are gambling your life."

"It's not a game," she answered, walking up to him. She placed a hand on his chest, yearning for his warmth, and felt his muscles relax under her touch. "You know me, Daemon. I do not wish to be your enemy."

"Yet that's what you are," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

She sighed, feeling him so close yet so far as they stood in the center of the Godswood, their faces barely a few inches apart, their eyes refusing to look away. She caught a whiff of his scent, smoke and musk, and had to fight the urge to bury her nose in the crook of his neck.

Why had she let so much time pass without writing to him? Why hadn't he visited her?

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible. "I missed you."

His hand found the underside of her chin, tilting her head up as he examined her face. She let the hand she had on his chest wander until it reached his shoulder, keeping her ground as she looked at him too. He hadn't aged a day.

Her eyes became glassy and she closed them, unwilling to show weakness. And yet, a few seconds later, when his lips found hers and she felt her heart jump in her chest, a lone tear fell down her cheek.

He was hesitant at first, kissing her slowly, lingering. And when she kissed back, parting her lips, desperate, his other hand grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, their bodies finally becoming one. The kiss was long and intoxicating, deepening as his tongue found hers, exploring, so intense and drugging. They had both been longing for this in a way it couldn't be described. For their lips, for their kisses, for each other. They parted for just a moment to catch their breath, slightly opening their eyes to look at each other, to make sure it was real. Daemon used his thumb to wipe her tears, worry evident on his face.

"Why are you crying, love?"

There it was. The Daemon only she knew. It had been so long since he had called her that. It brought her back to all those times they laid in bed together, completely naked, the bed unmade and only a few candles alight. He would call her love and look at her with such tenderness her heart would swell inside her chest.

"No reason," she whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I just missed you."

He pulled her in again for another kiss, capturing her lips fervently, his hands stroking her hair, her back, her arms. He was everywhere, hungrily sliding his tongue between her swollen lips, and she let herself get carried away, mindlessly hugging his strong body, trying to become even closer to him, if it was even possible.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. She closed hers too as she recovered her breath and soon she could feel his heart beating against his chest, against hers. Were they his heartbeats or hers? It didn't matter. She cherished the moment because it was just them and nothing else mattered.

His warmth embraced her, and as they stood like that, in each other's arms as the sun set and darkness found its place around them, she wished they could stay like that forever.

But they couldn't, and they both knew it.

It was the calm before the storm.

Next part.

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TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

[landoncrris]

Can you do one with mason where the reader was on a girls holiday or she was doing something for work in a different country then masons tells her he’ll pick her up from the airport and he forgets,so when she comes home with an Uber she finds him getting ready to go out and they have a fight but after the make up:)

forgotten - mason mount x reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN // MASTERLIST

word count: 2.9k

You were on a girls trip for the past week, since your best friend was getting married soon and you decided to spend some time abroad. For her, it was the perfect way to relax since she has been busy organizing the wedding for the last few months. But also for you, since you have been busier than ever with work lately.

You spent the whole day lying on the beach, enjoying the sun and partying all night. So it was safe to say that you were more than ready to go home and spend a relaxing evening in front of the TV, snuggled up with your boyfriend. Who you missed more than anything, as you also barely spent any time with him lately due to your busy schedule. When he called you yesterday and asked when you would arrive, and then told you he would be waiting for you at the airport, relief flooded your body.

You called him as soon as you got off the plane and waited for your suitcase, but he didn’t answer the phone. You figured he was probably still on the road, so he didn’t pick up. But when you tried it again ten minutes later, he still didn’t answer the phone. You declined your friends’ offer to take an Uber together, thinking that if he was on his way, you couldn’t just leave yet.

But after you had waited outside in the cold for thirty minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t picking you up anytime soon. Which annoyed you, especially since you were tired and would have liked to just fall into bed. Your shivering body didn’t make the situation any better, and since you weren’t planning on standing in the cold, you weren’t exactly wearing warm clothes. However, there was also a part of you that was worried about whether something might have happened to him on the way. But you ignored that thought, thinking that he must have fallen asleep and didn’t set an alarm.

What you didn’t expect was that music was blaring from upstairs as you entered your shared home. You somehow managed to carry your things upstairs, which only made your mood even worse. And when you opened the door to your bedroom, the music got even louder, apparently coming from your bathroom. By then you guessed where he was and what he was up to.

