#n's lessons | a little white lie never hurt anyone

[oppressiveliberator]

((Fun idle thoughts with Danie

Ghetsis is pretty much impossible to please in some cases.

Based on his room, there was a certain amount of infantilizing happening to N from Ghetsis--likely to preserve his 'pure and innocent' mind and feelings because he's easier to take advantage of that way.

So he always, always told N he would get bigger and stronger and older and smarter and someday he would be King. But no matter what he would always be Ghetsis's baby.

So of course when he hit, say. 10~13 years old. . .he started going into the phase of his life where he's "too old" to do this, or where "that's for children," "you aren't a baby anymore," and so on, both from Ghetsis and from the sages.

The sages told him he was too old to keep calling Ghetsis "Daddy".

Ghetsis agreed. So he called him Father.

Ghetsis disagreed. What's wrong with calling me 'daddy' when you're my son? What does it matter if it's how children talk? You're a child--you're my child. And no matter how old you get you always will be.

And of course in more official Plasma things neither was okay. So he would simply call him Ghetsis, even though Ghetsis often referred to him as his son(sometimes adopted, sometimes step, sometimes foster, sometimes just his son.)

It was inconsistent and Ghetsis had raised him well to hate inconsistency, if he didn't hate it naturally. Eventually it became a problem--he was spoiled given that he was King-to-be. When he got frustrated, it'd become a problem, he'd yell and stamp around and throw a tantrum and they'd argue and Ghetsis would say "you're acting like a child, Natural, would you stop this nonsense!" And N would say "do you want me to be a child or not!? Make up your mind!" But Ghetsis always wants him to be a child--but not like that--

Eventually N kind of cracked the code. 'Father' was what he should default to for the most part. He should refer to Ghetsis as 'Ghetsis' when speaking to others and when in the presence of Plasma members(but not necessarily Sages.) And when it was just them, and perhaps around Anthea and Concordia sometimes, he should say 'Daddy.'

And once he figured that out(and it's a miracle he did considering Ghetsis is contradictory and insatiable and absolutely impossible to understand sometimes) things were more or less straight and they calmed down. As long as they kept those distinctions N could deal with it. And as long as Ghetsis was happy there were no problems.

(It used to be harder for him to call him 'Father' to other people, strangers, but at present that's usually what N says. He was raised to be his father's dear child just like he was raised to be king. . .but being King had been a lie. . .so was that he was his son, his child, his baby a lie too? But a much less dangerous lie--it was the happier of the lies if it was one. He misses his. . .parental figure of various terms of endearment. They didn't get to be a family as much, and he wishes they could. . .so he refers to him often in casual conversation as 'my Father', sometimes specifying 'my Father, Ghetsis'--but when it comes to addressing the in-game events, he still has the 'this is a serious situation' habit of simply calling him Ghetsis. He doesn't know what he wants more.)

(He doesn't know if, if it was just them for a while, he wouldn't call him 'Daddy'--he's not sure he had enough of being Daddy's baby boy, of being allowed to just be a child who had the world decided for him and never a care in the world and not a king, to have a family, and he's not sure if he wants the coddling and babying of Daddy Ghetsis or the respect and acknowledgement of Father Ghetsis. But right now he can't have either one. He's struggling to accept that maybe that's for the best. )

[austarus]

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader Ballistic Confrontations (3/3)

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif belongs to me!

**If you understand what I’m referencing to in the end, well the Kudos to you. You win 85 Stardollars.

***Trigger Warning: Scars from mentioned self-harm

****Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count:  6397

Part 1   Part 2

Eobard said nothing. Instead, he disregarded your look as his gaze locked back onto Kara, as the Kryptonian woman threw him a hateful look. The futuristic genius did not care. His baby blue hues jumped back to where you stood before stepping away to the side tables. Now we proceed, the speedster mused to himself, picking up a scalpel and arranging his surgical tools. The stage needed to be set tonight. All the actors were in place, and he needed to complete his role. A delicate procedure, if you will. But he needed to be bought some time. Surely, Barry and the others would be back by now from Earth-X. He was, in essence, reluctant to cut up the Earth-38 Kryptonian for he held no malice towards her. She was just an unnecessary casualty in all this. And after all, if Barry Allen were to die it would be at his hands. Not on some tainted Earth at the firing range. You’re centuries late, Mr. Allen. As always.

You glared at your genius scientist for not cluing you in on whatever it is he had planned now. What was his plan? Play along until ‘Uh oh, it’s too late to turn back’ and ‘Oh, look. We’re doomed’? A grunt caught your attention, Kara was trying to break out of her restraints again. “Kara,” you whispered, now standing beside her. “Save your energy, please.” She eyed the restraints on you before taking a slow breath in. Kara wanted to throw her guts up, but she pushed back the bile caught in her throat.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Honey, you are looking anything other than fine.”

Kara pursed her lips, feeling fatigue wash over her once more. “Where… where are the others… that were here- at the labs? Are they…?” There it was, always concerned for others when she should be concerned about herself.

“No, no they’re fine. They’re in the pipeline. Iris and Felicity-” You stopped yourself, noticing Eobard’s head snap towards you. A pang of guilt echoed in your body. “They’re being held there too,” you lied, giving her hand two small squeezes for her to indicate the lie. If he held things back from you to entertain the Earth-Xer’s with legitimate reactions, then so would you. Supergirl nodded her head subtly in understanding. You were too focused with Kara; you didn’t notice Eobard move. “You’re going to be fine; the others should be back. They wouldn’t go out just like that.” Iris, Felicity, where’s that help? Just where are you guys? You couldn’t leave if you wanted to. Not with the others lurking around. Not when there was a chance you could tip them off about Iris and Felicity, then there was Eobard. Overgirl would instantly go after him for betrayal.

“I… I really hope not. Alex-” Kara trailed off; her eyes drooping shut as her shoulders sagged. Her hand went limp in your cuffed ones.

“Kara?” You looked up to see a tube in Eobard’s hand with a syringe in it. Empty as its contents have already worked its way into Kara’s system. “What are you doing?!”

“I’ve given her a mild anesthetic,” you pursed your lips as his statement. Eobard sighed, “Not to worry, that should have her out for 30 minutes. Strong enough for a Kryptonian, but not strong enough for too long even with the red sunlight on her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I needed to talk to you without anyone listening.” You followed how Eobard’s eyes glanced at the door. Outside stood two more Nazi guards.

“You could have just pulled me to the other room,” you whisper-yelled at him.

“No, I couldn’t have.” He crossed his arms at you, replying in his own gravely hushed tones. “I needed to keep up the image of the bad guy in front of Kara.”

“Why? Why, when she could understand that you’re not really with them? Why let her also think of you as one of those heinous monsters?”

“Because her opinion of me doesn’t matter. Not hers, not the Earth-Xers, not anyone else.” Eobard punctuated his words before taking your hands in his, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one. The intensity in his eyes never broke as he spoke once more, “Only your opinion of me matters. You matter.”

You pursed your lips, your eyes unable to leave his heated gaze. Oh, if only we weren’t in this mess. If only we had more time… Kara crossed your mind once more, the ominous thrumming noise that came from the machine that generated the red sunlight. A frown found its way onto your face. “Wait, you said 30 minutes? Shouldn’t she need time to recover from the anesthesia to be given another one?”

Eobard sighed, letting go of your hands. He crossed his arms. You weren’t going to like his answer. “No, not in this case.” Dread welled up in the pit of your stomach.

“What…”

“The General herself requested, more like ordered, me to have our Kara awake during the… transplant.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You responded slowly. Your eye slightly twitched as anger started to consume your thoughts. You wanted nothing more than to rip your friend’s doppelganger apart.

Eobard very well sensed your feelings, he always hated putting a frown on your face or seeing you upset to this extent. “Look, I don’t want to do it either,” the speedster retorted hastily as he unfurled his arms, his hands gently grabbed your shoulders, “but I can’t defy their word especially with you around.”

“Why? Am I suddenly a liability?”

“Never, but they’ll figure something is up with you here with me. Conspiring against them. You already saw how easily Oliver-X caved to his Kara regarding who you are to me.”

Technically, that’s my own damn fault, but a calculated risk to get to Eobard. I can live with the repercussions. “But that’s technically what we’re doing on the downlow, Eo.” You echoed one of the lessons he taught you years ago. “One weakness is better than none, it can be essential to creating the downfall of another.” He had mainly told you that regarding Eilling, who hadn’t ceased to stick his nose into Eobard’s lab experiments and projects. The general had eyed you as a means to get to him, but in reality you were a strength to Eobard. Not a weakness. And the speedster very well knows you can handle your own; after all, the both of you trained constantly. Pushing each other’s limits. Though where you hesitated to kill, he compensated on that, especially in the right moment. “We can have the Dark Archer on the ropes. If anything, he’s made it evident that his wife is a liability to his rational thinking.”

A proud grin ran along his handsome face. “Exactly, my little bird. But they will hurt you, even if you can hold out against them you can’t take them both on.” Even I cannot, not with where I’m at with my speed. Not with the slight dampener they have on my suit. The potential self-destruction if removed from the emblem by my own hands, is a heavy weight on my chest. If I can get rid of them, I can defuse the detonator.

“I’m not worried about me; I’m worried about you! I can’t- I can’t be the one to lose you again.” Eobard shifted his gaze away from you. “Look it’s not going to come to that.” He knew what you were suggesting. “Ok? Worst comes to worst I cause a distraction.”

“No, over my rotting corpse.” 

That sounds eerily familiar.

“We don’t have a choice, if it buys us time then I’ll be damned not to try!”

“That’s why we adapt to the situation and find alternate routes to keep off their radar. I know what I’m doing.”

“Precisely. Adapting. So let me do what I can if it comes down to it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” You bit back a retort at the way he raised his voice. “Just trust me.” He wasn’t asking you to.

“Kinda hard with your track record,” You deadpanned, and Eobard just rubbed his face.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Is that a question you seriously want me to answer?” A small cheeky smile made its way to your face. You couldn’t help but tease him right now, of all times.

Eobard huffed out a chuckle, pulling out some white surgical clothes from a drawer. Have those always been there? “Just follow my lead, ok? Whatever happens stay on their side, whatever happens to me stay with Barry and the others.” Eobard gloved his hands while the guards re-entered the medical room along with Oliver-X and Kara-X. Speak of the devil. You pursed your lips and held a stoic expression even as Kara-X sauntered to her respective gurney, smirking widely before a violent coughing fit erupts from her. You didn’t miss how Oliver-X moved towards her, yet you averted your eyes to the protruding machines the other soldiers were bringing in for the ‘necessary’ operation. Two guards held you by the arms where you stood. You swallowed thickly as everything was being sterilized and prepped.

***

Harry caught the ball once more after it ricocheted back to him. He’d been letting his frustration out on it towards the cell wall. Something didn’t feel right. He cursed himself, knowing he should have been carrying some weapon or breaching device to have gotten away from the Dark Archer. Or any intruder for the matter of this invasion. Yes, he pushed the emergency labs alarm, but he still got whacked and dragged to the pipeline. He could have done more damage to these damned Nazi’s, but he was helpless. I should have carried my gun or my pulse rifle, what was I thinking? His hand gripped tightly at the ball as regret never left his side. I should have seen this as a possible attack. It’s a simple strategy. Divide and conquer. Yet they were all too fooled, too hasty to attack to even logically see this move by the Earth-Xers.

“Wait, Thawne’s here?” Cisco’s outburst broke the Earth-2 genius out of his thoughts. Harry cracked his neck and directed his attention back to Cisco’s squabbling from the cell near him. The Wells doppelganger was getting pretty tired about hearing of Thawne. A feeling of dread picked at his insides, his thoughts going to you and what Barry had discussed vehemently earlier.

“Yeah,” Caitlin responded. “I haven’t seen or heard from her. We only briefly got a visit from Iris and Felicity not too long ago. But they didn’t know where she was either.”

“Do you think maybe she… you know?” Cisco made an implication. “I mean, does she know?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin trailed off. “But Iris had said that she left them in the Time Vault to buy them time. Whatever that could mean.”

“Well, on the one hand, they either got to her and are holding her hostage somewhere or, on the other, she rendezvoused with Thawne and now they're going all Mengele on Kara.”

Harry rubbed his face irritably at Cisco’s words, by now you would have known. There’s a high possibility. Whether it’s from seeing Thawne face-to-face or by overhearing someone. By now, Harry’s sure, you would have made a choice. Where did you go, though?

The lights flickered in the pipeline before shutting off as Caitlin finished. A dull blue tint lit up in each individual cell as the pipeline was divulged into a dim darkness. The emergency lights were the only things on. Every person was on high alert at this point.

“Ohohoho, my girl Felicity definitely pulled that one!” Cisco chirped, making a loud clap.

Dinah tried her canary call again, but to no avail. The cell would not budge. Harry narrowed his eyes; he knew she’d try again. But Cisco had crafted these cells with Thawne cautiously for metas. Practically indestructible unless you’re a Time Wraith.

“I wouldn’t try it again if I were you.” Harry finally spoke. Dinah paused, the silence daring to be her question. “These cells are reinforced to withstand any form of meta-attacks generated within. A backup generator still supplies the power dampeners with energy to preserve the cell.” Harry looked out his cell and towards the darkness. “All we can do is wait.”

***

You took a breath, smoke and blood and electricity filled the air. Your eyes didn’t miss the rush of electricity in the distance. Red and gold, the Speedforce of the only two speedsters here. Swallowing thickly, your attention was diverted to the Waverider being chased by another. Well damn, I think someone’s having a bit too much fun. Raising an eyebrow, you watched both airborne vehicles zig-zag through the air. You hooked up your earpiece and headed for the nearest skirmish to help out. A grin plastered itself on your face when you heard Cisco on the comms arguing with Harry. I guess they’re the ones taking the Waverider for a joy ride.

You pressed the button on your communication device, “Any chance I can hop on?” You sucker punched a Nazi. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” Cisco laughed, weaving through the air as if he’s directing a Strike Fighter.

He’s totally Luke Skywalkering his way through this.

“Girl, where you been?”

“Let’s just say,” you huffed, generating electricity in your palm and slamming it into the chest of another soldier. “I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me.” In actuality, Eobard had sped you away from the Labs once Ray made a dramatic entrance to save Kara. He’d sped you to where the battle would be, at least to where the Earth-X forces would arrive from. Telling you to run and appear at an opportune moment. Meaning, go hide while the battle thickens so your disappearance doesn't bring up too many questions from your friends. “Is Iris with you?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back with Felicity, we’re still trying to maneuver in the best position possible to take down their shields.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking back to her stunt with Felicity to sabotage the surgery. “So, how about that help?”

“Hmm,” Harry spoke up, pushing his glasses up. “Unless you have the capability of overloading and shutting down the entire Earth-X Waverider system without passing out, be our guest.”

“… I mean I could try.”

“No.”

You pouted, punching another soldier, this time in the nose. Someone’s particularly grumpy right now. “It’s honestly not that hard, I would just be out for a couple of days and probably on life support.” The line was quiet meaning that Harry chose to ignore your comment. Rude.

You took in a breath and reduced your being to an electrical form, traveling up some buildings to gauge the situation. Kara and Kara-X were facing off at the moment. Eobard was naturally keeping Barry busy while Oliver and Oliver-X were in an intense hand-to-hand-to-bow combat. Yeah, their fight wasn’t as impressive as the other two. You took in a breath heading back down to the fight, this time getting closer to Mick and Leo Snart, who you found to be the Earth-X resistance fighter and doppelganger to your dead ex-boyfriend.

What goes around comes around.

***

“Where were you?”

Turning back from where you sat, you sent a questioning look to Barry and pointed to yourself when no one had responded. He had specifically prompted you with the question. The look in his hazel-green eyes were distant as he leaned against the front of the Cortex desks. You recognized that look from a few years ago. The silence in the Cortex was sliced amongst the team. DeVoe was still out there, scheming. Some stopped what they were doing to gauge what would happen, others (mainly Harry) kept working away but inclined an ear in case either of you were to do something rash.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, (Y/N). You’re not that dumb.”

“Excuse me.” You narrowed your eyes at the scarlet speedster.

“Barry,” Iris whispered to him, but he shook her off as he folded his arms.

“Where were you after you left Iris and Felicity?”

Ah, of course he wouldn’t miss that. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

“I went to go buy them some time.”

“Buy them some time or buy yourself some time? To see Eobard.”

Your heart hammered tightly in your chest, but you made no move to indicate what you had done. In a sense, you did both. You protected Iris and Felicity while keeping Eobard company.

“Why would I want to see someone who’s allied themselves to a Nazi regime on a different Earth, Barr?”

“Why wouldn’t you do anything to see the one you once loved?”

“Are you talking about me,” you tilted your head to the side, taunting him now, “or yourself?” You referenced the events that happened last year. Barry was more than aware of what you were indicating. Flashpoint. Savitar. Iris’ predicted death, HR’s sacrifice, his time remnant’s downfall. But you’ve been wanting to add kerosene to the flames. “Are you referring to your mom,” you turned your head to Iris, “or to Iris?” If looks could kill, you would have been reduced to ashes under Barry’s gaze. Cisco put down his tools and Caitlin glanced at her friends from where she sat beside Iris. Harry capped his marker but turned his eyes towards you. “Like I said, I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me. How is that any different from the others getting stuck in the pipeline?”

“You left Iris to defend herself.”

“Oh my god! Barry!” You rolled your eyes at his statement, deflecting your own questions. “Iris this, Iris that. Iris is a big girl with nearly perfect marksmanship as Harry. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I know that. She knows that. The same goes for Felicity as well. But do you know that?” Divide them, fester the idea of unreliability between those two. After all, it’s because of Barry’s decisions for Iris that everyone gets screwed over. It’s one of the reasons for the resentment and bitterness that grows within you. Only they can be happy, no one else can.

“You left Iris and Felicity while this place was crawling with Earth-Xers just to see Thawne!”

“Fucking prove it, you dickbag,” you screamed back at him, “if you’re so certain. Prove it, because contrary to your belief, I was fighting beside you and everyone else that day in the city once I managed to escape. Ask Cisco and Harry. Ask Sara. Hell, even ask Mick and Leo.”

Barry shook his head with a cruel smile, “Do you wanna know how I know?” The speedster took out his phone and started it up, showing the screen of your location. “Careful what you wish for.” Dread gripped your heart as Barry chuckled to himself. “That’s right. I chipped you, that night I pushed you against the doorframe before leaving for the warehouse fight. I chipped you. I already had Thawne chipped earlier that night. On his suit, when I landed a few hits on him. He doesn’t know or… not until recently.” Barry did a search for any pings, but there were none except for yours. “You asked me for proof, here it is.” He slid his fingers on the screen showing a timestamp and your location pinged with Eobard’s at the labs.

“This means nothing.”

“It means everything!” Barry stepped closer to you, anger in his wake. “You left us for him.”

“Yet I still fought with you guys because it was the right thing to do regardless of how I feel for him. You don’t understand nor will you want to understand. You’d rather label us as 100% on the wrong side without acknowledging that we can dwell in a gray area. The world isn’t just black and white, Barry. Or have you forgotten about your own morally gray decisions?”

Sparks crackled in the air, whether it was from you or Barry, no one could tell. Harry took a subtle step towards you from where he stood at the glass board a few feet beside you. He was the only one that can calm you down from this, maybe Iris too, but most definitely he himself. But Harry wasn’t quick enough because the Cortex monitors went haywire while the room darkened. You and Barry were nowhere in the room.

“Barry!” Iris screamed a second after he had sped you away.

***

Eobard raked a hand through his dark locks, analyzing the future article again. He fiddled with his rightful Reverse Flash emblem in his hands, his fingers tracing over the single lightning bolt. It took the genius a full day to extract the SS emblem from his suit, but with your help he was able to detonate it a safe distance away in some open fields. While the people of Central City slept and you had assured Eobard that the Labs were vacant, the speedster had rushed into his old office and compiled all the documents he needed to keep out of Barry’s hands. He’s honestly surprised Team Flash hadn’t rifled thus far into the records he kept. The only things missing were speed theories and the equation escalation to the Speed Formula. Although, he had solved that issue for Barry two years ago when he had traveled back in time for an answer on getting faster.

Still such a naïve child, not at all like the Flash from my future. Arranging some papers together on his new office desk, without meaning to Eobard had knocked over a picture frame. The breaking of glass caught his attention, craning his neck to see the fallen frame. The frame held a picture of you and him from before the Particle Accelerator exploded around Christmas. Before you had known his secret. But now the frame was adorned with a fierce crack through you. Eobard’s mouth went dry, knowing that superstitions were just superstitions, but he couldn’t exactly place the rush of fear welling in his body.

“Gideon, pull up (Y/N)’s location.” Eobard pulled his glasses off smoothly as the AI did as told. She was at the labs. “Access the live feed cameras.” Gideon pulled up holo-images 8x8 of what seemed to be a further escalating scene between you and Barry through STAR Labs. Gritting his teeth, Eobard summoned his suit and launched himself forward into it. The Negative Speedforce fueled by his anger and hate pumped dangerously in his veins.

Barry Allen will regret the day he dared to lay a hand on you.

***

“You’re a traitor!”

“Speak for yourself.” You grunted against the wall, your electric blade dissipating in your hand. It was getting harder to breathe, to keep up with his movements. With speedsters, you preferred long-range combat, but you had to make due at times. “You’re the one who betrayed everyone first for your own selfish desires. Flashpoint, the cause of so much pain and misery. In the end, there was so much collateral damage, and you were the cause of so many lives lost.”

“Flashpoint should have wiped you away. You should have been thankful. We helped you,” Barry fumed, pressing his forearm harder against your throat. “We stood by you.”

“They stood by me.” You tried channeling your electricity, even to siphon off a lick of his in order to produce a dagger, but to no avail. Only sparks flickered from the tips of your fingers, “You couldn’t stand the sight of me when you brought me in.” You had no grievances towards anyone else other than Barry. Not Iris, not Caitlin, not Joe, not Cisco. Certainly not Ralph simply because he’s new. And not towards Harry and Jesse. Iris and Caitlin were the two people who kept you the most grounded to the world for they understood the loss of a loved one and the process of moving on.

“You’re damn right I couldn’t. I was wrong to have let you stay around after Iris and Caitlin rehabilitated you.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, now, was it?”

“You’re a monster just like Thawne. You’re not a hero.”

You simply spit blood in Barry’s face. “I’m neither thief nor hero.” You were kind of enjoying pushing his buttons, releasing all those pent-up emotions and frustration over the years. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve, the speedster sped you out of the room, throwing punches and kicks at you. He had run you through the entirety of STAR Labs. You siphoned off passing energy from computers and lightbulbs to throw at him Palpatine-style when there was distance between you two, but there was only so much you could do in your current condition. You were getting tired; you couldn’t keep up. Every burst of electricity that burned him had drained you. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You healed fast, but he healed much faster.

“Barry, stop! You’re going to kill her.” Iris shouted with a gun in her hand, the others piling into the room. Cisco threw a wave blast at Barry and Frost aimed a couple of icicles his way, but the speedster had dodged them. The scarlet speedster tossed you to the ground like a bag of peanuts before turning to the others. You skidded to the side, breathing in deeply then coughed up some blood into your fist. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You could feel your cheek swell as well as an ache form in your chest, maybe a few cracked ribs. Could potentially puncture your lungs if this didn’t end soon.

“And why shouldn’t I? For all we know, she could be spying on us for Thawne.”

“Barry killing her won’t solve anything,” Harry shot at him with his pulse rifle to create some distance between you two before training it on you. “It’ll just make things worse.” You met his eyes, and you could see the disappointment in them. A tinge of guilt hit you, but you pushed past it as you stood on unsteady feet. Your body felt like it was made of lead, but you continued on. If this is how things are to be, then so be it.. You leaned against the wall, cradling your damaged ribcage, as Harry continued. “Regardless of her actions, she did keep Iris and Felicity safe in her own way, she still stood by us.” You were finding it extremely hard to breathe, to stay conscious. Your breathing slowed, the noise in the room between Team Flash was reduced to murmuring to your ears. Did I burst an eardrum too?

“Are you kidding me, Wells? How can you say that when-”

You blinked before collapsing onto the ground, a streak of red had filled your vision. Eobard pinned Barry to the wall, his hand squeezing at his throat while red hot anger filled his vision. “Good to see you again so soon, Flash,” the yellow speedster drawled with a rough grin in his distorted voice. “It seems like you overstepped your boundaries.” Eobard kicked Barry in the ribs and landed a few speed punches, the scarlet speedster already exhausted from his fight with you. “Isn’t this position nostalgic?” Barry was clawing at Eobard’s firm grip, suspending the young hero in the air against the wall as he had done years ago.

