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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

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dabilove27 · 4 years ago

Text

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world. They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room. You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see. You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down. His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch. Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips. Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours. Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you. Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you. You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino. No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location. It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly. Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic. This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job. It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink. The music was still soft, later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background. You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world. The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace. But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump. It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?" He said with a smooth tone. You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head. Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here. You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town." Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean. Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here? Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole. "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen. Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong." He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal." Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you. He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples. You feel your anger bubbling up again. How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl. You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole. I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women. He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm. He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession. Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?" That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip. "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand. "There we go, good girl. Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point. But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish. "What were you drinking? I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?" He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order. You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build. You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head. "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave." He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass. You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again. Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again, but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date. I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms. The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now. You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays. But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup. No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me. He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself. We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over. Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time. And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face. But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up. And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other. Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?" And the questions go on and on. You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other. And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week. A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger. You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up. And then anger if he has. You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him. You feel a sense of loss in your chest. How could he just give up? He's been trying for months! You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry. And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show. Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?" You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him. You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?" His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes. And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off. "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him. He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him. You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me." The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little. He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs. He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his. You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit. "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love. So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date." His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number. But don't just text me randomly, okay?" You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone. Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word. Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him. "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll," Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi. Just text me next time you can't make it." You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink. You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his. The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off. As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi. There are never really any titles between the two of you. Just that the two of you are together. You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry. But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse. The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours." And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on. "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it," you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared. Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there," Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice. He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth. Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken. He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it? There's no cure right now," You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades. He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his. Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek. Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay? I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have," Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you. It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls. Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does. You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss. The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours. You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you. Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore. All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit. Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction. Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches. It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe. And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you," Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it. Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him. Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now. Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is. He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi." Drawing him into a more intense kiss. Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips. You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll. Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away," he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body. Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips. You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you. Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this. To have you so totally vulnerable. It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless. "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you," Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck. Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over. You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his. With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms. And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same. Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections. But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs. Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love. I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs. Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp. You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place. He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear. You let out a breathy moan at the sensation. That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips. Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations. His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit. You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips. Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue. He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly. Fucking bastard. Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth. You can't hold them back. His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch. Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me, I want to taste you right now." Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire. You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth. Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit. "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head. Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm. Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down. A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave. The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you. But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on. You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch. It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms. You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness. The illness grows more and more rampant. People are getting infected every day. Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone. Panic spreads throughout the country. But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment. Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore. Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through. The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you. Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together. And so you did. Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed. But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this. Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside. Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain. Dabi stayed strong for the two of you. Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in. You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go. He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now. He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it. He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you. And after all the tears, you were thankful too. Because without him, you'd be dead or alone. You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too. You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin. He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon. Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay. You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other. You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you. It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water. The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home. It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people. Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack. Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle. "Hey babe, look what I found." He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out." You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest. He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear. "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can." He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home." You let out with an eye roll. It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is. And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter. While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world. Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment. Crap, of course, it's locked. You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this. Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter. You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck. Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout. "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?" It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll. Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out." You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes. The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store. Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed. "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm." Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you. Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go." Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand. He's grave now. Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door. And that's when even more terror settles into you. Zombies are pushing their way through the open door. Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from. There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit. You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response. Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked. "Damnit!" he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door. While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly. With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station. Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat. This is it. This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself. Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them. You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you. But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you. Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you." Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood. Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface. You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up. Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more. Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down. You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side. You cry out in relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you. But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin. You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure. At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!" Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you! I-we can find something. I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!" You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face. An ache in your heart starts to form. You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him. And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know. You have to go. Live for us, babe. Look at how far we've come. Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you. Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating. You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain. Not after that speech. That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome. So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face. When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him. But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you. The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live. And you could never let that go to waste.

#smut pile collab #Dabi x reader #Dabi smut #tw: character death #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #Dabi fanfiction #my fic #how far we've come

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maladaptive---daydreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Fake it till you make it

You were never really one to receive post from home. Your parents would send you a letter every once in a while, sometimes a small care package towards the end of term, but they would come in black lidded boxes tied together with red silk ribbon. This was the precise reason why you were so confused when a school post owl dropped a crushed brown box in front of you and flew back to the owlery.

“What the hell is that?” Your best friend, Draco, asked, voice laced with disgust.

“I have no idea” you replied, cautiously picking the box up looking for a clue as to who the sender was.

“Well open it, don't leave us in suspense, Y/N” Daphne urged.

You ripped the brown parchment off the box to be greeted with a cake box from a bakery in Hogsmeade. You lifted the crumpled box lid off to reveal a small square carrot cake. It had been decorated with white icing, and a note had been piped on with orange icing.

“Go out with me?” Daphne read. “Oh my, you’re getting asked out! Does it say who the sender was?”

Draco looked at you suddenly interested in this delivery.

“No it doesn’t, and I’m glad it doesn't because I definitely don’t want to go out with the owner of this cake.” You replied, pushing the box away from you and returning to your breakfast.

“You don't mind if I take that do you, Y/N?” Crabbe asked, licking his lips.

“Go ahead, Crabbe.” You pushed the box towards them and both him and Goyle reached for the cake.

“Acting as though you’ve never seen a cake in your lives, you disgust me the pair of you” Draco sneered. He picked up the parchment the cake was wrapped in with two fingers and began to stare at it.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking up from the page of the Daily Prophet you were reading

“I’m checking to see who sent it.”

“I already did that, there was no name on it.”

“You might have missed it”

“I can read, Malfoy”

“Well there doesn't seem to be a name on here, a shame really, I would have enjoyed watching you turn him down and embarrass him in front of the whole school”

“Who said I would have turned him down?”

“You did, just now,”

“I only said that because its an anonymously sent cake, it could have been poisoned for all I know. Had I known who the cake was from I would have reacted differently”

Draco looked confused for a second before getting up, announcing he was going to make his way to potions. You and Daphne did the same a few minutes later and met up with him again in the queue outside the classroom. You had potions with the Ravenclaws, which according to the sorting hat was its next choice for you, but it believed you’d be better suited in Slytherin. It meant that you managed to get along well with some of the Ravenclaw students. Before long, Slughorn called you all in and you took your usual seat at the back, taking up a four-seat bench with you, Daphne, Draco and Blaise. Today's lesson was about sleeping potions, Slughorn announced he would be pairing you up rather than you working with the person you sat alongside. He began reading off a list, pairing Daphne with your friend, Alicia, Draco with Marcus Belby and you with Terry Boot.

You reluctantly got up and moved to a station near the front of the room.

“Morning, Y/N” Terry greeted, oddly giddy for a Tuesday morning

“Morning, Terry” you replied, giving him a small smile. You read through the instructions in your textbook and began to chop up your ingredients.

“Anything interesting happen this morning?” He asked, looking up from the valerian root he was chopping.

“I did get a weird package at breakfast.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Yeah, someone tried to ask me out, bit stupid though they didn't leave their name”

“I did! it was on the inside of the lid”

“Pardon?”

“Erm yeah sorry about that. What I meant to say is that I sent it.”

“Oh, right, well” You were honestly speechless, you had maybe spoken to Terry once, apologising for Draco’s remark about his mother.

“It's just you’re so beautiful and smart, and you’re nice”

“Terry I’m flattered but I’m just not interested”

“You think I’m ugly don’t you?”

“No- I”

“Don’t lie to me Y/N”

“No I swear, it's just” Your mind raced at a million miles an hour to try and come up with a passable lie. “It's just that I’m actually going out with someone already. We just haven't told anyone, you know how-”

“Who?” He cut you off, his face twisting with anger.

“I don't see how that’s any of your business” The sheer cheek of him was enough to make you angry as well,

“Well, then you’re lying, if it were true you’d say who. You do think I’m ugly”

“It’s,” You paused, blurting out the first name that came into your mind. “Its Draco”. You were already kicking yourself for spluttering his name out. Any Slytherin boy would have done fine, but you just had to say his name.

“Oh, right. Makes sense, you two are inseparable,”

An awkward silence had fallen over you and he barely spoke another word the whole lesson. Slughorn had administered each pairs sleeping potion on a cornish pixie, the pair who managed to keep their pixie asleep for long enough was due to receive a prize the next lesson. You returned to your seat at the back and grabbed your things.

“What’s wrong with you?” Draco asked, pulling the back of your robe

“Huh? what-”

“You look ill, do you need me to walk you to the hospital wing?”

“Walk the long way with me to defence against the dark arts?”

He nodded and the two of you left, splitting off from Daphne and Blaise.

You walked in silence for a bit

“Are you going to tell me what the matter is?” He stopped and faced you for a second

“I found out who sent me the cake” You admitted, continuing to walk

“And?”

“It was Terry Boot.”

Draco started to laugh. “You’re lying”

“I swear but this isn't even the worst part” You were beginning to explain but he wouldn't stop laughing. “Draco, I’m serious! stop laughing there's more!”

He calmed down after a few seconds and you continued.

“I tried rejecting him nicely, but he just didn't take it. So I lied and told him I’m going out with someone”

“Oh? whos the unlucky bugger?”

You slapped his arm. “It's you”

“Me?” He looked genuinely shocked.

“I’m sorry it was the first name that came into my mind. But I just wanted to give you a heads up because he’ll probably tell his friends and the whole school will probably find out! Ugh I’m sorry Draco”

“Sorry for what?”

“Well that everyone’s going to think we're together”

“They could think of worse things, Y/N. Plus I don't care what they have to say about me,”

“you're not angry?”

“Of course not, people thought we were going out anyway.”

“Thank you, Draco, seriously”

“You know, we might as well make it believable, just until he moves on, something tells me Boot isn't going to let this drop.”

“What do you mean believable?”

“Like act like we’re a couple. Hold hands, you know all of that”

“But what about all your admirers”

“I could care less about them, your happiness and safety matters more than the opinions of the mediocre witches and wizards in this school”

You felt your heart swell a bit, you honestly didn't expect Draco to prioritise you like this. “So we should just fake it until he gets a girlfriend?”

“Exactly, just follow my lead”

You two ended up being a minute late to your lesson. He took your hand in his and the two of you walked in after everyone had taken their seats.

“Mr Malfoy, Miss Y/L/N, you are late to my lesson” Snape stated.

The whole class turned and looked at you, noting your hand clearly being held by Draco

“Sorry professor, we accidentally walked the long way from potions” Draco explained, swinging your hands.

“Two points from Slytherin, take your seats.” The two of you sat down.

“You and Draco?” Daphne hissed, knowing how long you had been crushing on him.

“Mind your business, Greengrass” Draco replied, sitting back in his chair putting his arm around the back of your seat.

“I'll explain later,” You promised, not wanting to piss off Snape, by talking in his lesson, any more than you already had.

For the rest of the day, you were ogled at like some caged animal in a zoo. Students from every year glanced and immediately dissolved into whispers with their friends. Word clearly travels fast around Hogwarts. You walked out of your last lesson with Daphne, getting ready to head to the Slytherin common room before dinner.

“You better be getting ready to explain this whole thing to me.” She said, pulling you away from the other students

“Yes, as soon as we get to our dorm-”

“Mind if I steal my girlfriend from you, Daphne?” Draco interrupted, appearing from what seemed to be nowhere.

“Yes I do actually,” She replied, pulling you further from Draco.

“Too bad, I’ll be taking her anyway”

“I swear I’ll tell you daph-” You explained apologetically, pulling your arm from her grasp.

Daphne stomped her foot like a toddler and turned to walk to the Slytherin common room. You, on the other hand, were stood with Draco, getting, even more, stares because the two of you were finally stood together, giving feeding truth into the rumour that was swirling around the school. He put his arm lazily around your shoulders and the two of you began your stroll to a more quiet part of the castle.

“I know you want to tell Daphne everything, but do you think that's wise?” He asked quietly

“Yes, she's my best friend, why wouldn't I?”

“I thought I was, I’m hurt”

“You are, you mug, but she is too”

“You know what a big mouth Daphne has, not to mention you know what she’s like once shes had a bit to drink, she might let it slip.”

You pondered what Draco had said. It was no secret that Daphne Greengrass liked to gossip, but it was also no secret that she couldn't handle her alcohol, spilling some of her families darkest secrets after a few shots. Not to mention had she slipped out that you lied about dating Draco it would be embarrassing for not only you but him.

“Ugh I hate that you’re right”

“When am I not?”

“But what am I supposed to tell her when she asks? She knows when I’m lying”

“Well we did spend basically the entire summer together, we’ll just say it happened then.”

“This is all so stressful! Why couldn't I have thought of another excuse? If I knew this was going to be the outcome, I would have agreed with him and said I found him ugly,” You dropped your head onto his chest. He wrapped both of his arms around you, swaying side to side.

“I know, love, but its too late to go back now”

You and Draco had been in this exact moment before in your friendship, only this time it felt different. You felt like you were more than two best friends consoling one another, it was almost as if you were just two teenagers in love. Only for a short while before reality came crashing down on you, it was all just fake.

The two of you went back to the common room to drop your school bags and robes before making your way to the hall for dinner. Despite it being late, there was still a large proportion of students sat down to eat. You took a deep breath as Draco’s hold on your hand tightened and the two of you walked in. Every single pair of eyes in the room were trained on you, it felt like an eternity before you finally got to your seats on the Slytherin table.

“Finally, you have no excuse not to explain yourself to me now, Y/N” Daphne scoffed.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Greengrass. Were going out, that's it, what more do you want?” Draco retorted.

“Id like to know when, how, where. All of the details, Malfoy”

“Well we started going out in the holidays-” You began to explain before she cut you off.

“Pardon, the summer? As in 6 months ago? You have been hiding your relationship from me, your best friend for 6 whole months?” Daphne’s voice began to rise.

“Daphne-”

“Watch how you talk to my girlfriend, Greengrass, otherwise you'll find you can't speak another word.” Draco practically snarled at her, he looked as though he was about to rip her head off.

“I wanted to tell you, Daph I really did, I just wanted to keep it between Draco and I for a while, just in case it didn't work out, so it wouldn't be awkward.” You explained calmly.

“Hm, I guess that's a valid reason, you’re forgiven for now. But from here on out, I want to know everything. Did you at least find out who that ghastly cake was from?”

“Terry Boot”

She almost choked on her rice. You filled her goblet with some water and slid it to her.

“He confessed to me in potions, I tried to say I wasn't interested but he basically forced me to admit that I had a boyfriend”

“You poor thing,”

She had quickly forgotten and moved onto the next piece of Hogwarts gossip that took her fancy. Draco was engrossed with his own conversations and it hit you, your new reality was Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend, that was until Terry Boot managed to get his own one. It was something you had wanted since the second year, you felt as though you should have been over the moon, one of your most wild fantasies was playing out right in front of you, but you weren't. It wasn't going to last, you were sure he didn't even like you that way, he was just being the kind but overprotective Draco you had got to know over the past few years.

Once you had filled yourselves up with dinner, you and your friends made your way back to the common room, Draco's hand found yours and he held it as you walked down to the dungeons. Once you had got to the common room, Blaise forced a group of fourth years off the sofa in front of the fire and pulled out his deck of exploding snap, which you all played as a group. The warmth of the fire coupled with the comfort of the sofa made you want to curl up and fall asleep, you could feel your eyelids drooping as you tried and failed to suppress a yawn.

“Tired, love?” He asked, tilting his head.

“A little bit, I think I’ll head up to sleep in a bit” You responded, another small yawn passing your lips.

He nodded and simply pulled you into his side, your head falling on his chest and his arm around you resting on your hip

“God, you two are disgusting” Pansy grumbled as she walked past, taking note of you and Draco in your loved-up state.

“We all know you're just jealous you’re not in Y/N’s place” Crabbe laughed.

“Shut up Crabbe,” She snapped, trying to hit him around the back of his head but failing.

Your whole group laughed as she stomped away. You only managed to last another hour before you really were going to fall asleep, though you were reluctant to move from your position, you got up and announced you'd be heading to bed.

“I think I’ll join you.” Daphne yawned, getting up and stretching.

You made a move to leave but were pulled back by Draco.

“Gonna leave without saying goodnight were you?” He smiled

You laughed, “of course not, goodnight, Draco”

He kissed the back of your hand, sending a jolt of electricity from where his lips touched right to your brain, “goodnight, princess”

You smiled and headed up to bed, feeling as though you were floating on cloud 9.