He didn’t even acknowledge you when you opened the door, as he was busy looking at himself in the mirror and fixing his hair. It smelled as if he had showered not long ago, but he wasn’t dressed in comfortable clothes. No, he was wearing cargo pants and a grey sweater that was obviously sprayed with perfume, which you could smell even from your place at the door.

“Oh— for fucks sake, Y/N!” he suddenly yelled as he finally spotted you out of the corner of his eye. He placed a hand on the spot where his heart was beating as he breathed heavily before a few breathless giggles left him. He turned down the music from his phone before walking over to you, placing his hands on your waist and his lips touching your forehead. In response, you didn’t move at all, not giving in to his touch like you normally would.

“Hey, love, I didn’t know you were home already.” he said softly before leaning in to kiss your lips. But you turned your head to the side before he could, causing him to furrow his brows. You could smell a small amount of alcohol on his breath, which only fueled your anger.

“What’s with you, grumpy?” he laughed, squishing your cheeks with his fingers. In response, you pulled his hands away from you and took a step back, his expression hardening as you were obviously not in a good mood at all. He just didn’t know why or what it had to do with him. You could read that in his face, which made you scoff.

“What’s with you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, stepping away from you again to check the time and turn off the music altogether. But you decided to ignore his question, seeing that he obviously had to be somewhere.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. With some friends. But i shouldn’t be long.” he said, as if it were no big deal. And it was in fact not a big deal to him. Apparently, he didn’t even know when you’d be home, which made you wonder if the rare free time the two of you got to spend together meant anything to him at all.

“You’re unbelievable.” you sighed, turning your back on him, thinking to yourself that you’ll just make the most of the evening by starting dinner. “You want to tell me what I did, maybe?” he called after you. But you kept walking anyway.

“If you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

“Just tell me.” he sighed, putting his phone in his backpocket and walking down the stairs behind you. In the kitchen, you stopped and looked in the fridge to decide what to eat.

“So there’s absolutely no memory of you saying you’d pick me up at the airport?” He screwed up his face at that sentence, at which you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was silent for a moment, but you spoke up again just as he opened his mouth. “Oh right, I’m sorry, going out was more important, of course.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were coming home tomorrow like you said you would.” he deliberately repeated your words to provoke you, which let you know that arguing with him was unnecessary at the moment. He obviously didn’t want to admit he was wrong. You put what you got from the fridge on the counter, not looking at him, and tried to calm down for a moment.

“I told you not even twenty-four hours ago that I was coming home today, Mason.” you sighed, while you started preparing your dinner, still without looking at him once.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I forgot, happens to everyone.”

“That’s not the point,” you groaned, finally looking at him as he glared at you from his spot on the other side of the kitchen island. He just raised his eyebrows, silently prompting you to explain before looking at the time on his phone again. “I wanted nothing more than to come home and spend time with you. But no, you’re going out and forgot I was even coming home today.”

“What do you want me to do? I made plans with my friends first, I can’t cancel now.” he said. You then closed your eyes in frustration. Part of you still hoped he could stay, but the other, larger part of you just wanted him to leave because you were tired of talking to a wall.

“We made plans first tho.” you broke the eye contact and turned around, whereupon you heard him scoff behind you.

“Yeah, for which I thought was tomorrow.”

“Just leave, Mason.” you said, deciding that your evening would probably get worse if he stayed any longer and your argument might escalate because of it. What pissed you off again though was that he immediately did as you said and took his wallet and jacket from the counter, but before he left the room he muttered something else, “I’m late now anyway, thanks to you.”

After he left, you tried to make the most of your evening, showering after dinner and slipping into your pajamas before sitting down on the couch and turning on your favorite show. For hours, you told yourself, “Just one more episode,” and didn’t want to go to bed, even though you so desperately needed the sleep. Somehow you chose that excuse to keep waiting for Mason to come back, but you didn’t hear from him. All you saw was the picture of him that one of his friends had posted, grinning at the camera as usual. No sign of the little argument you had before he left.

Around midnight you finally decided to give up and go to bed, because waiting was pretty pointless, either you would ignore each other or fight again. But somehow you still couldn’t sleep properly, so a few hours after going to bed you heard him stumble into the house. But he didn’t come upstairs, which made you think he was trying to avoid you, when in fact you hadn’t done anything wrong. Unfortunately, he was just that stubborn.