“I- had a feeling... you’d show up, Thawne,”

Licking your bloodied lips, you groaned as you leaned up with hoarseness in your voice, “Eo, don’t.” The man in yellow stopped, slowly turning his quaking gaze towards you. You held his gaze for as long as you could get the message through to him. “Enough.” Eobard retracted a fist that was to make contact on Barry’s face, but not before squeezing the scarlet speedsters throat tightly and throwing him towards the upper part of the speed lab. Eobard took off his cowl and generated his speed to be by your side, eyeing every cut and bruise on your broken skin. Your eyes drooped shut when he brushed the back of his gloved hand against your unwounded cheek. His eyes softened, but his insides clenched. Iris and Caitlin had run to where Barry laid while Harry and Cisco monitored Eobard with caution as he gently scooped you in his strong arms.

Standing up with your limp form, the speedster disregarded Cisco, yet glared coldly at his supposed doppelganger. The future genius then turned to them and spoke, “My love for her is what stopped me this time. Next time,” his eyes landed on Barry, “you won’t be so lucky. Lay a hand on her again and I won’t hesitate to end your miserable life, Flash.” His eyes flashed red as they met Barry’s for the last time before taking his leave in a wake of red electricity.

***

Eobard stopped his vibrational intimidation once he made it to your temporary home, Gideon had already prepared the necessary diagnostic tests that would need to be conducted to assess your health. Laying you on the gurney gently, he kissed your forehead before proceeding. The speedster had cleaned you up, replacing your burnt clothes and scrubbing the dried remnants of blood on your skin. His heart shattered. His blood turned to ice. Eobard’s baby blues scanned every part of your marred skin. Lines that tallied up right after another, scars that were too stubborn to heal correctly as if trying to serve as a reminder. Eobard’s mouth had dried as his thumb made featherlight touches before injecting the needle into the correct vein. The speedster opened his mouth and closed it, but he could not register any other emotion other than anger and guilt. His thoughts funneled fluidly, emphasizing that one certain cause that led to this escalation. His death had been the cost of your mental and physical state.

Never again. The speedster peppered kisses along your arms as all the implied images ran through his mind. A tear slipped out. It fell from his face onto the scarred tissue. My love. He needed to get back to work. With classical music dancing in the background, Eobard conducted a blood transfusion in order to replace the blood you had lost as well as administering IV fluids. He had to steal the materials from a hospital nearby in Keystone. They won’t be missing it. 

“According to my current readings, copious amounts of stress have been exuded onto her heart allowing her to retain a constant distressed state.” Gideon rattled on as Eobard sat next to you with a sleeve rolled up. He glanced over at you as the AI continued. “The X-ray scans have also been completed. She’s suffering trauma in her ribcage, a few cracked ribs, however none are broken. CT results also conclude a mild concussion.”

She’s lucky her lungs hadn’t been punctured. His hate for Barry Allen grew with every second that you laid unconscious.

“How long until a full recovery?”

“Physically it could take up to 3-6 weeks regarding her ribs. The mild concussion will take approximately almost a week and a half. Her heart might take longer. Therefore, she must avoid extraneous activity.” 

“Such as using her powers and so on.”

“Yes. Shall I assist you with anything else today, Professor Thawne?”

Eobard ran his fingers over his lips before taking his glasses off and throwing them onto the side of a nearby table. “Keep tabs on Barry Allen’s movements, I want to be alerted if he comes near Keystone or has any intention of it.” The AI nodded before shuttering away into the plinth. Yes, the speedster had been smart to chip him, something Eobard had easily gotten rid of. But to chip you as well, Thawne cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Too preoccupied with the timeline and it’s malleability. “Hopefully DeVoe will keep him away long enough.”

***

Your eyelids felt like they had been cemented shut, the stinging smell of antiseptic slapped you right in the face. Am I dead or in a hospital? A groan left your lips, your throat dry as a desert and craving any drips of water. I hope I’m not in a hospital, I hate those places. The nice thing was that a light wasn’t blinding you, at the very least not piercing through the darkness supplied by your shut eyelids. It was oddly soothing. Your mind finally processed the dull ache residing in your bones, the softness beneath you and the slight chill in the air. Maybe I am dead. Taking one slow breath in, your blood vessels throbbed louder with each fluid pumped through and the humming of machines finally registered to your ears. You didn’t want to open your eyes; you were content with just laying here.

“…” You frowned, the sound of mumbling coming to you. Who was that? “Gi… ru-… I-.” Death, perhaps? You twitched your fingers, a numb sensation set in both your arms. If I’m dead, how can I still feel? It took a moment for your brain to catch you up on how you’d been reduced to such a state. Barry… killed me? No, that’s- Eo was… You shakily formed a fist only to feel something cool against your skin. Felt like another hand. Not bony. Maybe Death gave the appearance of a human for us to pass.

“Mm,” you tried clearing your throat, but it hurt each time, inducing a coughing fit. Blinking wearily, you looked around, your vision blurry until it settled on the being the hand had belonged to. “Mm, I…”

“Shh,” the deep voice cooed. You could hear much more clearly now but couldn’t make out the image of the being. “I have some water for you,” you felt a straw tap your lips. “Drink up.”

Why is Death being so kind to me? I thought Death was swift. You drank a sip at a time before pulling back and shutting your eyes once more. The somatosensory neurons on your arms brushed against some coarse material. A blanket? That same cool touch caressed your cheek. You blinked your eyes open a few times, dizziness ensnaring your mind, but your eyes met icy blue ones. “Eo?”

“I’m here,” he whispered in a gentle tone, standing up from where he sat next to you.

“I’m not dead.”

“No, you’re very much alive”

“Barry, he…”

“I’ve dealt with him. He won’t ever hurt you again.” You watched as he kissed your bandaged hands, each finger receiving a kiss. Cracking your neck, your realized he had changed you into fresh clothes. The scent of faint lavender hung onto the fabric.

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks.”

It hurt your head when your eyes bugged out. You patted your temples lightly. “Two weeks? What- I-I need to get back. They were going to confront DeVoe. Harry and-”

“No,” Eobard pressed his palm against your shoulder when you tried to sit up abruptly, “You need to rest. Screw Team Flash. For once, just let them be so you can recover.” The speedster did not ask for what had happened to you, knowing the implications in his mind were too strong to be false. Rather, he’d make sure it would not occur a second time

“It’s not that simple, Eo.”

“It really is,” the yellow speedster sighed to himself, rubbing his face. You gestured to the water, and he handed the cup to you. “You’re in no condition to go back there, not after what happened. Your powers and your fight did a number on you. I-…. Your heart stopped a couple of times.” You almost choked on your sip. “I had to jumpstart your heart and keep it going.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For worrying you.” For being a liability that Barry can use.

“Don’t. This,” he gestured with his hands between you and him, “is not something to apologize for. Ever. If anything, it was smart of him to use you for bait as I had used Iris and Eddie.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as your mind started to wander.

“So, we wait?”

Eobard nodded as you ran a hand through you knotted hair. Need to brush that out asap. “We wait until it’s time to strike.”

“Until it’s time for you to strike. I’m remaining neutral in whatever it is between you and Barry in the future. Even if he might not see it that way.” Tipping the scales, balancing good and evil natures in the forces of the world. That’s what He told me my role in the multiverse is along with...

“I know, my love.” I don’t know how to break this to her. “But until then, rest.” If I ask her to come with me, would what I orchestrate then work?

“Eobard.”

“Hm?” Eobard knew he needed to go back to sort a few things out. Chances of getting caught were roughly 30-70, but not zero.

You shifted over to make room for him, patted the spot next to you. “Stay.”

Or would she become collateral damage?

“Always.” The speedster leaned down to kiss your lips before moving in beside you. You laid your head on his chest, minding the slight tremors of pain. Eobard kissed the top of your head and you shut your eyes. You’d go to the ends of the multiverse for him, but you’d also protect your friends. Being at odds with Barry wouldn’t stop you. He just needed to learn to live with your choices as everyone else has had to live with his.

Eobard’s mind ran through every scenario, deciding it’s best to tell you what he intends to do. He’d rather you decide for yourself what to do. The negative speedster respected the position you held onto. Neutrality wasn’t always an easy feat, but he admired your devotion towards him and the ones you love. Eobard was just selfish enough to only want and care for you. He didn’t need anyone else. He certainly didn’t need camaraderie. Tomorrow, he’d tell you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to take the first step towards ensuring the future.

Betrayal is a fickle thing, Barry Allen. A lesson you will learn again.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 9)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Nine: The Night at Sea

The second you attempt to reach behind to untie your corset, your arm spasms. The collision with the hull of the ship has left you shaken and battered and in no position to twist your body to undo the double knotted ties Seil, your handmaiden, would have tied. And your heart aches when you think of her.

You know that you shouldn’t sleep in the dirty clothes and the corset, but with the secure double knots there is no way to undo the ties yourself. And so you pull yourself into the hammock, landing face first, when your back muscles give out, into the netting tied to the wall. With a groan, you don’t even bother trying to move, and you pass out on the ship - having been through the ringer for what feels like a million times in one day.

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“Where is she?” Hunter grumbles when Tech returns to the group, looking up at the stars Hunter was using to calculate their ETA.

“Probably asleep in Echo’s hammock I'd guess.” Tech says plainly, and he watches as his sergeant’s face hardens.

“You need to learn how to follow orders.” He snaps, before going back to the map.

“Sarge,” Tech starts, “you’re displaying worrying symptoms.” He decides on. And under the hat he sees his eye twitch.

The barrage never ended, and the cannons never ceased. How much ammunition either side had left was impossible to guess. This creeping barrage was working. But only just. All they had to do was keep the separatists busy, the regs should be able to manage that at least. And rescue missions were the best kind of mission out there these days…

In the medical bay, Hunter shakes, the wookie child is long gone, and his vod have returned to keep their sergeant company while he heals. They’re angry, and resent him for the return-to-ship order from before. But the carnage that was left of Kashyyyk proved how right he was in securing the safety of Clone Force 99.

“Hunter, your hand.” Tech says looking at the cuts and mangled tissue.

“Kriffing door wouldn’t open.” He explains through drugged eyes. Thinking that the war is over. It has to be over. If not now, it has to be over soon. They can’t continue like this, there can’t be more missions like this. The war has got to be over soon.

Outside, the artillery starts firing again.

Hunter looks at Tech, watching the goggles reflect moonlight, and realises something that, in the chaos of the day, went unnoticed.

“Did Wrecker even lock the cell door?” He interrogates the shorter man in front of him.

“I don’t know.” Tech answers honestly with a shrug. “But even if he didn’t. You know he made the right call.” Hunter grunts in response.

“She’s a Aaray. A danger to us all” He says.

“We’ve been in worse predicaments.” Tech states. Watching as Hunter walks away from yet another conversation of theirs, and he wonders to himself, how long it will take for his captain to start screaming because of nightmares on this clear, calm, night at sea.

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Everything on your left side hurts. The hit from the ship has battered your skin, muscles, and bones. Sleep evades you because the only thing you can focus on is the pain. And when even laying down becomes too much, Gonk moves herself out of where she was curled on your back as you clumsy step out of the hammock, and begin to tread outside.

The three boys are asleep, and part of you chides yourself for being vulnerable in front of them. They could have thrown you in the birg - or worse. But a bigger part of yourself says that you can trust them. Probably more so than you’ve trusted anyone in your life. It’s a naive thought - and perhaps it’s built off of never having someone you can trust before, but a part deep inside of you jumps onto and clings to the idea of putting your faith in these men.

Maybe Crosshair was rough around the edges, and from what you can see, his glare stays with him while he sleeps. It makes you smile a little. And Wreckers exposed scars, they scare you, but the eye patch was so typical of the pirate stories you heard as a child, it’s like living in a fairy tale.

Someone clears their voice behind you.

It’s the Captain, or rather Hunter. Now only in his pants, and tunic, that's been bunched around his forearms in his sleep.

“Plotting something else perhaps?” He asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

“N-no,” you say, annoyed at how easily he makes you nervous. “I couldn’t sleep, I wanted fresh air, and they…” You pause, looking back at the crew. “They’re more manageable when they’re asleep.” The captain lets out a puff of air that's not in annoyance, and you take that as a small victory. And he watches when you crane your neck to look at the stars. He knows it’s because you feel awkward, but in another life, he would’ve found your curious eyes endearing.

“Am I missing something?” Crosshair asks, having woken on his own, and deciding to investigate the scuffle outside.

“Didn’t want the Aaray skulking around the ship.” Hunter answers, “nightmares?” he asks his brother, watching him shake his head no, and with that, one tension is lifted from the sergeants shoulders.

“Are you in pain?” Your voice comes out softly, and they both stare at you unabashedly. “I only mean, i just,” You go to explain. “From earlier the side of the…”

“Hull.” Hunter corrects on instinct, before chiding himself for doing so.

“The Hull, when you caught me…” You motion randomly with your hands as if that helps communicate to Crosshair what you mean, and he stares at you looking tired and vaguely annoyed.

“You’re in pain.” He tells you. And you’re a tad taken back because it hadn't shown on his face that he knew what you meant, let alone made the connection as to why you were awake and hence asked if he too, was hurting.

“I’m okay, I just wanted to…” you try to brush it off

“There’s no point in lying.” Crosshair interrupts, watching at Hunter’s features soften when he also takes in your appearance, leaning against the door, tense and radiating anxiety. He wonders if you’ve ever felt pain like this in your life. Living on a velvet cushion of upper class coruscant would call for little more than flimsiplast cuts. He watches you shrug off Crosshair's comment, intent on being the smallest problem you can possibly be. The man that Hunter was before would be reaching out for you, your messy hair, soft features, and innocence that he knows lesser men are itching to take advantage of.

“You should take that off.” Crosshair nods towards your dress and you gape at him.

“Crosshair!” Hunter barks on instinct, and not standing for the disrespect. He sees your face flush and your arms go around your waist protectively.

“Have I missed something?” A forth voice joins them outside of the bunks and Hunter inwardly groans. Now Tech is awake, what he hoped would’ve been a private nightly stroll has turned into some kind of situation report.

“Shockingly the Aaray is being uptight.” Crosshair moves to the opposite side of the doorway you’re leaning on.

“I don’t think it is fundamentally uptight to want to preserve my own modesty.” You say incredulously, and Hunter notes that you resort to your training as a lady when you become nervous. Just like his men resort to being soldiers when faced with problems.

“Crosshair!” Tech exclaims, glaring at his brother - he really needed lessons in things that are appropriate to say, and things that are not.

“I’m only asking you to take the corset off.” Crosshair says smirking, enjoying how flustered everyone is. And Hunter sees something flash in your eyes.

“Do you think you’re funny?” You snap, and the sniper stops smiling. “Is this a game to you? Clearly you have no concept of the ramifications on a woman should she ever do something like that. Or you have no concept of how dresses and corsets work - which wouldn't surprise me given your temperament.”

Hunter catches a small grin on his face, you’re alive tonight and he hates to admit that he likes it. The inference that Crosshair is too unintelligent to understand womens garments or that no women has let him close enough to understand them is both funny and potentially accurate.

“He does have a point.” Tech chimes in.

“Tech!” Hunter shouts, expecting better from him.

“I mean it might be adding pressure to areas already in pain.” He says quickly, his face as red as a zarrabak. And no one is surprised that he’s caught himself up in the conversation.

Behind all of you - Wrecker snores.

“I-I… can’t.” Your voice is small, and you’re looking at the floor, embarrassment pings in everyone's hearts when they realise that this is an important issue to you, and they’re talking about it like you’re not even present.

“We can give you private space if that's what you require.” Tech speaks up. And when you pause you can hear the waves crash in the night.

“Thank you.” You stammer out. This whole ordeal has become very embarrassing and as much as you want to deny the pain and tell the clones it’s nothing, you know both Crosshair and Tech will see right through whatever lie you construct.

“It’s, it’s just that…” You pause again. Maker if you tell them you can’t do it yourself you’re going to look as pathetic as you feel. “I would need assistance with the ties…” You mumble the last part to your bare feet that poke out under your dress. When you have the courage to look up again, all eyes are looking at Tech. The latter of the three simultaneously having decided he was most equipped for the job.

“Have at it, loverboy.” Crosshair jeers at his brother, and now both you and Tech are blushing madly.

“I’m surprised you're not jumping to the occasion.” Tech cracks back at him. And if you weren’t so self conscious in this moment you’d roll your eyes at how much they argue. Hunter remains deathly quiet.

“Unless she wants it cut off as i’m usually-” “Alright! Alright!” Tech cuts him off, and moves towards you while Crosshair snickers.

“Turn ‘round.” Hunter barks, and while you might think he’s telling you, he’s actually giving an order to Crosshair, as the trooper made no move to divert his eyes. And as Tech undoes just enough buttons to start loosening the corset he sees how taught the ties have become and yanks it towards him for leverage.

“Tech!” You squeal and gasp, trying to get away from him and he accidentally constricts you more. Sending pain shooting all over you as your injured body is put under more stress.

Hunter turns around at the sound of pain and sees both of you shaking, he knows you must be beyond embarrassed and Tech even more so. Your moss coloured dress is unbuttoned and the back pushed aside to reveal the cream corset. Hunter sighs, and pushes his brother aside.

You hear an ‘ow’ from Tech as well as what you suspect is Crosshair's hand connecting with the back of his shorter brother's head. As they walk away you shiver as you realize the captain is standing behind you.

“You’re fine.” He says plainly. Nimble fingers working at the knots quickly, you shake in the absurdity of it all, and the feeling of Hunter exhaling into your hair and neck as he works.

“This is so unbecoming.” You mumble to yourself in shame, jerking when you feel the tips of his hair brush against your skin.

“I recall you saying ‘fuck’ earlier.” Hunter scoffs at you, “I think you’re past unbecoming.” silently praising himself when one knot becomes free, whoever tied them must have known what they were doing because it feels more complicated than half the sail ties on the Muraduer. Then again, your activities of the day probably didn't help the situation.

“Captain, you’re basically undressing me.” You tell him, looking over your shoulder just in time to watch him still at your words. The part of his face you can see in this position is covered by the tattoo, but what the moon and stars manage to light up is stunning nevertheless.

“If you’re worried about modesty, I can’t see any more of your skin than I could before.” He reassures you, and you’re beginning to wonder what kind of man he really is. Hunter is so tender at this moment, so gentle. And yet you know what lies underneath.

Technically what he just told you is a lie, he can see the expanse of your back, and parts of your shoulders. But the way your brows creased in concern as you look back at him makes lying worth it as you relax a little bit. Trying to be annoyed at you for causing him grief, he goes back to the knots.

You gasp and clutch your chest as you feel him loosening the string as the last knot comes free. And you see the shock in Hunter's face when you whip around so he barely catches a glimpse of the slip that sits underneath the corset.

Maker, he thinks to himself, you’re so disheveled and scared by a simple act. He grits his teeth at the thought of how Nython would treat you, someone like you needed soft and gentle touches, words of affirmation. Hunter’s grinding his teeth together as he realizes the pride Nython would have in hurting someone as defenceless as yourself.

But then he thinks about how you held your own against his own crew today. And the captain of the Havoc Marauder thinks you’re not as defenceless as you look.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor

[heliads]

Some Small Comfort

Based on this request: “reader is having a really bad day for no reason and Draco comforts her and one of the ways he does is kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms around her so she can bury herself into his chest”

masterlist

The wind is wild around you. It’s a cold, blustery day, and anyone in their right minds would have stayed firmly indoors, bodies turned instinctively towards a roaring fire in their common rooms. However, you are decidedly mad, and instead perch here in the creaking wooden stands, green and silver scarf wrapped around your neck as if the few feet of woven yarn will do anything to keep you warm.

It’s not like you’re alone, though. Hundreds of students are packed in around you, banners of emerald and sapphire being waved frantically through the air at opposite sides of the stands. It’s time for a Quidditch match, the semifinals of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. Your own beloved Slytherin is playing against Ravenclaw, who despite being stronger than the past couple of years is being steadily crushed by the swooping and soaring forms of seven green-cloaked players. Your cheers are ripped from your throat by the wind, joining the collective cacophony of the school as you all watch in awe.

“They’re going to win. No doubt about it.” You glance over your shoulder to see Pansy Parkinson. You and Pansy have not always been close friends, and the most you have in common with her is the house you share. She’s overly critical of the fact that you’ve been known to hang around with Potter, Weasley, and Granger. You’re a touch too haughty when you compare yourself with her. If you’re supposed to spend time with people who make you a better person, you’re not entirely sure you’ll find that same company with Pansy. That being said, there is a certain rush in being able to say what you want about whoever you want and share gloating laughs with another girl clad in viridian. It’s always a little more fun to pretend to be the villain, isn’t it?

You flash Pansy a grin. “As if there was a chance they wouldn’t. Slytherin is Ravenclaw but with muscle. It’s easy to see that those blue prats wouldn’t last ten minutes.” Pansy smirks at that. “Besides, it’s easy to cheer them on when you’ve got your star seeker boyfriend, don’t you? I hate to say it, but the two of you are cute together.” You feel your cheeks heat up as she says it, even as you know Pansy only speaks to get a rise out of you. “I’m glad you approve of our relationship. I would be utterly devastated if you didn’t.”

Pansy turns her attention back to the game. “Speaking of which, Malfoy would be utterly devastated if you don’t start paying attention. I think he’s about to win.” You tear your gaze away from your friend to stare excitedly back at the pitch. Sure enough, Draco has spun his broom into a deep dive, plunging farther and farther through the air until at last he snatches at something and rights himself, arm held triumphantly up. Even from this distance, you can see the victorious look on his face and the small golden sphere trapped in his hand, white wings beating uselessly against his palm.

Your shout of triumph is drowned out by Lee Jordan’s voice, which echoes across the Quidditch pitch. “And that’s it- Malfoy has caught the snitch- Slytherin has won. I hate to say it, but it was a good performance from Slytherin all around. We all know we’ll thrash you at the championships, though, you can count on that-” Lee’s hurried speech is cut off by the sound of Professor McGonagall chastising him for a certain lack of impartial commentating. You and the rest of the Slytherins rise up in boos against Lee, although you can’t stay angry for long. Draco has won, what more could you care about?

You rush down through the stands to the grounds below, feeling your heels fly across the packed earth. Draco’s already waiting for you outside of the locker rooms. His face, which you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep neutral and unimpressed, breaks into a smile when he sees you. You run over to him and he picks you up, wrapping his arms around your waist. You beam up at him. “You were amazing, Draco. Honestly. That last catch was fantastic.” Draco shrugs as if it’s nothing, but you can tell that he’s secretly thrilled himself.

“It was fairly easy against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor’s next, though, in a couple of weeks. They’ll be the actual competition.” You scoff. “Gryffindor is nothing. You’ll handle them just fine, I promise.” Draco leans forward to kiss you. Even despite the bite of the wind, you can still feel a sudden burst of heat radiating through you. “Well, as long as I’ve got you I know I’ll be fine. I looked for you in the stands, you know.” You smile up at him. “I was there. Always am.”

The whole castle is in a buzz over the game. The Ravenclaw team has been training nonstop in preparation, but Slytherin still beat them easily. At this rate, the Hogwarts final will be a walk in the park. Draco still heads out to the pitch all the time, broom in hand and ready to practice, but you can tell by the ease in his shoulders that he’s ready to win. 

Your footsteps echo through the stone corridors, joining the storm of chatter that bounds off of the arched hallways. You doubt Hogwarts has ever been quiet in its long history- too many students, too many spells, never enough time for silence to draw a breath. As you round a corner, though, you’re struck by a sudden lull in the hubbub that surrounds you. It’s brief, but just enough that you recognize a few voices. Hermione, Ron, and a few others.

You pause. You were intending to go back to your common room and finish up a few essays, but you’ve got no actual plans to fill your time. Why not go chat with your friends? You switch directions, crossing over the hallway to turn around a bend and rejoin the Gryffindors. You’re hidden from them by the stone corner of the wall, and you’re almost about to catch up to them when you hear more of their conversation. With a sinking feeling, you realize you know exactly what they’re talking about.

Ron is speaking now. “-and that’s what I was talking about. Quidditch tryouts are going to be opening up next year, and a lot of the oldest members of the team will be leaving. I’d go out and practice, but the field’s swamped with everyone trying to do the same thing I am and learn broom skills before the summer.” Hermione clicks her tongue understandingly. “I have the same issue around exam season. All I want to do is go to the library in peace, and then it’s swarmed with all the kids doing their best not to fail.”

She hesitates a second. “Actually, remind me if you’ve got any brooms to spare. Y/N and I were talking about going over some Quidditch skills. Everyone around us plays the sport, and all flying lessons stopped after the first year. We were thinking it would do some good to have a refresher on the finer points of broomstick flying.” Ron laughs, muttering something about the finer points of broomstick flying, really, Hermione, you’re making it sound so dull under his breath. However, a new voice rings out beside them, and you realize that you recognize it. It’s Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He must still be anxious over the recent Slytherin victory and the upcoming crushing defeat awaiting the Gryffindors, because his voice is cold.