Over the next few days, you had fallen into a routine, he’d wait at the bottom of the stairs from your dormitory for you to come down every morning, as soon as he saw you, he’d chirp a “good morning, love” before walking you to breakfast. He would walk you to and from every lesson that you didn’t have with him, he even went as far as waiting outside the girl's bathroom for you so he could walk with you back to the library. You had to admit it, Draco Malfoy was the best fake boyfriend.

One cold Wednesday afternoon, you were in the middle of a potions lesson, Slughorn was going on and on about the properties of belladonna, he even hinted it would come up in your exam, but all you could focus on was the contractions of your uterus. The first two days of your period were the worst, horrific cramps, bloating, tender boobs and hot flushes. Madam Pomfrey was aware of how debilitating your period was and would always send owls to your teachers informing them you would be absent from lessons, you didn't even care that Snape would find out about your period, all you wanted was to lie in bed. You tried your hardest to ride out the pain for the next 40 minutes of the lesson before you could go to the hospital wing and get something for the pain.

“Just ask Slughorn to leave early,” Daphne whispered.

“This is going to be on the exam, I can't just leave now”

“Y/N, you are literally dying, I’ll give you my notes, just please go to the hospital wing”

“I’ll be fine,”

You took a deep breath and shrugged your robe off you in an attempt to cool down. Draco slide you a note

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah, just my period, nothing to worry about :)’

‘Are you sure? I know how bad they get’

‘I’ll be fine, focus on the lesson!’

‘How can I focus when you’re in pain’

‘Oh shut up, I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl’

Draco read your last message and slid the sheet of parchment into his textbook. Another jolt of pain ran across your abdomen, causing you to squeeze your belly in pain. Draco’s arm shot up almost instantaneously.

“Professor, Y/N isn't feeling well, may I escort her to the hospital wing?”

“Of course m’boy”

You glared at Draco before collecting your things. and trying to discreetly leave the classroom without disrupting the lesson further.

“Do feel better Y/L/N” Slughorn called from the front of the room.

“Thank you, professor” you mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Here give me your bag,” He said, going to grab your bag off your shoulder.

“I’m on my period, Draco, not dying”

He held out his hand anyway and you handed him your bag. He knew you hated being touched too much, it made you feel hotter, so he linked his pinky with yours.

“The corridors are empty, you don't need to hold my hand,” you stated, looking around

“I don't need to but I like to, your hands are soft” You saw him blush slightly as he said it. You simply smiled as the two of you walked into the hospital wing.

“Ah, miss Y/L/N, I’ve been expecting a visit from you” Madam Pomfrey went into her store cupboard and produced a violet potion and measured a dose. “You know the drill, come back tomorrow after breakfast and I’ll give you more, I’ll send an owl to your teachers, what’s your next lesson?”

“We have transfiguration” Draco answered for you while you finished downing your medicine.

“Right, well I’ll tell Professor McGonagall you'll both be absent from the lesson, be sure to catch up with the missing work Mr Malfoy”

You thanked Madam Pomfrey before returning to the Slytherin dormitory. The boys had managed to disable the charm that prevented them from coming up into the girls' dorms, so Draco followed you up.

“Draco, honestly I’m fine.” You signed, dropping onto your bed

“You don’t look fine,” He crossed his arms and looked down at you.

“I just need to get into some comfy clothes and lie down and I’ll be fine, I even have chocolate in my trunk.” You crouched down and opened your trunk and fished out your slab of Honeydukes chocolate. surprised to find that you only had 6 squares left.

“That’s hardly enough, wait here.”

“Dra-”

He turned and went down the stairs, leaving you alone. You changed out of your skirt and into some comfy trousers and were about to unbutton your blouse when Draco returned with a full slab of Honeydukes chocolate and his old quidditch jumper.

“I remember you saying how soft this was, I don't need it anymore, you're free to keep it,” He said sheepishly

“Thank you, Draco, seriously” He smiled at you and just stood there, looking at you. “Erm, I need to change,”

He slowly turned around and you unbuttoned your blouse and unhooked your bra throwing it on your bed before putting the jumper on.

“I’m done,”

He turned around, his eyes immediately landing on your black lace bra on your bed, you followed his gaze and quickly snatched the bra and stuffed it back in your trunk.

“I had you pegged for a cotton bra girl myself,” He smirked

“If you think that's scandalous, you should see what I wear on the bottom” you replied, winking. You got under your covers and began to open the chocolate, Draco sat awkwardly at the foot of your bed.

“Why are you sitting like that?”

“I’ve never been in your dormitory before,”

“It's literally the same as yours, come, sit” You moved a bit to the side and he came and sat next to you, stretching his legs out. At this point it was a reflex, his arms wrapped themselves around you as you buried yourself into him.

“Draco,”

“Hmmm”

“Thank you,”

“You’ve said that already”

“I mean it, honestly,”

“Anything for you, princess”. You two fell into a comfortable silence as you lay on his chest, being lulled to sleep by his chest rising and falling.

You were awoken by a loud squeal, you blinked and slowly opened your eyes.

“You two are just the cutest!” Daphne shouted.

You looked around confused for a moment until you saw what was in Daphne’s hand. She handed you a small bouquet of roses with a note attached that read:

I didn't have the heart to wake you, I’ll bring you dinner if you're not up to coming down, I hope you feel better, love - D x

You smiled as you conjured up a small vase filled with water. It was time to admit it, you were deeply, truly and utterly in love with Draco Malfoy

A Hogsmeade trip had been planned for that weekend, at first, you were planning on skipping it, but after some convincing, you decided you’d go. You decided to replenish your potions store, as well as getting some more quills and ink. Draco treated you to some sweets from Honeydukes, before you and your group headed into the three broomsticks to grab a butterbeer before you returned to the castle. You sat in a booth with Blaise, Daphne, Goyle and Pansy, choosing to squeeze yourself right in the corner. Blaise got up to order the drinks returning a few moments later with six butterbeers in his hands. The six of you fell into a discussion about the quidditch tournament, the boys getting heated over Ravenclaw’s win over Slytherin in their last match. After a while Daphne excused herself to go to the bathroom, only to run back a few moments later.

“You will not guess who I just saw snogging Hannah Abbott in the women’s toilet” Daphne yelled, sitting back in her seat at the end of the table.

You all looked at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Terry fucking Boot!”

The whole group looked at you and Draco. At that moment you felt a million different emotions, recently it had felt like you weren't faking anymore, you had tricked yourself into thinking that it was all real, forgetting about your deal with Draco. But you knew that this revelation meant it was all over, you and Draco would fake an amicable break-up and remain to be best friends and the thought of that killed you.

“Well, at least now he won't get hexed for looking at my girlfriend” Draco joked.

You smiled and took a sip of your butterbeer. Once you had all finished your drinks, you returned to the castle and settled in your spot in the common room. You were sat with Draco but all you could think about was how this little bubble you were in was going to burst soon. You practically zoned out, your eyes losing focus as you stared at the fire.

“Are you quite alright? You look as though you’ve been stunned” Daphne asked, looking confused.

“Mmm I don’t feel too good, I don't think being out in the cold was a good idea” you mumbled, blinking slowly.

Daphne came and felt your forehead.

“You do feel a bit warm, why don’t you go lie down for a while”

You agreed and went up to lie in your bed for a while. You ended up skipping dinner too, you played up your symptoms to Daphne and she left you alone out of fear that she’d catch whatever you had. You didn’t end up getting out of bed until the next morning, barely having the energy to brush your teeth before you trudged to the great hall for breakfast in your pyjamas. Draco saw you come in and his eyes lit up, he was worried after Daphne told him you were sick. As soon as you sat down he began to pile food into your plate.

“Whoa calm down, I’ll barely be able to eat half of that” You pushed his hand back to the bowl of baked beans prompting him to drop the spoon back into the bowl.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday, you must be starving, love”

You shook your head reaching for a cereal bowl instead. He looked at you concern filling his face. He kept glancing over at you while you ate, making note of your unusual silence. Once he had noticed you stopped eating your cereal squeezed your hand under the table, you pulled your hand away and acted as though you were scratching an itch on the side of your neck.

“Y/N why don’t we take a visit to madam Pomfrey, just to make sure you’re okay”

“I’m fine Draco, it’s probably just a cold”

“Draco’s right, you should make sure it’s nothing contagious or something” Daphne agreed

“Fine, let’s go then” You dusted your pyjamas off and got up, defeated.

You followed Draco out of the great hall. He began walking the opposite direction to the hospital wing and pulled you into a deserted part of the corridor.

“Are you okay?” He asked immediately, his tall frame towering over you.

“I’m just tired Draco, that’s all”

“You can’t lie to me, I’m your best friend”

“I’m not lying, I’m just tired, I haven’t been sleeping well the past few days”

“Has someone said something? Threatened you? I swear if I get my hands on them”

“No ones done anything. You don’t need to keep the overprotective boyfriend act up anymore, we’re alone and Terry has a girlfriend now”

“Act?” His face had fallen and he turned to look away

“Draco?”

“You really thought it was all an act?”

“Was it not? You said it yourself, we were faking it until he got a girlfriend so that he wouldn’t try and make a move on me”

“How can you be one of the smartest witches in our house but be so dense at the same time. “

“Excuse me,”

“It wasn't an act for me”

Your heart stopped.

“What?” you honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing

“It wasn't an act for me. I didn't do all that just because I wanted Boot to back off, I did it cause I’ve fancied you for a while” Draco began pacing, as he explained himself

“but-”

“You said you would have gone out with the sender of that cake if it wasn't anonymously sent. I don't know why, but it didn’t sit right with me. I didn't like the fact that you were willing to go out with someone that wasn't me.”

“So you waited for me to find out who did send it, so you could propose this crazy idea?”

“I didn’t expect you to find out, hell I didn't even know I was going to say it, but once you agreed to go along with it, I felt like maybe you’d see that us being more than just best friends wasn't that bad, and maybe you'd be willing to give me a chance.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret?”

He stopped and looked down at you and nodded,

“I've fancied you since second year”

He smiled and grabbed both your hands

“And since we’ve been fake going out, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you now,”

“Say that again”

“I’m in love with you Draco,”

“Say it again,” he said, placing his hands on your cheeks and staring into your eyes with adoration.

You laughed “I love you”

“I love you so much more, princess. Way more than I can even explain”

You beamed up at him, you felt like you could honestly explode at this point. all those years of crushing on him and wishing you could tell him how you felt, and here you were.

“I'm going to kiss you” He whispered

“I think it's about time you did”

He moved slowly before giving you a sweet but passionate kiss. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be.

“At least now we don't need to worry about telling our friends,” You joked, resting your forehead against his.

He laughed and kissed you again. Something you know you would never get tired of. As cliche as it seemed, you did it, your best friend was now your boyfriend. It was just you and Draco, safe in your perfect bubble.

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chemicalpink · 3 years ago

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512 ♡ Jung Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Genre: fluff, kinda neighbours to lovers

Warnings: none

Summary: There's just something so captivating about the man living inside the apartment at the end of the hall, so what if there's a whole zoo inside your belly whenever you see him, at least there might be a chance to get with him, right?

A/N: Inspired by Selena Quintanilla's song el chico del apartamento 512, part of BCC Summer Games.

You feel exhaustion taking over as you were making your way to your apartment building after being dropped off by a taxi, the way you always did, mind already deciding which movie to pick as you eat dinner, half a mind to really drag yourself all the way to the elevator, the modern, yet somehow overcrowded living complex giving you a sense of comfort and dread at the same time as you hear someone calling out your name.

“Y/N!” you turn your head towards the man, a cute guy by the name of Jungkook of whom you only knew two things for sure, one, he had the most obvious, yet somehow endearing, crush on you, making it a habit of waiting for you outside his own apartment just to greet you as soon as you got home, and two, that even though he was very cute, he was also considerably younger than you. You sighed to yourself, the same way it was customary for you now, turning towards him and smiling just a little bit, although to some it might have been a bit infuriating to go through such a routine on a daily basis, you just couldn’t seem to help to be friendly with the guy, knowing he’s never ill-meaning on his actions. As soon as you acknowledge his existence, you could clearly see him blush and immediately rush inside his home, having you giggle to yourself at his actions

Just a few more steps. A few more steps until you could comfortably be enveloped in a familiar warmth, munching off of whatever leftovers were on the fridge. Just a few more steps until “Y/N! How nice to see you around here!”

“Seokjin, we’ve been over this, I live here, you see me literally every day” you go for the arm had wrapped around your shoulders in the overly flirty way that he always seemed to greet you with whenever you two crossed paths, placing it back down on his side as he laughs your reaction off. The man had always been everything but subtle about his flirty ways, not that you were complaining really. Kim Seokjin was one hell of a man, not just visually, although you were soon to find out that his seemingly romantic advances were merely part of his own charming personality, Kim Seokjin, was as beautiful as he was afraid of commitment, so really you had just stuck by as friendly neighbours that would sometimes turn into drinking buddies.

“Yah, I just wanted to invite you over for dinner, I made kimchi fried rice and it’s so good” and really, it did sound nice, perfect even, Seokjin was one hell of a cook that almost never shared his delicacies and the man knew very well how to play his cards with you. As if the evening couldn’t get more eventful than that, the elevator doors ding open, a man walking out rearranging his black blazer as the world seemed to slow down, the light hitting the right places on his face to make him look even more handsome, hair pushed back, brilliant smile thrown your way as Seokjin acknowledges him “Hoseokie, going somewhere?”

“Oh yeah I’ve got this thing from work” Jung Hoseok, not that you were a stalker, since the two of you weren’t exactly formally introduced, but he lived on your same floor, a few doors down on apartment 512, your schedules didn’t quite overlap so it was a rare occurrence for you to run into him, although you very much treasured every small glimpse you could get of the man, really, it should be a crime not to see that much beauty on a daily basis. Your heart seems to stop beating for two seconds too long when he poses his eyes on you “Hi”

Your ears are ringing and you robotically say a polite goodbye to the man when he takes off, if years of friendship with Seokjin were anything to go by, you should really just skip the dinner invitation in favour of not being questioned any further about what had just happened. “So… someone’s got a massive crush”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you start your original path towards the elevator, forget homemade kimchi fried rice, it was definitely not worth the teasing that Kim Seokjin was capable of, although you might have underestimated his love for meddling with your life as he stops you right before you enter the lift, dragging you unceremoniously towards his apartment like a mother handling her petulant child. It really wasn’t worth the fight.

“I’ll even throw in a homemade bingsu if you spill all the tea” And you were a goner.

Apparently, Seokjin, that little social butterfly, has pretty much become Hoseok’s closest hyung ever since the man arrived at the building, and as soon as he heard your lovesick stories over him, and buckled down in laughter with tears coming out of his eyes, he dramatically pursed his lips saying something along the lines of having the right to remain silent. At least the free dinner was nice.

Surprisingly enough, your crush on Hoseok was a topic that wasn’t really talked about any further, most probably due to the fact that said man was nowhere to be seen, even if the holidays had so much as come around during summer, leaving you that much time to lounge around your apartment, deal with a one-sided lover boy and leech of off Seokin’s cooking skills.

“I’m just saying Y/N” your friend turns to look your way “don’t question me any further, but if you were to ask Hobi out, I’m sure he would say yes”

You groan for the umpteenth time, making a big fuss out of something that you had long deemed like something that was meant to just stay inside your head, so close to making you feel like you could reach it, yet so far away. “You don’t know that”

“I really don’t” Seokjin cough uncomfortably, straightening up on his seat the way he always did when something made him uncomfortable, the way he religiously seemed to be doing whenever you two talked about Hoseok, making you wonder just how much effort he was putting in not spilling his guts on whatever it was that he definitely knew but was adamant on telling you.

So perhaps Seokjin had hyped you up a little bit too much, whatever stratospheric ego he had, he had rubbed off on you, which was probably the reason as to why you were currently hyping yourself up in front of a mirror “Come on Y/N, you’ve got this” you whisper to yourself as you make sure your look is put together but not overly done either. After months of pinning over Hoseok, you were finally just going to go for it, what’s the worst that could happen? Probably a lot of things, you two lived on the same floor after all, so hopefully if he rejected you, it wouldn’t be too awkward when running into each other. Or when you got to use the elevator at once. He might even go ahead and try to evade you like the plague. But none of these thoughts were useful on the bright Sunday morning you woke up determined to make the day to finally ask him out.