As soon as you woke up the next morning, you remembered your argument from the night before, which made you want to go back to sleep and preferably not get up at all today. But you still had the feeling that as soon as you rolled over, Mason would be lying next to you, sleeping peacefully. But when you turned over, you found an empty bed and a completely clean room. There was no sign that he was in your bedroom, so you assumed he was sleeping in another room and wearing the same clothes as last night. Which only made you want to go back to sleep even more.

You weren’t actually mad at him for forgetting to pick you up or because he had plans with his friends, you just felt like he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him. Ever since you left for your short holiday, you had been counting the hours until you would finally see him again. But after he forgot about you, and after the way he welcomed you home, you were almost certain he wasn’t looking forward to your return as much as you were. Or as it seemed so far, not at all.

You did manage to get up after a while, though, especially since you were so hungry that you felt it would have been impossible to go back to sleep. When you went down the stairs, you definitely didn’t expect to notice the smell of food coming from the kitchen, since you didn’t hear anything from upstairs. And that’s why you expected Mason to still be asleep.

When you got to the kitchen, you saw him standing there in front of the stove, and he was indeed still wearing the same sweater as last night, except that he had gotten rid of his cargo pants, probably before he went to sleep. You saw him turn and look at you as you made your way to the fridge, but you tried to avoid any eye contact.

“Y/N.” he sighed, which sounded to you like he was annoyed. For a moment you felt bad, even though you had done nothing wrong.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” you said, quickly grabbing a yogurt from the fridge and wanting to head back upstairs where you couldn’t annoy him. But before you could leave, he stopped you by standing in front of you.

“No, that wasn’t what I meant,”

“It’s fine, I—”

“I made you breakfast,” he interrupted you, and a small smile appeared on his face as you finally looked up into his face instead of staring at your hands or his chest as you had been doing, “your favorite.” he added, whereupon you looked over to the counter where there was already a ready plate, so you guessed he was making himself breakfast right now too.

“You didn’t actually think making me breakfast was going to make everything fine again, did you?” you scoffed, trying to make your way past him, but he blocked your path with his arm this time, which certainly didn’t help your anger at him.

“Just stay and eat. Please?” at this you let out a defeated sigh and sat down on the bar stool across from the stove. You didn’t feel like arguing with him any further, especially not when he made you your favorite breakfast that you can never say no to. You just sat there for a few moments while you took a few bites of your food, still trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted the silence between you, “I was an arse.” and you gave him a few more moments to see if there was more to his apology, maybe a better attempt than just saying “i’m sorry” but he said nothing more. Which only frustrated you that little bit more.

“It’s fine.” you sighed, trying once again to avoid another argument.

“You sure? Because a minute ago, you still seemed pretty upset.”

“I’m not upset, Mason.” you groaned, looking up at him you realized he wouldn’t recognize the secret message behind your words. And you weren’t in the mood to tell him, still ashamed of the fact that you clearly missed him more than he missed you. “Whatever, I’m not hungry anymore.” you said as you pushed yourself up from your spot on the bar stool, but he stopped you once again by stepping in front of you. You rolled your eyes. But he didn’t want you to leave while you were still angry, it was bad enough that you went to sleep angry because you promised that would never happen. Even though he knew he was the only one to blame, really.

“Y/N, talk to me, please.” he could see that something was bothering you, that you weren’t just upset or angry with him, because otherwise you would have acted very differently and certainly not as calmly as you were acting now.

“I’m not upset Mason,” you repeated what you had already said before looking him in the eye to tell him what you really meant by that, “I’m hurt.” you almost whispered, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, you spoke up and tried to walk past him again.

“It’s fine, really. I get it if you don’t want me around, so I’ll just spend the day with—”

“What?” he said quickly, pulling you to him by your wrist, whereupon you fell silent. “Why do you think that I wouldn’t want you around?”

“Because of how you acted.” you admitted, and as you looked into his eyes, you noticed that tears were threatening to spill over yours. At that, you looked down again. You didn’t even know what exactly had you so emotional, you just knew that you had missed him like crazy and that finally being with him again but not being able to do or say all the things you wanted to do because he had caused a stupid fight, was even worse than missing him.