“The Slytherin? Why the hell would you want that?” It’s not just the fact that he didn’t say your name, or the way you can practically see him turning to Hermione in shock. It’s the disgust in his voice, the sheer revulsion in his voice at the thought of ever speaking to you. He says Slytherin in the same way you might say vermin or dementor, and it cuts you to the core. You’re remembering key facets of Oliver Wood now, the way he clings to the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry with as much fervor as he does to his broom. He would never see you as anything more than a snake, and to be honest, the same is likely true with Ron and Hermione. They’re not defending you right now, are they? No, they’re just continuing on with the conversation.

You feel sick to your stomach. You had considered them friends, people you could talk with and not regret a thing. Did they see you as anything more than the one average Slytherin, someone they would tolerate to your face and loathe behind your back? You turn away from them, shouldering your bag and walking hurriedly back down the hall so they can’t see you. You head straight down towards the Slytherin common rooms, but with every step you can feel your spirits sinking. One of the worst hurts is when a friend insults you, but this is worse. They don’t even think of you as a friend, and they would have no problems with tossing you aside.

Finally, you reach the seemingly innocuous stretch of stone wall that marks the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You stand before it, muttering the password under your breath. “Hemlock.” The wall slides away, revealing the long-awaited common room. Usually, your eye would be drawn to the intricately carved stone ceiling and columns, the tall bookcases of dark wood that house every manuscript you can think of, but not today. Even the roaring fire in its wrought iron gate seems cold, the emerald-cushioned chairs unappealing. You feel like you have a lump in your throat that seems to choke you if you even think of straying by the other students, and so you hurry on your way to your dorm. You’re not sure you want to be alone right now, but it’s better than having to force yourself to speak to anyone else.

However, it doesn’t look like you’ll get the opportunity to finally escape. A voice calls out to you as you cross the common room, and you groan inwardly as you realize it’s Draco. His tone is light, unburdened, but it hesitates with worry as he takes in your twisted face. He walks over to you, taking your hand in his. “Are you alright?” You try to tell him that you’re fine, cook up some lie that you’re just tired, but your tongue doesn’t seem to want to move. His eyes glance over the students clustered around the fire and chairs, unwanted ears that could hear your conversation, and an understanding seems to dawn on him.

Instead, he guides you over to the window seat on the far side of the common room, the one that holds the swirling waters of the lake behind it instead of a view of the grounds. He sits down, reaching out for you. He pulls you close, letting your head rest against his chest. Your legs stretch out over the window seat, and you watch as the shifting lights of the lake tint the air around you a comforting green. Draco’s voice is quiet when he finally speaks. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You sigh. “It’s nothing, just- Well, I was walking back here and I heard Ron, Hermione, and a couple of other Gryffindors talking. My name came up, and one of them seemed so disapproving, like he hated me just because of my house. I know we do the same thing to them, probably worse, but it still hurt in the moment.” You can feel him tensing underneath you, head tilting slightly in anger. You look up at him, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t do anything. I don’t even think they thought about it much. It’s not worth it to get a detention so close to the game.”

Draco presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too nice to them. They don’t deserve to be around you, and if they can’t see that, then I pity them. You’re far better than any of them, and they know it. They’re probably scared.” You chuckle quietly. “Only you could turn an insult into a compliment. I’m not sure they’re scared of me, I’m not very threatening.” Draco runs his fingers absentmindedly over your arm, tracing invisible patterns into your skin. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough. I think you could hex any one of them into the hospital wing if you tried.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “I think you just want me to hex them.” Draco smiles. “What’s wrong with that?” You roll your eyes, but you can already feel your mood lightening. “Thank you for listening.” Draco pulls you closer to him, nestling your head against his heart. “I’d do it any day you ask. You know that.” And you do.

[kingsuckjin]

Ungodly Beast 3- epilogue

✞ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader

✞ Genre: horror, fluff idk anymore

✞ Synopsis: You need to end this hell on earth.

✞ Warnings: death, gore, mention of burns, blood, talk of heaven and hell, the earth is on fire (I have to say that your child dies but it will all be okay, I promise it’s alright and it’s not as bad as you might think, just trust me.)

✞ Words: 2.3k

✞ A/N: I would put links here for the past two parts, but lately tumblr has been doing this thing where it wont let this fic show up in the tags if I put in links or tag anyone. They're on my masterlist though, I’m just very sorry for the inconvenience.

"Go my child, end this. Take all the power you need, and if you succeed I'll return the favor."

The flames around your bare feet had to be searingly hot, but they didn't hurt you, it didn't even singe or dirty the white you wore. 

The grass of the park was no more, and what lie under the flames was dry, scorched earth. The leaves had been burned from the trees, the trunks of which still smoked and trailed upwards towards the starless night sky. Glowing orange embers and ash fell all around you like some kind of twisted blizzard.

As you walked you saw the melted remnants of the playground you use to take your son to.

So this was hell on Earth.

It was just a shell of familiarity and home.

On your walk you could hear the sounds of police sirens and fire trucks, but it was much too late for them, everything was on fire.

Buildings, shops, offices, either up in flames or ash on the ground. You saw a car in flames explode, thankfully no one was in it.

There were people. People lined the streets, crying, confused, scared and burned.

An old man was laying on the street, his wife crying over him. She was so hysterical she didn't even see you approach, but when she did her jaw dropped at the sight of you, she begged you for help in another language, one you knew only bits and pieces of before and studied in your free time, but you now fully understood.

You said nothing as you looked over the man's burnt face before placing your hands over it, covering the freshly burnt skin. You closed your eyes and let your head fall slightly.

"My child, I will let you heal him, I will let you give the people hope. But you must hurry to find him before he causes anymore irreversible destruction. Stop him, and put the rest in my hands."

You nodded in agreement and opened your eyes and moved your hands. 

On lookers had gathered around you, both the woman and the man thanked you, but you had to go.

"Don't worry, just pray." You told them. You knew they were looking at your wings folded against your back as you walked on.

As you passed Namjoon's burning church you could see him clearly in your head, on his knees on the floor between the pews on prayer as he realized who was just outside right before it went up in flames.

You didn't go inside, it was too late for him, but you knew Jungkook and your son had to be close, you could feel it. You could see their trail of death, torment and destruction.

You closed your eyes and you brought on the rain.

The crack of thunder rolled through the sky before the downpour started, and though it rained around you, you remained dry. It was all you could do in an attempt to end the suffering of the people at the hands of this fire for now. You also wanted to prevent the risk of them making things worse when you found them.

To attract them you began to sing quietly, you sang the song in the language that Jungkook had sang to your son when he was just a baby. Though the lyrics didn't translate well, it was a song about peace and silence and it was in the world's first language. Even back then, you supposed, that parents just wanted their babies happy and they wanted to do right by them. You remembered Jungkook saying when you first met him that that was something he never understood, and still seemed not to.

You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you pitied him. You pitied his lack of understanding towards humanity even with all of his new emotions. He didn't get to grow from a child, he didn't have surroundings or figure to help shape him. He couldn't never be a parent because he never had a parent figure, he was never a child, Jungkook just was. He had just been Jungkook all at once since the birth of time. He only knew being cast out of heaven, he only knew lies, he only new bitterness, revenge, and power. Jungkook only knew destruction and couldn't handle when you had created something for him, given life to something that was partially made from him. Jungkook wanted to own you and your children just like he owned the souls in hell. Even if you give a person emotions who wasn't taught right from wrong or how to be there for people, or how to not be selfish, they might feel guilty. However, they've already become set in their ways seeing as it's all they've ever known. It wasn't Jungkook's fault that he was given this eternal cold life, he never asked for this.

You understood vastly more than you did before, there was no fooling you now, you saw absolutely everything but one way you saw before never changed.

You loved Jungkook. You knew he would've loved you if he could've from the start. You were his soulmate, His Lilith, his reason for not being allowed to have emotions in the first place in fear of producing the Antichrist. Nothing could stop destiny, you knew this now. No matter what god took or gave to him, nothing could've stopped this. Even now as you found Jungkook holding your son's hand as he burns someone alive, this was destiny. Just like Noah's ark, god can cast out and call forth, he can teach lessons or make people forget.

So here you were, and here he was, in the middle of this burnt street. Neither of them saw you yet, but they were doing what destiny called for.

"Jungkook." You spoke his name for the very first time, catching both their attentions. 

"Mommy!" Your elated son tried to run to you but his father stopped him as he was stuck staring at you.

"You're…" his voice was almost inaudible with the roar and crack of the fires that were too big.

You unfurled your white wings from behind your back and stretched them out.

"You're home." 

"Mommyyy! Mommy back!” Your son yelled happily with a big smile on his face as he began struggling against his father and slipped out of his grasp. Your son ran the half of a block down the street and you could now see his horns were much larger now, and his eyes were black. His father screamed for him and began to run after him, telling him not to touch you.

You knelt down and let your child run into your open arms. You wrapped them around him and let him fall limp.

"I love you, everything will be okay." You told him as you picked him up and laid his body on the sidewalk. Much like a cross or holy water, your body itself could destroy anything Unholy, you were blessed from god himself, you were an angel.

"No… no! What did you do to him?! What did you do to our son?!" Jungkook screamed at you making the fire around you only burn more angrily.

"He felt nothing, God will return him to me." You stepped closer to him. "I came for you too."

"No. You're home, bring our son back and come home!" He demanded but you were no longer easily swayed.

"This isn't my home anymore, look what you've done to it." You answered calmly.

"I made this for us, I did this for you." 

You watched as blood began to leak from his eyes and mix with the water from the rain. 

"I know, I know you did. I know that there's no length you wouldn't go to for me, even your son. You mean well, you just don't understand. Just know I would go through any length for you and our family, and that's why I'm here. We both went through great lengths, we've both been through a lot, so come to me."

"You're tricking me, you're going to kill me…" he with his narrowed eyes aimed at you.

"You're in pain, Jungkook. It doesn't have to be that way. God still has time to fix this little isolated incident." 

"And hell? What happens to hell when I'm gone?" He asked. You felt he was about ready to give in, you knew it took everything in his power right now to not come to you and hold you.

"I think that's what destiny wanted all along,  no more hell. We were meant to be together Jungkook, and it's finally time. I'm not tricking you, I could never do to you what you did to me. Let's go get our daughter and son, let's be a family let's-" 

He began to walk towards you, falling to his knees at your feet and looking up at you.

"I don't know where I'll be going, but I'll follow you anywhere" you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "I just want you and my family, I want everything to be okay." 

You lifted your hand to his cheek as you looked down into his black eyes and brushed away the bloody tears from his cheeks only to leave red marks of your own. You had burned him with your touch, and he had flinched but didn't outwardly complain.

He stood and his face came just millimetre from yours.

"Just do it." He whispered before pressing his lips softly to yours.

You brought both of your hands up and placed them on his face and in a split second he went limp against you.

You struggled to gently lay him down on the pavement.

"I'm done. It's done. Fix it, please." You spoke out loud.

"Rest now my child. You've been through so much."

The sky began to grow brighter and brighter until it took over everything and you had to squint to see anything at all.

You were struck with the sudden urge to pee, but you were just too tired underneath your warm sheets. You groaned as you tried to go back to sleep but the feeling became almost unbearable.

You moved the blankets, sat up, and swung your legs over the bed, immediately feeling your back hurt. This action must've woken up the baby inside of you because you began to feel the heavy kicks from inside of your belly.

"I'm going, I'm going." You nagged at the unborn baby as you waddled towards the bathroom. "You better not kick me in the bladder again, girl." You warned.

When you were done you headed to the kitchen with new priorities, you smelled food. Lately just the thought of anything food related had you salivating and reaching for anything edible you could get you hands on, but that's just what being seven months pregnant did to you.

You walked through the doorway just in time to see a few pieces of scrambled egg fall onto the floor.

Your son looked down at it from the stool against the counter he stood on and so did his dad.

"Uh oh." You son said as he looked at you, holding a plate of the eggs.

"Morning darling. We're definitely not making a mess in here." Jungkook lied with a smile as you assessed the damage the boys had done to the kitchen.

"As long as you both clean it up I see no mess." You joked.

"Mommy! Breakfast!" Your son held the plate up proudly, spilling more eggs onto the floor, lucky Jungkook decided to take the plate away from the tiny little version of himself before picking him up with the other arm.

"Tell mommy good morning!" He placed the plate on the table before bringing your son over on his hip. Jungkook knew it was hard for you to bend over now a days.

Your son gave you a wet kiss on your cheek before his father knelt down with him.

"What about baby sister?" His father asked him.

The boy was careful as he gave your belly a hug and pat and told it good morning.

"Morning." Jungkook gave you a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

"We missed you." He whispered into your ear. "You slept in late, must almost be time for her." He let you go so you could all sit at the table.

"I'm excited, but dreading having to through giving birth a second time. We missed church again because of me, didn't we?" 

"Father Namjoon understands you're too pregnant to function at the moment." He jokingly assured you. "I'm excited for her to get here already. I'll be right there with you, and little bub gets to spend time with his grandma. It's all planned out and you have nothing to worry about. Oh, by the way, I finished putting the crib up in the nursery finally." Even as he spoke about mundane things, there was a sparkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked at you, there were so wide with excitement and wonder, a trait he passed to your son. You would never get enough of him, you hadn't been able too since you met in grade school. You even found yourself missing him deeply to the point of tears during college. When you saw him again one night at a bar, the two of you just couldn't help it. You were confident that was the night you made your son together. You were once again inseparable as inseparable gets. He just stayed over every night after that night, which was good because you didn't want him to leave anyway. You were married just three months after that night at the bar. He wanted everything you wanted, he was the man you had always dreamed of, you had never loved any other person the way you did him. You had always had a connection with him, one you felt went far beyond when you met him as a little wide eyed boy asking to be friends. You knew, both of you did, that you were soulmates.You had always had been and always would be, in this life, whatever lives came before this, and in the next.

[idreamofplaid]

My Omega

Square Filled: Omegaverse for @spnkinkbingo & Wincest for @spnabobingo

Characters:alpha!Dean x omega!Sam; Sam x Brady (past)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dom/Sub; punishment; butt plug; paddling; orgasm delay; jealous Dean; mention of sex clubs, cock ring, orgasm denial, voyeurism, name calling; praise; handjob; hurt/comfort; aftercare

Summary: Dean is not very pleased with Sam’s past activities while he was at Stanford. When he acknowledges the role he played in what happened, he has a change of heart.

Word Count: 2510

A/N: This is smutty, angsty, fluffy Wincest. Dean safe words out without saying the word. It’s unbeta’d. Any mistakes are mine. If you’re interested in being a beta for any future Wincest, message me. It’s a specific taste, I know. The same for A/B/O. Message me if you’re into A/B/O and would be interested in beta reading for me.

Created for @spnkinkbingo & @spnabobingo

“You did what?” Dean put down the gun he was cleaning and turned to stare at Sam with a hard and disbelieving look.

Sam continued to work on engraving a devil’s trap into the bullet in his hand, looking up only briefly at Dean. He was unfazed by his Alpha’s disapproval. It wasn’t that Sam was a rebellious Omega, just the opposite. Pleasing Dean was his top priority, and he was a dutiful and submissive Omega; but he hadn’t been Dean’s Omega when he was at Stanford. 

Sam repeated, “I went to sex clubs.” His statement was nonchalant at best and defiant at worst to Dean’s ears.

Dean sat back in his chair, his head shaking back and forth and his mouth hanging open. “You got up on a stage and let people look at you being fucked by...by….” Dean flung his hand up into the air and let it fall back to the chair arm with a thud; his eyes began to darken with an intensity that meant he was ready to punish Sam for what he’d done and his attitude about the whole thing. 

Sam heard the tone in Dean’s voice, causing him to look up from what he was doing and see the dangerous expression in Dean’s eyes. He made an attempt to right his mistake, knowing he was walking a very fine line. “I didn’t say I was an exhibitionist, Dean. Just because you go to those places, doesn’t mean you perform for the crowd. Even if I had, you weren’t my Alpha then. We were still denying that.”

Dean stood, moved into Sam’s space, and somehow managed to tower over his 6’4” brother. “What did you say to me? I have always been your Alpha, Sam.” Sam knew he was in trouble, and it was causing the slick to begin to pool in his pants. “If anyone touched or saw what’s mine, you should be punished, shouldn’t you? Did that happen, Sam?”

Dean’s voice had dropped into a deeper register, and Sam had dropped the bullet he’d been holding. He lowered his head. “Yes, Alpha, it did.” 

Dean put his hand under Sam’s chin and tilted his face up. “I think you know what that means.” Sam’s eyes were already pleading for Dean’s forgiveness. “Go present yourself on our bed and wait for me.” 

The walk through the bunker to their room seemed longer than usual to Sam. Anticipation was humming through his veins, and his cock was hardening more with each step. By the time he’d stripped, climbed onto the bed, and positioned himself on all fours his breathing had gotten faster; and his heart was pounding. He knew whatever Dean had planned for him was going to hurt, and it would make him come unbelievably hard.

Sam lowered his head so his cheek was resting on the bed and reached back to spread his cheeks and wait for Dean. By the time his Alpha entered the room, his cock was bobbing in the air, and the slick was running down his thighs. He shuddered when Dean spoke. “Look at you. So gorgeous, Sam. Needy and waiting for me to do whatever I please, whatever I think you deserve.” Without warning, Dean pushed two fingers into Sam’s opening. Sam was so wet, he took them with little resistance, and Sam gasped. “You like the way that feels, my Omega?”

Dean found Sam’s prostate and rubbed it, causing his brother to keen. “Please, Dean.” Sam wanted to all out beg, but he knew better. He was being punished; that meant taking what Dean gave him and nothing more.

Dean pulled his fingers from Sam’s body as abruptly as he’d pushed them in. “Did I tell you that you could say anything?”

“N...no, Alpha.” Sam was still holding himself open for whatever Dean wanted to do to him next, and he dug his fingers into his own skin when he felt the blunt head of the plug against his hole. He had a good idea of what was going to happen next. 

The plug was wide, not nearly as big as Dean’s knot, but it was stretching Sam nicely and pushing into his prostate. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. If Dean wanted to hear him, he’d say so. “Drop your hands, Sam.” Dean’s voice had gone quiet and heavy with purpose. He was an Alpha intent on reclaiming his Omega and teaching him a lesson. Sam let go of his ass and placed his hands palms down on the bed on either side of his head.

Dean cupped Sam’s right cheek in his hand and squeezed. This ass belongs to me, Sam. It belonged to me when you were at Stanford. Do you know how I like my ass, Sam?” Unsure if Dean actually wanted an answer, Sam stayed quiet. It was the right decision because Dean kept talking. “I like it a nice dark pink and sore from my spanking when I fuck it.” Dean gave Sam’s ass a practice swat with his hand, and then added a few more to warm him up.

When the first strike of the paddle came, it was right over the center of Sam’s ass and pushed the plug deeper into him to crash against his prostate. Dean varied the location of the blows to get an even color over the entire surface of both cheeks, but wherever the paddle came down it always hit the plug, stimulating Sam’s prostate. “Don’t you dare come, little brother. Your orgasms belong to me too, and I’ll tell you when you can have one.”

Sam’s ass felt like it was on fire, and his cock was throbbing by the time Dean stopped. He’d thought again of begging his Alpha for release, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Everything was up to Dean, his Alpha. Dean dropped the paddle on the bed next to Sam’s head. “Omega, I want you to tell me exactly what it was you did in those clubs. How many times did you go? Who took you there? Who dared to touch what’s mine?”

Sam had clawed at the sheets the entire time Dean was spanking him and taking him right to the edge of orgasm without giving him that gift, and he was grasping a fistful of the bedding in both hands. It kept him from reaching back to rub his well paddled backside to try and soothe it. “It was only a c...couple of times. Brady took me there. It was him.”

Dean’s next words sounded tight, in a way that let Sam know he’d been clenching his teeth. “What did you let him do to you there, Omega?”

“We were in one of the private rooms. A few people were there, and they watched.” Sam closed his eyes and attempted to block out the memory. He had known he was Dean’s, knew Dean was his Alpha from the time he was fifteen and his first rut had hit him. That’s when he’d smelled it, Dean’s scent. He’d taken that smell all the way to California with him; he couldn’t run away from it. Sam woke up at night smelling cedar, bourbon, and vanilla. 

That scent was heavy in the air right now, and Sam inhaled it deeply. He wished he could wipe those days with Brady away, make it so they had never happened. He couldn’t, but he could show his Alpha his loyalty through his submission now. “What did they watch, Sam? What did you allow him to do to you?”

Sam took a deep breath. He wanted to cry, not because of how much the spanking had hurt or because he needed to come so bad his balls ached. Sam wanted to cry because he was ashamed he’d let Brady do those things to him when he had known he belonged to Dean, even if Dean hadn’t claimed him yet. “I let him tie me up and fuck me while they watched. I let him use me while I wore a cock ring and never got to come. I let him humiliate me. I let him call me names. He said I was his slut.” Sam’s voice broke when he said this last because he believed it. 

His eyes were still closed, and he wasn’t expecting to feel Dean’s fingers brush his hair from his face and comb through it. “Open your eyes, Sammy, and look at me.”  Sam slowly opened his eyes and saw that Dean’s expression had totally softened. “You are not a slut, Sam, and you never belonged to him. You’re my Omega, only mine.” Dean put his hand over Sam’s that was still holding tightly to the sheet. He rubbed his fingers over Sam’s clenched hand. “Let go, Sam.” Sam let his hand relax. “You were so good for me, Omega. You are always so good.”

Dean stretched out onto the bed next to Sam, his hand still over his Omega’s, and whispered to him gently. “Lie down on your side, Sammy. Let me take care of you.”  Dean helped Sam settle on the bed beside him, their faces only inches apart. Dean saw that Sam’s cock was just as red as his bottom, and it was leaking pre come that was running down the side of his shaft, making it unnecessary for Dean to use Sam’s slick as lube. 

Dean circled his hand around his Omega’s cock and started to stroke while he touched his lips to Sam’s in the tenderest of kisses. “Don’t hold back, my ‘Mega. Let me hear you. Come for me whenever you’re ready.” Dean speeded up the motions of his hand, causing Sam to moan deeply and call out his name over and over when he came. The come spurted from the end of Sam’s cock in long ropes that painted the flannel and t-shirt Dean was still wearing in white stripes. 

Sam blacked out from the force of his orgasm and didn’t hear Dean tell him he was a good Omega, but when his eyes fluttered open and he saw the look on Dean’s face; he knew. Dean didn’t say the words “I love you” much out loud, but the way he looked at Sam said it every bit as effectively; and Sam felt it. 

Dean took off his shirts, dropped them to the floor, and leaned down to kiss Sam’s temple. Sam was in a sex blissed haze, and there was only one thought in his mind. “Knot me, Alpha.”

Dean kissed his forehead again. “I will, baby. There’s nothing I want more, but let me finish taking care of you first.” Dean moved behind his Omega and pulled the plug from Sam’s ass; Sam moaned as the plug left his body, leaving him open and ready for the knot he wanted. Next, Dean took the salve from the drawer in the drawer in the bedside table that he kept there for times like these. He rubbed the cream into Sam’s flaming behind to ease the burn and lessen the heat. 

The Alpha stood and removed the rest of his clothes before he walked back around the bed to take his waiting Omega into his arms. Dean kissed Sam, tasting him, moving his tongue around Sam’s, and touching every spot in Sam’s mouth until Sam was saying through the kiss, “Alpha, knot, please.” Dean entered him fully with one smooth thrust and continued to kiss him up until the moment he filled his Omega with his seed. That’s when Dean broke the kiss, panting and growling. He put his mouth over the claim mark at the base of Sam’s neck and closed his teeth around it, but he didn’t bite him hard. 

Dean let go of Sam’s neck when his knot started to inflate, locking them together while more of his semen pumped into his Omega. He nuzzled against Sam’s scent gland and inhaled the rich sweet smell of caramel, coffee beans, and cinnamon. “You okay, ‘Mega?”

“I’m sorry, Alpha.” Sam’s voice was tinged with sadness. 

Dean lifted his head so he could look into his mate’s beautiful golden green eyes. “Why, Sam?”

The emotion was raw in Sam’s eyes. “I never should have let Brady touch me. It was wrong when I knew I was yours. What kind of Omega does that?”