You walked down the hall, all too aware of the fact that this was indeed happening. Your heart seemed to pick up its pace as soon as your eyes locked on the small golden number ‘512’ for a few seconds as you fixed your hair and just went for it. Your fist connected with the wood, knocking three times in a row, not too loud but loud enough for anyone inside to hear you clearly calling at the door. Your stomach seemed to get all warm and fuzzy as you heard the lock turn, only for that lovely feeling to turn into a need to contain your stomach contents and your heart seemed to break when an unfamiliar, and very much female face, answered the door. Of course, Hoseok had a girlfriend. What type of man that even remotely looked like he did would have done it single? Screw Seokjin and his stupid way of working your courage and hopes up to do this. He was most definitely going to pay for it. You took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm yourself down when the girl spoke up “Oh..you must be looking for my brother”

#bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #bts imagines #hoseok imagines #hoseok imagine #jung hoseok imagine #jhope imagines #bts fluff #btscreatorscorner

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surveillance-0011 · 3 years ago

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TBOI Headcanons: Horsemen

Death

He/him

He’s...nice. Not a good person by any means but he’s the most polite of the bunch. Kind of strange though. Creepily calm, a bit sarcastic, and he has a pretty morbid view on the world.

Reserved and usually grumpy. He can be rather chipper off-duty, though. Putting up with the others takes a lot of energy from him.

Tired....

A bit neurotic but good at coming off as a down-to-earth guy.

He’s the most book-smart of the bunch and he’s fairly wise. A bit emotionally stunted, but he tries his best to be mature and make the right choices.

Death is more than a bit nihilistic and pessimistic. He has a hard time just... caring, mostly about himself.

Not to say he’s completely apathetic, he can be pretty empathetic but he tries not to act on that too much because if he did his job would have broken him by now.

He likes to think he’s got it all under control, but he does not. He’s more prone to pettiness and stupid decisions than he’d like to admit.

That being said he’s been pretty good with like. Growing and maturing though. He’s changed more than he realizes in just in the past.... decade or so ago. A bit of a late start for an immortal but hey at least he’s slightly less of a scumbag.

It’s usually not easy to anger him unless he’s really tired or something’s already set him off. When something does piss him off badly he’s a bit prone to freaking out. He’s not very good at handling his emotions.

Sees his own job as a necessary evil, because hey, someone’s gotta do it.

Interested in botany/gardening, as well as literature.

Genuinely nice- or at least polite- to the kids when he’s not supposed to be murdering them. He sees no reason to go out of his way to do so, especially since unwarranted cruelty towards others has only bit him in the ass.

Famine’s older brother. The two have always had each other’s backs.

Diligent, and always considers the logistics to things instead of acting on emotion alone.

Protective of the other horsemen.

Pretty short tbh

His horse’s name is Chili.

Famine

She/he (bigender). You can use both interchangeably or only use one set, she doesn’t care. Fine with they/them too but it’s never really clicked w/ him enough to be preferred.

Usually prefers more masculine terms (brother, sir, mr...) but fine with anything.

.Flips between bouncing off the walls and having no energy whatsoever.

Impulsive, she’s got terrible judgement and has the most idiotic of ideas sometimes.

Fairly easygoing, tries to forgive and forget and doesn’t let little transgressions get to her

Actually pretty damn sad. Needs some self care but never looks after herself.

I mean she’s optimistic and usually happy but like. There’s always just a bit of sadness, you know? He’s dealt with a lot and it’s definitely taken its toll on him.

Disaster Lesbian

Tries to be a graceful loser but she can get a bit more competitive than she’d like to admit.

Has a hard time relating to others and considering how they feel, at least when it comes to anything more complex than “bad thing happened now I’m sad/mad” He’s a drifter by nature, always onto the next big thing for a quick thrill.

Eats a lot. It’s never enough.

Plants and a good deal of food will decay if she touches them, or even gets too close to them.

Like his brother he has some interest in nature. Famine is more on the adventurous side, though. She’s tried to live off the land a few times with varying success.

Named her horse Frisk

Pestilence

He/him

Calm, quiet, but also a pessimistic jackass.

Always in a bad mood. I mean, he’s permanently sick with just about everything contagious and deadly. You’d be grumpy, too!

Surprisingly high pain tolerance. A good deal of his nerves have probably just.. shut down or something. Or maybe he’s just numb to everything after a lifetime of pain.

Sleeps a lot

Dislikes his situation a lot, but doesn’t mind the company of the others.

Lazarus is terrified of this dude. The other kids are mostly grossed out or annoyed by him.

Likes to be alone.

Fairly smart, but comes off as absent minded bc he’s pretty much too sick to function. He slips up a lot and he’s pretty damn clumsy

Probably the most rational of the bunch, when he’s not in airplane mode.

He’s also got a fairly strong moral compass. He doesn’t really like fighting the kids unlike War and Famine. Or just having to go up against people in general. Hell he hates the fact people get sick because of him. At the very least Pest has higher standards and is fairly transparent

But that isn’t to say he’s a good person. Yeah he doesn’t go out of his way to hurt others for shits and giggles and He’s Not Conquest but he doesn’t ever object to any of the shit the kids are put through and well. Yknow he still does kill them. He will also encourage some of War’s antics when it’s against someone he dislikes.

Tries to be as supportive as he can for the others. He knows he can’t do too much without overexerting so he tries to be encouraging and comforting as he can.

This compassion usually isn’t extended to humans, though.

Not very emotive, the only emotions he ever really expresses would be disdain and mild concern.

Not very fond of Conquest but they don’t hate each other. They actually work together well, too.

Friends with Mahalath. They’re pretty close!

His horse’s name is Moses.

War

He/it

He’s not very friendly, he’s pretty defensive and always on edge.

Out of all the horsemen, he’s probably the one closest with the Beast.

Lots of scars n injuries, it’s practically stitched together

One gold tooth

Impulsive, prefers solving issues through violence than through reason.

He can be fairly clever, though.

Intentionally angers/upsets others, likes causing problems and ruining things for people.

Desires wealth and power

Gets burnt out pretty quickly.

Emotional, insecure, and sensitive, and he hates this part of him. Definitely overcompensates for it.

Explosive temper, quite literally. Catches fire when upset and explodes if it’s more intense. Damage done to him also makes it happen. It’s not entirely voluntary but can be held off, and his “sobbing” sprite is him doing exactly that (but he’s probably also trying not to cry lmao). In the Ultra War fight, however...

Its daily routine leaves a lot to be desired. It wakes up, goes to work, then it goes home and just. Sits and rots.

Also, his diet is god awful. Please just eat a fruit or vegetable for once maybe you’d feel better goddamn.

He cannot remember if his horse is actually a horse or not but uhh he named her Bellum.

Conquest

He/they.

High and mighty sort of attitude. Can be very selfish. Stubborn, set in his ways. Gets defensive if you call him out or tell him he’s wrong.

Gay + nonbinary but in the closet (and denial) about both of those things. They’re trying to unlearn years’ worth of internalized bigotry.

Used to be worse, now trying to unlearn his toxic behaviors. But he’s still awful.

Doesn’t remember anything before their death. However they’ve held very strong Christian (specifically Catholic) beliefs all their life and they have a pretty black and white way of thinking.

Very cold and clinical. He has a bit of a temper but there’s a sort of calmness to everything he does even when he’s pissed.

Just as argumentative and aggressive as War but like more of a threat.

The others call him Connie sometimes, especially Death, who practically almost always calls him by this nickname.

Doesn’t harbor ill will towards Pestilence. They might have been overshadowed, but it’s not Pestilence’s own fault. If anything, being out of the spotlight has been good for Conquest, even if they do miss the attention sometimes. The only reason the two dislike each other is because their personalities clash.

Now if there’s anyone he hates that would be the Headless Horseman. Fuck that guy amiright

Very protective of Death. The two are close, Death is probably the only person who is consistently nice to him.

Utterly terrified of needles (hypodermic, not sewing needles, though he’s not good with sharp objects tbh) and medical stuff makes him anxious

Seems very... off. Just weird vibes but no one can pin point what about him is wrong.

Oh uh and his horse’s name is Josephine.

#the binding of isaac #binding of isaac #tboi conquest #tboi death #tboi war #tboi pestilence #tboi famine #tboi headcanons #long post #some of this is tentative but for the most part this is just. here to stay

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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

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Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years ago

Text

slippin’ through my fingers

summary: three times Lin should have spoken up and the one time she finally does.

a/n: this one shot does feature a bit of homophobia along with an abusive relationship, please don’t read if either of those things triggers you. Also there is mildy explicit tones in the earlier parts of this but it sticks to being PG-13

word count: 4k

“Lin slow down!” You scream which only causes her grin to widen. You tighten your arms around her waist and bury your face in her back, she can faintly hear you cursing her out over the wind as she speeds past automobiles on her brand new motorcycle. She’d gotten it for her seventeenth birthday and immediately convinced you to go for a ride with her, it took some begging but finally, you caved after saying she owed you a piece of cake in return.

She revs her cycle and heads out of the city, to a spot on the outskirts overlooking the ocean, she’d found it the other day with Suyin and knew how much you’d appreciate it. When she turns a corner a little sharper than the rest you let out a terrified scream that has her laughing so hard it hurts her cheeks, but almost immediately she chokes on that laughter as you bury your face in her neck this time instead of her back. Suddenly she feels stiff, nervous even, having you this close was a bad idea.

Lin had been feeling weird towards you lately, she’d chalked it up to growing up but the other night she woke up from her dream drenched in sweat as she vaguely remembered sliding her hands up your bare thighs as you begged her to stop being a tease. Technically it was from growing up, just… a different kind.

Thankfully they finally pull up to the spot and she kills the engine before kicking the stand into place, hesitantly you pull your face away from her neck, just a few inches and now she feels your breath tickle the skin behind her ear. Lin was screwed.

“Oh wow, Lin…” You breathe out after finally detaching yourself from her, you stand up and adjust your rumpled clothes before taking off your helmet. Your hair falls out in a glorious heap and Lin has to pull her gaze away from you because the sun is hitting you just right and she won’t last long if this continues.

You grab onto her hand and pull her to the cliff edge where you carefully sit down so your feet can dangle off of it. Lin sits beside you but makes sure there’s a decent distance between the two of you, you furrow your brows at her actions and scoot closer so your thighs are touching. It’s like you want to torture her.

“You like it?” she asks softly, she’s worried you won’t all of the sudden. You are from a very aristocratic family and you’ve probably seen better things, but you erase all her worries when you smile softly and say so quietly the wind almost carries it away “Yeah, I do.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask hesitantly, your fiddling with your nails as you stare down at your lap. You’re nervous.

“You can tell me anything, y/n.”

“I don’t like men” you whisper, going completely still as you wait for her reply. Lin laughs, “no one likes men y/n, we just tolerate them.”

“No like romantically I don’t.” Your shoulders sag and you finally chance a glance in her direction, Lin’s quiet now, her laughter has stopped and she doesn’t know what to say, are you somehow aware of her dream? Is this a joke? “I kissed Tenzin recently, not because there’s feelings but I asked him if he would and I think he was just excited to have his first kiss… It felt gross and wrong.”

“Well Tenzin’s one man,” Lin says, “and he’s hardly even a man at that.” You snort, one of your hands going up to cover your mouth, you’re insecure about that, but now that Lin is thinking about it, it’s kind of cute.

“I’ve kissed other guys Lin. Some of the girls at my school mentioned having dreams… “ you flush, “sexual kinds about guys and I’ve never had those. They even listed off a bunch of stuff guys do that they think is hot and I just kept picturing women doing it.”

You knock the wind out of Lin at that, she’s had some thoughts towards guys before now that she thinks about it, desires, but none of them have been as intense as her current desire for you is. It’s tense between the two of you as you wait for her to reply. “Can you please say something?” you beg.

I think your really pretty and I’d like to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight

“Nothings wrong with liking girls, y/n,” Lin says instead, you look a little relieved yet disappointed.

———————————————————————————————————-

Breaking news! Mrs. y/l/n of y/l/n industry has fallen ill! Her immediate family has not given any statements but a close source says it’s any minute until she departs this world.

———————————————————————————————————-

When you open your bedroom door for Lin she notices how pale you look, she leaves work as soon as possible after hearing the news through the radio stationed in the main office of the station. “Y/n, I am so s-” before she continues you launch yourself into her arms and cry, she pulls you in close and stays silent, letting you get it out of your system.

You lost your dad when you were ten, your mom is the only parent you have left and she knows it’ll be hard when she passes, especially since you’ll have to take over the family company. You pull her into your room and kick the door shut with your foot, still gripping her tightly.

“She’s gonna die Lin” you choke out between sobs and Lin’s heartbreaks. It’s been three years since she realized her feelings for you and every day since she’s wanted to take your face in her hands and kiss you until you both run out of breath. She’s even had to distance herself from you a bit, you guys used to see each other every day but now it’s once a week if you’re lucky.

When Lin became a cop you’d always waltz in around lunch in one of your beautiful dresses that stopped mid-thigh, you had tights on underneath but she knew your mom still gave you hell for your daily attire. You are always holding two cups of tea along with a paper bag being dangled between your fingers that always had something incredibly delicious inside.

The day that Lin realized you couldn’t come by anymore you’d brought donuts along with sandwiches for the two of you to eat. The glaze of the donut had dripped down the side of your hand and onto your wrist, instead of using a napkin you simply licked it up with your tongue. Once you left she stumbled her way to the gym and tried to take out her sexual frustration in another way.

That night she called and said she was told it was unprofessional for you to keep visiting, she could tell through the phone how disappointed you were, but you didn’t want to get her in trouble so you stopped showing up. One of her coworkers made a joke that the first day you didn’t stop by “hey Lin, where’s that lover of yours?” Her face flushed a deep red and she taught him and the others to never talk about you again.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have me… a-and Tenzin, Bumi likes to come to your birthday parties so you have him too,” she says, a weak chuckle escapes you as you finally pull away from her and wipe at your eyes.

“I’ll never be alone again,” you say cryptically and walk over to the deep green velvet couch stationed underneath a wide window overlooking the city.

“What do you mean?” Lin sits down beside you. You lean your arms against the back of the couch and look out the window, a deep frown has found its home on your lips and more tears escape the corners of your eyes.

“My mom’s dying wish is for me to marry,” you say softly. Lin’s eyes widen and before she can ask any questions, you beat her to it. “She’s already picked him out, her assistant is planning it as we speak.”

“Him?” she all but spits out, unable to control herself. You flinch at the tone of her voice and drop your forehead to rest on the soft velvet.

“She’d never let me marry a woman, Lin.” you murmur, “she wants me to keep the perfect image she’s created of me, I can’t break it, that might just kill her before her sickness does.”

“But you’ll never love him, does she not know this?” Lin demands, her mind is racing with a million images of you in some man’s arms and suddenly she wants to destroy everything in sight.

“I’ve never told her about my… attractions. She thinks it’s wrong and read it can be fixed with some kind of medicine that’s being sold in the black market in Ba Sing Se.” You look up finally and meet Lin’s gaze, suddenly her anger dissipates as she looks into your eyes and sees how truly devastated you are.

She tries to calm herself down and pulls you into her arms where you begin to weep. Your hand clutches the front of her shirt so tightly Lin’s sure you might just rip it. She once dreamed of you two getting married, it was before her fight with her family and she even put on a dress to make you smile, which you did. Before your lips touched after saying ‘I do’ she whispered against your lips “I love you Mrs. Beifong” and you flushed a deep red before pulling her into a breathtakingly passionate kiss that had someone in the crowd, most likely Bumi or Suyin, whistling.

“I’ve never even kissed a girl” you croak out, your head resting on Lin’s shoulder. You’ve cried out all the tears in your system for now and your eyes are puffy. Her hand that was soothingly running through your hair stills at your words. Truthfully, neither has she.

“Would you- do you want to?” Lin asks and instantly she regrets it. You pull away from her shoulder, her hand dropping onto the back of the couch as you stare into her eyes.

“W-With you?” Your eyes are wide and cheeks a deep red, your still close and Lin takes that as a good sign. All she can do is nod and some kind of strange sound comes out of you that makes her stomach clench. “I… “ you rub the back of your neck, “would like that a lot.”