“Y/N.” said Mason, trying to get you to look at him again. But when you didn’t, he forced you to look up by putting a hand under your chin. And when he too saw the tears that were in your eyes, his heart clenched. He hated seeing you like that, and knowing he was the cause of it was a feeling he never wanted to feel again. He pressed his lips together into a line as his hand moved to your cheek, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear as he thought of the right words to say.

“I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you and I missed you so, so much— God, I don’t know why I acted the way I did. I had this whole perfect day planned today and I was so looking forward to it. I have no excuse for forgetting you and then acting like that, I was a total arse, but I really am so fucking sorry. I swear I will never hurt you again. Or make you feel like I don’t want you around, because if I could, I would have you around every second for the rest of my life, Y/N.” Mason said, all while never stop looking you in the eye. And even though part of you was still mad at him for what had happened, you believed him. That was more than enough to make you smile a little at that moment.

“Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” he said, his hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb slowly stroking it. While his heart was pounding in his chest, afraid that what he said wasn’t enough. Though he really couldn’t blame you if you were still mad at him.

“For starters, you could finally hug me and welcome me home properly.” you said, which elicited an adorable smile from Mason. He didn’t have to be told twice, because he longed for it as much as you did, so he immediately wrapped his arms around you. As a result, you wrapped yours around his waist and hugged him tightly, while your head found its usual place right under his chin. Making him put his chin on your head, and as he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, he finally felt at peace again.

However, your moment was interrupted by a loud stomach growl that made you both giggle. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head before breaking away from the embrace.

“Maybe you should eat your breakfast after all, love.”

[everythingisconfetti]

Whatever it Takes

(also on ao3 here)

Vex leaves once the spell is cast. She takes the long way back to the castle, needing the air, the quiet.

"We did this," she'd said, and had taken in the looks of accusation that surrounded her. We did this. Flashes of grey skies, bodies in the wind, the creaking of ropes.

Thirty years, and still, the past will not leave. Pain-filled memories, so tangible, and Delilah's thread running through so many of them. She steadies herself against the cool brick of a wall. We have to help, she'd said— but what if Pike can't separate the souls? How can she live with herself if she brings Delilah back into this world, back to this city, amongst her children? 

She finds Percy in the living room, fire roaring in the grate. He’s crosslegged on the floor, his cane propped against the wall, glasses discarded on the side table. Gwen is nestled in his lap. Her head is tucked beneath his chin, book open in front of her. Vex stands at the door for a long moment, taking in the tremble of his hand where it rests on their daughter’s shoulder, the clench of his jaw, the unmasked fear in his gaze. She clears her throat, watches him tamp down the automatic startle. Gwen jumps up, running to her and hugging her leg, her tail swishing and one hand still keeping her place in her book.

“Mummy, you were gone for hours! Look, Daddy found me an engineering book!” Vex runs a hand through Gwen’s hair, ruffling it, swallowing hard against the ache in her chest.

“That’s lovely, dear. Can you take that to your room and get ready for supper?”

Gwen pulls back, scanning her face in that too-perceptive way she has. “Is everything alright?”

Vex pulls her close once more, holding tight for a moment too long. “Of course, everything is just fine. Run along now, okay?”

Once they’re alone, heavy door shut firmly against little ears, Vex lowers herself to the ground next to her husband. His hands are shaking, clasped together, nails digging into his palms. She takes them gently, prying them apart. “Your knees are not going to thank you for spending this much time on the ground.”

He doesn’t look at her. “I thought this was over. I thought we’d finished this.” 

“Pike won’t let her come back. She won’t. And I had to do something, Percy, I couldn’t just stand there, not when— not when she died because of me.”

“Not your fault,” he tells her, an automatic reassurance grown from years of guilt and self-blame. Then, sharper, “I won’t let her take my family. Not again. We promised. We promised that we would raise them in a world better than the one we had. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that promise.”

She takes his face in her hands, runs her thumbs over the crow’s feet that have deepened with the years, the coarse scruff of his beard, waits until his eyes come to rest on hers. “There’s nothing we wouldn’t do. I’m right here. I’m beside you, no matter what.”