Dean cupped Sam’s cheek in his hand. “Hey, don’t blame yourself for that. You would have never been with him if I had claimed you like I should have. That’s on me. I wasn’t the Alpha you needed.” Dean paused, and his gaze held Sam’s. “I wasn’t faithful to you either back then.” Dean’s knot was still at full size and caught on Sam’s rim. Dean was thankful for that right now, afraid that those words that reminded Sam of how Dean had rejected him and what was between them to turn to a meaningless string of women would make Sam want to pull away from him. 

Sam responded in a whisper. “I know, Dean. That’s why I left. I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else, knowing you were taking them to your bed. It hurt too much.” 

Dean could feel his knot beginning to shrink. If he could have willed it to stay the way it was, he would have. He wanted to keep Sam close, prove to him it was different. “I’m faithful to you now, Sam. I have been since I claimed you the first time we were together. I’ll always be faithful to you, Sam. I promise you that.”

Dean’s knot had completely deflated. It was time for him to separate his body from Sam’s, prompting the first words from his Omega. “Stay, Dean. Please don’t move yet.”

“Okay, Sammy. I won’t. I’ve got you. It’s okay now.” He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair some more; it calmed them both. “The way Brady treated you? If he was still alive, I’d want to kill him. You deserve so much more than that. I was just jealous before, Sam, but I didn’t have any right to be. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being near you.”

“I have more than that now, Dean, so much more.” He kissed his Alpha on his full lips, and when Sam pulled away Dean’s deep green eyes were shining with love. “And I feel better now. I didn’t think about using my safe word even once. Every time you mark me, I like it. I wanted you to do what you did.”

Finally, Dean slipped from his Omega’s body. Sam closed his eyes, and Dean kissed his eyelids with feather light kisses. “I’ll be the Alpha I’m supposed to be for you, Sam, the one I always should have been. I should have protected you from people like Brady.”

When Sam opened his eyes, Dean could see the peace in them. “I feel safe now, Dean.” Sam was so open, so trusting, just like he had always been. Dean heard those words, and he felt forgiven. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshirley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @daisymoder72​ @sorenmarie87​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

Ships: @deansyahtzee​ @adoptdontshoppets​

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith 

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

~

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

~

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

~

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

~

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

*

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

*

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test."  He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom.  "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

[oppressiveliberator]

((I just remembered that wolves will lick each other's mouths, especially inside, to show affection and closeness

And i thought 'what if N did that what if n just tried to shove his tongue in the mouths of people he cared about'

Ofc Ghetsis would have shut that tf down real quick like "okay no bby humans do not do that"

He tries to teach him to kiss instead! You can sometimes show affection like this with people you're very very close to!!!

. . .unfortunately N did not grasp that kisses should replace the act of licking somebody's mouth and instead just kinda tried to move from kissing to licking his mouth.

. . .it took him a very long time to figure out why he was in trouble for that. (Eventually the lesson was simplified to 'humans do not lick each other'. That probably worked. Until he saw grown up kissing. Then he was confused again.) ))

[g-lbertblythe]

Loving You Is A Losing Game

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x the reader, JJ Maybank x the reader

Summary: You decided to go after Sarah when she had got lost with John B. In order to find her, you have to save JJ from Rafe first.

Could be some grammer and spelling mistakes.

What the hell was going on?

You asked yourself because Sarah wasn't around for you to ask her. She left the Midsummer party that was in honor of his father. There's got to be a good reason for that, you thought to yourself. You were curious and a little bit worried about her whereabouts. You've seen her with one of the pogues, with John B the other day. He was working for Cameron's and known for his really crowded beach parties. You have seen him and Sarah at the dock and she was suspiciously acting different since then and it wasn't even that long ago. Also you could literally sense in the air that something's off. Not knowing what's happening driving you crazy, you got to know. You see Rafe and Topper chatting, they must know something. On your way to them, you spotted the waiter and stopped him. You didn't recognize the blonde until he turned around and face you. His shirt was not in order, there was a cut on his lower lips left side and the way he holds the tray was so loose, he was too close to drop it and it even got one empty glass on it. You knew the guy, he was JJ and you knew he was friend with John B who you think with Sarah right now because you saw her and him talking just before she got lost. You had questions about that. Lots of questions. Before you were able to approach to Sarah and John B, they were nowhere in sight like in blink of an eye. You only went to talk to some boring people for a second because your mother eyed you to do so.

"Are you working here?" You asked and it sounded more suspicious than you intend to be, your eyebrow went a little up without your willing.

"No I just like serving drinks to kooks for fun." He said violently. "Purpose of my life."

You ignored what he said and decided to turn this into an advantage. "I want tequila. Please."

"You are a minor." He said examining you up and down. Then his eyes met yours. He was a minor, too.

" Like you're the most sensitive person about minor drinking."

"I'll be back within a second." He said in a tone that is not very convincing. You were sure he wasn't even here for working. He was the living proof that something was going on.

JJ was about to leave the pary because his misson was done, he had delivered John B's message to Sarah, now he got to get out of here. Then he noticed Rafe and Topper and couple of his other friends saw him. He paced up his steps as he saw they were coming his way. Now, he got to get out of here really fast, preferably before getting beating up.

When Rafe punched him in the face at the second of floor of the Cameron's household, he once more decided that he was sick of getting beaten up but there were four of them. Still he pushed Rafe of off him and ready to attack but somebody else hold him and he got another beat in his stomach.

There was no way out of here. He got himself trapped, how much of a stupid idea to get in the house when everyone else was outside? He sweared himself inside.

"What the hell?" JJ heard a voice that doesn't belong to none of the boys who were beating him currently. He was grateful because the voice of the source made them stop. Rafe let go of his collar but still someone else holding him still so he can't slip out.

Rafe walked forward to the entrance while wiping the blood on his hand. "Just go Y/N. Nothing to see here."

JJ saw you standing at the doorsill, totally shocked by the scene in front of you. You looked at JJ's bloody face and noticed that he's breathing noisily. God, it's good that you followed him in here. They were about to bash him up.

Then you turned to Rafe, probably he was the person who's responsible for what's happening here. "You're about to murder someone and you want me to stay away from it?" You asked Rafe who looks like not patient enough to listen to what you have to say. "Let him go." You cut it short.

"We aren't murdering him, we are just teaching him a second lesson about not taking a step here ever again. Isn't that right?" Rafe turned to JJ and slapped his face in fake friendly way. It made JJ aggressively try to free himself from Topper who's holding him behind but Topper had a firm grip on him.

"I'll call the security." You threatened Rafe, he thought you won't do it even though the expression you put on your face was telling him the other way. He knew you had a soft spot for him as he does for you. He got to that conclusion because you were distant and cold with people you don't know and always hide behind smart sentences. You rarely show affection to the ones you do love but he always finds you very caring and sympathetic around him. And the the same thing goes for him. That's why he knew you wouldn't say anything.

He just laughed and was ready to punch JJ again.

"You think I won't do it?" You tried to stop him but he punched him so hard on some part of JJ's body you couldn't see. JJ moaned with pain. Then Rafe again turned to you with his evil smirk on his face. God, you knew him since you were kids. How did he get this way? He wasn't like this. Maybe never an angel but not this satanic sadistic person either. He wasn't known with his kindness to other people but you had a chance to get to know him more than anyone because your relationship with Sarah enable you to know each other since you were kids. He was just hurt like everybody else, he only had a very unpleasant way of showing it.

"The security is here to protect us from people like him. They won't do a shit."

You know until the security comes they would still beat him to death and got away with it because you were all rich and the security,indeed, were for them. You were the ones who were paying them.

Rafe got closer to you and tried to put his hand on your cheeks but you blocked him. "Look, I don't want you to witness what's happening here. Just go downstairs and enjoy the party. We wouldn't want your lovely dress to get dirty." He said, looking at your eyes as he was waiting for acceptance from you but you only glared at him. God, he could be the greatest ass sometimes.

"I'm calling your mom." You passed through Rafe and walk towards to Topper. "I am sure she wouldn't be pleased to hear his son is a some sort of vigilante now. Don't you think?" You could see the fear of what his mother migt do when she finds out in Topper's eyes. His looks went between me and Rafe but he eventually let JJ go. Rafe gave him a disappointed and angry look as he was passing by Rafe in order to leave the room but Topper shrugged his shoulders and said "What?". Topper's giving up meant the others had no other choice than withdrawal.

Everybody knew how much strict his mother was and he would do anything to please her. They did had to leave even though they didn't want to. You made sure by watching them get out of the room. When everybody was gone, you kneeled next to JJ. He was wiping the blood on his face with his white shirts sleeves.

"Are you okay?" You asked watching him do what he does and be careful to give him enough space he wouldn't elbow you in the process of clearing his face.

He just nodded and whispered something that sounds like a thanks. Kept brushing his face until all of his sleeves were all red. His old bruise on his lip was renewed and had new companions. He whimpered whenever he touched the parts close to the bone. The way he cleans his face was so fast as If he just wants to be finished as soon as possible and leave. Or it was just a regular and boring procedure for him because most of the times you see him, you see him with bruised face. It must have been a pogue thing, you guessed. You heard that he has a gun too.

You kept watching his hand movements until he stopped and looked at you curiously. Wondering what you were still doing here and you've been watching very carefully. He didn't even tried to stop himself from staring at you. You were waiting , your hands on on your legs, to him to be finished. You guessed he was done. "I want something in return."

"Of course you want." He rolled his eyes. He attempted to get up, put his hand on his sides to balance himself. You pulled yourself back and also got up.

"Do you know where Sarah is?" You asked.

"How can I know that? Aren't you her bestfriend?" He said, he held his stomach. Probably was hurting because of all the kicking and all. Still, he had enough energy to lie to you. You knew he has something to do with Sarah's absence. You were not a fool, in fact, you were an excellent observer.

"Okay, you decided you wanna play this game. " You got closer to him so he could see your face clearly. It's time to be intimidating now and show him you'd know more than he thinks you know."I know she's with John B. Something is going on and I have to know. I am sure you know where they are."

He didn't seem so affected by your intimidating voice. He just looked at your eyes blankly. "Did you ever wonder why your bestfriend didn't tell you anything? "

You were actually obsessed with this thing because of that.Sarah would tell you everything, well except this but you never thought it was because she wanted it to keep it hidden from particularly you. You didn't let JJ get into your head. "None of your business. Now tell me where she is."

"I am telling you nothing." He said daringly and started walking out. Why he was so secretive about where she is? You got suspicious more and more but this time even worried.

"I'm just worried about her." Your voice had softened and you thought that's why he stopped. You knew how much pogues are protective and interdepent about each other. "This isn't like her."

"You'll talk to her when she gets back. " He turned back. "Don't worry we don't bite." Walked out the door without you got a chance to answer him.

You started following him, he heard the loud sound that your heels left on the floor and carelessly, turned back to check if it was you. He didn't stop walking and didn't even say anything about you following him. You watched him behind as his hair went up and down with his every big step. You caught up to him, you had to run, he was so fast. He just gave you a glimpse when you were in the same alingment.

"I'll call the security." You said, having hard times keeping up with him. "You obliviously sneaked into the party. Attacked the guests."

"I didn't attack the guests, I was just minding my own business, they attacked me." He protested as he kept pacing, not even facing you. He was so focused on leaving here. Yet again, he turned to you as his face had a new expression: confused. "You just saw them."

"Well, I think the security would rather believing me than believing a notorious delinquent." He stopped walking and his whole body and his face met with your lifted brow and smirking in pleasure of having an advantage face. He got little steps towards you and squinted his eyes but in a amusing way.

"Are you blackmailing me?" He said that in very offending way. He heard you are a smart mouth but he always thought you were a quiet, minding her own business type of person. It was the first time you two are actually talking. He didn't expect you to be so, well, demanding and persistent.

"No. " You said softly. "I'm just giving you conceivable reasons to tell me where Sarah is. That's all."

He chuckled looking at the ground with a little head shake but he poked his cheek with his tongue to contain himself. He was in a hurry. When he managed to get a firm face, your eyes met. "Call the security If you want, they'll just throw me away but I'm already leaving" He said and gave you an fake smile and begin to walk again. "Try something else." He said at your failed attempt but you saw it as a dare. He took a quick turn unexpectedly. It made you almost trip and left you behind him. You noticed he did that avoid something. Someone. It strucked you in that moment. You looked back to confirm. He startled because he spotted Rafe's friends near the stairs standing.

"You know Rafe would like to know your whereabouts. " You stopped him and pointed with your finger where Kelce and Jeremy drinking and talking to each other so loudly. It looked like they are fighting. " It looks like he's not giving up." This time he looked indecisive about what to do. His eyed for a way out. He nearly growled in frustration. You found the voice amusing but didn't laugh. You wanted him to take you seriously.

"I'll get you out of here without you getting beaten up again, If you take me to Sarah. Is that where you're going, isn't it?" He squinted his eyes, deciding his next move. You were afraid he might start running, you wouldn't be able to catch him If he did.

Fortunately, he chose not to run away, probably haven't noticed you're not fast enough. He turned on his heels and muttered angrily. "Just take me to the beach."

You tried to hide your excitement over getting what you seek. Contrary the general idea, your life was dull as fourth season of a really bad tv series. It was your first time you had so much attraction in one night. You felt guilty as soon as you thought this was a adventurous night. Your friend was nowhere to be found for god sake, you said to yourself. And you had something very important to say her.

You spotted Rafe and Topper at the other side of the floor, waiting for JJ to show up. Before you get too close to Rafe and Topper, you two stop to think your way out.

"There's no way we can go that way. Let's try the other way. " He said hiding himself behind a column.

"What other way? There's no other way." You said checking constantly if they see you.

"We can jump from the window?" He suggested like it is an easy thing to do. He must have no idea how high is this house.

"This is the second floor." You felt like stating because he seems so down with the idea.

"So?" He said, finding very weird that you object. His blonde hair swinged from his head shaking. His face was covered in bruises, one on his right cheeck bone, some on his jawline. He squinted his eyes even though it must have hurt to do it.

"I am not jumping from the second floor. " You emphasized. "I am wearing a dress."

He took a glimpse of what you were wearing. It was a long black dress that covers your breats and waist perfectly. It was so long that hems of it were mostly sweeping the ground. Your hair was a loose bun, it looked very natural although there were so many daisy clasps on your hair in the name of the Midsummer.

"You'll get a new one." He said. "I am jumping of the window, you can stay here with your pretty dress. " Before he was about to leave he checked out your dress once more. "I really mean the last part." He winked. You didn't take anything he said seriously. There was no way you are jumping of the window. You stopped him by holding his arm. The second he stopped and faced you, you let go. "You are already hurt. You can't jump. I have a better idea. The safer way out."

"I don't need to do a safer way." He said in a low voice.

"You are one dangerous guy, yes, so I've noticed." You heard the some of the words of Rafe and Topper so you checked once more If they could see you. When you made sure that they don't you turned your head to JJ. "Don't worry, this won't spoil your reputation, bad guy. I'll distract them, you go behind their back, okay?"

He nodded in agreement. You intend to take action, you had another thought. He could've leave without you when he got downstairs. "You wouldn't bail me on, would you?" You asked him, directly looking at his really blue eyes to see if they match his answer or not. You sincerely wanted to trust him but not entirely sure that he won't leave you.

He was taken aback the look upon your face, your eyes wandered his so tensely he got nervous. And what you said or the way you said it. He couldn't be sure but it sounded from the heart. "No. " He said, trying to make it sound reassuring.

You nodded slowly before you stopped the eye contact with him, you made sure he wasn't faking it until the last moment. Eventually took his words although you weren't hundred percent convinced but still went through your plan again in your head once more. You took a deep breath and turned on your heels and made your way to Rafe. "Wait for my signal." You said only turning your head back to JJ.

"Hey!" He grabbed your hand and made you face him."What signal?"

"I don't know." You said. "You'll know it when you see it. Stay close."

JJ murmured under his breath when you joined the two kooks in tuxedos. He got closer to three of you and hid behind a large posh plant. It had wide leaves to cover him perfectly.

"Rafe, can I talk to you?" You said after giving them a slight greeting with your head. Rafe blinked a few times after placing his hands on his pockets. You turned to Topper. "Could you get us something to drink?" You smiled politely.

As Topper attempt to leave, he was stopped by Rafe. "She wants you to leave us alone." Rafe said only eye contacting with you. " There's no need for drinks." Added this time talked directly at Topper.

"Yeah, I figured that out." Topper said in confusion before he went down. Rafe had to made sure that he made you feel like you were not a mystery to him. So stating the oblivious was his way of proving it but you didn't consider too much. He was always a little uncomfortable and a little happy that you always psychoanalyze him. You often tend to be right. You knew he was feeling like the black sheep of the family and how much he wanted his father love and approval. You thought the reason hidden behind his aggressive behaviors was this. You knew he wasn't bad underneath it all. You have witnessed it. Otherwise he wouldn't be taking his little sisters little friend so seriously. Somehow you were sure that he cares about you, in his own way at least.

You took Topper's former place as soon as he left, therefore Rafe had to turn his back on the stairs as you planned. You looked at JJ's direction without being noticed by Rafe. You saw his hair and his eyes, watching you two talk. You were glad he didn't go to jump from a window.

"What was tonight all about?" You questioned him. He was standing tall, his chin up a little too proud way and a smirk on his face. It was a disturbing smile but then again a smile at least. It was a rare thing to detect on his face lately.

"Well, it's about my father's contributions to -"

You rolled your eyes at his not so funny explanation. "I meant the shenanigans you pull in your little Fight Club?"

"Shenanigans?" He laughed looking at the ground. He was taller than you so he had to look down to meet his eyes with yours. "We had unclosed business, nothing more than that."

"Why are you doing this?" You asked him when you remembered his mood when you caught him beating JJ. It was scary, like something took over him. "This won't make your father notice you."

You normally don't get this subject but you had to draw his attention and nothing mattered to him more than being a bad son.

"I don't need you to give me a therapy, okay?" He got pretty aggressive quickly. His blue eyes got wider and he nearly spit on your face while talking. The rare smile was gone and his usual angry expression was back. Then you noticed how red his eyes are.

"I am not. I just felt an urge to warn you. The things you do will end up biting you in the ass."

"No, it's not how things work. I am just protecting what's mine, do you understand? If you're worried about that shithead, he only barks at his own territory. "

You find it hard to understand his hatred for pogues. You wanted to change the conversation because Rafe was getting angrier and you saw JJ can hear you talk and he doesn't look like he was happy with what heard or patient enough to listen to it any longer.

"I am not worried about him. I am worried about you." You said but felt like you must continue because it sounded too sentimental for your taste or Rafe's taste. "Your dad already gives you little allowance, you'll end up with nothing."

"He won't do anything If you say nothing to him or to Sarah. She wouldn't keep her mouth shut for once. " He said, you knew the threading tone in his voice comes from a habit, from his urge to protect himself from everyone. If you didn't know him any better you wouldn't know he's actually asking you not to tell anybody. He was different and mostly, difficult to understand, you think that's why his relationship with everyone was really bad. Nobody could see his real intentions behind his sick behaviors. You couldn't blame anyone, it wasn't easy to detect or once you detect it wasn't easy to sustain.

"Of course I am not going to say anything." As soon as he heard those words, he was relieved. His straight posture relaxed with an inhale, his jaw loosened and his eyes softened as he gained his good mood. He put on his crooked smile and it made the wrinkles near his mouth appear and his eyes had a similar vibe. "You can't resist me."

And the expected happened, him flirting with you for fun was the way of figuring out if he's in a good state. "Well, as much as I'd tell myself stop finding you charming when you're beating the shit out people, can't help it."

JJ could hear the things you talked and quite surprised seeing Rafe like he's...happy. Or decent for once. He thought the possibility of Rafe liking someone and the whole thing would sound so surreal if he hadn't witnessed his looks towards you. He felt bad for you though, it was Rafe after all. Then he wondered If you liked him too -because who would survive a moment with Rafe without feeling pure hatred at the end? You looked like you actually care about him. You must be a fool to like Rafe of all people, he thought. Then he remind himself he should keep himself aware of every act of you, so he wouldn't miss your "signal".

"Dont be so surprised of yourself. " said Rafe. "It's so obvious you are a bad boy loving type of girl."

You let out really loud laughter, there were even tears in the corners of your eyes. He watched you laugh with a satisfied smile on his face that he caused it.

"Bad boy loving type of girl?" You said continue to laugh, maybe more than before. You really found the way he put it very amusing. "If you were a bad boy before, you got yourself off the hook with that sentence. " You said a few seconds you calmed yourself.

"You don't deny it." Rafe said, with an intense look in his eyes. It made you a little terrified, you forgot you were laughing seconds ago. Everything with Rafe was so tense.

"Deny what? That I like bad boys?"

Rafe nodded and waited for you answer as the other blonde did wonder the same thing. JJ felt like you caught up with your conversation and forgot that he's there waiting for you to rescue him but also he was caught up with it too. He found himself guessing Rafe might be right about something for the first time in his life. JJ felt disgusted with himself agreeing with Rafe but you were kind of girl who looks so tough like nothing could hurt you. They way you talk, the way you move like simple things as you lift your eyebrows or smile- they looked distant, arrogant and so satisfied with yourself. You looked like you are not easy to break but you were pretty sure and made everyone sure of that you could break another, could read their minds. In his brief interaction with you, JJ could easily picked this things up. People like you thinks they can fix anything, so also made JJ think you would like the danger and the attraction of a bad boy, would try to make him want to be better. It was so clichè maybe but still felt like it.

"Do you really think I'm that transparent?" You asked Rafe, you wanted to know if he thinks he got you all figured out. "What made you come to that conclusion?"

Rafe shrugged like he don't know but his eyes beg to difference. "Just a hunch."

"Well, as we all know, I didn't have much experience about this things. I am neutral. "You said even bringing up your non existing love life was not a comfortable subject for you.

"You have no experience of anything really but you act like you know everything." He said as a reference to the disagreement you two had about weed and the heavy stuff he takes. These words were the part of his indestructible defence of how harmless it is him getting high on a daily basis.

"I don't need to get high every time I got a chance and loose my shit to know it's bad. I'd have you known I was the one you begged for money, I was the one who saved your ass from your psycho dealer." You got so angry with him in light of speed. Everytime he promises not use it but he ends up doing it again.

"I said I'll pay you back, okay?" He sounded so used up with this talk again.

You rolled you eyes, you really hold yourself to not scream at his face. "I don't want you to pay me. I want you stop smoking it."

You had your eyebrows knitted, it made your forehead hurt. You didn't stop the eye contact with him but he did. He didn't like to be told what he should do. His jaw clenched but he was still so calm compared to other times. He would be gone right now if it's has been someone else.

You grabbed his chin and made him look at you. His eyes checked if it was your hand who touches his face because you never liked any physical contact unless it is so necessary. After he made sure it was you he was going to say something about it but he saw you way too frustrated with himself he didn't go for it. You always got so mad about this.

"You think that I don't notice your red eyes? " You asked and slowly left his smooth chin but the look upon your face stayed the same. "Stop doing this to yourself."

"Don't tell me what to do!" He said clenching his teeth, trying not to go too far with you. Still, he sounded as mad as you.

You remembered the presence of JJ, you got too carried away with Rafe you totally forgot what you came for in the first place and you didn't like he hears this private conversation about Rafe. Without getting caught, you checked if he is still there. You saw the tips of his hair behind the tree, and you knew he was looking at you although his eyes weren't in sight. Still, this talk with Rafe was way important than anything right now. Hell if he hears, why would he care?

"Do I have to remind you that Barry was here to hurt you, Rafe? Not to ask nicely, to actually hurt you physically? " You started whispering, got nervous about JJ hearing you guys talk but worse someone else might too. Rafe, as a typical addict, didn't like to hear this things so he was moving away and not facing you. He was wishing for you stop nagging about this.

"He came to the club Rafe! He threatened you and me!" You said trying to be in his sight as he kept turning his head to any sight you are not in.

"He won't do that you again, okay? " He said, locked his eyes to yours and looked like he's reliving the day in his mind. He got the same terrifying look. He spilled words after words in anger, repeating himself. You couldn't interrupt him, he wasn't breathing between the sentences. "I won't get you involved again okay? I made sure he won't try to hurt you. Or anyone else. He will never come to anywhere near you or my family. I took care of it. Do you understand? I won't let him. And I'll will pay you back. Promise. Do you believe me?"

You wanted to say so many things to him but it was obvious he was not in the right state of my mind to understand anything logical you have to say. He had to get cleaned up but all his dad was pushing him away and it made Rafe go more stray. You knew how crushing it feels being the less loved child of the family just because you are who you are. You knew Rafe mostly assume you help him because you feel accomplished when he's desperate. He once said it to you he feels like time to time although he knows your relationship with your mom. The truth is you see yourself in him sometimes. Now, seeing his eyes got blurred up and longing for someone to believe in him, simply just to love him, made you almost cry.