For a minute, maybe two, neither of you move. You’re the first to break as you lean closer to Lin which helps give her the courage to lean into you until your lips are a breath apart. You’re shaking like a leaf so Lin places one of her hands on your shoulder to help ground you before pressing her lips against yours. That same sound from before escapes you, it’s some kind of desperate low moan and Lin brings her other hand to rest on the back of your head to bring you even closer.

Lin tugs at your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you as you happily open your mouth for her and something within her stirs, awakens at the sounds.

You crawl onto Lin’s lap and place a leg on either side of her hips, it’s like her dreams but it’s so much better which is confirmed by the hand that slips up her shirt to grip her bare hip. Lin lets out a guttural sound and pulls away, you let out a breathy sigh as Lin’s lips reattach themselves onto your jaw and make a slow, wet trail down to the base of your neck.

“Lin” you moan and she’s officially decided that she can die happy now, if she must live any longer her name on your lips is all she wants to hear. You lose yourselves in each other and eventually stumble to your canopy bed that’s across the room.

It’s the best thing Lin’s ever done, she makes sure to touch you everywhere she possibly can and kisses you there too. If she were ever to become religious you’d be her goddess and your body the temple that she’d worship every single day.

The sun has set by the time you two have calmed down and Lin holds you in her arms as you lay your head on her bare shoulder. Her thumb traces circles on your stomach as she whispers “we could run away.”

“You know I can’t Lin, she’s all I have.”

You have me

———————————————————————————————————–

The media representative for the Y/L/N family says y/n and Chao have just welcomed their first child, a healthy baby girl, only ten months after their wedding! I think we all know what that honeymo- Lin rips her radio out of the socket and throws it against the wall.

———————————————————————————————————–

Never once has Lin dreaded standing on these steps until today, a call was made late last night whilst she was asleep about a break-in at the Y/L/N family estate, an attempt was made on your life and due to the high profile of your family Lin along with five officers have to come to your home to make sure its a secure and get statements.

One of her best detectives knocks on the grand mahogany door for her and a male servant opens it up “thank you for coming so quickly” he says and ushers them inside. Another servant, also a male, offers them tea to which they all, besides officer Liu who began to ask for a cup of oolong before Lin gently jabs him in the stomach to shut up, politely decline.

“We’ll split up, Liu and Cho, I want you to secure the perimeter, apparently the perpetrators entered through the west wing. The rest of you along with myse-”

“Chief Beifong, Lady Y/L/N asked if she could talk to you privately about last night” one of the servants interrupts her in some uppity tone that makes her roll her eyes. What could you want?

“Fine, the rest of you interview everyone who was working here yesterday whilst I get a statement from Mrs. Y/L/N” Lin has to try her hardest not to spit out the word ‘Mrs’ but ultimately fails seeing as her officers look terrified now and all scurry off to do their respective tasks.

Someone leads her up the stairs and down the left hall, to what Lin remembers being your mother’s sitting room. The servant opens the door for Lin and says to whom she can only assume is you, “Chief Beifong.” He leaves and Lin reluctantly takes a step inside.

She’s seen photographs of you in the papers, your family has always been one the media adores but it’s still shocking to be face to face with you. After your wedding, Lin stopped returning your calls or letters, after a month you gave up much to Lin’s chagrin. Part of her wanted you to go to the ends of the earth for her like she would for you.

Your features have matured a bit over the past three years and you’re dressed in a floor-length hanbok instead of your showy dresses. There’s a massive bruise around your throat that makes her anger dissipate as worry sets in. She clears her throat which snaps you out of your reverie and says “So, what can you tell me about last night?”

Your brows pinch together and you frown, you look hurt at her tone of indifference. She tries to not let it bother her. You turn your back on her and go to sit at one of the elaborately designed couches. It’s heinous and so not you. “You can sit, y’know.”

“I’m fine right here, now I need to know anything you can remember about last night to help me keep you… your family safe.” Your shoulders sag and you sigh.

“I don’t know much, I think they wanted to kill me… one of the men kind of looked familiar though” your hand comes up to your throat and hovers over the nasty bruise. Lin decides she should probably sit down, if you’re going to continue and if it gets any worse then that she might just fall to her knees.

“Where do you remember seeing the man?” she asks, your eyes flicker around the room. “He used to work for mom.”

“But he isn’t currently employed by your family?” She pulls out her small notebook meant for things like this and starts to write down about a possible suspect.

“No, he quit after the wedding, I don’t remember his name but his eyes were so… blue.” That unfortunately isn’t much help, Lin sighs, trying not to flinch when you mention that day. You stand up from your couch and sit on the one Lin settled on, she tenses up but you make sure to sit on the opposite end. “I want to divorce him, Lin.”

“That’s irreleva-”

“I’ve never loved him, please. H-He knows about… me. He found out a month after the wedding and fired all our female employees, he doesn’t like me alone with women. Lin, I want to leave him” you plead softly, as if someone may hear.

“Then leave him, I don’t understand why you feel the need to tell me” she grumbles. You lean a bit closer to her but make sure not to get too close.

“He has my family assets, I-I don’t think I can do it alone. Lin Please” you beg and at that she looks up and into your eyes. Your eyes are brimming with tears and you grip the fabric of your hanbok tightly.

“What about Annchi?” Tenzin had told Lin about your daughter one time, he mentioned how he met her a few months after her birth but you stopped talking to him shortly after.

“I’d take her with me, please, tomorrow at dusk meet me at that spot you took me to on your birthday, our spot, please.” Before Lin can respond the door to the sitting room slams open and in steps your husband, following him is the same servant who guided Lin here. “Sir I am so sorry. I’m new and I-I di-”

Chao sighs and looks over his shoulder “It’s fine, but next time lady Y/L/N needs a guard with her, it’s far too dangerous right now, especially in her condition.” You quickly wipe away your tears and stand, he opens his arms for you and you reluctantly step inside of them. “Chief Beifong, you’re a childhood friend of my wives, yes?”

He offers her a wide grin that unsettles her, “yes, we went to grade school together.” Lin stands as well and puts her notepad away along with her pen.

“Well I’m shocked to have not met you before today, Y/N why wasn’t she at the wedding?” he pecks you on your cheek and you look up at him with a small, almost defeated smile.

“I believe she was busy, honey. She does have a time-consuming job” you reply smoothly, you set a hand on his chest and Lin feels like she’s been subjected to one of her worst nightmares. “Well that is to bad, y’know we do have another monumental par-”

“I don’t think she’d want to come to that Cha-” you hastily reply but Chao chuckles and interrupts you.

“Why not? Do you not want your friend at the baby shower? It’ll make up for lost time.” You look down at your feet as he brings you even closer. Lin feels like she’s been submerged into the North Pole’s canals and her heart has most definitely stopped beating. Are you pregnant again?

“I need to get back to the station, I want to try and find the awful men who broke in yesterday as fast as possible,” she says and hastily leaves the sitting room, she bounds down the stairs as fast as she can without tripping and slams the front door open so she can get out of there, out of eyesight and away from him, from you. She doesn’t wait for her officers to finish up, instead, she mounts her motorcycle and speeds off.

The next day she reluctantly takes herself to your spot, she brought a car instead of a motorcycle since you said you’d be bringing Annchi. She doesn’t know if she can look at your daughter without breaking down, but she’ll try her hardest for you.

It’s ten o’clock when Lin gives up on waiting, she slams her car door shut and drives home, she’s pretty sure she broke at least three traffic laws but she’s too consumed in her thoughts to care.

It’s three days later that she sees you again, you stop by the station with two bodyguards in tow, you’re wearing another elegant hanbok and an officer brings you into Lin’s office, claiming if anyone just knocks they’ll get yelled at for it. The guards come into her office with you and it’s a bit cramped with the four of you.

“My husband found the men, he wanted me to come to tell you we’re safe now and to thank you for stopping by,” you say softly, Lin’s brows pinch together, you won’t look her in the eyes. “I also wanted to let you know that I was a bit hysterical the other day due to fear and my hormones, but thank you for lending an ear.”

What? Lin looks between the two guards and then at you, you very subtly shake your head.

“Mrs. Y/L/N the men should be brought into the station, they are criminals and need to be apprehended” Lin stands from her chair.

Give me a sign, anything, show me you meant to be there at dusk. Give me something, please.

You nod and make to leave but one of the guards lays his hand on your shoulder “Lady Y/L/N, aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, Lin looks him over and her heart stops as she looks into his eyes ‘his eyes were so blue’ you’d said. You pull out a small, golden envelope and hand it to her before disappearing with your guards stalking behind you.

I still love you.

Lin rips open the envelope and inside is an invitation to your baby shower which is set a few months from now.

———————————————————————————————————–

I am here to report sad news today, Republic City, Chao Y/L/N was found dead this morning. He peacefully passed away in his sleep and is survived by his wife, Y/N Y/L/N, and his two children, Annchi, who is sixteen, and his son Han who is thirteen. Please send them your condolences as they go through this hard time.

———————————————————————————————————–

Lin is sent a letter two days after the announcement regarding your husband, it’s from you, she’d never forgotten your handwriting, asking her to meet you at your spot, at dusk once more. She wants to burn the letter and not show up, but she’s weak when it comes to you and caves at the last second, she drives there, her heart racing at the idea of seeing you once more.

When Lin pulls up an hour has passed since dusk but you’re still sitting there, waiting for her. You’re wearing a pair of pants with a shirt tucked in and an overcoat to help with the fall breeze and you seem a bit lighter than last time she saw you.

Shortly after she got the invitation for your baby shower the servant from the day she stopped by, the one who showed her to the sitting room, had knocked on her apartment door with a letter gripped in his shaking hand. Lin took it from him and slammed the door on his face before opening it up.

“I can’t go through with it anymore, I just got confused when I saw your face again. I’m happy here.”

She had spent that night curled up on top of her covers crying as she remembered every little thing about you and your time together. She’ll die alone, she thought, because no one could ever beat you.

“Hi,” your voice is like honey and she has to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from giving in to it and getting trapped once more, “I wanted to… I wanted to explain somethings.”

“Then explain” she replies plainly and you wring your hands out in front of you as you try to find the right words.

“I was gonna show up, Lin… but he figured it out and threatened to keep Annchi from me, he showed me these papers, they were lies but it was all incriminating and would have been used against me in court…” You let out a shaky, uneven breath as you try to remain calm and not cry. “I’ve spent the last eleven years envisioning if I had successfully run away with you and Annchi and each time I have to stop myself before it gets too painful.”

“And the letter?” she replies harshly, your brows furrow in confusion. “What letter?”

Lin scoffs, is she so unimportant that you just forgot? “The letter y/n, stating that you were just confused, are you lying to me now or were you lying to me then?”

“You think I’d write something like that? Lin, he never let me write letters to people, whatever you received was not from me!” You shout out, you look so hurt and her head is swirling in confusion, it was fake?

Suddenly it all makes sense, you seemed so desperate to leave, and then you called it all off with a flick of your wrist. You knew Lin was a bit insecure and she was so hurt when you stood her up, but all along you didn’t want to. You were getting ready to meet her that night. You take a hesitant step towards Lin, then another and another until you’re in front her, only two paces away.

“That night, when we were younger, it was the best night of my life, Lin. After you left in the morning I couldn’t stop crying, everyone tried to comfort me because they thought it was about my mom and I felt even worse because… because the pain of knowing I destroyed our chance hurt more.”

“Do you still… care about me?” Lin asks, part of her wants to take the question back but she keeps her ground and waits for an answer. Your head flies up in surprise as you stare into her eyes.

“Lin… I’ve never stopped loving you, the maids on my wedding day kept having to dry my tears in the dressing room because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how badly I messed up.” Her eyes widen at your confession, love? Do you love her? Even now you love her despite all those years apart and you still love her. Everything regarding you seemed so unachievable her whole life but now it’s within reach and Lin feels her throat constricting, she doesn’t know what to do or say.

It’s different then her dreams, there aren’t any consequences in her dreams or chances of you changing your mind. She’s worried if she pulls you in for a kiss like she wants to right now you might just take back your words and break her heart again.

You take her silence as an answer and take a step back, you rip your gaze from hers as you feel your heart crack. Spirits you’re so embarrassed, you had assumed she knew about your feelings and had always hoped she reciprocated them, all the signs pointed to yes but maybe you read into them too much.

“I’m sorry” you mutter before going to leave, you walk towards your car with your head down and as you go to open the car door Lin puts her hand on it to stop you, you’re trapped now between the car and her, and you don’t know what to do.

You don’t lift your head up so Lin gently grasps your chin and tilts it up so she can look into your eyes once more. “I love you too,” she leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss that makes you feel twenty again. You feel light headed as she leans you gently against the car, as if you’ll break if she’s to rough.

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer to you, so long has she been out of your grasp, you don’t know if you’ll ever let her go again but you don’t think she’ll mind.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin/reader #lin beifong/reader #lok #legend of korra #lok fanfic #lin beifong fanfic #suyin #bumi #tenzin

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cruelfeline · 4 years ago

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I’ve been thinking about various aspects of SPoP, as I am wont to do, and as often happens, I’ve settled on trying to figure out why I feel a certain way. Namely regarding why I, personally, am able to feel so much more compassion towards Hordak rather than towards the Princesses. After all, the Princesses are the ones being wronged throughout this show, aren’t they? Their lands are being invaded. They’re the ones having to fight to maintain their way of life. They’re losing ground because of Hordak’s war.

So... why do I find it hard to care about them? Why are their experiences in this conflict just sort of... well, meaningless to me?

And why, instead, do my tender emotional responses strongly favor Hordak, despite his serious role in starting a terrible war?

Well! As per usual, I’m going to try to talk my way through it.

(and, as per usual, your mileage may vary!)

Let’s start with the Princesses. They range from children to young adults. Seem like reasonably nice girls, despite various flaws. They clearly did not ask for a war, had no hand in starting it, and are clearly on the side of good, seeking to protect innocents and simply return to a peaceful way of life.

They appear perfectly designed to garner sympathy and connection... yet I feel so little for them. I feel little because, despite the show telling me that they’re fighting for their lives, and for their home, despite them being the apparent underdogs in their battle against the Horde, I feel like their lives remain relatively stable. Pleasant. Even enjoyable.

Essentially, I feel like despite everything, they do not truly suffer. Not in a way that is consistent or touching.

The arcs the Princesses go through either deal largely with matters unrelated to the war and subsequently involve less arduous difficulties, or are handled in such a way that any real pain is quickly resolved and loses its impact.

Frosta and Perfuma represent the former. Both are parentless rulers of their kingdoms, but there is no real confirmation that their parents were killed by the Horde, and they themselves seem largely unperturbed by parental loss. They maintain control of their kingdoms throughout the series. Frosta never loses the Kingdom of Snows, while Perfuma, though in brief danger of losing Plumeria due to damage to the Heart Blossom, ends up... well, defeating the Horde with a band of untrained hippies. So while they fight in the war against Hordak, they never really suffer any significant, confirmed personal losses because of it.

In fact, the Plumerian conflict is... kind of played for laughs.

The other aspects of their arcs have largely to do with friendship matters, or self-belief, and are also dealt with quickly and with little fanfare. Frosta learns how to make friends. Perfuma learns how to play with cacti. Afterwards, Frosta spends the remainder of the story essentially being a violence-happy little kid; amusing, yes, but not particularly tugging at my heartstrings. Perfuma likewise settles into “sympathetic friend” and, though she’s involved in Scorpia’s story at the end, also does little to invoke any sort of significant emotion.

we’re just going to skirt around the whole “leashing Entrapta” thing, as it’s not relevant to this discussion

(Spinnerella and Netossa barely even register to me, given their very bare-bones roles in the first four seasons and standard “chipped loved one” narrative (that everyone experiences) in the fifth.)

So, let’s move on to Glimmer and Mermista.

Glimmer and Mermista are arguably the two Princesses who actually lose unique things in the war and suffer because of those losses. And yet, because of the way the show is written, even their pain is dulled in such a way that it just does not facilitate me forming any sort of consistent, compassionate bond with them.

Mermista is the only Princess to actually lose a kingdom. In Hordak’s most visible evil act, Salineas is burned and beflagged, leading to Mermista deeply mourning the loss of her home, her culture, her peop- oh. Hm.