He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against hers briefly before dropping his head to her shoulder. It’s not often Percy cries, and he’s almost silent now; the only signs in the trembling gasps of his breath and the dampening of her dress under his head. Vex pushes her own fear down in favour of holding him up, cradling him to her and running her fingers through his hair, repetitive, grounding. She stares into the dying fire, slowing her own breathing until she feels him copying, steadying himself, eventually pulling back. He runs a hand over his eyes. “Sorry,” he tells her, voice rough.

“Don’t. It’s a lot, and I’m scared too, and just— don’t apologise, please.” 

There will be more talking later, more fears that are easier shared in the dark, in the sanctity of their bed. For now she watches him build his walls back up, smoothing out the creases in his coat and settling his glasses back on his nose. He winces as he stands, and she hands him his cane. “Are you going to see Cassandra?”

He sighs, weariness evident. “Yes, she should be informed. I’ll be back for supper, though.”

“We won’t start without you.”

He takes her by the waist, kissing her quick and tender in parting. He turns back with one hand on the doorknob. “I’m not angry, you know. That you’re trying to help them. None of us would be here if we hadn’t had that kind of help. But if this— whatever Pike’s doing— if it fails or goes wrong, I will do anything necessary to put that right. You need to know that.”

Vex looks around the room, at the family portraits on the walls, the artworks and trophies and books that line each surface like a map of memories of the years spent building this life. She looks up, chin high, sees her fierce love for her family mirrored in Percy, and nods. “Of course, darling. Whatever it takes.”

[messers-moony]

One in the Same | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lover and desperately wants fix her faults.

“Mr.Malfoy, can you stay after class, please?” 

“‘Course, Professor Black.”

An average day in second year. Professor Black - Y/n - taught History of Magic after Professor Binns decided his time was up. Too long of teaching sleeping students who could care less about his lessons. However, once Y/n took over the position, kid's grades improved and people were no longer sleeping. She made things fun and inventive.

After class time was up, everyone filed out of the classroom aside from the blond Slytherin boy. Draco has always been on the good side of Professor Black. She was always extremely kind to him despite his rather sour attitude at times. But Draco was always hesitant to initiate a conversation to really speak his feelings to her. But this was the first time she had him stay after class. 

Y/n pulled out the chair in front of her desk as he sat down. His white-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. His young face, not yet defined. Y/n with her h/c hair and curious glinted e/c eyes. 

“Draco, I want to start this by saying I don’t know what your home life is like.” Y/n began, “I went to Hogwarts with your parents, though, and he wasn’t always kind. Your mother was cordial with me, though.”

“If you don’t find me intruding, what’s your home life like?” 

“I- Um- It’s good.” Stammered Draco, “Father and Mother are always kind.”

Y/n’s eyes glinted with curiosity, “Lucius tolerated me.”

“Tolerated you?”

“I married one of his best friends.” Y/n chuckled, “He didn’t have a choice.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sirius?”

“Oh heavens no!” Y/n exclaimed, “Regulus. Sirius Black's brother.” 

“My- My dead cousin?” He queried. 

She nodded, “Yes. I married Regulus right after graduation. His parents weren’t thrilled, but he loved me so, here we are.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were his parents like?”

“Horrible. The worst.” Y/n spat, “Sirius got the worst of it, but Regulus did occasionally too.”

“Walburga and Orion were awful. Using the crucio curse is not a great punishment for kids.” Draco’s eyes widened, “Both of them had scars from the curse. Sirius ran away at sixteen, and Regulus was used as their puppet. So used that at the age of eighteen, he felt like he had to prove himself. Which inevitably got him killed.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“Well, would you like my honest answer or my Professor answer?”

“Honest, please.”

“Between you and I, I still haven’t gotten over it.” Y/n shrugged, “I see something that reminds me of him, and I’m back at the start all over again. It takes time, and it’s taken plenty of time, but here I am, doing what I love. Teaching kids.”

“Anyways.” Y/n smiled, “You’re dismissed. I’m sorry I took up your time. However, if you ever feel the need to speak with me, let me know. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Draco picked up his bag, rustling as he stood up. The blond boy was still digesting all the information he gained. He couldn’t believe that his cousins got the crucio curse for a punishment. He thought his parents were bad. Theirs was way worse. Draco was about to walk out of the classroom but turned last minute to look at his Professor. 