"You belive me, right Y/N?" He found himself asking again. Replaced both of his hands in your arms. Sometimes he couldn't stop the flowing of feelings inside of him, all the words were out of his mouth before he could put them in an order. Your eyes were staring into his, he could see there were something in them but you not saying anything was driving him mad.

"I do. "

"You do?" Rafe said with a broken smile, he had to check again to make sure what he heard was real.

" I do. I really do." You said once more with louder, certain tone. The words, they didn't feel enough him to understand. His pink lips were shaped as a smile but there were tears ready to drop in the corner of his eyes. You hold his body with your arms that he already has a grab on and closed the gap between you two. His hands moved up from your elbow to to your back and they ended up holding you so tight there, you felt you could never get out of it if he doesn't let you. You placed your head on his right shoulder, trying not to feel so sorry for him, you might burst into tears. You wouldn't like crying in front of him. All he needed a little love, all children wants to be loved by their parents. It was fundamental and when you don't receive it, you got so messed up inwardly, it might never be healed by anything. Both of you needed it but you knew neither of you could provide that to each other. Still, you could try. You whispered into his hears, making sure of your voice is the only thing gets into his head. "You'll make everything right, okay?"

"Okay." He said and repeated it more than once, trying to convince you. He didn't want to let down the only person who says that believes in him.

You startled instantly, hoped Rafe didn't sense it. With your left hand placed on Rafe's back, you waved JJ to let him know he should walk out now. When he saw you two hug, he was already preparing you to slip away but got scared that it's a brief hug and Rafe might turn his back and detect him. Surprisingly it was a long and intense hug he sees. As he saw your signal, he took action. On his tiptoes but still so quickly he made his way to the stairs and got lost in seconds. On his way, he wondered, did you planned this hug so Rafe can't see him escape or did it occur unintentionally?

You let your hands off of Rafe and it was a cue for him to let you go. Being this melancholic wasn't good for any of you. You don't like being vulnerable, especially around people. And you thought Rafe wouldn't like it either. Anyway, you had to go after JJ before he leaves without you. After you pulled away from each other, you moved a step back just in case. Being so close with Rafe or anyone felt so uncomfortable. Not that you didn't like Rafe, it was because something you didn't know or something you are afraid to admit. If you keep it going on and like the intimacy, you might never let it go.

"I have to go back to my duty to talk every dull guest and let them bore me with their questions about my future and present." You said. Rafe couldn't trace the emotions he saw in your eyes a minute ago. It was like they never happened. He didn't question for so long, you had a habit of ignoring anything troubling happening to you. And he went along with it.

"Why? Come with us to where the real fun is. "

"My mom makes me." You said and it was enough for him to understand to you have to do what she says to do. You obeyed everything she says to you but only her. You were really stubborn with Rafe.

"Don't have too much fun when I'm suffering." You said with a fake threatening look and smiled after that and he did as well. You took a few steps back to indicate that you are getting ready to leave.

"Don't have too much fun." He repeated with huge grin. "The motto of your life."

You rolled your eyes at him playfully and left him without saying anything in return. He was right.

As soon as you left the house, you headed towards to the beach, JJ said that's where he was going. You had to took off your heels when they met the sand. You kept hoping he's there waiting but as you got closer the sea, the darkness took over all the lights of the house you left behind. Nevertheless you kept moving into the darkness, you could hear the sound of the waves clearer but there was nothing in sight. You cursed yourself inwardly for trusting someone like JJ to return a favor. You felt so let down and the shoes in your hand was weighting you down or it was the disappointment. You weren't mad at JJ, you were mad at yourself for believing him.

Then, a little ahead of you, two weak ball of light appeared. You blinked few times to understand what it belongs to. It was something on the surface, it must be a boat, you guessed, then you heard a whisper. It was calling your name.

"Y/N?"

You smiled and make your way to the light. "JJ?" You asked as you ran. You were sure you heard him but not able to see him. As soon as he heard you reply, he was ready to poke Pope to turn on all the lights but Pope already took care of it. You saw the boy on the boat, standing in front of the control panel. You knew his name but never talked to him before really. Then you saw JJ waiting for you at the back of the boat. He looked better than before, happy to get out of there safe and sound and meet his friend here.

"I thought you left." You said with a relieved smile on your face you just cannot hide. He put on a similar one and it was the most genuine one you recieved from him all night.

"I thought you changed your mind." He said and extended a hand for you to climb the boat. You took it.

"You wish." As he pulled you and gave you a little smile.

To be continued.

[olivinesea]

Worth the Keeping

a/n: Damn this was a slow one. Brought to you by the way asphalt looks under streetlights and me having been a badly behaved teenage drunk. It’s long but there’s no way around it. TW abuse, nothing wild tho. One bad slur, I’m sorry. Settle in for some in depth Hotch thoughts. ~6k

Young Hotch, young Haley. Bittersweet.

He’s never thought much about his own life, never felt that it carried much importance. Certainly the people in his home did not value it. He thinks perhaps his mother did at one point but she is too caught up in her own worries and the care of Sean to devote any attention to him. Sometimes she even seems angry if he appears to need help. So he makes sure never to need it. He learns how to splint broken fingers and reset dislocated joints, how butterfly bandages and superglue were all that was needed to close most wounds. He thinks, when he is encouraged to imagine the future by naively optimistic teachers, that perhaps he will be an EMT since he’s become so good at triage. He’s met a few EMTs, the rare times when an ambulance was necessary, the threat to life too immediate to ignore. They usually seem like nice, if a little intense, people.

Once, when he was only five, he had experienced anaphylaxis after being stung by a bee. He’d already learned not to make a big deal out of life’s little injuries. So when the bee stings him in the garden, he knows not to say anything. It is his fault anyway, it is always his fault. He sucks on the skin around the sting, anything to take away the fiery sensation he is feeling. He has never been stung by a bee before, had no idea what was going to happen as he grabbed at the little buzzing creatures flying busily around his mother’s flower garden. It turned out, bees did not appreciate chubby hands grasping at them and one made a point of letting him know.

He creeps back to the house guiltily, thinking of the ice in the freezer, maybe he could get some of that. Sometimes his mother would bring him ice wrapped in a towel to place over the repercussions of his childish transgressions, still reaching for love he couldn’t earn. It was always too cold, biting in a way that made the injuries pulse. But he accepted it because it meant that his mother was sitting near him, that he wasn’t alone for a little while. This only reinforced his lessons that care was painful. Wasn’t it better to have someone care so much it hurt than to have no one to care at all? She promised him that’s all it was, it was only because they cared that these things happened. It was only that he was still learning.

But right now, the bee sting is burning a hole in his hand and he thinks maybe the ice could at least distract him from that pain. He slips silently into the house, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior after the bright summer sun. He is breathing hard, but each breath seems to draw in less air. Maybe he is afraid. He knows fear, is intimately familiar with the feeling. He knows it better than most five year olds do, who only experience fear on a basic level—sometimes practical: fires burn, falling from high places is dangerous; sometimes fantastical: what if there are dragons in the woods or ghosts in the attic. Fear was a means to keep you safe but when you are a child there are supposed to be adults helping keep you safe as well. A child’s fear shouldn’t have to be so specific. Aaron is afraid of slammed doors and broken glass and dirt tracked in on his shoes. He is afraid of storms that brew in bottles of dark liquid and unleash torrential outpourings of disgust.

In this moment he is afraid, not of a monster, but of a person who might be watching him from the shadows of the living room. He is too young to understand schedules and time, he doesn’t know his greatest fear is otherwise occupied. Instead, he lets fear be the reason for his change in breathing. He makes it to the kitchen with its big windows and bright lighting, only to find his hand has grown, comically large and heavy, the skin swollen and stretched. Breathing feels like trying to drag air through a wet towel. He feels his heart racing as the fear closes in but still stays quiet. He probably wouldn’t be able to make much noise if he tried but he doesn’t want to find out who else is inside the house at the moment.

Through the small luck allotted him, his mother comes in minutes later to find him curled on the kitchen floor, skin around his mouth a pale blue, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to will air through his constricted windpipe. She is about to scold him, to tell him to stop playing when she sees his hand, all doughy pink and covered in hives that travel up his arm to his thin chest. She rushes to the phone to call 911. She’s never been more scared, both that her son might die and that her husband might find out how careless they’d both been.

Ambulances weren’t easy to hide, drew too much attention, but something tells her there isn’t time for a different choice. The EMTs assure her she had done the right thing, quickly setting to work administering epinephrine and monitoring Aaron’s oxygen levels. If he seems rather quiet and withdrawn for a five year old, he had just gone through a dramatic, life threatening experience. It would cause anyone to sink into a bit of shock. They don’t notice the nervous looks exchanged between mother and son, both their eyes darting to the long driveway every so often, looking out for incoming danger. When they tell her the boy needs to be taken to the hospital for further care she visibly balks.

“But he seems fine now, he’s doing better right?”

The child in question is sitting in the open back of the ambulance, thin legs dangling, scum from leftover bandaid adhesive outlining skinned knees. He is breathing carefully into a mask that another medic holds for him. His hand is cradled in his lap, no longer outlandishly large but still misshapen. He looks fragile and she longs to pull him away, out of the hands of these strangers, who may only be trying to help but don’t realize how their help might have consequences. She wants them to leave, wants the house to return to the state it was in this morning when her husband left for the day, so he wouldn’t see anything as out of place, wouldn’t have to know about the day’s events.

She is worried about talk in the neighborhood, about the way her front lawn has been overrun by busy people in uniform, doing what she can’t imagine. But it was a future worry; she was so good at keeping secrets surely this was one she could fit in somewhere. If only she can keep it contained to this moment, prevent it from spreading.

“He is, but it’s important that he go. There could be a secondary reaction.”

Her arms are crossed and she rubs her index finger across her bottom lip absently as she tries to think quickly. Victor will be home soon, he would be disturbed to find them gone. She doesn’t think there will be any way to hide this if they went to the hospital. Too many people will see, there will be no way to lie away their absence. But if they didn’t go now and Aaron got worse, she couldn’t very well call the emergency services a second time. She looks at him again. He is now staring down at the ground, swinging his little legs back and forth. She hates that she has to make a decision like this. She hates how there were likely no good outcomes no matter what she chooses. She pinches her lip between her fingernails for a moment then sighs as she gives in.

“Ok, let’s go. I just need to call my husband first.”

*

It was only the presence of the hospital staff that stops him from strangling both mother and son when he receives the bill. Aaron shrinks against his mother’s side as his father thanks the doctor with a tight voice before turning and walking out of the building. His mother, nervous herself, is shivering, he can feel her body shake as he presses against her. She takes off on quick steps to follow his father from the building. She would have left him behind if he hadn’t been gripping tightly to her skirt, nearly dragging him off balance with her speed. They get into the car silently. Aaron climbs behind the passenger seat to the back and tries to melt into the corner. The air is snapping with electricity as a fast moving spring rainstorm darkens the sky around them. The tension makes him want to scream. He knows better.

“I’m sorry, there wasn’t time,” his mother starts, her voice embarrassingly plaintive.

"Shut up.”

Aaron’s eyes dart back and forth between his parents. He sees his mother hang her head, rounding her shoulders ever so slightly. He sees his father’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. He knows this was his fault but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He opens his mouth to say something but right then lightening cracks across the sky in front of them and they are all dazed by the flash.

Later, after they get back to the house and Aaron is sent to his room, the crashes of thunder mingle with his father’s shouting, his mother’s cries. He shivers beneath his too thin blanket, his lungs still feel new and foreign. Like they have been scraped raw and newly exposed to their purpose of pulling oxygen into his small body. He has suspected it before but this experience has solidified in his mind that he shouldn’t be here, that his presence only causes distress. He knows his mother would be better off if he had died, he knows his father would be less angry about that than whatever humiliation he feels he’s just experienced at the hospital. For some reason, despite his wishes to the contrary, he only brings about waste and pain. He had only wanted to meet the tiny creatures, to see if their busy movements, their buzzing hearts matched his own.

*

As he gets older, he grows tired of the care, he wishes more and more to be ignored. If only his father cared less, he could fade into the wallpaper, disappear into the shadows of their house. If no one cares, he can’t disappoint with his shortcomings. He can just float around in a fog that softens the world around him, never caring too much about anything, never feeling that sting of caring. If he doesn’t care, nothing matters, nothing can touch him.

Aaron has completely accepted the fact of his own unimportance by the time he is a teenager. He does everything he can to blend into the background. To escape the notice of others because being noticed is never safe. It reminds people that he dares to take up space, dares to make use of resources better allocated to creatures more deserving, less hateful.

Something shifts once he hits puberty, a sort of recklessness sparks inside him. Though he is still careful to avoid the attentions of adults, he starts to bite back when other kids tease him. They had been teasing him his whole life. For his strange haircuts and too small or too large clothing. For never having new things. They told him he was dirty, they told him he was weird. All the usual small cruelties children hurl at one another.

Now that he is in high school and has gone through a growth spurt, not yet his full size but much larger than he had been, he has some power. He notices the way the other kids step back when he stands up quickly, only with the desire to run and hide, but he notices it nevertheless. I’ll remember that, he thinks as he walks, rather than runs, to escape from their taunts.

Part way into his freshman year he breaks someone’s nose. While not exactly justified it wasn’t unprovoked either. They had been picking at him throughout the day. Purposely running him into lockers, knocking over his lunch tray and pinching him as he walked by. There are so many of them and they are so quick about it he is never completely sure who is doing it. His irritation grows inside him such that he wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke drifting out of his ears. The pokes and jabs are bad enough on their own but what the other kids don’t know is that they are just layering over deeper bruises, ones he does his best to forget about. If he thinks about those too much he’d go crazy.

The older he gets the harder it is to hold together the fractured reality he lives inside of. The one where a man can be both a hero and a monster. He has known since he was little about the danger his father carries but as he got older and saw more of the world around him he has realized that this is not the same for everyone. And not only is it not the same, his experience is somehow invisible, inconceivable to all the eyes of his hometown. As an adult he will look back and realize that some people did know, they just didn’t do anything to help, for whatever complicated reasons adults tell themselves that they shouldn’t get involved in others’ business. Even if the cost is taken out of a child’s nightmares.

So when Luke Gatson pulls his too-long hair and calls him a fag at the end of the day, he’s had enough. He swings his fist blindly but with all the force of years of built up anger. He is surprisingly accurate, maybe having absorbed more knowledge of inflicting pain over the years than he realized. There is an audible crack as the other boy collapses on his knees, holding both hands over his bleeding nose. Aaron stares at him, hand still clenched in a fist, eyes burning. Luke’s friends crowd around him, glancing between the two, wondering if they are meant to get some sort of revenge for their friend. Aaron can see that they are surprised, probably the reason that they haven’t jumped him immediately. He also sees the tears on Luke’s face that he is trying to hide. That makes him feel bad and he loses any sense of the burning hatred that had taken over.

“Sorry, Luke,” he says sheepishly.

“Fuck you Hotchner,” Luke replies, scowling at him.

Aaron shrugs, he’s heard worse, and walks away toward home. As afternoon becomes evening, Aaron’s stomach is in knots over the thought that his father will find out what he’d done. He is sure the man will not be pleased about it. He is so anxious he can’t even pretend to eat what is in front of him at dinner, a frequent struggle that earns him glares from both parents. He can’t stop darting his eyes to the phone, waiting for it to ring and deliver his sentencing.

He is washing the dishes when it finally does and he nearly drops the soapy ceramic, startled by the sound. He forces himself to stay still, to keep doing what he is supposed to, maybe his mother will intercept it. But his mother is putting Sean to bed, only his father is downstairs and he can hear him grumbling about people’s lack of decency calling so late. Aaron can only make out muffled sounds from the other room as his father has a short exchange with whoever is on the other end. He hasn’t been able to move since the phone started ringing and his hands start to shake as he hears the small click of the receiver, the footsteps coming toward the kitchen. He carefully sets the plate in the sink but continues to grip the sponge like it might be some sort of shield. He feels his father’s presence behind him and slowly turns to face him.

Victor is looking at him curiously from the doorway, eyebrows pulled together, corners of his mouth drawn down slightly.

“You got in a fight.” It is not a question, he is not interested in the details or whether his son might have different information.

Internally Aaron panics, trying to think of a way to escape this situation. He’s had plenty of time to consider how his father would react and how he might possibly minimize the fallout. Outside he is perfectly still, eyes downcast, breathing measured. Maybe he should run. He hasn’t tried that since he was small, too small to understand there was nowhere to run to. Maybe he would be fast enough now. Then he hears the least expected sound. He has to look up to convince himself he is interpreting it correctly. His father is laughing. His eyes go wide with alarm, he can’t remember his father ever laughing before. Maybe this has unlocked some new level of anger.

“Must have been a weak little shit to get taken down by you,” he says.

Still in shock, Aaron has nothing to say. His dad rubs his face with his hand, a little chuckle escaping. He drops his hand and looks at Aaron.

“Never fucking do that again. You won’t like what happens after.” All humor gone, the stony glare reappears. With that he turns and walks away, his steps only slightly unsteady.

*

Despite knowing better Aaron gets into more fights and his father delivers on his promise. Rationally he knows he can stop this. Maybe he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him at home, but this, the fighting, is completely a choice. After the first incident a few other kids test him, seeing if his breaking Luke’s nose was only luck. They quickly discover that he is able to back up that first knock out. Aaron is a natural fighter. He is on the scrawny side but what he lacks in mass he makes up for in pure rage. After a few more black eyes and split lips, the other kids grow more cautious, give him space when they walk by. No one teases him anymore.

But those fights taught him something. He discovers he likes the experience of being on the attack rather than only receiving. He never fights back at home, it is unthinkable to try to defend himself against what comes at him there. But out here in the world, for a few moments, he becomes something else. He becomes electricity and thunder, the one operating the crane that swings the wrecking ball, demolishing years of pent up confusion with his fists. He starts fights now. It does’t matter that it means he goes home to a matching fist, a coordinating set of bruises. He would be going home to that anyway, wouldn’t he? The blood in his mouth tastes like winning.

A couple years into high school and this is all he is now. Something dark and dangerous, he walks through the hallways, glaring at others, raising his fists any time he can find an excuse. If people notice he has more bruises than ever before, dusky marks on his cheek, his neck, the angry red patches of skin exposed during scuffles, it only makes sense given how much he’s taken to fighting.

Sometimes he sees flashes of fear in their eyes as he gains the upper hand and for a split second he is remorseful, identifying with that fear. But then, just as quickly, he is angry again. Angry that this fear is so new to them when for him it’s been a close companion all his life. He resents their normalcy and their parents that scold and worry, making a big show of taking away privileges when they have to come to collect their misbehaving child from the principal’s office. His father never makes a big show, barely says anything at all, simply apologizing to the principal, promising he will talk it over with his son, will make sure he understands the gravity of the path he is heading down. He can’t look at his father during these meetings, afraid he might scream, if only to drown out the ringing in his ears.

One time it is his mother rather than his father picking him up after yet another fight and he makes the mistake of making eye contact with her. The tears are instantaneous. He brushes at his face roughly with the heels of his hands, but nothing he does can stop them. He is frightening to see cry, making the people around him very uncomfortable with the way he is completely silent. The principal doesn’t bother giving his mother the usual speech, only ushers them out the door, his mother offering a quiet thank you. Looking into her eyes had shown him that she knows, that she knows what is coming and she will do nothing to stop it.

She had given up on him when Sean was born, writing him off as a lost cause. She will give everything to Sean; if only she can keep him safe, she won’t be a total failure. She felt guilty at first, trying to reason that Aaron was old enough to take care of himself but the nagging feeling of abandoning her responsibility was hard to escape. As he grew older, however, he had become this stranger she no longer feels anything for but shame. She can’t wait for the day he is old enough to leave the house. She knows there will be no peace before then.

Aaron fights with a determination that reveals how little he takes into account his own safety. He’ll fight with anyone; bigger, older, more experienced, it doesn’t matter. He’s even started to pick fights with adults, daring them to react. Nothing anyone does can touch him. Without a sense of self, a drive for self preservation, there is no reason not to throw himself entirely into the burning of the world. He would deny it but his deepest secret is the hope that if he keeps at it, perhaps someone will notice, someone will care enough to tell him he is worth compassion. Every time he fights and no one asks why, it reinforces this idea: that he is worthless, just an embarrassment to minimize. So he fights harder. He doesn’t know if he is trying to prove them right or wrong.

He only slows down when his father breaks his wrist and threatens to send him away. Alone in his room, doing his best to immobilize the joint with an old brace, he cries, hot and painful tears. Not because of the injury but for how twisted he’s become, how the only comfort he has found has been in turning this brutality on others.

*

Wandering the halls after school one day, prolonging the time before he heads home in the rain, he hears singing. Mindlessly he walks toward it, curious who might be the owner of such light that they can spill it out of themselves in sound. He comes to an open door and finds clumps of students standing or sitting, all facing toward a makeshift stage. Standing alone at the front was the singer, her face as beautiful as her voice suggests. He is magnetized. Her song ends and he feels it like a loss, barely registering the exchange between the girl and the two adults in the room as they thank her and make some marks on a clipboard. Suddenly there are fingers snapping in his face and he glares down at their owner, pulling his injured wrist in against his chest, protecting it from whatever action he is going to take. When he finds a small freshman boy looking up at him with an expression not of fear, only interest, he is confused. He is not accustomed to anyone looking at him without some degree of anger.

“Are you here for auditions?” The boy seems a little exasperated, like he’s repeated the question dozens of times already.

Aaron blinks at him. Auditions? As he is trying to understand the question, another kid steps into the spot last occupied by the singing girl and says a few words before beginning to sing as well. He notes that they are good as well but nowhere near the sweetness he was drawn in by. He looks around the room trying to find the girl, he is fairly certain he’s seen her before, maybe in one of his English classes. He never paid much attention to the other kids outside of which ones might deserve a fight. He spots her in a corner whispering with another girl, ducking her head and smiling, playfully knocking her friend’s shoulder. The strange feeling in his chest is his heart melting. He looks back down when he feels a tug on his shirt sleeve. He is ready to bite the head off of this annoying child.

“There’s a spot left if you want to audition. You have something prepared right?”

Aaron Hotchner has nothing prepared, nothing in his life could have prepared him for this moment but he’d do anything to get closer to that smile. He nods.

“Sure.” He can barely get the word out, his throat is dry and raspy. The kid looks at him quizzically, Aaron almost laughs at the way one of his eyebrows rises up. He can already imagine him as a crinkled old man.

“You have something to sing?” he questions more directly, doubt clearly apparent.

Aaron shrugs, he can come up with something. On the better days, the spring and summer days, when the light gets longer and he can wander in the woods for hours, he sang with the birds. Singing was nothing new to him. Singing for other people though, he does’t like that idea at all if he lets himself think about it. But there is no time to think. He is giving his name and being jostled into the room. Before he has fully taken in his surroundings, his name is spoken with some confusion as he is called up to his turn.

One of the adults is his civics teacher from his freshman year. She frowns as she looked at him and he feels a wash of anxiety, remembering who he is, remembering he is not made for good things. He opens and closes his mouth but no sound comes out. The room is quiet and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He exhales, angry with himself, looking up to glare out at this roomful of people who’s only crime is agreeing with him that he is worthless. But he sees her again—she is smiling, barely, but it is enough.

He clears his throat and starts to sing. It is a quiet sad song, a hymn he’s heard a hundred times as he forced himself to stay awake during services. There is not enough penance in the world to absolve him but he likes the music sometimes. This one has been a favorite for many years. His voice gets stronger as he settles into it, staring at the floor just beyond his shoes, trying to picture himself out in the woods, surrounded by his only companions—the silent trees and the birdsong. When he stops they are staring at him and he hates it. He rubs one foot against the back of the other calf, considering just walking out of the room before anyone is forced to say anything, to embarrass him further with some pitying words.

“That—that was great!” the teacher finally says. “We needed a baritone, you would be perfect.”

Aaron just nods, cheeks flushed as he risks another look to the corner where the girl had been standing. She is still there, looking at him more carefully now, her expression an odd mix of emotion. It is enough to give him the courage to smile back, just slightly, the tiniest twitch of the corner of his mouth.

“Rehearsals start next week. Everyday after school. Can you do that?”

He nods again, dragging his eyes back to the adults in front of him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, just as quietly as when he started.

As he walks away, he hears his old civics teacher mutter to the drama teacher, “I had no idea he could sing. I’ve barely heard him speak.”

The other teacher hums back in agreement, just as confused.

*

Many months down the line and Aaron has softened a little. No longer an instigator of fights, he has other things on his mind. The anger hasn’t gone anywhere but he holds it back so that it doesn’t disturb the peace he finds with Haley. She is the best thing to ever come into his life and he knows he doesn’t deserve her; knows it is only a matter of time before the world rights itself and takes this gentle soul from him. He knows she is not a second chance, no one will ever forget what he is, he can never outrun the dark looks that follow his name. But he’ll hide in the solace she provides as long as the world lets him.