She takes it oddly well, doesn’t she? Apparently, ice cream in a bathtub is how deposed rulers deal with the loss of their entire country nowadays.

And once she’s done with her moment of moping, she’s back in the fight, fueled by Sea Hawk’s shenanigans and her own power ballad (and Bright Moon’s lack of ice cream). There is no extended mourning for her people, no real depth to the loss she has supposedly suffered. There’s not even a real sense of it: we never see the people of Salineas, never know them, never get to feel anything for them. And with them being all but theoretical, the show appears to have no issue quickly forgetting them: Mermista never negotiates on their behalf, or visits refugees, or... anything. She might use Salineas in her future battle cries and as an excuse for increased recklessness, but that homage is the extent of emotion that we see.

Kingdom gone, bathtub ice cream finished, she goes on living life as if little has happened. And, because of her royal connections, she doesn’t even experience a decrease in quality of life: she continues to live in luxurious comfort despite an apparently raging war.

Because of how the writing handles Salineas, and her character in general, I never feel connected to how Mermista feels. Whatever pain she experiences is there and gone in a few scenes, quickly dealt with so the story can continue. There is no exploration, no nuance, nothing to really make me appreciate any sort of depth to her experience. And so I feel little, if anything, for her plight.

Glimmer, then, is the last chance the show has to make me feel something for the Alliance Princesses’ suffering during this war, and while season four nearly does it, the series again ends up falling short.

Glimmer loses her mother. The actual sacrifice is emotional... though that emotion, admittedly, comes mainly from Adora. Glimmer’s pain comes through at the beginning of season four, when she is clearly in mourning all while needing to take Angella’s place as queen. Afterwards, season four does a fairly good job of making the loss meaningful: Glimmer becomes more and more willing to commit dark acts due to a mixture of grief and desperation. It works well, and out of all of the Princesses, I feel for her the most... until season five comes along and pretty much erases Angella from character consciousness.

Angella’s death essentially plays no role in season five. Glimmer does not appear to think back to it. While it drives her actions during season four, it appears to have been all but forgotten now, a particularly glaring shift when Catra, the one who is practically responsible, joins the group without it coming up at all. Glimmer’s other parental loss, Micah, likewise becomes meaningless not because of questionable writing choices, but because he simply never died.

Glimmer’s other problem, her rift with Bow and Adora, is repaired within an episode and never spoken of again. That... falls quite flat for me.

And so, by the end of the series, Glimmer fails to maintain a believable level of distress and thus doesn’t invoke any real emotion in me. The one thing that really mattered, that really hurt her? Suddenly irrelevant in the name of Catra’s redemption. Hm.

And while these are the specific character examples that come to mind, the general situation the Princesses find themselves also fails to carry much weight in my mind. They are in the middle of a war, yet they continue to live in luxury. Skirmishes carry a sense of light-heartedness and sometimes seem almost fun. Battle plans are developed via a game of DnD. There is just no consistent sense of urgency or severity, no believable sense of emotional depth to convey to me that these characters are in truly dire straits. Yes, there are moments... but these moments are so brief, and carry such questionable lasting impact, that they don’t connect with me the way that they should. And as a result, the plight of the Princesses just feels hollow to me.

I just... I just find myself unable to care about them because, when all is said and done, I don’t feel like they are truly in danger of real harm, or that they are realistically affected by their losses. It all just feels so shallow to me.

Now, let’s pivot and look at Hordak. Hordak, whom I still cry over on the daily. Hordak, who has owned my heart for over a year now. Hordak, who invokes in me all of the emotions.

What is the difference between Hordak and the Princesses, other than the glaring fact that he is the instigator of the Etherian war and thus a bad, bad man? What makes him snap my heartstrings in half, while the Princesses barely manage a gentle tug?

The answer is that Hordak legitimately suffers. Terribly. Consistently. Throughout the entire series. While the Princesses experience brief moments of distress that the show quickly sweeps under the rug in favor of witty banter and friendship problems, Hordak is the direct opposite: he experiences only the occasional breath of happiness while otherwise drowning in a constant sea of bitterness, fear, pain, and deep unhappiness.

From the moment we meet him, Hordak is stern and humorless and angry, and while this initially appears to be a side effect of him being a Standard Ultimate Villain Who Never Smiles, we quickly learn that it is due to his struggle. Hordak is constantly struggling against his physical defect, battling an illness that causes him not only significant health problems, but incredible shame. He is likewise constantly struggling to earn the respect and validation and nonexistent love of his god-brother. His sour demeanor, with all of its anger and dourness, originates in the fact that, throughout the overwhelming majority of the series, he is gravely unhappy. He is in ever-present distress, both physical and emotional.

And as the series goes on, does that distress lessen? No. No, instead, he is rejected by his brother, thoroughly humiliated, and brutally “reset” back into his life as an actual cult slave. Rather than having his difficulties minimized like so many Princesses do, he finds himself in ever-worsening circumstances, graduating from (supposed) “disgraced, disabled military veteran” to “enslaved cultist desperate to be loved by his loveless master.”

Any moments of happiness are not only relatively brief, they are taken away as quickly as the Princesses’ moments of difficulty are. Hordak experiences love and friendship for the first time with Entrapta, only to swiftly lose her to Catra’s lies and spiraling madness. He finally begins to win the Etherian War (which is bad, yes, I know), only to realize that his victories stem from Catra’s betrayal before the whole affair culminates in Prime’s nauseating violation of his personhood.

It does not stop. Physically, mentally, or emotionally: not until his triumph over Prime in the season five finale does Hordak stop hurting, and even that is marred by Prime taking control of his body in a final act of nightmarish control before, bless him, Hordak is freed and able to begin his recovery.

In addition to being a series constant, Hordak’s pain is conveyed. It is dramatically shown through facial expressions, through body language, through phenomenal voice work, through scenes that clearly depict real anguish.

The purification ritual is one of them; what other character do we hear scream like that, over and over, due to such terrible agony? His reunion with Prime is another; I will never forget how deeply I could sense his fear, how watching him tremble and beg instilled within me a sort of breathless panic because the scene actually made me want to instinctively protect him... but I could not because, y’know: cartoon.

Hordak’s suffering is not only ever-present, it is varied and developed and communicated to the viewer in ways that result in it making a lasting impression. It is never minimized. It is never ignored. It is painful and horrifying with little reprieve, and it has a deep, life-altering effect on him.

That, friends and neighbors, is why I think I find myself feeling so much more compassion towards Hordak than I do towards the Princesses, despite his less-enticing place on the moral spectrum. Hordak is in pain. Consistently, meaningfully. He suffers, and the story takes it with every ounce of seriousness it can muster.

The Princesses, on the other hand, either experience little hurt or, when they do suffer, do so briefly before the narrative shoves it aside in favor of Catradora other things. As a result, they fail to make the same impression. They fail to garner my compassion because, in the end, they just don’t seem to really need it.

Whereas Hordak does.

#hordak #spop princesses

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system-of-a-feather · 3 years ago

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Anyways I’m in a good mood so Riku Rambling about recovery and journey shit and all that, but just your regular reminder that things can get so much fucking better and god would I have never believed I’d actually be able to reach this peace and balance years ago but fuck am I glad I stuck through it cause honestly like

I’ve nearly gone two and a half months without actively wanting to make Game Over appear or having a major mental breakdown that makes it so that when I come home from school it takes me a week to reboot my emotional attachment to the world and my fiance to not be a cold and shelled off survivor and have actually had a content to good mood most of the time for this stretch. Yeah there were bumps and stressful moments and shit, but like, I’m here, I’m living, and I have managed to not get locked into pure survival mode for over two months and its fucking amazing.

On top of that like, I really do want to say to anyone actually reading this, a REALLY big healing tip that is hard to learn but has made all the difference is that what you do in your personal/private life and what makes you happy, comfortable, and helps you through life and the day is ABSOLUTELY no one’s business to judge. Like hi, I’m Riku from Kingdom Hearts and I am a Luciferian, Dragon worshiping, nonbinary parrot-dragon that sometimes get possessed by a british anime glasses boy nice to meet you.

All of those things individually have very long explanations on how I got here and how that has become a massively beneficial thing for me to accept and incorperate slightly into my daily routine and life that ties into a lot of how I was raised and the fucked up things in my life that made me have DID, and I do firmly believe that I could explain it to someone who has empathy / understanding for trauma and developmental psych why all that stuff is helpful that even skeptics would go “Oh well, I guess fair enough”, but also like, I don’t need to or have to explain that to anyone. I shouldn’t have to explain to people why things I do in my personal free time and how I interact with myself and my identity is good for me because I don’t need permission from others to do things that make me happy and that I don’t shove in their faces .

I will put a disclaimer that you also *probably* shouldn’t be shoving your personal and private life in the faces of strangers and professional colleagues and peers the same way you probably shouldn’t be shoving other personal / private life details in the faces of a stranger - at least if it is not asked for - because again - its personal and private and they don’t need to hear it.

But if someone wants to be in my life and be interested in who I am outside of my professional / formal / public face and wants to get to know me on a private and personal individual level, then they can see and look at the weird cringe ass bullshit I do to cope and if they want to judge they can leave. If they don’t care, awesome.

I don’t owe it to anyone to explain why things that make me happy make me happy. I don’t owe it to anyone to look normal - ESPECIALLY when I’ve really had an “abnormal” life. I don’t care if I “look mentally ill” in my personal / private life because guess what, yes - I AM Mentally Ill. Like what the fuck do you expect?

Anyways, when living life you spend way too much time with yourself to prioritize the small amount of time you spend with others over it.

The funniest thing is I know if I spilt out my intentionally out of context “cringe” introduction, I know a lot of people would look and go “lol attention seeker go get therapy” or whatever but like, I actually was just “Cis-asexual Female [Body / Deadname]” going into therapy and all those individual labels and shit were things I worked with my therapist and that my therapist had actually encouraged me to engage with and that engagement has made LEAPS AND BOUNDS in me learning to live happily in the world with myself. So like

Yeah, I got therapy and got cringier. I also am managing a functional life with friends, hobbies, good grades, good building career, and shit so *shrugs* Call me cringe, but I’m living my life how I like it and having a good time. Idk about people who just go around spending their life judging people on the internet who are probably mentally ill and trying to figure things out; I may have my doubts if they are living the life they want, but who knows.

-Riku from Kingdom Hearts, the Luciferian Dragon Worshiping Nonbinary Dragon Parrot

#alter: riku #ramble #healing #recovery #feel free to reblog or comment or whatever #Im just rambling

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exfriends · 3 years ago

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tw mild s*icide ideation

i'm so OVER the housing market and the adults in my life just refusing to see the truth of what the economy looks like to people who are trying to create equity

like, my cousin bought his home in 2019 before EVERYTHING exploded and honestly doles out the most useless advice to me in regards to buying homes but i feel compelled to keep including him because he is really good at fixing homes, and keeping him in the loop means i could gain assistance when i actually get something. but he also told me that there was no point in renting because i was just throwing money in a hole, and that i just needed to work with my abusive parents better. i literally screamed at him the day i signed my lease because he told me i made a bad choice and i was like "when are you going to blame her for anything? like, am i just supposed to get beaten and terrorized on the daily in exchange for maybe buying a house in a few years?" he was notably quiet after that but now in looking for houses, he just keeps telling me to wait and wait and wait and waiting is useless.

at this point i'm looking at a BEAUTIFUL trailer on a beautifully managed property near my current apartment and he's convinced that this is the worst financial decision i could ever make because i don't own the land under the trailer. obviously that's a risk, i get that, but what am i supposed to do at this point? i'm paying nearly 1800 a month for a 700square foot one bedroom apartment 1 HOUR away from my current job. buying the trailer would eliminate a mortgage for me and i'd be paying 700 a month for the land/water and less for everything else. he told me to get more income. okay. should i just open up the cesspool of "my job lied to me for two years about the ability to gain my license with the state so now i have two years of experience but cant work independently so my income is literally CAPPED at 63k a year if i can EVEN find a place that will pay me that at this point?" yes i have a master's degree but i picked the WRONG FIELD apparently to want to live in new jersey!!!!!!!!! and i'm a spoiled millenial for refusing to get a second job when a second job would push my working hours to nearly 80 a week on top of driving extra?? my fiance ALREADY works two jobs and i see how much it messes with him. i'm mentally ILL for fucks sake

and i got into an argument with my aunt about the trailer too because she thinks i'm just impatient and that the market prediction stuff i read about is nonsense. meanwhile she's sitting pretty on a 136k salary in a house that's already paid off. my cousin is an engineer and he's marrying a nurse. none of them are economically disadvantaged in the slightest and they're trying to convince me that one day the markets will just go back to what they used to be and i should save my money and just wait to get a nice townhouse. i can't afford a townhouse, they're over 300k within an hour of either my fiance's job or mine--unless i want to pay 250k for the EXACT same apartment i live in now (i do not).

i wish i could let go of my need of approval from these people. i'm buying the fucking trailer if the realtor gets back to me. it's beautiful. i will not let the stigma of my upper middle class family prevent me from doing something that will work for me.

but at the same time i'm sitting here like, what's the point. obviously i want to stay with my fiance and raise our cats but like, i read all the time about people who off themselves because they can't handle the direction the economy is going and like...i get that. i feel that. suicidal ideation is a near constant for me, it's like a little friend on my shoulder that screams "oh you stubbed your toe? you could kill yourself! won't hurt anymore :)" and obviously my life is OKAY and i don't WANT to hurt myself but if its not getting any better and i'm just supposed to accept living in a water damaged, bug infested, falling apart apartment for nearly 2k a month and barely be able to afford emergencies without dipping into all the dead people money i have its like...why the FUCK am i bothering to try and do better? i won't be ABLE to because people who don't live this life are trying to tell me it isn't real.

and its like, i have to take a second to acknowledge that because my mom, dad, grandparents died, i have it VASTLY better than many others the same age as me. for one, i have no school debt. traded parents for a masters degree basically, which makes me angry to remember that i hold privledge more than others (bc it doesn't feel as heavy as the guy who was just BORN into money, but just because i fell into state loopholes and got a chunk of change from a house sale doesn't mean i still didn't benefit)

i owe the government money every tax season despite giving them 1/3 of my paycheck or more, my job refuses to pay me what i'm worth, i'm being squeezed and drained for every dollar and it's like...what's the point if i can't get somewhat of a good life?

my life here isn't TERRIBLE, and my fiance wouldn't change anything about our living situation because he just doesn't see the problems. i'm the one that fixes the closets, sprays the bugs, tries to fix the air conditioning, shampoos the carpets to try to get the mold smell out from when our CEILING crashed in last year from the roof not being installed properly. I'm the one who holds the burden of shit not working and i'm tired of wanting something everyone else has but i'm not able to get for some reason.

and that reason being all the people who were born with money who think an apple costs 2 cents

#sadness about the real estate market and the future of society dont mind ME

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sachiwrites · 5 years ago

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some friends to lovers hcs for sakusa pls? i've been thirsting over him for a while and seeing him in the recent manga chapters plus season 4 is just--

same fam, same. its been a whole mess over here. yikes this got long

— you are 210% that neighbor who his parents rely on to acclimate their son into being a somewhat decent member of society. is it a hardy task for someone at the age of six? yeah. was sakusa an absolute shit at that age too? of course. but he stopped that one kid from pulling your hair in class that day so he’s basically your unofficial hero. even if it was only because apparently you had ‘cooties’.

— naturally you continued to have this unknown disease for most of your life. but apparently so did everyone else in Japan. except when you got older it simply became known as- physical contact.

— “kiyoomi, why don’t you play outside with your friend?”

—“ they’re dirty.”

— sticks and stone may break your bones but the mud streaked across your face and hands would most certainly kill sakusa. or at least that’s what you thought at the age of seven when you went grab him off his front porch anyway. he sort of whined and pushed you for it, causing you to fall back on your rear, much to his parents obvious disdain. or as so you gathered as you smirked over their shoulder as they carried you inside, earning an extra few years of sakusa’s ire.

— “yoomi, lets play tag.”

— “it’s kiyoomi. and no, play by yourself.”