“Professor?” 

“Yes, Draco?”

“There’s-“ He swallowed, “There’s a Quidditch match this Saturday. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. If you have the time, I’d like you to come.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Y/n smiled. 

He walked out of the room without a second stop. He felt better about himself now. He had someone who genuinely seemed to care about him. Draco didn’t trust her just yet, but he wouldn’t be opposed to speaking with her as he had just now in the future. Professor Black had always been open and honest with her students. Perhaps that’s why kids liked her so much. 

Saturday arrived quicker than Y/n would’ve hoped for one reason. She, herself, didn’t own any Slytherin-colored merchandise anymore. But there was a box in her quarters that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year. Regulus’s old clothes meaning all his scarfs, ties, button-ups, pants, hats, etc. Y/n couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Frankly, she didn’t want to get rid of them either. 

Carefully she pulled the cardboard box from the top of her closet. Taking a pair of scissors and breaking the tape seal she had put on it multiple years ago. Inside laid many pieces of the evergreen and silver cloth. Y/n’s hands gravitated to the green and silver scarf. Bringing it to her nose, she was shocked. It still smelt like him. Godric, this was going to be more challenging than she initially thought. 

Nonetheless, she put it around her neck along with her button-up and tight-fit pants. Y/n put on the green gloves, much too big for her but had fit Regulus perfectly, the tie, and the scarf. It brought her a sense of nostalgia. It made Y/n feel like she was a fifth-year going out with Regulus on a date to Hogsmeade. But she wasn’t fifteen or in fifth year. Y/n was a Professor and a full-grown adult. And Regulus was dead. 

The game was going well for Slytherin at the beginning. But like most Quidditch games, things can change rather quickly. Ravenclaw was studious. That was for sure. They played skillfully. Y/n sat in the Professor stands with the rest of her colleagues. She sat between McGonagall and Flitwick. But white-blond hair caught her attention in front of her. Lucius Malfoy was here spectating his son. 

McGonagall nudged her, “Where’d you get the Slytherin gear?”

“Regulus.”

“How have you been, dear?” McGonagall questioned softly, “It’s been a whirlwind, but nothing I can do will bring him back, so ‘m still here for him. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/n replied. 

Minerva placed a hand on the girl's knee, “If you need anything, let me know.”

“‘Course, Professor.”

The game ended tragically. Slytherin had just tied the game when Cho Chang had caught sight of the snitch. Sadly, she was able to grasp it before Draco. Leaving Slytherin with two-hundred and thirty points while Ravenclaw ended with three-hundred and eighty points. Lucius seemed furious with this conclusion and stormed off the stands. Y/n knew something was up, so she followed him. 

She came up in a deserted hallway in Hogwarts. Draco stood - now changed into the usual Hogwarts robes - and his father stood before him. From the view she had, Draco’s back was to her, and his father was towering over the boy. 

Lucius had a cold and icy voice, “You are insufferable!”

“You had one job, Draco! One! Catch the damn snitch.” He scolded, “Perhaps you were too daft to figure that out?”

“‘M sorry, father. I didn’t mean to. Honest.” Draco was pleading and begging for mercy; it made Y/n’s heartache at the familiar words. 

“Mum, Dad, I seriously didn’t mean to!” Regulus had cried after breaking a vase, “Excuses, excuses, they won’t get you anywhere in life, boy!” Orion shouted. 

Tears collected in his silver eyes, “‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!”

Walburga pointed her wand at him, “Crucio.”

Lucius scoffed, “Malfoy’s don’t cry, wipe those tears.”

“Should‘ve sent you to Durmstrang. You come to Hogwarts and forget everything I’ve ever taught you.”

“Father, I really didn’t mean to! She just got there faster than me.” Draco begged. 

Y/n saw it before Draco did. Lucius raised his palm slowly, and Draco flinched. Y/n saw the pale hand rise into the air, and without a second thought, she ran in front of the young boy, taking the blow that was meant for Lucius’ son. Draco heard the sound but never felt the impact. Carefully he opened his eyes to see Professor Black standing in front of him, a hand on her cheek. 

“How dare you get in the way!” Lucius yelled, “How dare I? How dare you for trying to leave a hand on your son!” Y/n retorted her bright cheek red from impact. 