To her credit, she doesn’t make him feel foreign or pathetic as she learns new layers of his reality. Inside she cringes at every revelation but she is careful, keeping an invitation on her face, making space for him to bleed out some of what poisons him. He is hesitant and slow to share, sure that each slip will send her running. But when she does’t run, when she only pulls him closer, he trembles with the desire to be seen the way she seems to. That relentlessly denied hope gaining strength—that someone might care to look past the barbed wire and broken glass he’s made a home within.

There are good days and bad, they are only children after all. Sometimes he can’t explain his feelings. They are too big and all he wants to do was rip apart the world to find a place he can bury them. He tries to hide from her but she’s caught on to his tricks, seeking him out in all his usual unusual places: behind the gym, near the creek, the empty fields around his home. She grabs his shaking hands and pulls him to the ground, leaning against him and stroking the back of his hand while he shivers out the small pieces of a story that he thinks she can handle. The reality is it is much more than she can but much less than he needs. But they do their best.

She waits until she is alone or with her sister to cry for the ways life has harmed him, has doubled back on its promise and turned something she thought was a gift into nothing but torment. It is the first time she’s really understood what people mean when they say life is unfair. But she is stubborn and believes everyone deserves kindness, if no one else was willing to provide, she will be his reprieve.

At first the other girls laugh, thinking it is some kind of joke, a cliche, the beauty and the beast. But as they watch him change, catching smiles and held hands, they are in awe of Haley Brooks. While they can’t forget their distaste for the weird and angry boy they’ve known since grade school, they think perhaps there is something they missed. The softer-hearted among them root for their success; the others, once over the novelty, do their best to ignore the couple. Soon it isn’t even worth a comment when Haley turns up to some social event, towing along a brooding but behaved Aaron Hotchner.

*

It is Halloween and she’s convinced him to come to a party. Not a big deal, she promises, just a keg and some idiots in the woods. He gives in easily because he knows how badly she wants to go and he tries to give her whatever normalcy he can. He is uncomfortable at parties but appreciative that this one will be outside, in the woods, his woods, as he likes to think of them. The party is uneventful, he even manages to get a laugh from a group of tipsy sophomores when he makes a dry observation of the likeness of warm beer to peanuts. He hadn’t been trying to be funny but their laughter feels nice anyway.  

They wander away from the party together, walking towards the neighborhood they both live in. He has handed over his jacket to supplement the impractical blue gingham dress she is wearing. He’d resisted her requests for a couples costume and frowned unhappily when she thrust a flannel and a straw hat at him as they were headed out. He’d put his normal jacket on over it as soon as she was distracted by a conversation and “lost” the hat somewhere in a bush. At least without the hat he could feasibly be wearing a normal outfit though he would never pick out something quite so green.

They hold hands as they walk down the sidewalk, tugging on one another slightly just to feel the comfort of the opposing weight. Occasionally there is a sign post and he drops her hand to split around it, only to grab it back and pull her in closely for a kiss. She giggles, enjoying this looser version of him. He doesn’t drink in front of her very often, usually too nervous to lower his guard and make himself vulnerable in that way.

As they get closer to town, he steps further into the street when he lets go of her hand. There is more traffic here and she is confused by what he’s doing. Maybe he is getting tired, not paying attention to his actions. She isn’t completely wrong, though it’s not the sort of inattention she’s thinking of. Every headlight that burns their vision pulls at him. The promise of impact, of un-ignorable damage draws him closer. He laughs as he stumbles, veering back to the sidewalk with smaller and smaller margins. He seems to have forgotten her, instead he is focused on this private game without a possibility of winning. It makes her nervous but she tells herself it isn’t a big deal. All boys are like this, flirting with destruction.

As yet another car passes with only a few feet of clearance, she can’t take it anymore.

“Aaron! This isn’t fun for me,” she is upset and the tone of her voice cuts through the drunken fog of his mind. He’s almost forgotten he isn’t alone, hypnotized by the weave of light and dark. Immediately remorseful, he jumps back to the sidewalk, planting his feet heavily and grabbing her around the waist. He pulls her in close, tucking her head under his chin, closing his eyes against the rise and fall of the horizon.

“‘m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. She shakes her head but squeezes him, arms wrapped around his torso. He takes another breath and opens his eyes, watching as another car passes them, oblivious to their small drama. The lights still pull at him but he clings to her, holding on for all he’s worth.

[m-y-fandoms]

Blood on Our Stage - Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Human Female Reader -Part 1 (Slight/Platonic Female Reader x Hajime Hinata)

So, this is an old fic I updated to fit these characters because I want to continue it :)

NEEDED CONTEXT FOR THIS AU: Hajime and Nagito are step brothers, (Y/N)/Reader is a human, Hajime and Nagito are vampires, and Hajime did indeed get into the Main Course at Hope’s Peak, for acting.

The paycheck… It's all about the paycheck...

   You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time that year… or that hour.

Smile, s-smile. Breathe, lean into him. It has to look real, (Y/N). God… it’s a whole new level of crackhead when you stutter to yourself in your thoughts.

 Dissociate. 

What are we having for dinner? How many more steps ‘til that damn egg hatches? If it’s another fucking Diglett I swear I’ll go apeshit. 

You shifted to your right, the most forced of grins creeping onto your cosmetic-plastered face. You let your head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Convincing right? Touching is convincing. Random gentle displays of affection are convincing... 

By this time, you were nearly blind from the flash of some fifty or so cameras in your face, anyway, so why not just pretend that the photographers and press were blind as well?

  Why not, why not?

 You pretended in every other aspect of your life.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hajime’s voice shook you out of your trance, and you turned your head, letting go of his arm, which you had grabbed out of habit. His sparklingly white teeth - sharper than the average man's - gleamed down at you, and you felt that usual pang of fear run down your spine and chill your bones. Even attached to the gums of the sweetest boy on earth, you’d never get used to the sight.

It's all a show, (Y/N), a game. Pretend. "Fangs for the fans, and all that" 

How long would that farce last until people started to realize?

  What had Hajime said earlier that month? You retreated into yourself, thinking deeply, trying desperately to calm the anxiety that rose with at the sight of his flesh-tearing canines...

   _______________________________________________________________

"I can bare my fangs at interviews, photoshoots… you know, when the paparazzi are around. It’s what my dad wants,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Honestly, you freak out over the silliest things sometimes.” He ruffled your hair. “It will look like I'm dedicated to the role, or something like that… whatever. People will love it, trust me."

      ___________________________________________________________

But you never could. How could you? A monster with a secret, stupidly displaying that secret openly to the world? No… trusting meant removing little stones from that carefully built wall, which sub-sequentially meant getting hurt, and not just emotionally. You recited this mantra to yourself almost routinely; something you’d picked up from someone very close to your heart. Isn’t it funny how we steal little bits of personality from those we love most?

You knew Hajime just followed whatever his father commanded, that he’d do anything to feel like he mattered, that people cared. He’d done all this: the acting lessons, depending on daddy’s money, the unless studying and promoting himself, just to get into that stupid school and kickstart his illustrious career.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)??" Hajime tenderly brought his hand up, stroking your shoulder awkwardly. The clench in his jaw, however, wasn't friendly at all. You couldn’t really blame him, though. He was doing it for your sake, after all. You had to get through this, and he knew he had to pull you through; everything depended on it.

How could this flock of idiots not tell the “chemistry” was forced???

"Uh… o-of course! Yeah!" You smiled, a fake chuckle escaping your lips, and the crowd of reporters and internet journalists roared in front of you. Of course they did… wasn't everything the disciplined and people-pleasing boy beside you said fucking hilarious? You sighed, returning your gaze to the mass of people below you as you and your leading man sat raised on a platform behind a pretentiously high table.

    Just let Hajime handle all the questions, you thought to yourself indifferently. You always did. They rarely directed them at you specifically, anyway. So much for your dream: to stun the world as an independent starlet, a crimson-hot femme fatale. It was always ‘Hinata Hajime’s doe-eyed leading lady!’, ‘Hajime’s little love interest!’, never ‘(Y/N) (L/N)... featuring Hajime Hinata!’ But... you were famous, and with no little chunk of change to boot… you should’ve been thankful… right?

So why weren’t you…?

  Your eyes scanned the faces before you, and you realized that you hadn't… really looked at them until now. Yes, the usual prolific online bloggers and huge theatre junkies were there, and Mr. Hinata of course. He wouldn't miss out on one of his company’s press meetings for the world, especially with his money-making beloved son in the spotlight. He was so anal, how could anything possibly go off without a hitch unless he was there?

You wondered if the girl next to him knew he was a ravenous monster as well, but thought better of it. Of course, she didn't know. You shouldn't have even known. But you did, and it plagued you every day of your life.

  Fuck... you just wanted to go back to your room and overthink in peace. It was embarrassingly uncomfortable to do so in public

Mr. Hinata sat sternly upright, with his polished, slick hair, in his polished, slick shoes and extravagantly tailored navy suit, his secretary at his side, brushing his hand unnoticeably between the chairs. His wife would never care, anyway. To their right sat a rosy-cheeked intern, spunky and full of character. Holding a clipboard between perfectly painted nails, the only thing that spoke louder than her bright smile was her neon miniskirt. She must not have known, either. No human simply knew, and still managed to look that innocent and lively. The PR girls loved press conferences, and each new show only yielded fresh publicity. This most recent show, set to premiere the following night, was a tale of romance: A vampire lord and his human lover: a medieval era period piece. Of course, for this reason, Hajime did nothing to hide his all-too-real fangs. 

You loved a good historical romance, and loved being in one even more. It had always been your goal as a starting actress to take the lead in at least one period play, be it Victorian, colonial, medieval.. but... it had not turned out quite the way you planned...

   A few other members of the Hinata family accompanied their revered head of  the household… or was it head of the clan… coven? Whatever, it was expected. The murderous bloodsuckers always clung to their leader’s side, and could always be found lurking around Hinata’s estate, if they weren’t already crammed up his ass looking for approval.

A flash came from the reporter to the left, directly into your vision, and left you dazed.

 Fuck… you seethed internally. Calm down. Calm down. The paycheck. That's it. This is almost over, anyway. Why did you always find yourself spacing out at the worst possible times? You acknowledged that it was how your body coped with the overwhelming urge to break down, but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient at the minute. Nothing screamed ‘I have something to hide’ like acting shady in front of a hundred people…

You leaned into Hajime again. Sell the relationship. Sell the love.

You exhaled in exhaustion. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Hajime… you did, just, not like this. Never like this. Lying to millions of fans and the press, pretending Hajime was anything other than a brother-like figure to you just to line his father’s pockets, tore you apart more than keeping his immortality a secret. Denying you both a chance at real love for fear of scandal… you were sure that there was no phrase you’d ever grow to hate more than “The Hinata Theatre Company!” Ironic, wasn’t it, that at one point in time, you begged to be here?

You found that scoping out a crowd lowered the anxiety you had about actually being in front of them. It's funny, many people asked how you could possibly be afraid of crowds or public speaking when you were a damn Broadway-level star. Your answer was always the same: your rush of adrenaline and passion for theatre got you through a show, but anywhere else but on that stage, and a crowd turned your mind to jelly. It was different… walking out for a performance tamed the butterflies that flew around inside your stomach.

  Of course, there was always the fact that your boss could tear you apart at a moment’s notice that contributed to the anxiety, but you obviously couldn't share that little bit of information with anyone. It was all so hard to process, that this kind young man beside you could be something so fearsome, that your whole life was a public sham. You’d never forget the day you’d found out… how it changed everything. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of your best friend, you just shouldn’t. But how could you ever truly trust him again?

Your eyes bounced once, twice around the room.

  ...No

   You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your eyes caught on something that caused you to jump slightly in your seat.

"You ok?" Hajime whispered, the crowd going noticeably silent for a moment. Mr. Hinata glared in your direction. A silent warning, reminding you that even one wrong move made his company look bad, and that would not end so well for you. That was the shining aspect of Hajime’s personality, that he was nothing like his father.

"Yeah, y-yeah," you spoke airily, cheeks heating. "I just slipped to the edge of my seat a little, almost fell!" You lied timidly, a small laugh.

They'll eat that shit up. Soft-spoken, innocent, clumsy girls are all the rage! Of course, Hajime picked up on the lie immediately, catching the change in tone, the skipping of your heartbeat. Being an immortal freak had its perks.

The bright-eyed boy beside you patted your arm, the crowd chuckling politely before returning to their bombardment of questions.

Your eyes flew back to the corner of the room, back to the object that had you startled in the first place. You tried to tell yourself you’d imagined it, but there was no mistake,

 It was him...

 Standing there in the entranceway, so dimly lit, he hid in the alcove. There was no mistaking his favorite jacket, the fabric ripped and weathered from use. There was no mistaking the intricate, almost root-like pale green veins which spiraled up his arms, told a story across his milky collarbone, tumbled down his wrists, and made him all the more intimidating. Intoxicating. There was no mistaking that full head of tousled hair, brightly standing out even in the meager lighting in that disregarded corner of the room, messy whisps branching out dangerously; an air of nonchalance and bored irreverence. Smug bastard…

And there was absolutely no mistaking the way those bright eyes illuminated his white skin in contrast, a frightening and ethereal glow shooting off of him in waves. Hajime’s chestnut-brown eyes never mimicked that terrifying iridescence, but then again, Hajime never took his life-sustaining drink from a human host. Your hands began to subconsciously shake. From fear or the itching desire to… you didn’t know, throw your arms around him, touch his cheek just once... ? You never knew with him. He was a wild thing, a beast untamable. But why the hell was he here?

Carelessly he leaned against the door frame. His tongue shot out predatorily, running along his lower lip in one fluid motion. His knuckles raised, brushing against the green of his coat and coming up to scratch the side of his face.

❘ What are you doing here?! ❘ You sent your thoughts out in waves so loud you might as well have been screaming. You knew immediately that he had taken them in, absorbing your mental cursing and inner toil like sun rays. It was a power and privilege only those of his kind who were purebred enjoyed.

He did not answer, but merely tilted his head, the corner of his lip rising in that maddening grin he always threw at you. An impish smirk hiding mischief and chaotic intentions, you were sure.

You knew it would be mere moments ‘til your flawless "boyfriend" beside you noticed his presence as well, and you feared what might become of this night that was supposed to be of celebration. Almost as if on cue, Hajime’s words halted to a stop. That evil smirk only widened, a small snort shaking the intruder’s chest.

"Nagito..." Hajime murmured through clenched teeth, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist. "He's here."

  "I know..." your words shook, just loud enough for any non-human in the room to hear. Now it was time for you to be Hajime’s rock. Nagito's head bobbed, looking down at his old ripped jeans, and you saw Mr. Hinata's eye twitch before you, his vampiric hearing triggered immediately upon hearing your quiet exchange with Hajime.

Mr. Hinata followed your eyes to the back of the room, his fiery glare landing on the face of his eldest and only step-son in the shadows.

Was it too late to run back into the dressing room and never come out?

You could feel the tension in the air, a line of electricity connecting the three vampires like mental twine, ready to break at any moment. It was like watching three animals square off, sizing up their threat on a National Geographic documentary. The other Hinata coven members, all also fierce bloodsuckers in their own right, merely sat forward politely, sensing Nagito's aura but knowing better than to give him the time of day. After all, alerting the press to his presence would certainly not be a wise way to stay on Mr. Hinata’s good side.

  No one outside of the family even knew about the existence of the elder brother. He was an embarrassment, a stain on Mr. Hinata’s designer tie. In the packed room, he looked so out of place, with dark, torn clothes in a sea of try-hard collared shirts and dresses. Sure, everyone who was anyone in the media world had turned up for this interview, and would also return for the opening night the next day, but everyone who was anyone never included Nagito. He made sure of that. He just had to stick out, be different, didn’t he? Even among a bunch of immortal freaks, boy… was he a freak. 

Oh no, mommy remarried some rich man then got herself killed, better act like a little ungrateful little prick. Woe is me, I have super good luck that is sometimes super bad! No one understands me!!!

He sickened you, the way he did his best to destroy what he and Hajime’s family had built, all in the name of his backwards and twisted idea of “hope.” As if he didn't live like a prince because of the Hinatas’ hard work. Don’t get it twisted, you hated Mr. Hinata and would love to see the Hinata empire burn, but this company, the desire to be recognized and worth something, was all that held dear Hajime up. It was his only dream, and he deserved it. Nagito didn’t have a right to tear Mr. Hinata down if he had to wreck Hajime to do it.

     He disgusted you, you’d decided months back, to make it all easier on yourself. Everything he’d done, the trouble he’d caused, the hurt he’d caused so many people. Routinely, you reinforced to yourself that you hated Nagito Komaeda

   ...You were disgusted by the way you… just... couldn’t hate him. It didn’t feel right. Something felt… wrong in hating him.

  Your heart lurched, meeting his eyes again.

Why not? Why not just hate him, (Y/N)? Like everyone else…

Why was it so hard? You were supposed to be with Hajime. And Hajime hated Nagito. Everyone who knew Nagito hated Nagito. But… telling yourself you were anything but infatuated with that dangerous creature… was a lie. You owed everything, good and bad, to that feral, insane man.

Your nerves and the hairs on your arms pricked up like an agitated cat. Why why why? Why would he even do this? He knew what showing up here would start. He was born to start shit, to brew altercation, to cook up conflict. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps he finally came to an event to support his darling step-brother, but the way he bore his fangs when his eyes met Hajime’s said otherwise.

❘ Leave. Just Leave. You're just here to antagonize me and I won't let you be a problem. Not today. This is my day… ❘ Hajime spat mentally, and his thoughts burned through your own and, you're sure, Nagito’s.

❘ Aren’t all the days yours, Your Majesty? ❘ Nagito’s thoughts were more severe, yet more playful, taunting, careless, a venomous snarl behind every synapse pulse.

❘ ...Leave. ❘ Hajime pulsed back in warning.

❘ ....Or what? ❘ Nagito’s own ominous threat reverberated through your cranium. You pressed a hand to your temple, an angry, stinging sensation pulsating through your head. Having a vampire read one’s mind was uncomfortable enough: feeling the slight probing and perhaps needing an aspirin after, but being the third line in a purebred pissing match… it was a call you desperately wanted to hang up on. But.. humans didn’t naturally hear a vampire’s thoughts on accident. No, you were hearing this conversation because you were meant to, someone wanted you to. You had no powers of your own, but Nagito kept you trapped in this nonverbal battle, strung up betwixt two immortal minds. You brought the back of your free hand up to your nose, wiping away a stripe of red vitality that began to flow from both nostrils. The panging inside, the angry shouting in your mind only got louder.

[devinescribe]

Promises We Made

This is the first chapter of my Niragi book over on wattpad, so I just wanted to post it over here.

Next Chapter

Warnings: Swearing, abuse, bullying

I think that's it, but let me know. Sorry this chapter took so long my lovely readers!(again, it was over on my wattpad)

Promise 1

"Promise 1, we promise to always protect each other."

"Stop being such a bitch, and go say hi. Sorry about that, kids huh?" Your father threatened, laughing with the parents. "Oh, I know. Our little boy is so antisocial. And at 15... so disappointing!" The lady had said. Your father had invited your neighbors over, as they had just moved in. They had a boy your age, who stood straight, not looking anyone directly in the eyes. He had black hair, and black rectangle frame glasses that were seated on his nose. "Father, would it be alright if Suguru-San and I go talk outside?" You asked your father. He looked annoyed. "Don't talk to me. You're being so rude, interrupting me," he scolded. "And don't give my son such respect. He deserves none of it," the boy's father snapped. You flinched at his tone. "Ye-yes sirs. S-suguru, would you like to come outside with me?" You asked the boy. He nodded curtly, and you two walked outside.

You let out the breath you'd been holding, leaning against the wall. "I-i apologize for my mother and father... they really have no filter," he apologized, bowing towards you. "It's fine... Are you going to my school when it starts?" You asked. He nodded. "You're not to talkative are you Suguru?" You mentioned. "Not really... I've just never been forced to socialize," he said, looking out to the street. You thought for a moment, before deciding on what to do. "Want to come up to my favorite place?" You asked. He nodded slowly, not knowing where you were taking him. You told him to follow you and you led him through the back door of your house, up to the second story. "Where are you taking me?" He asked, fidgeting with his sleeves. "My favorite place. Aka, my room," you said, going down to the end of the hallway. His eyes widened, and he quickly followed, not wanting to get lost in your house. You pulled down a rope that was connected to the roof, and down came a ladder. "Isn't that the attic?" He questioned, looking up to the dark room. "Yep. It's my room," you said, starting to climb up the stairs. He followed after, looking straight instead of up. 'Don't look she's wearing a skirt, don't look she's wearing a skirt.' Ran through his head the whole time.

You flipped the switch on the wall, the room filling with warm light. You went over to what looked like a giant window, grabbing the doorknobs on either side. They opened like an accordion, the slight breeze of a summer night wafting into the room. "I've always loved that about my room... I have this balcony," you sighed, leaning your arms on the white railing. He went out there with you, and you two spend the night talking.

When school eventually started, you noticed the bullies had taken an interest in him. And the bad kind of interest. You helped as best as you could, but that made you a target as well.

"Stop squirming you little bitch," one of the guys spat, trying to hold your arms down. "Fuck you!" You shouted, kicking him in the stomach. He doubled over, and the rest of his goons tried to get you. "Get off of me damn it!" You screamed, kicking and squirming, trying to get their grip off of you. Their hands were everywhere on you, and you couldn't get out. "You're a little slut aren't you?" The guy laughed, he walked over, wiping the blood from his lip. 'Damn, I made him cough up blood? I'm badass' you thought, before getting back to the situation at hand. He got even closer, putting a hand on your throat. Your eyes widened as he began to squeeze. "L-let me go you son of a bitch," you managed to stutter out, trying to kick out. You could feel the grip on your neck get tighter. 'That's sure to leave a mark. We need to find a way to get out of this...' You tried bitting his arm, or thrashing to get away from them. Of course, there was no camera in the corner they had you in, just your luck. You could feel your skin hit the cold wall behind you, the skirt from your school uniform riding up as you thrashed and squirmed. Black spots started to enter your vision, and you shook your head. 'I will not be brought down by this motherfucker, if I-' Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice shouting, "Hey, let her go!" You winced, the squeezing on your throat getting painful, and your lungs were screaming for air. You felt pain, and pain only at this point. "Oi, dumbass, don't get yourself brought into this!" You tried to shout back, it coming out as more of a gasp, seeing your next door neighbor. You were trying to gasp for air, any tiny bit of oxygen would help. You would never know what happened, as your vision started to grow dark from the lack of air.

"Please wake up, please please please," he whispered to more himself than you. You were unconscious, bruises already forming on your body, especially on your neck. He wiped away the blood on his lip, wincing a bit at the pain. He was just glad you were still breathing. He heard you whine, and turned his head to you. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning at the sudden light. You sat up, wincing in pain. He rushed to help you. "Don't move so suddenly, you'll hurt yourself!" He scolded. You shoved him off of your body. "D-dont! I-i-i... I'm such a burden... can't even take care of myself," you muttered to yourself. He heard. "You're not. Everyone needs help once in a while," he said, sitting next to you. You looked at him, noticing the blood. "N-niragi! You're bleeding!" You exclaimed, putting your hands on his shoulders. He held his breath, looking into your eyes. They held sympathy, worry, kindness. He hadn't seen eyes that held as much emotion as yours. You frowned, gently dabbing his lip with the sleeve of your school blazer. "But it'll get dirty, and we-" he started, trying to pull away. "Who gives a damn about a piece of fabric? Let me help you," you stated, grabbing his face, making him look at you. His dark eyes widened behind his glasses, and he froze as you cleaned up the blood.

You two walked to your houses after, not saying a word. You stayed close by eachother, not wanting to get separated. "Niragi... let's make a promise," you said when you got closer to your houses. You both stopped walking. "What kind of promise?" He asked. "I promise to always protect you as you protect me," you smiled, holding out your pinkie to him. He smiled back. ''We promise to always protect eachother," he said, grabbing your pinkie with his.

Promise 2

"Promise 2, we promise to always tell each other the truth."

School had started as normal. You went over to the desk you shared with Niragi, sitting in your seat. He had gone off before class to go look for something, or so he said. You sat in your seat, tapping your fingers on the desk. You saw the group of boys that spent their time torturing both of you walk in, high fiving each other and laughing. You finally saw him come in, and your eyes were drawn to the bruises on him. The teacher was first to notice.

"Why, what happened to you? You're all covered in bruises!" She exclaimed. Niragi saw the dangerous glares the boys sent him and looked down. "F-fell down the stairs, Miss..." he lied, bowing towards the teacher. "I-i apologize." He quickly made his way to the seat next to you, not looking at you or anything. The bell rang, and the teacher began the lesson.