— “sakusa-san, yoomi doesn’t want to-“

— “run”

— the two of you were ‘reluctant’ friends until the age of eight. more or less, sakusa was required to spend at least half an hour outside with you a daily. half way through that the tenture you had mercy on him and introduced him to video games within the safety of his own home. sakusa has zero interest in crash bandicoot, but he likes you a little more for your concede.

— but his parents knew what they were doing when they put their son’s social reputation into your hands. for a while you were his only friend but occasionally you were able to integrate him into society. through little things like sitting down your lunch next to his and offering to be his partner in project.

— “i don’t need your help with this.”

— “maybe, but i need yours, so pretty please.”

— sakusa was a young genius and it would benefit you to take advantage of that feature. call it payment for all your years of servitude.

— the only time you found yourself not needing to be a crutch in his life was when he was playing volleyball. it was an option during recess to give the students an opportunity to scout out interests in athletic ventures. the sport was almost too perfect for sakusa- as an indoor requirement with almost no physical contact. it was his niche. a part of society that catered to his needs in a way that didn’t require your intervention.

— naturally, others began taking notice of his talents. other students were more likely to invite him for games during breaks- most knowing to keep their distance and touch to a limit. his own enjoyment of the sport slowly geared him towards pseudo-friendships that allowed him to play more and garner his skill set.

— “im going to try out for the volleyball club.”

— of course you knew this much. it was what he was so obviously looking forward to the most in junior high. it was just his decision to share his own thought with you the struck home.

— “yeah? i guess i should get some cheers ready for you games, eh?”

— he flinches away from your enthusiasm, his face portraying a mistake in letting you know so soon. but not once did he ever deter you from coming. in fact, you continued to be made aware of each an every upcoming match regardless of importance.

— “we have a practice match against haizen today.”

— wasn’t the most significant but he invited you so you’d be there. probably more vocal than you needed to be but he could mark your attendance and that’s all that mattered.

— a small part of you was worried that volleyball would take your place. it obviously had more suitable attributes than you. but it almost became a staple in your evolving relationship.

— in fact the first game you missed inflicted the first real argument you could remember having with sakusa. it surprised even his parents when you met him the next day to walk to class. you were use to a quiet shoulder but not a cold shoulder.

— “is something wrong?”

— it continued for most of the trip until you couldn’t take it anymore and reached for his arm. instead of shaking you off, he turns on you, gaze lit a flame with an emotion you didn’t recognize.

— “i had a game and you didn’t show up.”

— thinking back you did recall most of the students congregating towards the gym after class. it vaguely registered but you’d seen less of sakusa that day and more of pressing from your teacher to get your grades in order.

— “i had to stay back with my instructor. i needed help with my studies.”

— it was a little embarrassing- not something you wanted to admit. especially to someone like sakusa who obviously excelled where you fell short.

— “you’re an idiot. you come to me for that. ill help you after my games.”

— perphas it was in that moment that you should have realized that sakusa was more cognitive of his reliance than you were.

— what he does realize it how much he’s going to have to help you if he intended for you to join him at itachiyama. the school had shown interest in him earlier than year and it was mutual. but it’s prestige called for academics when sports weren’t your strong suit.

— matches weren’t the only appointments sakusa held you to. nearly everyday after class, whether your place or his, he made himself present while you studied. he wasn’t an overbearing tutor but he called you out in your faults and made you aware of mistakes before they became a habit. he wasn’t going to make you a super genius but you would become a student worthy of acceptance.

— the two of you were building something that only your parents noticed at first while watching from the doorway. itachiyama would be a dynamic chapter for both of you.

— the title of that chapter is: volleyball. because wow does that become an even bigger part of your life. itachiyama was already a powerhouse before sakusa but now he’s a cog in the wheel and an important one at that. quickly climbing ranks and becoming an imperative part of the team. if only he was more receptive to his newly popular status.

— he was still the same old germaphobe- avoiding crowds and wanting to get home as soon as possible to shower in his own tub instead of the school issued ones.

— his personality sort of highlighted your presence more than you expected. but given sakusa’s overall avoidance of unnecessary interactions, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

— “he can be a bit much, but please take care of him.”

— above your bowed head, his older teammate coo and awe at sakusa’s cute little friend. this of course leads to more teasing for him but it’s all part of being part of a team- a larger whole. something you were willing to give up a bit of sakusa for.

— “are you two dating or something?”

— oh but that. you get a lot of that. not just by his teammates either. everyone seems to notice how sakusa tolerates you more than anyone else. though part of you wants to point out to his fan base that they would get a lot further if they just gave him his space. -yet here you were huddled up close in the library while he looked over your school work, so what could you say to that?

— “are you paying attention?”

— “hey, i got most of these right. give me a break.”

— not thinking about it, you go to ruffle his hair as a retort. an action sure to give you his ire- but it doesn’t? in fact his gaze doesn’t even lift from his book. and is he leaning closer? weird.

— sakusa is making rapid progress not only within tokyo but on a national level. it’s one of his teammates that points out his accomplishments to you one day while you’re waiting for sakusa to emerge from the locker rooms.

— “your boyfriend is really something else. already the ace of the team and he’s climbing the stats nationally too. you must be proud.”

— you are proud. very impressed, in fact. but sakusa is not your boyfriend. an important note that you most certainly do not get to point out because now sakusa is here and is corralling you towards the exit from his pressure of his chest against your back.

— he’s much more hands on now. less in tolerating your touch and more so initiating his own. it’s a late realization but most of your attention is stuck on that same teammate who is waving mischievously from the door.

— but oh man. it’s becoming a lot more obvious to you now when sakusa offers to hold you books while you change your shoes, and holding on to them even as you travel to class. he sits a little bit closer to you during study hall now, the erratic hitter of your knee brushing against his with every jerk up.

— “...are you okay, ‘yoomi?”

— he doesn’t complain about the name. not even a pinch of his brow, just confusion as he peers down at you.

— “im fine.”

— huh

— it’s all fun and games until his fingers catch yours one day while you walk side by side. it seemed like a fluke, just an accidental swing and bump. but then they’re latching and now you’re connected?

— “yoomi?”

— “it’s cold”

— yeah. okay, fair enough.

— periodic becomes occasional and now it’s a habit.

— and of course everyone takes notice. because sure sakusa tolerates you more than most. but now there’s a basis for it.

— “ah, so tables have turned.”

— “i knew it.”

— “top in the nation and already dating. our little kohai is such a pillar.”

— you’re beyond overwhelmed. worse because kiyoomi looks mildly irritated but doesn’t seem to be denying any of it.

— and you just have to ask.

— “yoomi are we dating?”

— because wow, only yesterday it seemed like he was still just your best friend. one who held your hand, shared his lunch, fell asleep on your shoulder in more than one occasion-

“— “we’re together. we’ve always been.”

— okay, yeah but context here.

— but then he’s dragging down the mask across his face, letting it hang under his chin. his lips are on your temple and phew, that’s new.

— “we should get home. i have a match tomorrow.”

— a game that becomes a statement in more ways than one.

— “ooh, is that sakusa’s jacket? so the rumors are true.”

— you fumble with the sleeves that seems to be determined to swallow up your hands. when he’d first offered it to you, it seemed so natural.

— “you might get cold.”

— god your boyf-... friend was so confusing.

— “not really. he hasn’t asked.”

— your classmate seems unconvinced but doesn’t comment further. that’s doesn’t say the same for the rest of the class who use every opportunity to chip at your resolve.

— “haven’t they been dating the whole time?”

— “they always hold hands now.”

— “i mean that’s his jacket isn’t it? it’s he like a germaphobe?”

— it’s getting harder to concentrate on the game. and certainly doesn’t help with every glance sakusa tosses up into the stands. by the end of the match, you’re beyond frazzled and ready to just sakusa the second he emerges from the gym.

— his teammate offer thanks in exchange for your praises on a game well won. it helps to distract you for a brief moment-but there he is now.

— his fingers slip befeeen yours like they belong and you can’t find the voice to complain. after congratulating him, there’s not much more said on your part. he walks you to your doorstep, not just the entrance, and lets his hand fall away. yet you both linger.

— “are we-“

— “are you-“

— when it comes down to it. obviously sakusa fails when it comes to words and actions seem to speak clearly.

— sakusa doesn’t protest when you reach up and undo his face mask for him. going as far as to lower his head, aware of your intentions, when you lean in.

— it’s a short kiss. a testing peck to balance in the shallow end before diving deep. his nose nudges yours and it’s your laugh that breaks the kiss.

— kiss-with kiyoomi sakusa-your once reluctant friend and now?

— sakusa leans in again. this time his hand on your shoulder for stabilization. there’s no tongue or extra touches. it’s just the act.

— life is all about changes.

— you smile and decide, yeah, you can do this.

— before he can leave, however, he’s tugging at the collar of his jacket.

— “i prefer to use my own detergent. but you can have it back tomorrow.”

— or maybe just some adjustments.

#sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #ill readmore it when im not mobile

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aidanchaser · 3 years ago

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Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Fifteen The Heist

Luna Lovegood hated Hogwarts. Yes, she was in Ravenclaw, and yes, she loved learning, but school? School was where curiosity went to die in a long, slow, stretched out sentence.

For Luna, the transition from her family home, where her father had encouraged her explorations and experiments, to a place of high stone walls and demanding bells had been terrible for her, and she’d nearly quit after her first year.

Now she was glad that she had persisted, because school had one thing worthwhile: Ginny Weasley.

When Ginny had hexed those boys for calling her Loony, the stars in the dark night had burst into existence, and school had become not just bearable, but pleasant. Luna had skipped everywhere for the rest of the that week.

This year, however, there was no skipping. Even Herbology, one of Luna’s favourite subjects, was overcast by the horrid cloud that Snape and the Carrows left on the school.

At least Ginny and Neville were in Herbology with her. N.E.W.T.-level courses often combined sixth and seventh years, and Luna was glad to have her closest friends with her at least once a week.

They were currently repotting Venomous Tentacula, which involved lots of soothing whispers and gentle strokes to the stem and vines. Neville worked easily, and Luna did too, even humming a lullaby to her knot of vines as she transferred the plant into a larger pot and carefully aerated the soil.

“Ow!” Ginny hissed, drawing her hand away from her plant.

Luna patted one of her vines and paused her melody. “Did it bite you, Ginny?”

Ginny pressed her wounded hand to her mouth. “Just got me with its leaves. Bloody bastard hates me.”

“You have to be gentle,” she sang, and reached for a watering can.

“I am gentle!”

Luna giggled. Ginny could be gentle, but it was not her natural state by any stretch.

Once Luna had finished repotting her Tentacula, she moved to Ginny’s station to help her work.

“You have to be kind and patient.” Luna ran her fingers along one of the vines. “It’s a sensitive plant.”

Beneath Luna’s hands, the vines no longer lashed out with sharp, sudden outbursts of movement, but instead swayed in time to her humming.

“See?” Luna paused her song. “Now put your fertilizer in that pot.”

Professor Sprout praised them all for their hard work, and congratulated them for finishing the lesson without any bite accidents. “There’s usually at least one of you turned bright purple and on your way up to the hospital wing, but you all did excellent work today,” she beamed at them.

“Hospital wing’s full up anyway,” Hannah Abbott mumbled, just out of Sprout’s earshot, as she cleaned up her work station.

Hannah looked unusually wild today. Her thick plaits were uncharacteristically loose, and dirt streaked her cheeks. She wrestled her book into her bag with the sort of determination one might use when salvaging Snargaluff pods.

Neville reached across his station to hers and picked up her shovel and trowel. “Ernie will be fine,” he murmured, and returned her tools to the greenhouse shed.

Hannah tried and failed to regain control of her trembling lip, then hurried out of the greenhouse before Neville could come back.

It wasn’t just Ernie, who was recovering from a detention after he had called the Daily Prophet “rubbish” and added that he hoped Harry would show up at Hogwarts so he could “put Snape in his place.”

It was Parvati and Padma Patil, who had refused to attend Muggle Studies. Each night that they refused earned them a night of detention, until after three weeks both girls had become too ill to attend any of their classes.

It was Hugh Ward, who had defiantly announced to the boys in his Slytherin dormitory that he was a half-blood.

Luna didn’t know what curses the boys had used to try to punish Hugh for being so proud of his Muggle lineage, but he had been in the hospital wing all week. Luna had visited him, and the Patil twins. She made a point to visit anyone who had been in Dumbledore’s Army, because they were her friends.

On these visits, it was not uncommon for her to find Hannah, helping Madam Pomfrey change linens and administer medicine to those who needed it. Though Hannah never did any of the Charm work in the hospital wing, she watched closely each time Madam Pomfrey cast a spell.

Luna knew that Hannah wanted to become a Healer. Each time Luna visited the hospital wing, she thought about becoming a Healer, too. She liked caring for people, and she was taking enough N.E.W.T.s for it. But so much of Healing was urgent, and Luna had never done well with urgent.

“Must you always move so slowly?” Ginny snapped.

Luna frowned at her gloves as she packed them away. She much preferred the greenhouse to the castle and couldn’t understand why Ginny was so eager to get back. She’d much rather be down here with the fresh air than back with the Carrows.

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “I’m starved.”

Luna squeezed her Herbology textbook between her personal field guide and the thick tome for Transfiguration. With those three texts and her scaly Care of Magical Creatures book, her bag was nearly bursting at the seams.

“Why didn’t you eat breakfast?” Luna shouldered her heavy bag and hurried to the door where Ginny and Neville were waiting.

“I wasn’t hungry at breakfast.”

“Helen said she was sulking in the Owlery after a row with Harry,” Neville whispered, but not as quietly as he should have.

“We didn’t have a row! And anyway, don’t use his name. Someone might hear you.”

“Should we just call him You-Know-Who?” Neville asked with a grin.

Ginny shoved him, none too gently, and picked up her pace, leaving Neville and Luna trailing behind her.

Luna pursed her lips and looked up at Neville. There was something different about him this year, but Luna couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Did you grow taller over the summer?” she asked, and tried to gauge if she was looking up more than she had looked up last year.

“What? Oh — yeah, I did. Gran sent out for a whole new wardrobe.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was only like, an inch I think, but she insisted. I think it was her way of apologising that Mum and Dad were gone most of the summer.”

Luna tilted her head. “I suppose they work quite a lot.”

Neville laughed. “I haven’t seen much of them since… well, I guess since Voldemort came back. I mean, a meal here and there, but usually only one at a time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not bad.” He adjusted his bag. “Their work’s important. And I’ve always had Gran around.”

Luna looked down at her hands. There was dirt under her nails, and she supposed she ought to clean up before lunch, but she liked when her hands were dirty. It reminded her of her mother, who had always smelled like earth and soot. It also reminded her of her father, whose fingers were often stained with ink.

“But you miss them.”

It wasn’t a question. Luna didn’t ask questions she already knew the answers to. There were plenty of other questions to be concerned with.

“What do you think we should call Harry?” she asked. “And I suppose we’ll need names for Ron and Hermione as well. Should we all have secret names? Like cats, perhaps? I should like to be Turnip.”

When she and Neville reached the castle, Ginny was waiting impatiently at the door.

“You both walk slow,” she complained, and stormed inside.

“My,” Luna said, “it must have been quite a bad fight with Parsnip.”

Neville frowned. “No, I don’t like that one.”

“Butterscotch?”

“Hmm…”

“Pickled Herring?”

“Must it be food?”

“I like Pickled Herring, because it sounds like him, but backwards.”

“I suppose.”

Luna waved goodbye to Neville and joined the Ravenclaw table. She sat next to a girl named Kim Sheringham, who Luna did not consider a friend, exactly, but they had lived together for the better part of six years, which might count for something to other people. It just didn’t count very much to Luna.

“Hi, Luna,” said Kim.

“Hello,” Luna said, but remained focused on her lunch

“How was Herbology?”

Luna hummed. “Warm. Pleasant.” She reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass of water.

“Sounds nice. Listen, do you think you could do me a favour?”

Luna stared at Kim and took a sip from her cup. She waited for Kim to ask for what she really wanted.

Kim faltered, but she’d always been more keen on small talk than Luna. Finally, she said, “Could you tell Flitwick I’m not well? I need to review for the Muggle Studies exam tonight. Please, I just can’t keep all the Sacred Twenty-Eight straight. Just tell Flitwick I fell ill after lunch or something. Any excuse will do.”