Draco was appalled, “Draco is your son! Not a toy or a puppet, and I will not stand for this!”

“You don’t have to, half breed.” Lucius seethed, “As you said, he’s my son. Not yours.”

“I could give less fucks!” Y/n exclaimed, “Draco is my student. I will not be having you lay your hands on my students.”

Lucius scoffed, “Where’s your child, mm?”

“Right, you don’t have one.” Lucius answered, “Because your blood-traitor of a husband decided to get himself killed!”

“Regulus was not a blood-traitor for trying to right his wrongs!”

“Regulus and Sirius were no different from each other.”

“Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, so it’s still a soft spot for you?”

“So help me, I’ll-“

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco stated while holding his wand, causing his father to fall to the ground, paralyzed. 

Y/n stared at the body in shock, “Draco.”

She didn’t even have time to reprimand him before he burst into tears. Y/n turned quickly and embraced him into a much-needed hug while the boy sobbed on her shoulder. Y/n’s hands went through Draco’s white-blond hair gently while he let every emotion out. She pulled away and wiped the tears on his cheeks. 

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Y/n informed, and Draco nodded, “Th- Thank you, Professor.”

Y/n smiled and sent him off to the Slytherin common room, leaving her to deal with Lucius. The Professor dragged him to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. Later that night, in her quarters, while brushing her teeth, she noticed the considerable bruise covering her left cheek: Blue and purple hues mixed to create a dark blue-violet looking color, almost grey. 

Sixth year was now here. Y/n’s fourth year of teaching at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t have asked for a better job. On September 1st, she went through the floo-network to arrive in her teacher's quarters. Looking at the time, it seemed that students were just about reaching onto the grounds when a knock sounded at her door. 

“Come in!”

A blond boy, much taller, defined face, and grey eyes had just walked into her teacher's quarters, “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Draco.” Y/n greeted smiling brightly, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

Draco didn’t know where to begin as water collected on his lower lash line, and gently he pulled up his left sleeve. Godric, it felt like deva Vu all over again. 

“Y- Y/n.” Regulus called through his tears, “What’s wrong, baby?” Y/n asked, sitting beside him on the four-poster bed. 

Regulus couldn’t help the tears that helplessly fell down his cheeks. His eyes were silver and blurred. Cheeks flushed and hair knotted. This past summer had been a shit show for him with Sirius running away and just everything that had gone on. Regulus had never felt this hopeless before. 

“I- I need your help.”

“Of course, anything, baby.”

He swallowed, “Just know that I’ll love you forever. Okay?”

“‘Course.”

Gently, he released a breath of air and pulled up his left sleeve. The combined snake and skull only meaning one thing. Regulus was now a death eater to the Dark Lord. Tears sprung in Y/n’s eyes but not because of disappointment but because of worry. She didn’t know what she would do if Regulus were to be gone. 

“They forced me!” Regulus pleaded, “Please, please don’t leave me.” 

Regulus was weeping, and Y/n took him into her arms, “Shh, shh, I’m not disappointed. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this.” Regulus whimpered, “Please help me.”

“I’m gonna help you ‘m love. Don’t worry.” 

“What happened this summer?” Y/n asked as Draco pulled back down his sleeve.

“Auntie Bella.”

Draco was trying so hard to swallow his tears as his Professor was now face to face with him, “Draco.”

How was her voice so sweet and calm, almost like she had done this before, “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s being human. Let it go, darling.”

Just like that, the dam broke, and Draco was a sobbing mess again. How was it that Professor Black had always managed to feel more like home than his actual parents? What had his mum done for him while Bellatrix was giving him the mark? She had just stood there watching pain contort on his face. Y/n felt more like a mother to him, more like family to him. 

“Shh. Shh. You’re safe here, Draco.”

“They- They want me-“ He was choking on his words, and Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, “Take deep breaths and then explain. Okay?”

He began to inhale and exhale air at a slow pace, “They want me to-“ Draco swallowed, “They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Okay.” Y/n stated, letting out a breath of air, “You and I will get through this.” 

“You- You promise?” 

“I promise.”

Perhaps it was instinct now for Draco to stay after in her classroom. After every lesson, Draco would visit her in her classroom just to be in her company or to talk. What was it about Y/n that drew these people close to her? Ones with broken souls who believed that couldn’t be helped. Was it her kindness? Perhaps it was her caring nature—too many variables to pinpoint. 