Soon, lunch time rolled around. You two had gone to the park next to the school to eat. You sat down, and gave him the bento box you had made for him. "I told you I'd make you lunch today," you smiled. You knew his mother didn't make him lunch, or give him money for lunch. So, once you found out, you wanted to bring him lunch. "T-thank you (Y/N), you really didn't have to," he thanked, staring down at the box. It was a simple one, black with 3 green lines going vertically. "I didn't know what bento box to use, so I used that one... I hope you don't mind it," you said. He smiled, assuring you it was fine. You both opened them, thanking for the food. You grabbed the chopsticks, and began to eat. "Oh, and where did you really get those bruises?" You asked after you had a couple bites of your food. "I already told you, I fell down the stairs," he lied. He felt bad about lying to you, but he didn't want to worry you. "Bullshit. I know you're lying. Tell me," you said, annoyed. Silence filled the air for a bit. "Fine... those guys... again," he muttered. You frowned. "Niragi... You can tell me about that stuff. You dont have to lie to me. Let's make another promise. I promise to always tell you the truth, as you tell me," you stated, holding your pinkie out as you had before. He had a feeling there would be more promises in the future, but put out his pinkie, linking it with yours. "Ok... but I'm going to start counting these. Promise 2, we promise to always tell each other the truth."

Promise 3

"Promise 3, we promise to keep each other warm." (I actually made that promise with my best guy friend, but he lives in Japan, so... we suffer)

It was another weekend where your father had invited Niragi's family over. They sent you two up to your room. "And, Niragi?" His father called from behind you. You both turned to face him, confused as they never wanted to keep you around more than they had to. "If you're going to do anything, at least bruise her up a bit," he laughed. Your father and his mother joined in with the laughter. You whimpered quietly, hiding behind him. You were extremely confident and outspoken at school and with Niragi. At home, it was a different story. "Aww, look! She's already so submissive to you!" His mother cooed, making a gesture as if you were a dog. You grabbed onto the sleeve of his hoodie, closing your eyes. They started talking about how you two were so obviously in love. And then they started talking about how with how smart you both were, his mother saying you were a beautiful young girl, and your father saying something about Niragi's looks as well, how your kids would be so amazing. Your eyes widened at that. Did they plan this? Niragi didn't like what they were saying. It was gross. You two were only 15, why would they say those kinds of things? "W-we'll be going, then," Niragi excused, leading you away from them. They made more comment about the same topic, making him shudder. Once you two got to the attic entrance, away from ear shot, was when he checked on you.

"Are you ok?" He asked, letting you go up the ladder first. You gave back a soft 'yeah' as you reached your room. He knew that it had bothered you, what they had said. But, if you didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't push. He got up into your room, and pulled the ladder up. He pushed up his glasses, and turned to you. You were standing by the double window doors, looking out to the night sky. "You want to go out there?" He asked. "F-father... he said I shouldn't go out there, because he would lock me out as a punishment if he caught me asleep out there again," you explained, playing with the curtains. Niragi huffed. Your father was so horrible to you. "A punishment for what?" He asked, scared of the answer. "... Anything... The other day, h-he asked if I was still 'pure', and when I told him yes, he got mad. I don't know why, I don't know if he was drunk or what happened, but he's been so curious about if I still have my virginity or not," you responded. "Why would he get mad about that? I-is there something we don't know?" He asked, walking over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged. "If he locks us out, I promise I'll keep you warm," Niragi stated, opening the doors. He turned back to you, leading you out to the balcony. He grabbed your pinkie with his own. "I promise to always keep you warm," he laughed. "Promise 3, we promise to always keep each other warm," you laughed with him.

"Promise 4, we promise to always share our snacks."

"Promise 13, after fights we promise to give eachother a reason why we love eachother." (In a platonic way at this point, anywho)

"Promise 21, we promise to watch the stars together."

"Promise 36, after fights we promise to not turn it into ammo for future fights."

"Promise 58, we promise to meet at our special place after school."

"Promise 76, we both promise to apologize for anything after a fight. If we can't decide who was originally the problem, then we both were."

"Promise 199, we promise to always stay together."

Those were some of the promises you had made throughout the years. You smiled, remembering th promises you'd made with the boy. You decided that since you had off from work, you'd go visit him. You picked up some flowers on your way, deciding it was about time.

"Hey there 'Ragi," you greeted with a smile, placing the flowers down. There was no response, as usual. You sighed, and placed the flowers down. "You know, it's only been a few months, but I really miss you," you said. You took the flowers, arranging them around. You had gotten two types of flowers. One being yellow carnations, and the other being daisies. You started weaving some of the flowers together, talking about whatever came to mind.

"You know, I'm the only one who comes to visit you. Which is sad. Because you should be remembered by more than one person, you are... were... so amazing ," you said sadly, your fingers moving slowly. "Oh, you remember that tattoo I told you about? I finally got it. It looks really good with the others," you stated with a small smile, finishing with the flowers. "I'm really sorry... I wish you weren't dead 'Ragi... I miss you," you whimpered, tears filling your eyes as you placed the flower crown on top of the grave stone.

Truth was, you knew there was no body buried in the ground. He had disappeared a few months ago, and no one could find him. There were no leads on the case, no evidence to say he was killed or kidnapped. He had literally just vanished into thin air. Instead of searching more for him, his parents decided to close the case and pronounce him dead. They didn't have a funeral for him, or anything at all, really. You were the one who begged them to at least have a grave, and they got tired of you, so they did. You didn't think he was dead. There was no evidence to prove it. But either way, no matter what you belived had happened, you had begun to accept the fact that you had lost your best friend. Weather it be that he died, disappeared, or any other conclusion. So you brought him new flowers every day you had off if work, made him the flower crowns, and every week, you would watch the stars next to the grave, pretending he was next to you, still smiling and ranting about work, or a game he played. Or maybe it was a code that was hard to program into the game. At the time, you had laughed and listened, calling him a nerd for being so smart. But you really missed it. Even if you didn't understand what he was talking about, you still enjoyed the time you two got to spend together. The late nights watching movies, playing games, or just talking. The early mornings getting coffee and heading off to work. You missed it all so much. It was so true what they say, you don't miss something until you lose it. Because now you realized how much he honestly helped your mind cope with so many things. "I heard- I heard it w-was going to be chilly tonight, s-so I brought you a-a blanket... remember promise 3?" You said, tears flowing down your cheeks. You leaned your head against his grave stone, the tears that fell from your face fell to flower petals that bent slightly. "I-i hope you're o-ok... Wherever you are," you whispered. Suddenly, you heard fireworks in the distance. You saw them, and stared in confusion. A few minutes after, you no longer heard the rush of cars, or the voices that talked quietly in the cemetery. You stood in confusion, looking around, wiping your tears and sniffling a bit. "Wasn't there just someone there?" You asked out loud to yourself. "I'm sorry Gigi, gotta go. I'm going to find out what's happening," you excused yourself from the gravestone. You laughed a bit, remembering how he said he hated the nickname. You ran towards the street, seeing the cars unmoving. There was no people that you could see, and all buildings were empty. "What the hell?" You muttered to yourself.

It was almost sun down, so you travelled through the streets, finding out that everyone in Tokyo had disappeared. There was no power, and your cellphone, that had been at a hundred percent, was now dead. Sure, it was creepy, but it was somehow peaceful. "If everyone's gone, that means my father too! I'll wait for tomorrow to go over to the house and see if I can find anything he kept away from me," you decided, remembering all the photos of your mother he had stashed away in a box.

Nightfall came, and you sat at a cross walk. There was no wind, and no lights, so you could see the stars. Suddenly, a screen lit up. "Game arena?" You questioned out loud, reading the screen. You decided you might as well follow where it was pointing you to.

The place was an old zoo. One that you recognized had been closed for years, as you had faint memories of your mother taking you here when you were younger. The lights were on, and you looked at it suspiciously. It shouldn't have power. Nowhere in Tokyo had had power, and this place has been closed for years. You entered through the large gateway in the front, and noticed red lines as you did. You looked around, and found a stick. You threw it back the way you had come, and it was immediately shot by lasers. "What the actual fuck," you whispered, walking into the so called game arena. Inside there was a table with phones, and a sign that simply said 'one for each person.' You picked one up, and it light up with face recognition.

You were so involved with the phone, you didn't notice people walking in. Once you did though, you immediately lowered your eyes. They were all guys. You didn't trust men. Well, except Niragi. But he was also your best friend of 8 years, and even then you had your doubts.

"Registration closed. Game: Little Red Ridding Hood. Game Difficulty: 4 of Spades.''

"Rules: One person will be little red ridding hood. The rest will be wolves. The objective for the wolves is to kill Little Red. Little Red's objective is to kill all wolves but one, and make it to the safe zone before time runs out. The one wolf remaining was chosen by little red, meaning they will survive. If time runs out, and neither one of these objectives has been completed, death for both sides. You may use any outside weapons or the weapons provided. Special Condition: Little Red gets an extra 5 minutes to go hide. Anyone who chases after them before the 5 minutes are up will die. Time limit: 1 hour. Game Start in 5 minutes.''

"I don't mean to sound stupid, but what the fuck is all of this?" You asked looking at the men around you. "It's a game," a voice said. You looked around to where it came from. "A game?" You repeated. "Yes, a game. You play for your life. Let's see who's a wolf, and who's little red, shall we?" He said, walking out from the corner he had hidden in. He had white hair, and a condescending look on his face. You checked the phone again.

'Little Red: Player 11037.'

A picture of you came up, and you looked around. Most of the guys smirked at you. You headed towards the table with weapons, grabbing a small dagger. You saw there was a bow with a quiver of arrows, and grabbed it quickly, strapping it on to you. "Well, I'm either going to Katniss Everdeen this shit, or die. Let's see... so basically, this is a game of physical endurance from what it seems. We have to run after or away from eachother. We each have an objective we must complete or it results in death. Am I right?" You said, turning to the white haired boy. He stared back, an eyebrow raised. "You sure it's your first day here?" He asked. "I catch on pretty quick. I would hate to be the girl that starts crying and shaking. Pathetic," you said. Was it bad that to survive you either had to kill or get killed? Yes. But were you about to risk your life for people you didn't know? No way in hell. "I only have to keep one wolf alive for my objective. So impress me, and maybe you'll survive," you said, stretching. "Quite cocky, aren't you?" One of the men said, stepping closely to you. His hands went around you, pressing you into him. "I can change that," he whispered into your ear. You elbowed him harshly, making him double over in pain. "I don't plan on losing to a bunch of men who think they can do shit like that and for me to sit there and take it. Goodluck to you, you condescending yet interesting man," you said with a smile towards the white haired boy. "Yeah, no. No nicknames. Chishiya, call me Chishiya," he introduced. You laughed. "Nice to meet you Chishiya. Call me whatever you want. I'll tell you my name after the game... if we survive of course," you said.

"Little Red Ridding hood headstart starts in

3

2

1"

Sorry this took so long, I'm really trying here-

But is your best friend dead? Will you survive this game? I don't know haven't decided yet-

I'm joking, it's all jokes...

....

.....

Or is it?

[jensungf]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄? ฅ 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

summary: your mother always told you a lot as a child — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens in dark allies on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover. you didn’t always listen to her. yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. and maybe lee jeno as well. 

pairing: shy!reader + badboy!lee jeno genre: high school!au, fluff<3 word count: 1.8k warnings: language, mentions of disease

author’s note: another one of my blurbs that accidentally turned into a really long drabble hehe i hope the anonnie who requested this enjoys! <3 as always constructive criticism is appreciated and you can request after checking my prompt list.

  just like every other caring parent, your mom went on and on about what she deemed to be important life lessons during your childhood, and even now — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens if you pass by the alley next to the flower garden on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover.

you tried your best to listen to her. you really did. but sometimes, people had weaknesses and besides your more than often bouts of procrastination and incessant affinity for watermelon sour patch candies — 

(“if i was your dentist, i’d probably hate and love you,” jisung snickered as you shot him a look of confusion. “‘cause you must have hella cavities but that would mean i could charge you more money! i’m so sm- ow, that hurts (y/n)!” you rolled your eyes after picking up the bag of watermelon sour patches you had thrown at his forehead and ripping it open to pop one in your mouth) 

—  yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. cute, fluffy, insanely adorable stray cats.

    although you had your fair share of friends, you preferred to stray away from human interaction (honestly, it was too much of a hassle, you were never really the type to approach people first anyways, your shyness getting the best of you and you preferred it that way), you preferred the company of much smaller, fluffier animals. although your mother always warned you about the dangers stray animals possessed, whether it be how they could carry rabid diseases or put you at risk of bad luck, you stopped hesitating to bring some snacks for the poor, small kittens years ago on your daily walk to school.

    you paused as soon as you heard a small mewl followed by some rustling and shuffled your feet forward, peering into the dark alley before you felt something nudge against your leg. you jumped back, but let out a sigh of relief. you crouched down, holding your hand out for the tiny kitten to nuzzle against.

    you cooed and reached into your backpack, bringing out the cubes of watermelon you had packed earlier before gently offering a piece to the black and white kitten. 

    “what do you think you’re doing?” a gruff voice asked, causing you to flinch and jump back. your head snapped up, only to find the source of the voice to be someone who scared you a lot more than you liked to admit.

lee jeno.

    everyone who knew anyone knew that lee jeno fit in with the cliche archetype of a bad boy. he hung out with his troublemaker friends in a group of seven (including jisung, but how you still managed to be friends with that giant noodle without encountering his friends, you will still never know), with rumors spreading like wildfire amongst your peers of them always being late to school, stirring up mischief with their motorbikes and causing ruckuses during detention. 

you didn’t expect him to be here out of all places.

     he was never the center of all of the attention, preferring to stay behind his loudmouth friends and observe quietly, laughing whenever donghyuck or jaemin would make a joke and joining in with his friends’ antics whenever he felt like it. but make no mistake — the moment anyone saw his muscular arms and the glint in his eye, they knew he wasn’t going to be one to mess with.

    you realized he was staring you expectantly, waiting for an answer but your brain seemed to short-circuit from surprise. you opened your mouth, desperately trying to rack up a response with your pea-sized brain (stupid y/n, why did i have to forget how to speak an entire language right at this very moment?, you groaned internally) before closing your mouth and averting your eyes to the very interesting concrete ground.

“cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased, smirking almost flirtatiously. (you never noticed it but jeno’s ears flushed red, not knowing where this sudden confidence came from. he usually wasn’t the type to flirt… at least not like this in broad daylight with a random pretty stranger. he’d be damned to say jaemin was finally rubbing off on him.)

   you bit your lip, unsure what to say back and cursed yourself for being so awkward. you glanced briefly at his figure, his broad shoulders donning his signature outfit of a black leather jacket, low cut almost hawaiian-looking shirt and ripped skinny jeans (it was literally so sunny outside, how was he not sweating in that? also, did he ever wash that jacket? you could’ve sworn you had never even seen him without it) before pressing your lips into a firm, thin line.

  your eyes fluttered down to the kitty, ignoring him, yet you were struggling to remember how to breathe properly. your friends had always called you shy, albeit approachable, but you never realized how difficult it was for you to just simply talk to someone you actually sort of wanted to talk to until this very moment. why was just saying a single word so hard? and why did it have to be the school’s notorious bad boy here with you out of everyone in this town?

  he frowned, not used to girls blatantly ignoring him, but it wasn’t the first time it happened. he tried to search your face for any sign of recognition, but you were too invested in the cat, or rather, his cat to pay him any attention.

(he’s never been jealous of a cat before but he’d never admit that at this moment, he would’ve liked to switch places with nal. what a nice life it must be for a cat to be fed watermelon all day and be coddled with attention and affection from a pretty girl.)

“how’d you know she liked watermelon?” he asked before bending down. your eyes flickered up until you realized how close he was to you, only a few mere inches away from your body. you shrugged, not trusting your voice to speak.

“nal,” he whispered, bending down to your level, whistling to coax her towards him. she meowed, licking the last bit drop of watermelon juice on her paw before pouncing towards jeno, her fluffy tail looping around his beat-up hightops. his usual stoic expression curled up into a boyish grin as he started petting her and murmuring praises of how adorable she was.

   you could hardly believe your own two eyes. lee jeno, everyone’s picture-perfect example of a bad boy who looked like he walked straight out of the  cheesiest teenage rom-com flick was ... a softie for cats?

never in a million years would you have pictured this in your mind.

   you tried to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest, but jeno looked up to catch your eyes. heat crept up your spine and consumed your face, causing you to look back down at the kitty who was nuzzling against him again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows.

   you couldn’t help it if your heart decided to do somersaults seeing his innocent expression, resembling that of a confused five-year-old child.

you shook your head before softly asking, “she’s yours?”

   he bit back a grin at finally hearing your voice and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a silver chain collar with a charm (engraved with “nal”), the silver bell attached to it lightly jingling. how ironic yet fitting, you thought.

“i can’t take her home with me because i’m allergic, so i let her roam around here and visit every day until i can find a place for her to stay,” he explains as he scratches her behind the ear, earning a delightful meow before slipping the chain over her head.

   you took a step back, mentally taking a snapshot of this moment. you couldn’t help but giggle lightly once you realized that jeno and nal looked almost exactly alike, as if nal was jeno in cat form, with her black and white fur adorned with a chain collar looking exactly like his usual monochromatic outfit and worn black leather jacket, not to mention the silver chain bracelets and necklace he wore all the time.

jeno’s head snapped up once again to watch you laugh.

his heart thumped a little harder than he would’ve liked to admit.

“bad boys don’t take care of stray cats,” you say, finally locking eyes with jeno. “especially the bad boys who are allergic to cats,” you smile.

   he shrugged, his boyish grin still etched on his handsome face. (screw handsome, you couldn’t lie — you’ve wondered on more than one occasion how blessed his parents must be to have a son whose looks could rival a professional model’s face.)

you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed now, looking more like a carefree and lovable child rather than a reckless troublemaker.

“don’t judge a book by its cover, sweetheart,” he said before giving you a wink, starkly contrasting with the way he tried to hide how he scratched his reddening nape afterwards.

he gave one last gentle rub to nal’s head before standing up, getting on his motorbike. he looked back, with a glint of something in his eyes. “need a ride, sweetheart? or the cat still got your tongue?”

you froze in your spot, feeling your face turn hot with embarrassment. you weren’t used to this. it was the school’s bad boy after all.

but you could get used to it.

mustering all the courage inside of your shy mighty heart, you look down at nal and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head, letting her nibble on one last piece of watermelon.

“my mother always told me not to judge a book by its cover,” you mused, a hint of playfulness in your voice. “i guess i was wrong about you.”

“i’m y/n,” you added shyly.

jeno’s eyes crinkled into crescents, a genuine smile forming on his face.

“jeno.”

you walked hesitantly up to his bike, and took a seat behind him gingerly.

you let your arms fall to grip the sides of the seat, before jeno shook his head and lifted your hands up to wrap your arms securely around his toned torso. “hold on tight.”

guess your mother was right after all. 

+ bonus blurb!

[dracofeltonmalfoy]

Wound - Part 1

Pairing: Draco x Y/N, Cedric x Y/N, a teeny weeny smalllllll bit of Harry x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing (quite a lot), mention of injury and blood

Word Count: around 2.5k

It had been a really long day, not to mention a stressful day as well. Umbridge. That name sent shivers down your spine as well, didn't it? Y/N was thanking Merlin it was the last lesson of the day, she could go back to her dorm, have a long ass shower and just relax. But no! She had to open her big gob and defend someone, who didn’t actually need to be defended, she had to defend someone, who all her housemates hated. SHE had to defend THE chosen one! Was it necessary? No! Could it have been avoided? Yes! Potter was going on about how he was about to win the triwizard tournament if Cedric didn’t reach the trophy 0.9 milliseconds before he did, and guess what? Umbridge heard. “Mr Potter,” she started with a sickly smile on her face, “Would you like to share your conversations with the class?”

“Um, no...um, sorry...I..” Harry stuttered, practically shitting himself.

“Well then I think you could..”

“Miss, I apologize on his behalf.” she cut her off, the headmistress’s face growing redder by the second, she was pissed, oh she was mega pissed. Umbridge hated being cut off, she hated being interrupted, especially when she was about to punish her “favourite” student Harry Potter.

“Is it so Miss Y/L/N? Well I think you should join me and Mr Potter, for a lovely little detention tonight, and we will talk about Mr Potter almost winning there.” She smiled again, Y/N’s stomach was churning, she was going to throw up. She was such an idiot! Now both of them are getting detention and by the end of the day all the slytherins are going to hate her for sticking up for the Prince of Slyherin’s arch nemesis.

When the lesson ended she rushed out of the classroom, someone was calling her name, but she didn’t stop. All of a sudden a warm, yet cold hand wraps around her wrist to stop her. It was Potter. “What?”

“You didn’t have to defend me, I…”

“I didn’t really defend you Potter, I just wanted you to shut up, ok you almost won but it’s been ages like shut the fuck up already. I wanted that damn lesson to end and if I didn’t interrupt that pig, she would’ve carried on for longer. Now if you don’t mind, could you let go of my wrist and let me get changed, I have a fucking detention to get to!” She whisper shouted. Potter let go of her wrist feeling really embarrassed. She entered her common room and regretted it immediately. 4 pairs of eyes were piercing into her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the blood traitor herself?” Draco sneered, Pansy hanging off his arm and clinging to him like a magnet. Those two words made her blood boil, she hated being called a blood traitor. Y/N had more money than all of them combined, yes, even more than the Mafoys! “Malfoy, i’m not in the mood, just shut it already! Oh Parkinson, are you crippled hunny?” Y/N asked the pug faced bitch hanging off of Draco.

“What do you mean? I dare you to disrespect me, you filthy…”

“You’re holding onto Malfoy like your life depends on it, can you not stand up without support?”

“Oh, you DID NOT…”

“Oh, sweetheart, I did. Now move!” she barged past them, not wanting to be late to the detention. She quickly had a shower, threw on a green baggy jumper, a pair of black jeans and dried her hair with a spell she had learnt.

Y/N’s POV

FUCKKKKKKK! I only have 3 minutes before the detention! I ran out of my dorm and BANG! “What the fu...Y/L/N?” Draco said, he arched an eyebrow leaning down towards me. “Is our little slytherin blood traitor getting late for her date?” he laughed, ew his laugh, evil, menacing and disgusting.

“Fuck off Malfoy!” I pushed him and ran out being EXTREMELY late for my detention now.

“Miss Y/L/N, you are 3 minutes late, but don’t worry you will have plenty of fun tonight so I will let you off.” The pink professor said with the sickliest of smiles on her face. At first I was shocked she let me off, but I knew she probably did have a devilish plan behind that as well. Harry was already seated and I went down and sat in the chair next to him. “Now, I would like you to pick up the quills in front of you and start writing.” she started explaining her eyes glimmering like a baby who had just been given a new toy, “Mr Potter, I would like you to write ‘I will not interrupt a respected lesson again’, Miss Y/L/N you will write ‘I will respect my superiors and mind my own business’ and when you have written it enough times you will be dismissed.” she finished staring right into our souls with an even more pathetic smile.

“And how many times do we write these lines for it to be enough professor?” I questioned, feeling relieved that this detention wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be, but why was Harry looking at the quill like he had just seen a dementor?

“It depends on how I am feeling and how long I think you can last...” Umbridge said smirking “Before you ask you will not require ink, just put your blood and sweat into these lines and you will be perfectly fine. You can now start, the quicker the better!”

Harry’s POV

Does Y/N not know what Umbridge’s detentions are like? Surely she should! She’s a slytherin, obviously Malfoy must have mentioned it, he’s in the inquisitorial squad, he most certainly would have mentioned it to warn his fellow purebloods so they wouldn’t get into trouble.

As I picked up my quill, I saw the confused look on the poor girl’s face and realised that she had no idea about what was going to happen. I started to write my lines, constantly looking over to Y/N to see if she was coping well, surprisingly she was fine, she wrote about 5 lines until…

“Ouch, what the hell..” she whispered, rolling her sleeves up as she saw the writing starting to etch into her skin. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, “Harry?” Wait, what? She called me what? “Harry? Harry? For Salazar’s sake! Potter?” I snapped back to reality giving her a sympathetic look and rolling my sleeves up to show her. Thankfully Umbridge was too busy petting her cat to realise that we had spoken.

15 minutes went on and now tears we’re pricking at both our eyes. I was used to this pain, but my heart ached for Y/N, as a tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “Mr Potter, you are now dismissed…” I stood up and walked out holding my arm as it ached and burned, I gave one last sympathetic look to Y/N and left.