Ravenclaws, as a rule, did not skip lessons — unless they had an exam to prepare for.

“I could review with you,” Luna offered, and pretended not to notice the way Kim’s brow furrowed.

“That’s alright, thanks. Just tell him I’m not well. He’ll believe whatever you say, you know.”

Now it was Luna’s turn to frown. She didn’t understand what Kim meant, but she didn’t get to ask because Kim was already leaving.

Luna finished her meal alone, still puzzling over Kim’s comment, and wandered to Charms by herself. She apologised to Flitwick for Kim’s absence, and promised to take notes for two. Flitwick readily accepted her vague excuse, and this only puzzled Luna more. How had Kim known that Flitwick would not press her?

She was distracted throughout class, but her notes were no less for it. She was not sure that they would help Kim — no one ever asked to borrow Luna’s colourful, pictographic notes — but Luna would not mind explaining them.

After Charms, Luna had a free period, while the Gryffindors took their Charms lesson. She passed Ginny and Neville outside Flitwick’s classroom door and smiled. Ginny grinned back, which worried Luna. It was not the sort of grin that suggested Ginny was truly in a better mood; it was Ginny’s mischievous grin.

Luna waited until she was in the library to check the Galleon in her pocket. She had not noticed it grow warm during her Charms lesson, but it must have, for there was a new date and time inscribed where the identification number would be. Tonight, an hour before Muggle Studies.

Whatever Ginny had planned would get them all into trouble, certainly, but Luna at least knew that it would be fun, and fun was in such short supply these days.

There was plenty of time between now and then, so Luna set about working on their personalised field guides for Herbology. She had started adding to it, not just for Herbology, but also for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was sweet, but Luna did not find him an adept professor. She could appreciate the practicality of his lessons, at least, but had started recording what she learned from their field experiments into her Herbology project. She enjoyed this sort of work, collecting information and organising it. And decorating it.

Professor Flitwick had suggested a career studying magical plants and animals, doing field work, exploring, traveling and notetaking, making discoveries. Luna liked the idea of it, but the way he had presented it sounded tedious. He had mentioned the Ministry and paperwork, almost as if he had been trying to put her off from the job. He had even suggested that she spend her summer reaching out to people at the Ministry to try some job-shadowing, but Luna had a hard time finding people in the Ministry that were not involved with either the Death Eaters, the Rotfang Conspiracy, or the Heliopath Army.

Was it not enough to simply wander?

Luna had never been good at purpose. It was one of the many things she had always admired about Ginny. Ginny had always known who she was and what she wanted. Luna, for all her appearances of self-assurance, wondered and doubted far more than anyone knew.

Luna finished her note about Fire Crabs in preparation for tomorrow’s lesson and waited for the ink to dry. She swung her legs back and forth and stared out of the large window. Neither of her parents had ever made a living on the things they were passionate about. They did things that were uninteresting to fund their curiosities. She wondered if she would end up doing the same.

With a sigh, Luna closed her field guide and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. Again, she ate alone, but she watched Ginny talk with one of the girls from her dorm. Ginny’s smile was wide but empty, and she tapped her fork anxiously against her plate.

Neville sat alone, picking at his food, and Seamus and Lavender sat together, but they had more interest in the professors’ table than in each other.

Luna shook her head. Gryffindors were always so obvious. If the Carrows were even a little bit smarter, they might have known to be suspicious.

Neville left dinner first, and after an exact count of thirty, Ginny followed. The rest of the D.A. made their way out of the Great Hall in staggered exits. Some relied on a count of their own choosing. Some relied on waiting until a certain number of people had exited before they made their way to the seventh floor.

If Umbridge had taught them anything, it was how to avoid getting caught.

Luna waited until Michael Corner loudly announced that he was going to check on Padma, and trailed after him at her usual aimless pace. When he headed for the hospital wing, Luna went all the way back to Ravenclaw Tower, but instead of climbing the stairs, she slipped down another corridor to the Room of Requirement.

The Room no longer looked as it had for D.A. meetings. In fact, Luna thought it looked rather like a proper classroom. There were even stacks of reference books on some of the desks.

“I thought if anyone did walk in on us, it would look like we were studying,” Neville said, when he saw Luna’s curious glance.

She hummed thoughtfully. “You should ask it not to let anyone walk in on us.”

Neville looked surprised, then frowned and sank into one of the desks. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully.

Luna always appreciated the way Neville took her ideas seriously, rather than laughed at them, or dismissed them instantly, the way so many of her peers and professors did.

Padma and Parvati returned from the hospital wing with Michael, and a small crowd surrounded them, asking if they were alright. Hannah and Susan were notable outliers, clustered by themselves and whispering quietly. Ginny, too, stood alone, trying to count heads, and another girl in a green headscarf, someone Luna had not spoken to since those early days of the D.A., sat by herself.

Luna slipped into the desk beside Atalanta Shafiq. She smiled pleasantly.

“Hello. It’s Atalanta, isn’t it?”

The girl stared at her with large brown eyes. Luna thought she was in fourth year, the same Dennis Creevey would have been in.

“You’re Luna.”

Luna’s smile widened. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows you. You’re one of the people who went to the Ministry with Potter two summers ago.”

“Oh, you mean Pickled Herring.”

Atalanta stared at Luna as if she had lost her mind, a look Luna was used to, though she hadn’t seen it in a while. She hadn’t spent much time with new people recently.

“You’re friends with Hugh, aren’t you?” Luna asked her.

Atalanta nodded. “I know you visit him. How is he?”

“Oh — he’s well. Don’t you see him yourself?”

The girl turned to stare straight ahead. Her face was hard and her voice tight. “He asked me to stop coming. As if everyone doesn’t already know we’re friends — as if he has anyone else to bring him notes —” She broke off abruptly and her nostrils flared. “Everyone knows we were friends with the Creeveys anyway. My lineage doesn’t protect me as much as he thinks it does.”

“It sounds like he cares about you.” Luna hummed. “But you seem like someone who can take care of yourself. It’s okay for both of those things to be true, you know.”

Atalanta did not say anything. Luna appreciated the way the girl considered her words. It was like watching someone put together a puzzle, and Luna loved puzzles.

The door opened and closed one last time for Pearl Lais and Ginny announced, “I think that’s everyone. Let’s get started.”

All conversations ceased as she spoke. Ginny commanded a room with more ease than Harry had. Luna could not help but smile dreamily.

“So as you all know, tonight we have an exam for Muggle Studies.”

“I won’t take it,” Zacharias Smith announced loudly.

“And we fully plan to resume our protest,” Parvati added, voice defiant. Padma looked less confident, but she nodded when Parvati looked at her.

“Standing outside the Muggle Studies classroom is great,” Neville said, “but if we could do something more coordinated and subversive, we might be able to get more students on our side, and you wouldn’t have to go to detention.”

Padma raised an eyebrow. “You have something planned that won’t get us in trouble?”

“As long as we don’t get caught,” Ginny grinned. “I heard Snape threatened to take your Prefect badge. Your protest has been great, but it’s not worth that. We need people like you in charge as much as possible. Let me show you what we have in mind. It’s so easy, even Neville could do it.”

Neville did not look upset by the remark in the least, and pulled a stack of loose parchment from the desk at the front of the classroom. He began passing it out.

“It’s partly a Muggle-trick,” he said, “so it’s perfect for Muggle Studies.”

“There’s a bit of Charm, of course,” Ginny said, “to make it more interesting.”

Ginny and Neville explained the procedure of the prank to the members of Dumbledore’s Army. Everyone had several sheets to practice with, but Luna took to it right away. She found it a rather endearing bit of spellwork, but she knew that Alecto Carrow would hate it. Still, it was a harmless and funny prank. Even if they did get caught, the punishment couldn’t be too severe.

As Luna finished folding her third sheet of parchment, just for something to do with her hands, Ginny slid into the desk next to her.

“Hey,” she said, “I have a special job for you.”

Luna looked up from her parchment as Ginny pressed a small bottle into her hands.

“Neville got that from Herbology today. Can you smear it into Carrow’s book before the exam?”

Luna held up the colourless vial. “Should I wear dragonhide gloves?”

“No, it has to be ingested. Just the corners of the pages will do.”

“How will I get the book?”

“Just ask her for it. Say you need to check your notes or something. She’ll believe whatever you tell her.”

Luna stared into Ginny’s deep brown eyes. “Why?”

“You have an honest face. If I ask, she’ll know something’s up.”

Luna wasn’t sure what it meant that she had an, “honest face,” but it was the nicest compliment Ginny had given her all year, so she took it and pressed it into her memory like she pressed flowers into her field guide.

“I should go now, then,” she said. “So I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about getting caught,” Ginny said. “I’ve got something else planned and she’ll probably single me out for the whole thing.”

Luna didn’t mean to smile, but she did. “I would be honoured to have detention with you,” and she punctuated her statement with a curtsy. Ginny laughed, and it made whatever punishments Luna might receive for smearing poison into Alecto Carrow’s book worth it.

As Ginny had predicted, Professor Carrow did not suspect anything was amiss when Luna arrived at her office early and asked to check her notes against the enormous tome that she read out of during their lessons. She muttered something about Ravenclaws and perfectionism, then left Luna at a desk with her notes and the book.

Carefully, Luna dabbed some of the poison onto her finger and smeared it onto the upper right corners of each page. She pretended to skim some of the pages, and even made a few marks into her own notes to sell the lie, but she wondered if she even needed to. Professor Carrow hardly paid her any mind.

When she had finished, she thanked Professor Carrow, and waited until she was alone in the hallway to wipe her hands clean.

All students were required to take Muggle Studies, and the curriculum was entirely new, so everyone, from first year to seventh, took it together in the Great Hall three evenings a week. Luna found it slightly more entertaining than History of Magic, because while Professor Carrow could drone on much like Professor Binns, Carrow at least took questions, and Luna loved when her friends asked questions.

In their very first class, Neville had challenged every line of Professor Carrow’s reading. She had snappishly asked for his lineage not twenty minutes into class. With a wide grin, Neville had said, “Longbottom and Fawley.”

The other day, Ginny had asked Professor Carrow why they weren’t going to evaluate the Carrow family tree the way they had the Bones family. Professor Carrow had turned red and Luna had expected her to hex Ginny then and there.

Luna had not asked any questions yet, though she had, at one point, raised her hand to point out that it was unfair to accuse Muggles of being liars and cheats when Thicknesse was a continuation of Scrimgeour’s evil plot to bring down the Ministry through the horrors of gum disease. The other students had laughed, and Professor Carrow had given her a condescending smile.

“How could the Ministry allow such plots to happen right under their nose?” Professor Carrow had asked with a sickly smile.

“Same way they allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate and Voldemort to take over,” Neville had said loudly, and he’d gotten a week of detention.

The dining tables were removed from the Great Hall each night of Muggle Studies and were replaced with rows of desks. Students sat by year and by house, so Luna took a seat near the back of one of the Ravenclaw aisles. She thought it was a good thing that the D.A. was largely composed of upper-years. Professor Carrow would be less likely to notice them folding up their exams.

The Great Hall was quiet as students worked on their exams. Quills scratched against parchment and occasionally Luna heard the sound of a page turning as Professor Carrow licked her finger and turned the page of her heavy tome.

As she folded up her exam just like they had practiced in the Room of Requirement, Luna watched Professor Carrow closely. The woman coughed after five pages and reached for her tea. After ten pages, she rubbed her throat and finished her drink. By the fifteenth page, her cheeks were already flushed purple and she looked uncomfortable.

“Professor!” Ginny shouted. She didn’t need to shout, since the hall was as silent as O.W.L.s had been, but as her voice echoed, every head turned to her.

She had her hand stretched as high as she could and she bounced anxiously. “Professor!”

Professor Carrow stood from her desk and frowned down at Ginny. “This is an exam, girl. Be quiet.”

“It’s an emergency, Professor. Can I go? I’ll only be a minute.”

Professor Carrow’s mouth lifted in a sneer. “No.”

“Please, Professor? I mean, I’ll use my exam if I have to, but —”

Laughter rippled across the hall and Ginny grinned.

“Make it quick!” Carrow snapped at her, and Ginny sprinted from the hall.

She really was gone only a minute — both Luna and Professor Carrow counted — and Luna wondered what she possibly could have accomplished during that time.

Ginny maintained an appearance of studiousness as she returned to her exam, and Professor Carrow returned to her book. She rubbed her throat again and looked at her empty tea cup. She snapped her fingers impatiently. A house-elf appeared with a pop and poured her a fresh cup, then vanished just as quickly.

Luna forgot all about the clusters of parchment that decorated her desk. Her focus was wholly on Professor Carrow as the woman inspected the cup of tea. She sniffed it, tapped her wand against it, took a small sip, and seemed satisfied. She finished the cup and went back to her book.

Luna kept watching, and it was another seven pages before Professor Carrow licked her finger and paused. She looked at her hand, at the book, and then directly at Luna. Luna tried to shrink into her seat.

Carrow got to her feet and started down the aisle of Ravenclaw desks with a look of fury that might have cowed a dragon. Luna, however, was spared immediate consequences by a squeak that began on the Gryffindor side of the room, followed closely by a squeak from the Hufflepuff aisle.

Hastily, Luna Animated the collection of parchment mice that she had so carefully constructed during the exam. They joined the chorus of mice that now filled the hall, leaping off of desks and scampering towards Professor Carrow.

Luna didn’t think Professor Carrow was a woman who feared mice, but it at least startled her, and it certainly upset several of the other students, who screamed as the parchment creations scurried over their feet and onto their desks. Students leapt up onto chairs and desks, and the entire hall descended into chaos.

It was impossible to tell, as Ginny and Neville had probably planned, where the mice had come from. Carrow pointed her wand at the ones nearest to her, and they went up in flames, but they were quickly replaced with more. Some tried to climb her skirt while others scampered across the room, nibbling on exams and tearing every piece of parchment to shreds.

“Everyone out!” Carrow snapped, crushing one of the mice under her heel. “Orderly!” she added as a few of the more skittish students bolted for the door.

But even those that ran reached a wall of students who had, for some reason, stalled in the doorway of the Great Hall.

“What now?” Carrow elbowed her way to the front, and Luna stood on her tiptoes to peer over Draco Malfoy’s shoulder. She saw a message painted on the floor of the entrance hall in bright red, impossible to miss.

DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY: NOW RECRUITING

Professor Carrow tried to vanish the mess, but it sparked with fireworks and she leapt backwards. A pair of first years stared in awe. A few upper years laughed.

“Weasley!” Carrow snapped, and a few of the older students waited for the inevitable joke of, “Which one?” before realising that Ginny was the only Weasley left at Hogwarts.

Ginny leaned against the pillar that framed the door into the Great Hall. She smiled at Carrow. “Yes, Professor?”

Professor Carrow lifted her wand. “You’ll get more than detention, brat —”

“Say, Professor,” Ginny said, “you’ve got a little something on your —” Ginny gestured to her face, then paused and gestured to Carrow’s hands, “well — everywhere.”

Professor Carrow looked down at her hands, now bright purple.

“That looks like Venomous Tentacula poison,” said Neville. “You ought to be careful around the greenhouses, Professor.”

Carrow whipped around and aimed her wand at Neville, then searched the crowd for Luna. “You,” she snapped.

Luna raised her eyebrows.

“What’s your name?”

“Lovegood,” Luna said, before it had even occurred to her to lie.

Carrow ran her tongue across her teeth. “Lovegood? Your father runs The Quibbler?”

“Er — yes, Professor.”

“You and Weasley, to the Headmaster Snape’s office immediately.”

Luna started for the stairs, but Ginny folded her arms over her chest and refused to move.

“Weasley!”

“Snape isn’t Headmaster.”

“I’ve had just about enough of you. Pureblooded or not —”

“Last week you called me a blood traitor, but this week you’re suddenly all concerned with —”

“Imperio.”

Luna watched, horrified, as Ginny’s posture relaxed and her dark eyes widened.

“Stop!” Luna cried, which, futile as it was, at least provided cover as Neville drew his wand.

“Stupefy!” Neville shouted, and Professor Carrow fell backwards, sprawled over Ginny’s message on the floor.

A few of the students cheered and footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Amycus Carrow and Argus Filch shoved their way through the crowd of students. They took in the mess of paint on the floor, the unconscious and purple professor, and Neville with his wand drawn.