The moment Y/n heard crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she knew something was wrong. Approaching cautiously, she saw Harry Potter doing the same behind Draco, who stood facing the basin, dried tears on his cheeks. Everything happened too fast for Y/n to understand. But when Harry spoke an incantation that left Draco bleeding out on the floor, everything changed. 

She was jumping into action hastily, falling to her knees beside the blond-haired boy while Harry was almost in tears at his mistake. Y/n took her wand out and began muttering spells to heal the boy's chest. Harry was now in a heap on the floor, tears filling his glorious emerald eyes while the Professor took care of his harm. It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped, and Y/n turned to face Harry. 

“Harry.” 

“‘M sorry. I- I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.” Y/n replied, and Harry looked like a mess, “I need you to go to the Gryffindor tower and not speak of this to anyone, okay?”

He nodded and stood up sluggishly. Harry left the bathroom, leaving Y/n with an unconscious Draco. Sighing heavily, she picked up the boy and lugged him to the hospital wing, where he was taken care of. The following day an owl was pecking at Y/n’s window, leading her to wake up and take the note from the owl’s foot. 

���Draco won’t stop calling for you.”

Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth, hair, and a change of clothes before making her way to the Hospital Wing. It was quite a ways away from. Her section of the school, but if Draco needed her, she needed to be there even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Her shoes made a light tap along with the wood as she walked and hesitantly opened the big door to the infirmary. 

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey said with her hand over her heart, “Draco has been asking for you, my dear.”

She gave a tiny smile as Pomfrey pointed to where Draco was lying. Carefully she stripped back some of the white curtain and pulled a chair beside his bed. Y/n took his hand in his. It was cold and pale. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine holding Regulus’ hand in the same exact way after a horrible Bludger accident. 

An hour later, Draco finally woke up, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Professor, you- you came.”

She smiled, “You called for me, of course, I’d come.”

Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, his grey eyes locked on her warm e/c ones, “Sorry, I just, didn’t expect you to come.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“I feel okay. Little sore but nothing I haven’t been through.” 

Y/n smiled sadly, “I knew a boy just like you, you know?”

“You did?” Draco asked, and she nodded, “I did.”

“Could you tell me about him?”

“Well, he was strong, smart, and closed off. His home life wasn’t too great either and was forced into being what his parents were too.” Draco looked eager for more, “Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. He no longer cared about his parent's approval. He just wanted to be him, but by then, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

She nodded, “He was already in too late, so he did the only thing he thought of. Betraying his parents, his family. He was so caught up in what he was doing he didn’t realize what he was doing, and now, because of that, he’s no longer with us.”

“But you aren’t too late, Draco.” Y/n stressed, tightening her grip on his hand, “Let me save you. Let me help you.”

Tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes, “Please.”

Y/n took him in her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “You aren’t alone. I’m here for you.”

It took months, but everything was over. It felt like time had stopped. Y/n could remember the terror standing outside of Hogwarts as the death eaters stood on the other side. Narcissa was calling for him - the boy who had no choice - and Draco was panicking as Lucius began calling his name. 

Draco swallowed and shook his head. 

It was the feeling of relief that brought Y/n solace. Draco took the step that Regulus took, and she would make sure he didn’t pay for it. The relief felt like a breath of fresh air now that the war was over. Y/n had stepped into the Great Hall panicking, hoping, praying that he was okay. At that moment she saw it. 

He was crouched in the corner. People were glaring at him all around. Draco saw. He saw the Weasleys crying over Fred. He saw Harry look empty, staring at Remus Lupin and Nymphadora. The way Lavender Brown’s parents sobbed over her dead body. He saw the way Dennis Creevey was yelling and screaming in pain at seeing his deceased older brother. Draco could remember how close they were. 

Nonetheless, he stood up and ran into her arms: his solace, home, and safe place. Draco couldn’t remember what it felt like to be held this tight. He dug his nose into her neck and just remembered to breathe. She pulled away to see a small smile playing on his lips. Y/n cupped his cheeks gently. 

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Y/n smiled, “I can't explain how proud I am of you. You did it.”

Draco smiled and leaned into her hands, “Thanks, mum.”