Y/N’s POV

“Miss Y/L/N next time DO NOT interrupt me when I am talking to another student, especially someone inferior to you. You are a slytherin, a pureblood slytherin. Do you think your father would appreciate you defending an inferior?” Umbridge stated

“No professor, I apologise, this will not happen again.” I whispered out trying to hold back my tears

“Good, as I expected.” The pink bitch laughed and with a flick of a finger dismissed me.

As I walked out, I saw the one person I wanted to see, running into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his waist and cried.

“Ced, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.” I sobbed into his chest gripping his shirt harder and harder

“Sshh, sshh , it’s fine my love, you’re with me now, you’re ok, i’m sorry this happened.” Cedric calmed me down and ran his fingers through my hair. I pulled back and realised he now had blood on his shirt around his waist.

“I...I…”

“It’s fine Y/N/N, don’t worry about it. Come on let’s go to my dorm and you can sleep there tonight, with me. Good deal?” he said smirking

“Perfect deal!” I said, managing to get a small smile on my lips, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my arm. I am so lucky to have a boyfriend, a soulmate like him, someone who I feel safe with, someone who never lies to me, someone who’s always there for me no matter what. I love this boy.

Draco’s POV

“Malfoy?!” Zabini yelled “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM? You’ve been sitting with us for half an hour now and I do not remember you getting hurt, unless Parkinson was scratching her arm when we were deep in convo!” Zabini laughed, Crabbe and Goyle laughing with him.

“Shut up Blaise, I didn’t do anything! Draco darling what happened?” Pansy questioned with the most fake tone of worry. I looked at my now not so clean, white dress shirt sleeve and saw blood seeping through it.

“I don’t remember getting hurt and Parkinson you said nothing happened to you! ROLL UP YOUR FUCKING SLEEVE NOW!” I screamed, fuming that I had been lied to.

“Darling, I…” I didn’t give her a chance to finish and yanked her sleeve up. There was no blood, no wound, nothing. Parkinson had lied, she wasn’t my soulmate, she LIED.

I stood up pushing her off of me. If I hate one thing, it’s when people lie to me, lie to THE DRACO MALFOY. “DO NOT AND I MEAN DO NOT DARE TALK TO ME! IF I SEE YOU ANYWHERE PARKINSON I WILL HEX YOU!” I yelled, scaring the life out of everyone in the common room. I stormed out of the room and into my prefect dorm banging the door shut.

I paced the room running my cold fingers through my hair, pulling it in anger. I couldn’t believe it, how could I, Draco Malfoy, get fooled so easily by who, Pansy Parkinson. I have been fooled and now all of Hogwarts would know, my reputation was now fucked. I sat down on my bed, exhausted, tired from all the pacing. I pulled my sleeve up and it had writing on it. Writing? Who would write on their skin this deep? I started to read what it said, “I will respect my superiors and mind my own business.” What did this mean? 1 hour went by and I was still reading those 10 words and then it hit, this was from Umbridge’s detention. Who had detention with Umbridge today? Potter, Y/L/N, anyone else? I have to find out.

“Zabini!” I shouted, Zabini ran towards me with a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s up Malfoy? Just to get it out there I had no idea Parkinson lied, I…” I interrupted him,

“Yeh, ok I don’t care. Who had detention with Umbridge today?”

“Why? Why do…”

“Let me ask you again, even though I despise repeating myself. Who had detention with Umbridge today?”

“Potter and Y/L/N only as far as I know.” he replied looking embarrassed. I turned round and shut the door on his face. Potter or Y/L/N, Potter or Y/L/N, POTTER OR Y/L/N? Both of them have already found their soulmates. Potter found Ginny Weasley and Y/L/N found Diggory. Is Potter my soulmate because who was Y/N’s superior, but then Y/N was the one who interrupted and didn’t mind her business, so was Y/N my soulmate? One of the blood traitors was my soulmate! How was that possible?

Why would Weasley lie about Potter being her soulmate? Not like Potter had the looks, yeh he was the chosen one, but would Weasley care? On the other hand Diggory, what else would he want, a beautiful, intelligent, pureblood, with all the money in the world. Shining Y/E/C eyes, long and soft Y/H/C hair and a soothing voice.

What the fuck? Was I admiring Y/L/N? She’s a blood traitor, dating a hufflepuff. Who is my soulmate? Potter or Y/L/N? The only way I would find out is asking them what their punishment was tomorrow morning!

Reader’s POV

Y/N woke up with a warm, soft hand wrapped around her waist. Even though she hadn’t recovered from the trauma last night, she felt safe in her soulmate’s arms. She quietly got up without waking her sleeping prince, gave him a soft kiss on his forehead and had a shower. Once she got dressed and left the bathroom, Cedric still wasn’t awake, “Ced, baby wake up, you’ll be late for breakfast.”

“I’m up, I’ll be down in 10, you go, you haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday.” His sleepy, husky voice was music to her ears. She gave him a peck on his lips and went to the Great Hall.

“What did Umbridge make you write yesterday?” Draco said so softly, that Y/N didn’t know it was Draco until she whipped her head around. The platinum haired boy was looking at her with a weird look in his eyes.

“Why do you care Malfoy?” She snapped, thinking he was going to make a fool out of her.

“Please Y/N, please tell me?” he begged, Y/N was shocked he called her by her first name, something that was very rare and even more shocked he was begging her which was even more rare.

“Um, I will respect my superiors and mind my own business. Now if that makes you happy can I leave and eat? Not that I will anymore, now i’ve lost my appetite because of you.” She mumbled the last part, but he had heard.

“I’m sorry…”

“You ARE WHAT?” She yelled, realising she was too loud, “Sorry. Has someone drugged you Malfoy, are you okay?”

“Huh, uh yeah. I mean, I’m fine and um no haha I haven’t been drugged.” Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck. For some odd reason, he was happy, oh he was more than happy, he wanted to squeal like a little girl and jump up and down. There was one thing that really bugged him though, why did both Cedric and Pansy lie about being their soulmates? But he moved those thoughts to a side giving the biggest, most honest and brightest smile, he didn’t know why he was happy, was it because he had found his REAL soulmate or because of who his soulmate was? Whatever it was little does Draco know his happiness wasn’t going to last long. Something big and painful was going to happen later that day.

taglist:

@mortallythoughtfulgurl @theindieplum @coolest-capricorn @luciferatlantic @laraaamel @mrseinhorn123 @lazarlol @rinasrights @eddyforthewin @0galaxysworld0 @lukesluckyland @kat-nee @jesshurst @maimaiackerman @shiningstar-byulxx @hiilikeanimelol @yasminemir08 @suicidallyra @shizarianathania @neap-tide-lagoon @notasofti @rebelgeneraldameron @kissingtruth @absolutehanarchy @fxramir @queen-of-the-coven @sydthekid1518 @crackheadc0rner @iwriteaboutstuff @bbeauttyybbx @dracomalfoyismylove @nkr21315 @bi-andready-tocry @gloriousqueenjellyfish @phloxclaw @sunarinaki @chowqr @eligen1105

[ffangirlingsince2001]

The Witcher and the Princess: Fire and Ice

Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: angry witcher, angst, hypothermia reader, skin on skin but not smut, language

She was gone when he awoke.

The bed was made, her clothes were gone as was her pack, and she was nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” he growled scrambling around for a set of clothing, the drunkenness of last night still weighing heavily on his mind.

And he couldn’t find a damn pair of pants. Because of course when he needed them the most he couldn’t find them. He swore he had left them on the ground when he had climbed into bed last night, but that’s where he thought he had left his shirt too, and it was nowhere to be found either. He was stranded, princessless and without any clothes. “Fuck,” he yelled again, throwing his fist into the bedframe, the wood splintering ever so slightly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Gold wasn’t worth it. She could find her own damn way to her godforsaken prince. If he loved her that much, he should have sent a carriage instead of relying on him to bring her. He was going to kill her if he ever saw her again, selfish spoiled brat. If he had anything to say about it he was going to teach her a lesson in some goddamn respect He was going to teach her what fear meant. He was going to-

“Can you unlock the door? I forgot my key.” The familiar voice froze him in his rage, still panting with anger the words he had for her threatened to bubble over. When he didn’t move the call came again, accompanied by a soft tapping that he assumed she considered to be knocking.

He marched towards the door and flung it open to reveal a very innocent looking princess.

“Oh!” she gasped, averting her eyes as quickly as she could, cheeks washing pink. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I-,”

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled pulling her in by her arm as forcefully as could without pulling her arm from her shoulder.

“You’re hurting me,” she gasped, the parcels in her hands falling to the ground as she struggled to get out of his grip, his fingers leaving tight purple bruises in their stead.

“I asked you a damn question, I expect an answer, Princess,” he spat, eyes blazing with fire, hands shaking with anger.

No. He wasn’t shaking.

She was.

Eyes wide with fear, lower lip quivering as she tried to maintain eye contact. She wasn’t sure if the fury in his eyes or his nakedness were more intimidating, but his eyes were far less foreign.

“Shopping,” she squeaked, glancing at the parcels that littered the floor.

“Shopping?” he snarled, and she flinched away, pulling at his heavy grasp once more, but he pulled her closer, not stopping until her arm was pressed against his chest and his breath was rustling her hair. “Your father might be paying me to take you to your dearly beloved, but he is not paying me to flounce after your every whim. And where are my clothes?”

“Drying in the bathroom.” She was near tears now, but her voice didn’t even shake.

“Why are they drying?”

“I washed them this morning, you said.. you said you wanted to leave early so I thought if washed them we could leave earlier.” He studied her closely, searching for a lie, and when he found none he released her, stalking off towards the bathroom to check for himself.

Sure enough, as soon as he entered he found his clothes hanging from a makeshift clothesline. The stains and the smell were both a thing of the past. As he put them on he couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably, not quite use to the feeling of fresh cotton and linen against his skin. It was strange to be anything but dredged in dirt, yet now he stood cleaner than he had in months.

When he left the washroom, he found her huddled on her bed, knees to her chest and watching him tensely.

“Don’t run off again.” She nodded silently. Maybe he should have yelled at her sooner. “What did you buy anyway, we can’t afford to carry clothing, it’ll slow us down.”

“Oh, I didn’t buy clothes, I guess I traded the old one for a new one, but that’s all food,” she rambled bashfully, picking up the parcels she had dropped in his bout of anger. “Venison mostly, but some stuff for Roach, too.” As she stood and stared at him he noticed the dress she had mentioned. Green velvet had been traded for cream colored cotton and golden embroidery swapped for a leather corset that cinched her waist in ways that were far more tempting than the loose style dresses princesses often wore. It was hard to think of her as princess in the way she stood before him, doe eyed and expectant. Standing merely feet away in his bedroom no less. Had she been anyone else he was sure his fingers would be hoisting her skirt while she squirmed beneath him, but she was not anyone else. He shook the thought from his head, nothing good could come from lusting after princesses, especially those were already set to married.

“Why the dress?” he grunted, noting the way she had begun to draw circles in the carpet with her shoe as he studied her, just like she had the night before.

“I thought the princess thing would make us a target for bandits,” she explained and he grunted in agreement.

“Won’t your prince mind your dressed like a commoner?”

“I can always buy a different one.” Of course she could.

He grunted and threw his pack over his shoulder, marching out the door. It took a few moments for the soft patter of her shoes to follow and when they came so did her chattering. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” When he didn’t even offer her a hum of acknowledgement she continued, “It’s just I didn’t want to make you wait any longer than you had to, and I thought I would be back before you woke, and I know don’t really want to do this so I thought I would make it easier for-,”

“Do you always talk this much?” he interrupted as he saddled both Roach and the white horse her father had provided her.

“I’m trying to apologize,” she snapped, her tone a little too privileged for his taste.

“Listen Princess-,”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N, listen, out here is my kingdom. I’m the king, it’s my rules, and if you don’t like it you can find a new babysitter.”

“And then you won’t get your gold.”

“Your father’s not the only one with gold.”

“Why did you take it then?” To that he didn’t respond, merely mounted Roach and began to ride out of town. “So, that’s your argument then? Just walking away?”

“I don’t argue with naïve children,” he called back urging Roach forward, not even bothering to wait for her. She would catch up, and if she didn’t no skin off of his nose.

 She caught up of course and the silence that he so desperately craved the day prior accompanied her. Though, it had a lot more tension than he would have preferred. It was harsh and cold, hurt feelings driving it, but the coldness had nothing on the store brewing in the clouds above them.

The snow had started falling a couple hours in and by the time the sun was beginning to set it had turned into a full blizzard.

Wind pierced the travelers hard and fast, pellets of ice digging into their skin as they trekked forwards. It was lucky he had had the sense to tie her horse to his when the storm had first started to pick up because he was sure she would have been left behind long ago. He could feel her horse bumping into his, her cloak brushing against his arm but the sheet of white between them prevented him from seeing any of it. He knew he should have stopped the moment it began. He should have tied up a shelter and them huddle beneath. He should have kept her safe, but pride had prevented it. Pride and annoyance from the morning demanded they keep going. And to make him feel worse she hadn’t complained once.

As requested she had stayed silent throughout the ride, it was only when she could no longer hold it in that the chattering of her teeth began. He should have stopped right then, but he kept moving, insisting mostly to himself that wasn’t that long to the next town.

He knew now they had long since passed the nearest town, and any further hope of warmth. He would have to hope that the horses would keep them warm until he was able to find a spot to hide them in.

“Geralt,” came the first timid whisper of the day, and it sounded terrified.

“We’re almost there,” he lied and silence followed. He knew she knew he was lying so the silence worried him, and the worry only grew when her leg knocked against him as she tumbled off her horse and into the snow. He yanked against the reigns and threw himself off before Roach had even come to a complete stop. Wind whipped through his hair as he blindly felt for the princess, praying that the snow had failed in covering her up. When he found her the shaking was so violent it was a struggle to hold her.

“Y/N you need to get up. C’mon Princess, we need to keep moving, we’re almost there,” he yelled over the snow, but she didn’t budge, there wasn’t even an attempt. “Fuck.” He pulled her into his arms and wrapped the cloak around her before climbing back onto Roach. They continued to ride, her shivering never slowing, even as the wind backed down. Trees began to come into view, and much to his elation so did a crawl space within the knot of a trunk. Wasting no time, he maneuvered his horse towards the salvation and carried her inside.

It barely fit the two of them, but it didn’t allow for any wind or snow either. Though it was notably warmer, she continued to shake, her lips a nasty shade of blue.

“Wake up, Princess,” he pleaded, rubbing his hands against her arms. “I know we should have stopped, just wake up.” When she didn’t stir he began to panic and instincts fought propriety. Everyone who lived in the wild knew, skin against skin, but she wasn’t from the wild, and from the way her gaze had searched for anything other than him her innocence was still very obvious; however, at this moment, her imminent death was just as obvious.

Whispering foreign apologies, he removed his shirt and tugged her dress as high as he dared. The leather corset he had imagined removing taunting him as he struggled to remove it as quickly as possible. As he pulled her against him, he allowed the dress to drape across as much of her as he could manage.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the shaking slow and she shifted against him. Her skin grew warmer and her flesh swelled against him with each breath. This was what he had worried about, how his body would react to her warmth. And react it did. With every movement a wave a relief and terror washed over him. He thanked whoever would listen that she was alive, but it grew harder to control the animalistic urges that normally accompanied soft flesh and pretty faces. The torture lasted for hours, their cave growing hotter with every passing moment, until he was gasping for a breath of fresh air. It seemed to go on forever, until finally she called out to him softly.

“Geralt, are we there yet?”

***

Taglist: @mallorydoesstuff​ @facelessfiction​ @aphadriel-fanfic​

[maybebanks]

Secrets Bring Us Together

JJ maybank x reader

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you whisper to John B.

You had came to his house in the middle of the night. Begging to stay after a fight with your father on your ‘dirty’ company as friends. He wasn’t a fan of the pogues, but they were a light in your life.

“No problem, you want to tell me what happened?” John B asks, eating a slice of bread.

“At home...” you say, trailing off, holding in some tears.

“Your dad?” He asked solemnly, you only answered with a nod. He didn’t have a dad, but honestly there was a part of you that wanted to be in his position.

“You can stay here for 2 days,” he says, tapping your shoulder gently as he passed you.

Your throat goes dry, “Uh-wait, actually...I was hoping to stay a little longer?” you mumble, settling into the couch.

He looks confused, “why?”

“I can..pay rent? Or-please I’ll do anything, I just can’t go home right now,” you plead.

He furrows his eyebrows.

You shuffle through your bag and pull out your wallet, then hand him 2 20s and a 50 dollar bill.

“Here,” you say eagerly, his eyes widen.

“Alright it’s cool, you can stay,” he laughs, “but I’m not taking your money, that’s not how we pogues do it,”

—

You woke up early to make breakfast. John B was still asleep so you started to get undressed.

Suddenly, the screen door swung open.

“Y/n?” I female voice asked, full of surprise.

You grabbed one of John B’s stray button ups and struggled to button it quickly.

“Where did you get all that cash?!” She asks, pointing to the dollar bills spilling out of your bag.

You shake your head, “nothing just forget it.” You has taken a lot of money because you didn’t know how long you would be away from home.

“Did you rob a kook or some-“ Kie starts but you cut her off.

“Please...just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I promise it’s nothing to worry about,” you reason.

She eyes you suspiciously, “I promise,” she mutters.

“Thanks! Your the best,” you say, starting to cook some scrambled eggs.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, sitting down. Picking up a bag of your stuff from under the table.

“You’re not staying here...are you?” She asked.

“No,” you lie quickly, “I just brought over some clothes to change into after the boat today. If they get muddy or something,”

“Okay,” Kie responds.

John B walks out of his room. “Morning guys,”

“John B? Is Y/n sleeping here?” She ask, looking at you as if to express how bad of a liar you are, you roll your eyes.

John B looks at you, “Pft, no! She has her own place,”

“No secrets amongst pogues!” Kie shouts.

Before you can respond JJ and Pope walk in.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya!” JJ says cheerfully, you can’t help but smile at him.

Pope looks confused, “no secrets...what were you guys just talking about?” He questions.

“Y/n is being weird and so is John B,” Kie explains.

“Wait-you guys aren’t like, macking, are you?” JJ says holding a blunt.

“Seriously guys? It’s not a big deal!” You whine.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally-“ Pope starts.

“We are not macking,” John B states.

JJ mimics a blow job with his blunt and Pope laughs.

You quickly grab the nearest item and throw it at JJ.

“Really?” Kie says, not giving up, then explain this!” She says, pointing to your bag of clothes that could last a week.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, “can we just go surfing? I need some sun,” you say, but your nerves were tensing up.

Pope jumps up and heads towards your bag.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as he empties a few things from your bag.

“Searching for evidence...” Pope says.

“Ugh can you not be a nerd for like a second please?” You say annoyed.

JJ gets up and joins pope.

“Guys what the fuck! Seriously, stop! Stop!” You try to reason with the curious boys.

“Guys! I think I found it! The evidence we’ve been searching for!” JJ yells excitedly and everyone raises there eyebrows in anticipation.

Your hands shake nervously.

Suddenly, JJ pulls out a white lace piece from your bag. Your bra.

Pope says, “whoa!” Sarcastically.

And Kie rolls her eyes.

“JJ put that down,” you demand.

“Nah, I think I’m going to try it on, see if it looks as sexy on me as it does on you?” He says raising one eyebrow.

“No, don’t! You’ll stretch it out,” you say, no doubt in your mind that he will actually put on your bra.

He dangles it above your head and you swipe for it, “JJ!” You shout jumping for it. He was taller than you, and your chest brushed up against his every time you jumped up to reach his arms holding it up high.

Finally he lets you have it, laughing at your frustration. You return it to its rightful place, in your bag.

Pope mutters, “aww man!” When the fun ends.

“Sorry Pope, I know it was your first time seeing a bra in all, but I wanna go surf,” you say patting his head and signaling everyone to head out.

Jj and John B laugh at your comment. But Kie, still worried, finally gets up and joins y’all.

—

After a long day of laughing and surfing you all make it back to John B’s place for a movie.

After you all have settled down on the porch, JJ starts up a conversation.

“Guys, I think we should all just dip,” JJ says disappointedly.

“What?” You ask, you knew he was in trouble with the police, and maybe his dad, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

“JJ what about the gol-“Kie starts.

“We lost the G-game, Kie! I don’t even know if things are going to work, I owe 25K as my restitution,” JJ reveals.

Everyone is in shock.

“25 K? Holy shit man,” Pope says.

“We haven’t lost the gold game, we just have to-“ you start, trying to get John B to support you, but Kie shuts you down.

“I know it’s easy for you to be all hopeful with the cushion you have, but not everyone can afford to waste their time,” Kie says sourly, she had a feeling you could help JJ but you were lying about something.

“Cushioning? What the hell are you talking about?!” You say back angerly, you had faith in the gold hunt, what was wrong with that?

“Don’t play dumb!” She demands, giving you a look like she wants to slap your face.

“Whoa, Kie. Calm down, she’s just trying to-“ Jj starts but she continues.

“Your keeping so many secrets! I can tell because I’m not an idiot like all the boys you have fooled. Admit it! You’ve been staying with John B!” Kie starts.

“What are you jealous? God Kie, I’m not sleeping with John B!” You shout.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own fucking house!” She says, in response your face blushes red and you look down at your feet, and away from Kie’s burning words.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to, or seen your house? Is there a reason for that...or are you just obsessed with keeping everything a secret,” Kie begins, standing up.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I wonder why?” She tries again.

“Shut up! Why are you trying to start something?!” You ask.

“Because your a liar! And I’m not friends with liars.”

“Kie just leave her alone,” John B says, but Kie didn’t listen.

“How did you get all that cash? You know how would be a good time to mention it, since JJ has 25K to pay,” Kie says, cornering you.

“Cash? What is she talking about,” JJ asks you.

You sigh, defeated, “Fine! If you want to hear me say it, then I’ll say it. I live a house in figure eight, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Your a kook?” a few of them say in unison. Even Kie was shocked.

“No! Guys, come on you know me! I surf, I don’t care about golf or clothes, money matters to me, I fish, the Cut is my home-“

“I can’t believe you were a kook this whole time,” Pope says sadly.

“Guys-“

“Liar...” Kiara mutters.

“You can’t-“ you stifle, your breathing was becoming difficult, was this the moment when your friends turned on you.

“Probably paid for surf lessons,”

That stung your heart, you loved surfing because the waves were an escape, the talent you had at it was all you.

You looked at everyone, they were mad, sad, even disgusted.

“You can’t be serious... wh-what you hate me now? Because I’m a kook?!” You ask your voice shaking, you lied, and they hated you now.

John B gets up and walks inside.

A few tears left your eyes, “please,” you say.

“You lies to us! Pogue life? You weren’t even a pogue! What are we to you then? A way to rebel against your parents? I’m done y/n,” Kie says.

“No, no you guys are my friends,” you say, letting a few more years fall.

“Pope?” You ask, he was looking at the ground.

“All those times we all had jobs to do, where we worked for the food on our table! Where were you?!” Pope asks, hurt.

All your friends hate you, “JJ? You ask slowly.

“She was helping us,” he pauses.

“W-What?” You ask.

“When we had our jobs...she was helping us,” JJ doesn’t make eye contact with you.

John B returns, “here,” he says, throwing you your bag of stuff.

“No,” you whimper, “guys it’s still me, Y/n!” You try and reason.

“You’re not just a kook, you’re a liar,” Kie says standing up and approaching the door.

JJ puts his hand on Kiaras shoulder and stopped her from leaving.

“Why do you think she lied, huh?” JJ breaks the silence.

Everyone looks at him, “Because we would react like this! Look at us, y/n has done nothing but been a good friend to all of us. Pope, she always helped deliver groceries. John B, she never once doubted your dad or the g-game. And Kie, she spent days teaching you how to surf, and protesting ocean plastic! And to me, she’s comforted me about my dad even when I pushed her away. God, I love her. I don’t care if she’s a kook, guys it’s just a name. She’s been a better friend than a kook. And you all love her too,” JJ says, angry at his friends for being so petty.

Kie looks at you crying quietly, “I’m an idiot,” she breathed, then she stands up and hugs you. You hug her back. John B joins next, muttering that he’s sorry, Pope joins. And after a few seconds you all pull out.

“Guys, I was never doing this to spite my parents or any of the kooks. You guys are literally the best friends I’ve ever had. I can’t loose you all,” you explain.

“Sorry we were so dumb,” Pope says, “well except jj,” he says, “that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,”

You turn to JJ, he looks at you with a sweet smile, he basically saved you, with love you run up to him and jump into his arms, he supports your back, hugging you tight.

“I love you, JJ,” you whisper in his ear. He pulls out to see your face, within seconds, he presses his lips against yours, you moving yours along with him, accepting his kiss.