“What did you do, you filthy brat!” Amycus snarled.

“She was only Stunned,” Seamus Finnigan shouted. “Seemed fair since she was using a bloody Unforgivable!”

“Another week of detention then?” Neville asked, with more bravery than Luna thought anyone should have, considering how many detentions had landed students in the infirmary.

“No, I think your punishment should be a bit more public and swift —”

“Professor?” Malfoy interrupted. He grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her forward. His Head Boy badge glinted in the candlelight. “Professor Carrow was just about to take Lovegood and Weasley up to the Headmaster’s office. Shall I help you escort them?”

Amycus Carrow did not do well with being interrupted. It was a challenge for him to hold so many thoughts in his head at once.

“Lovegood and Weasley?”

“Yes, sir. They’re responsible for this mess, too. Pansy can help Professor Carrow, here, and I’ll help you get this lot to Professor Snape.”

Luna did not fight Malfoy’s tight grip on her arm as he took her to Snape’s office, not the way Ginny pushed and pulled on Amycus as he dragged her up the stairs. Neville, too, was more docile in Filch’s grip, and he eyed Malfoy suspiciously.

Carrow announced the password, “Asphodel,” and the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster’s office parted with ease.

Luna was so rarely angry. Anger was a concept, something she witnessed in others, and maybe glimpsed in herself the way she could glimpse the edge of the Black Lake on a clear day. She did not feel true anger very often, but as she was pulled up to the Headmaster’s office, it rose in her chest with each step.

It was horribly unfair of Hogwarts, who had denied Umbridge access to the Headmaster’s office, to allow Snape control over it, when Snape was the very one who had killed Dumbledore.

Luna tried to swallow down her anger, but it refused to budge. She hated Hogwarts.

Carrow pounded his fist on the heavy oak door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open.

The Headmaster’s office was different from what Luna remembered. She’d only seen it once before, but she had adored it. There had been so many trinkets bobbing and whizzing about; it had been full of noise and life. It had reminded her of her mother’s office.

Now, however, it was cold and empty, with nothing but a Pensieve in a corner and a desk stacked with parchment. Fawkes’ perch remained, but was empty, and behind the Headmaster’s desk were the frames of all the previous Headmasters, including Dumbledore, fast asleep. She looked away, and settled on Snape’s face. As much as she disliked Snape, looking at him hurt less than looking at Dumbledore’s portrait.

Snape, seated at the Headmaster’s desk, kept his eyes on what looked to Luna like a letter.

“No, please, come right in,” he drawled. “I’m not busy or anything.”

“These students cursed Alecto,” Amycus said. “Stunned her right in the entrance hall.”

“They had nothing to do with it!” Neville snapped. “I Stunned her because she used an Unforgivable on Ginny! It was just me!”

With an eerie amount of care, Snape set the letter aside and finally looked at the group that had invaded his office. His face had no more displeasure than it usually did as he looked at each of them.

“Then give Longbottom a detention,” he finally said to Carrow. “Five feet of lines reading, ‘I will not hex my professors’ ought to do it.”

Luna could not tell if Snape was serious. Amycus appeared to be having the same problem. His jaw worked fruitlessly before he finally sputtered, “That’s it?”

Snape stood. “What would you like me to do? Expel him and send him back to his Dumbledore-fanatic parents? You’re in charge of discipline, Carrow. So discipline them. Can’t you control a few children?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a cloak. “I have business off of the grounds tonight. I expect that this will be dealt with by the time I return.”

Snape held the door open for them, and Carrow reluctantly led them back down to the corridor. Snape swept past them, dark cloak billowing the way it had as he had paced the aisles during his Potions lessons, and disappeared down the stairs.

Carrow watched him go, a hard look on his face. “Are the dungeons ready, Filch?”

“Oiled the hinges this morning, sir,” Filch said. “Haven’t put the chains back in yet —”

“It’ll do for now.”

Ginny’s thrashing did not hinder Carrow in the slightest as he, Filch, and Malfoy took the three of them downstairs into the dungeons. Their wands were set on a nearby shelf, tauntingly visible but well out of reach, and then the three were left alone until Carrow could come up with something more creative.

“Did you see it?” Neville’s voice was steady, and he leaned almost comfortably against the stone wall.

The iron-wrought bars rattled as Ginny kicked them, but they did not budge. “Of course I saw it. We ought to go for it now, while Snape’s gone.”

Luna eyed a trickle of water that slid from the ceiling and into a small puddle on the floor. She wondered if it came from the Black Lake or a leaky pipe. “What did you notice?” she asked.

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor,” Ginny said. “Didn’t you see it hanging under Dumbledore’s portrait?”

“Oh. Is it important?”

“Dumbledore left it to Harry,” Neville said. “He needs it. I don’t know how we could get it to him, though.”

“I can talk to him,” Ginny said. “If we could just get out of here —” She kicked again, but the bars did not budge under her assault.

“We aren’t getting out of here.” Neville retrieved a worn piece of parchment and a golden feather from his pocket. He searched for a dry spot on the floor and unfolded the old parchment. “But we can make a plan. Halloween would be good, when everyone’s at the feast.”

Ginny gave the bars one more kick for good measure, then joined Neville on the floor.

Neville pressed the tip of the feather to the parchment like a quill and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Ginny was forced to scrub the entrance hall clean until there was no trace of her graffiti, and students could see their reflection in the polished floor. It took her the better part of three full weeks and her hands were blistered and cracked when she was finished.

Luna spent every night reading out loud from Alecto Carrow’s horrible book, and if she faltered or hesitated in any way, she earned a welt and had to start over. It went on for two weeks.

Neville was left in the dungeons for a week, and did not appear for lessons nor meals. He said nothing about what happened to him, but he flinched when Seamus clapped him on the shoulder at his first meal back.

It wasn’t even an hour later that Susan approached Neville and asked what the revenge plan was. Neville told her to keep her head down until the Halloween feast.

To an outsider, it might have appeared that the Carrows had won. Muggle Studies lessons passed without incident. There were small protests in Dark Arts, but nothing more dramatic than civil disobedience. It was quiet at Hogwarts, until Halloween.

They started small. Seamus and Parvati slipped some of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Exploding Whizz-Bangs into the eggs at breakfast with a Switching Spell. After the chaos of breakfast, Alecto Carrow promised to hold the entire school for an extra hour of Muggle Studies that evening if no one confessed or gave up the perpetrator.

No one said a word.

Lavender took the leaflets from the Daily Prophet with Harry’s face and the bounty and modified them. Instead of “Undesirable No 1” the leaflet read, “Desirable Chosen 1” which was enough of a change to get their point across. She lamented that Dean could have done better, but the rest of the D.A. praised her work.

The leaflets were blown up to twice their size and pasted into windows all across the castle, with the help of everyone in the D.A. Every common room, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, was plastered with Harry’s face.

By lunch, the Carrows were scorching walls left and right, and Atalanta Shafiq told everyone that the Carrows had accidentally blasted a hole through the Slytherin Common room right into the Black Lake and flooded the dormitories.

Neville’s job was an unfortunate one, but he took it with grace. He waited until lunch was nearly over, then shouted at Crabbe and asked, “I know you said you’re a pureblood, but isn’t there a bit of troll in your tree? Was it on your mother or father’s side?”

Crabbe threw a hex that sent Neville flying five feet backwards and when he got up, he was puking up something slimy. Hannah escorted him to the hospital wing.

Ginny’s role for the day revolved around being as suspicious as possible without getting into real trouble. She ducked through hidden corridors. She paused to fiddle with her bag or her shoes. Luna stayed close with her for most of it, until after Transfiguration, they ducked out of Amycus’ careful watch by slipping into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Demelza was waiting for them. “Ready?” she asked.

Ginny nodded and plucked out a strand of her hair.

Luna left the bathroom with Demelza, but Amycus Carrow saw exactly what he expected to see: Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley heading down to the Halloween feast.

Luna watched Demelza sit next to Helen Donoghue and engage Helen as easily as if she really were Ginny. Amycus stood at the door, eyes intent on Ginny. Luna could not help but smile, despite her trepidation at her own task.

She ate slowly, unsure how full her stomach ought to be. She looked at the professors and bit her tongue when she noticed that Snape was missing. Their plan hinged on Snape being out of his office.

Well, it was too late for them to change course now. Neville was waiting for her in the hospital wing, and Ginny was probably already hiding out by the Headmaster’s office.

Luna took a deep breath, pulled the bright yellow half of a Fainting Fancy from her pocket, and swallowed.

She woke with a headache in a corridor not far from the hospital wing with Neville and Michael Corner leaning over her. She licked her lips and tried to swallow down the spiced pepper flavour that seemed stuck to her tongue. She decided that she didn’t care for the second half of those Fainting Fancies.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked her.

Luna sat up and rubbed her throbbing head. “I fell,” she said.

“I tried to catch you. You should have warned me when you were going to do it.”

“It’s alright,” Neville said.

Luna gagged. His breath smelled like Porlock dung.

“You’d better get back to the feast,” Neville told Michael. “The less time you’re with us, the better it’ll look for you.”

“Are you alright?” Luna asked Neville as Michael hurried back to the Great Hall.

Neville grimaced. “I was hoping for boils. Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be tasting acid for a week, but she was at least able to stop the puking, so we can go ahead with the plan. Everything seems to be going well so far.”

“Oh… there is one thing…”

Luna told him that she had not seen Snape at the feast. Neville checked the map while they walked.

“I don’t see him at all,” Neville frowned. He ran his finger across the Marauder’s Map. “Oh — he’s just arrived at the gates. What do you think he left for?”

“Perhaps he’s joined a league of vampires. Halloween is a special holiday for them.”

“Then I guess we’d better hurry up before he finds us and drinks our blood.” Neville squinted at the map. “You catch up with Ginny. I have an idea. Peeves is just around the corner and if he can stall…”

Neville was still talking as he disappeared behind a tapestry of Mordicus Egg cooking over an open fire. Luna paused to watch the heavy tapestry resettle in Neville’s wake. The threads of the flames seemed alive as they rippled back and forth, until finally the tapestry stilled.

She skipped on ahead to the gargoyle at the end of the corridor. She spun around once in a circle, and did not see Ginny. So she spun again, and this time Ginny stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

“How’s Demelza doing?” Ginny asked.

“She’s very good at being you,” Luna said, then said, “Asphodel,” to the statue. It stepped aside easily and Luna hummed. “I really thought he would have changed it.”

“It’s a good thing he didn’t. Where’s Neville?”

“He said to go on without him.”

Ginny was already halfway up the stairs. “Alohomora,” she said, and the lock on the office door clicked open. She shoved the heavy door with her shoulder.

Ginny ran in for the sword, and Luna listened at the door. While she listened, her eyes roved over the portraits. Their oily eyes were fixed on Ginny as she lifted the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from its display.

“Breaking and entering!” one portrait shouted. “In the Headmaster’s office!”

“Put that sword back, child,” Dilys Derwent said in a kinder voice. “I’m sure you mean well, but —”

“Thievery!” Phineas Nigellus Black shrieked at her. “Unheard of! In my time —”

“Treachery!” one woman with a thick wand shouted.

“You’re the traitors!” Ginny shouted back at them. “Letting Snape in here — helping him — and after what he did to Dumbledore!”

She broke off and stared at Dumbledore’s portrait. It’s gold frame glistened, and the impression of Dumbledore stared back at her, as still and as unmoving as any Muggle portrait.

Luna abandoned her post at the door and came to Ginny’s side. She stared at Dumbledore’s portrait and felt her heart grow heavy, the way it did each time she passed her mother’s office in the basement of their family home.

“Ginny,” she whispered, “we should go. You can’t argue with what’s been done.”

“It isn’t fair.” Ginny turned her fierce glare on all the portraits, then back onto Dumbledore’s still portrait. “You know what the sword is for, what it can do. Tell them.”

The portrait did not so much as blink at her.

“Ginny.” Luna tugged on her arm.

Ginny’s lower lip trembled, and she turned away from Dumbledore’s portrait. Luna pulled her towards the door, but froze on the first step.

Ginny heard it too — footsteps coming up for them.

They backed into the office, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run as Snape and the Carrows burst into the office. Ginny brandished the sword as she might a wand for a duel. Luna did not have time to reach for her wand as Amycus Carrow thrust Neville at her. He fell into her and she staggered under his weight.

“You two,” Alecto Carrow sneered, “are supposed to be in the hospital wing.”

“Oh, but I feel much better,” Luna said. Neville only groaned.

“How’d you find us?” Ginny snapped.

“Hogwarts is a castle filled with portraits, Miss Weasley. I think you can figure out the rest.” Snape waved his wand and Ginny jumped as if the sword had burned her. It clattered to the ground and she clutched her hand to her chest.

“I thought,” Snape drawled, “I asked you two to control these children.”

“We did —” Amycus protested. “We have — she was just in the Hall, I swear.”

“I think a detention in the Forbidden Forest ought to teach them a lesson or two. Every night for the next week. From sundown to midnight.”

Luna tipped her head to one side. “But —”

Ginny squeezed her wrist and she stopped talking.

But that meant they would be with Hagrid instead of at Muggle Studies lessons. She wondered if Snape just didn’t realise when Muggle Studies lessons were. Did he think they were during normal lesson hours?

“And what if they try it again?” the Carrows asked.

Snape removed his cloak and pulled out a smudged piece of parchment from his pocket. “I expect you’ll prevent them from trying again.” He glanced at the sword on the floor. “I’ll have it removed from Hogwarts, then this will no longer be a problem.”

As he tucked the parchment into a book on his desk, Luna was certain that the smudge of ink was actually a small black pawprint. She supposed if Snape was a vampire, he must have a familiar by now.

Snape took a seat at his desk and surveyed the small crowd in his office. “Well? Is there a reason you’re all still here?”

The Carrows shoved Ginny towards the door, and Luna helped Neville limp down the stairs.

“Yes, I know,” she heard Snape say as the door closed. “I can have a duplicate ready in days.”

And as the latch on the door clicked, Luna thought that she heard the familiar rumble of Dumbledore’s voice.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

It was midnight, but no one was keen on heading back to the castle just yet. Ginny sat down in the grass and leaned against one of the trees on the edge of the forest, still in view of Hagrid’s hut, but away from where Neville was helping Hagrid pick Moondew for Madam Rosmerta’s Butterbeer.

Luna crouched down beside her.

“Do you think the Carrows will come and collect us?” Ginny asked. “Or could we stay out here all night?”

Luna ran her hand over the trunk of the tree. She loved the transition from the soft moss to the rough bark and back again.

“It’s just so empty in the common room,” Ginny said. “Is it like that in Ravenclaw?”

Luna crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She thought for a moment. “A bit. Terry Boot never came back. Mandy checks for his name in the paper every day. Anthony Goldstein wasn’t a Muggle-born, but his family left for Canada after Dumbledore’s funeral, and they don’t plan to come back any time soon.” She plucked a small dandelion flower from the grass by her knee. “I expect it’s worst in Hufflepuff.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest and looked up at the stars over Hagrid’s hut. “I miss him, Luna. I miss him so much, but when we talk it’s like he isn’t there. And I — I know you probably don’t want to hear it — I’m sorry — but I don’t know that I have anyone else —”

Luna reached for another dandelion and folded the stems into the beginning of a flower chain. “I will never take half of you,” Luna said, “and I don’t believe that you are one to give halves.”

Ginny’s laugh was sad. It made Luna’s chest ache. She leaned against Ginny and continued working on her flower chain.

They sat in silence, until nearly two, when Hagrid insisted they return to their bunks.

“I’ll walk yeh ter the castle,” he said, “but don’ let Filch catch you on your way up.”

Neville waved the map. “We’ll be alright. As long as any portraits don’t get involved.”

Luna tied off the flower chain into a crown and stood. She spun in a circle and dropped the circlet on Ginny’s head. “Up we go,” she said, holding her hand out to Ginny.

Ginny took it. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna smiled. She pulled Ginny along and hurried to catch up with Neville. She took his hand as well.

Luna hated Hogwarts, and she had no desire to go back behind those high stone walls, but at least she did not have to go alone. At least she could go with friends.

#luna lovegood #hp fic #hp everyone lives #hp everyone lives au #harry potter #hp #dh

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